I missed my calling!

In 1996, at the behest of my then live-in girlfriend, I sprung for a big, clunky Windows 95 personal computer. She said we needed it to track our finances. That’s another story.

At the time, I was using a Dupont company laptop, a 40 pound Zenith behemoth that you could press your pants and make grilled sandwiches with while you were filling out an expense report.

Within hours of the unboxing, I knew two things: The relationship was most likely over and that I should have always been a news reporter.

Once I opened Microsoft Publisher I was off and running. I created a newsletter that went company-wide that I aptly named “News From the Left”, meaning the left coast. NFTL took over my every waking moment.

Back then, like today, there is nothing I won’t write about. My own newsworthy, if not nose worthy, travails notwithstanding.

I would sell my soul for a good story and for me lately, life has turned into one big lemon factory full of above the fold headlines.

The twists and turns, the betrayals, the failures, the substance withdrawals, the locked down hospital wards and the shaky existence that I have experienced are all fair game to this reporter.

In short, I don’t care if it’s me, if it’s a good story, I go to press. And if it’s me, at least I know I’m getting the straight poop.

It’s like I’m not even in my own body. I always think in terms of story line. The more complicated and potentially devastating my situation, the more I want to write about it.

Up until an hour ago, I believed I would be homeless in November. My FICO is bleak-o.

And as all this is happening, I’m completely aware that if I didn’t come up in a brutal family situation, I would have Bourdaine’d my way out years ago.

I believe we’re all protagonists in our very own news story. The spills, the thrills and the chills are all here to remind us we’re living in temporary space and every day is a headline, an exposé or a human interest story. If you look at it from this reporter’s news hungry eyes.

I find writing about my calamities and upheavals puts things in perspective. “The future’s uncertain and the end is always near” to quote Mr. Morrison.

Reading the stoic philosopher Seneca has backed me away from the edge on many occasions. For me, the edge is relapse and a messy departure.

At every major setback I would think, “Is this the thing that I so feared?

“There are more things, Lucilius, likely to frighten us than there are to crush us; we suffer more often in imagination than in reality. – Seneca”

I’m probably too old for a news gig but there’s always an abundance of breaking news right under my nose.

And I have a hard deadline.

Please note: I welcome comments that are offensive, illogical or off-topic from readers in all states of consciousness.

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