Strange Day

It’s been one of those days where I’ve been feeling, well, restless. I get this way from time to time, often enough that anyone that knows me much at all knows to ignore it. Despite this, or, more likely, because of it, I need to write, and write I shall. Topic A on the brainwaves this eve is MY CAREER.

For six years, I was a member of the fourth estate... laughingly referred to as “the working press.” About four years in, I took a hiatus of sorts to get my master’s degree in journalism from the Columbia Graduate School of Journalism. Damn fine school. I hope to, one day, make enough to contribute generously to the alumni fund... If only to reimburse the poor school for all the postage costs they’ve sent since 2003, pleading for said donation.

Following the degree, I spent another two years honing my craft until, well, I hit a brick wall. My job was not fulfilling me, either personally or professionally, and I was feeling wood-fired crispy. I checked out, and decided to try and make a go of it as a photographer, something that had been my passion since college. I did it for about four months, with my main client being the newspaper I had just left... I guess there is something to be said for leaving on good terms.

But I was broke. I didn’t have the skills, the contacts, the knowledge or even much of a portfolio. Writing clips will only get you so far as a photographer. Usually just the door, and not the one marked “in” either. So I took a job, the full-time employ I currently hold, as an investigator for the LA City Ethics Commission. It’s a hell of a lot slower than journalism, something which drives me to continual distraction.

And, though many of the things I do during the day remind me of my previous life (e.g., making phone calls, figuring out connections, getting scolded by lawyers) it is DECIDEDLY not journalism. I write things few people outside my boss read; cases sometimes take six months to a year to progress from investigation (i.e. me) to prosecution (i.e. my bosses); I am severely curtailed in what I can write for public consumption... Hell, I have no idea if this very blog would be frowned upon.

Basically, this job is not me. However, for the first time in my professional life, I am not going home twisted in stress three nights out of five. I have ample time off, sick time and vacation. I am paying down my debts, since my salary is actually close to what someone of my education and training should make... I am actually saving (for the first time) for my retirement.

The age-old question, right? Security or dreams? And, damnit, what am I dreaming about? That, though, will be a topic for another posting. I’m getting tired. Thanks for reading.