Posts Tagged ‘beginnings’

What always happens? Life.

January 19, 2010

So. I’m back. It’s been a while. I moved. A relationship ended. A second job started. A much-loved dog died. My birthday happened on schedule. I developed a real penchant for beer. A new year began. Life. It’s happening to me now.

I traded a 7th floor walk-up for a panic room where I sleep with my head out the window on the street where my parents got engaged and I love it. I can almost touch parallel walls simultaneously in my bedroom, but I got DVR. My closet is in the living room, but I doubled the amount of toilet options. My pillow is on a windowsill, but that means there’s a window. I have fewer roommates, but one of them is my sister. New York. It’s all about the give and take, (but really about the tolerance levels regarding the take portion). And just like that, I’m moving on up to the (lower) west side.


So I’ve been busy being happy. Sad. Spackle-ing walls. Forgetting my umbrella. Waiting in lines at the DMV. Writing about deep fryers, cardboard Christmas trees and cookbooks written by toddlers. You know. That’s why I haven’t been around. The point is, I get my groceries delivered, and 95% of the time they’re what I ordered, and not someone else’s box of hot sauce. I’m taking life in stride, but I’m taking it, no matter what. I mean, life is really bringing everything to the table here. This is me taking a huge bite out of my slice of the pie. I’ll try to write about it. I’m great at keeping promises like that.

Also, I don’t pay myself for this, so, see you again in 2011.


this is how it is.

November 28, 2008

hi. so here is my story:

When I was seven, I started a newspaper on my block in small town America. I was the editor and publisher, and I made my friends (my sister and the kid across the street) work for me. We put out one issue and I wrote the cover story. It was about finding a dead bird in the Dakes’ backyard. I priced it at 5 cents and all the old people on the block bought it like hot cakes. This was the beginning of my journalism career.

Approximately 10 years later, a crow was found dead in the next town over. It was the first bird in the area confirmed to have died of West Nile Virus. Then a lot of journalists were writing about dead birds. Dead birds; it was a hot beat. Someone was ahead of the curve. I couldn’t have known to get forensics on that bird in the early 90’s. I mean, I was seven. I didn’t deal in knowledge, I dealt in nickels.

Then, there was this one time, I guess it was more like 4 years in the course of history, that revolved around an academic calendar, where I learned about magazine journalism and political science for a while. After it was over, I got a piece of paper valued at approximately $170,000, and I’m still trying to figure out what to do with that. This was the end of my writing career.

Until now.

I edit articles for my friends. I looked over a friend’s first book manuscript. I give them story ideas. Every year, all my parents’ closest Jewish friends come over for Christmas and they ask me if I have written a book. I have not. Whenever I go to this one bar, and see this one friend I haven’t seen in a while, he asks me what I am writing, and I always tell him I am not. Everyone has these ideas about me and writing, but the irony of it all is that I never write anymore. I have a bookshelf of empty journals. I work at three national consumer magazines in marketing. I know. I know. But this is how it has been until this minute.

Now I have written a blog post which I can reference in social situations just like these. Have I been writing? Yes, in fact, I wrote in my blog about how I never write anymore. It was on a Friday. November 28th. And I hopefully will keep writing things down so I don’t forget them, because I think that is one of the saddest things. To forget the things that make you the way you are. Especially if you find yourself constantly wondering how the hell you got this way. Which I do quite often, in fact.

I’ve heard it said that a journey of a thousand comments begins with a single post, and that what lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within our blogs, so the way I see it, from now on every post will be the first post of the rest of my blog-posting life.

But this, this is the first of the first.