Progress

My excitement mounts. Now accustomed to working a wretched 6a-2:30p, I am thrilled to return to my now-less-wretched-looking 6a-12:30p schedule after 3 weeks. The 6a part is still wretched. That will never change.

But, we humans can adapt to anything. What before seemed critical to sit and recupe for that two hour differential, by either making food or cleaning the house or what in the hell DID I do for those two hours? They were always gone before I knew it...well now I am dedicating that time - at least - to writing and picking up this gig.

I am excited because I've spent this afternoon's portion of that time seeking, researching, and registering with various outlets for pay. I mean, how strange. The concept of getting paid for something I do - and indeed, must do - as naturally as breathing. It's no wonder really that I've hemmed and hawed for so long over doing it. It just seems...WEIRD. I've been published, in newspapers, but I've always worked for free, just for the sake of doing it. And because when you do it for free, you don't deal with the bureaucracy of it. I didn't like my editor and I didn't feel like sitting in on meetings thanks but when a big story broke I was on it, and it went front page. Who needs compensation with a deal like that! ;)

Well I still don't need it, but why not anyway. I think my ultimate end in this endeavor is less the paycheck and more the challenge. The money is more just the earmark of success in having met said challenge, than the primary reward. You could probably pay me with stickers and I'd be just as happy. I've always liked stickers. Keep me out of the scrapbook aisle. I don't even scrapbook and never have, but boy do I have some cool stickers from the ($$) scrapbook aisle.

Anywho the digital age has blown my mind for some time now, even though I've grown up in it. I think the shift really hit me in the Virginia Tech shooting time period, when I was able to find out the victims' identities regardless of the mass media's indispose to reveal them. The most up-to-date news source no longer is the New York Times or CNN, or even their respective websites. Word of mouth has always been a fiery trailblazer, more fast and more potent than any other vehicle. No, today you can find the most privileged of information in things like Facebook, or innumerable public internet forums.

The dualities in life are another thing that have astounded me for years. Black to white, good to bad, the highest of highs and the lowest of lows... Normally an intrepid traveler through this vast earth and inconceivable Life, I find myself interested and wanting to step foot into that deep lake of Published Word, as I have always known I would do...and yet with this brush fire of a medium, it is with a degree of trepidation far exceeding what I encounter in any other way. I've ventured down America's highways and slept in my car in casino parking lots or RV slabs in the middle of nowhere with nothing but a white fuzzy dog for "protection"; I've slept miles from civilization on my own without even that much and only the isolation and the things that go bump in the night to keep me company; I've gone sword drawn into the unknown in realms physical, mental, emotional, in countries far and wide and...FOREIGN... without the bat of an eye...but to do this? To seriously begin going truly public? It's a bit concerning!

I don't know how many of you folks peruse the internet. But good god people can get MONSTROUS in forums. And I don't even delve that far into them! The connectivity of the internet is beyond our comprehension as yet, I think. It's all exploded so quickly, too quickly for our minds to truly grasp the vastness of it and the repercussions. Sure has for mine, anyway.

Of course, it all comes back to familiar territory to me: so what are you going to do, not jump? Yeah, I'll jump. I will, I am. But it's not without that last look around me, knowing this might be the last of my vestiges of anonymity. People who rocket to the top from average-ness usually never saw it coming. I won't be presumptuous to say I'm going to be one of those people, but at the same time, just in case I am...I don't want it to blindside me. Right now if you look up my name on Google it will return not much, and nothing terribly interesting: a blurb from one of my said forays into the newspaper reporting world, a random quotation from an old friend's blog (who knows why that one comes up, since I'm mentioned in his blog no less than a zillion times), my rather mediocre hockey stats (thanks, Bladeworld - couldn't wait til I have a good season, could ya?), my old photojournalism portfolio from 2005, random -REALLY random- links to some of my facebook friends/acquaintances, an embarrassingly exuberant employee testimonial from work that I didn't realize was going to be published at the time I wrote it, and a website that promises you my entire life and financial history and probably social security number, list of past boyfriends, personal turn-offs and blood type if you pay their monthly registration fee.

All in all, even laying low and just living my life quietly as I have been to this point, you have a pretty comprehensive glimpse of my life as it is. You know where I work, where I play, how I feel, who my friends are, where I live, and, more frighteningly than the availability of my security number and financial history...how poorly I play roller hockey on Thursday nights.

Mind you, I am by no stretch of the imagination a private or paranoid person. If you want to know how many people I've slept with or what my greatest fears or ambitions are or what my last ailment was that sent me to the doctor, hell, if you care enough to ask I'll tell ya! This is the person who stayed alone in a giant empty house with a complete stranger in Sicily who could have been the Godfather descended for all I knew (and rumor had it his friend did sleep with a knife under his mattress, so...); or hitched a ride from north New Zealand to South with some random -very random- Finnish guy in a campervan that I found on a message board online offering a shared ride. I not only lived to tell the tales, but they were some of the best experiences of my life, with countless others more that are similar.

But none of the things I've put out there could truly come back to haunt me. I haven't yet put out much controversial opinion. The one time I did in my editorial column in the college paper ha boy did I get razed! The teacher had her entire class sit down and write me critical letters. That's not to say I don't still stand by my opinion, but I do definitely take it to heart. Anyone who opens themselves up, opens themselves up to a bashing. While I am a little hesitant to face that ideological resistance head-on, I am more hesitant though, to open up to full-on stalking potential. The internet is vast and deep, as I was saying, beyond comprehension. I know that once I venture on and take this next step, there's no turning back. Bank accounts could be drained, homes could be staked, names could be slandered, ideas could be libeled, throats could be slit. Am I being dramatic? Have YOU read the news lately?

The tradeoff to all this? Not fame, not fortune. I said it tongue-in-cheek when I started my entry with that the other day. The tradeoff is exactly the other side of that coin: the freedom. The freedom to know that you are as open and honest with the universe as you can be. The freedom to enjoy expression to your fellow person who shares and toils and revels in this life beside you. Even if I were to pay an ultimate penance for it, on whatever edge of the continuum, along with everything else I resolved a long time ago that I would rather take the chance and live a shorter life because of it than to live a longer one in fear of it. And what are chances? A funny word, if you think about it. It means risk. It also means opportunity.

If you end up remembering me someday, I hope you'll remember me as someone who took so many chances in life.