Our special day
Our special day
“This doesn’t normally happen. Hang on.”
The officer’s pager rang twice in a matter of minutes. He made a call while I was sitting in his office, clad with model airplanes and military tanks. In the corner hung a picture of a beautiful teenage girl. She was smiling, posing with her trumpet.
“Well, I’ll be damned.”
My ears perked up as he sighed and slammed his phone down. “You want to see something cool?”
The siren was now wailing and we were flying through roads I still had yet to explore. I was lost, honestly, in this new county. The officer slammed on his brakes and told me not to get out of the car under any circumstances. He didn’t have to tell me twice.
The scene was unlike anything I’d seen before. A dozen police cars. People were running around. One patrol car sped away, then two, then several more. I heard the helicopters coming before I saw them.
I’d never seen an emergency helicopter land in a neighborhood, much less two of them. I was amazed at how the pilots effortlessly planted the air crafts so close together. Then the people were wheeled out of the house, white sheets lay over them and blood was seeping through them. What has stayed with me, were the expressions of the nurses. Like they knew the outcome. But they rolled the bodies into the flying operation room and left.
The story can be found here.
That’s where it started for me. My first day as a police reporter. It was difficult for me to observe that day, even though I’d taken dozens of hours in forensic evidence and crime classes. I’d never seen a true crime scene in life. I was immediately hooked.
Some days I miss the thrill. The excitement of meeting the deadline. The duty-like feeling of telling a story that no one else will. Listening. Helping. Writing. The byline.
My life is amazing lately. There are so many opportunities coming my way and I’m so excited to explore them. For the first time in my life I know that I’m meant for more than one profession. My calling is so much greater than a temporary thrill. It’s more than writing. It’s more than teaching.
In between trying to plan a wedding, completing online coursework to become a teacher, and working part time, I’ve neglected this blog. You understand, don’t you? I promise when time allows, and when my mind isn’t going a million miles a minute, I’ll post a decent and in-depth update.
(Also, after writing every single day for five years sort of burns a writer out, however not for long. Obviously.)
Things I’ve done:
*Lost 10 pounds (HOoRaY!)
*Gotten into a minor car wreck (boo, not my fault!)
*Recorded a segment with Oxygen (details when it airs, promise)
*Had two wedding showers and a bachelorette party (I’ve got the best friends and family a gal could want)
*Been given the ultimate internet rejection of being “blocked” by an old best friend (which is funny because back when I blocked people on Facebook I thought I’d be sticking it to someone when I blocked them.But really, it’s just sort of………Meh.)
*Signed a contract for a job in August (ay, que grown up!)
*Registered for SXSWi (Finally! I’m going with a badge and all!)
While I knew the procedure was fairly safe, I still have four tiny incisions on my abdomen from the surgery. It lasted only 30 minutes and the surgeon removed the organ that, holistically, is the center of remorse. If you believe in that sort of stuff. Which I guess in theory, means I rid my body of remorse, yes? YES! My fiancé was wonderful through it all–keeping me in high spirits before, caring so sweetly after. Also: not lifting 10 pounds for six weeks SUCKS.
I’ve spent the last two weeks either a) pumped full of pain killers and on a happy planet b) planning a career around bilingualism and journalism (why not combine them, eh?) c) wedding planning or d) watching cheesy romantic comedies. The last is by far the most shocking because for those of you who know me, know that I’m a horror fan.
Maybe it’s the surgery or the holidays or the wedding, but I want to focus on all things happy right now. Which makes a whole lot of sense if you think about this: for five years I wrote mostly about crime, death, justice, tragedies, and catastrophes.
It was difficult to stay positive and happy and good when surrounded by so much….ugly. I wonder if I delved into that sort of genre to prepare myself for the worst because then really, I wouldn’t ever be surprised or disappointed. I couldn’t be shocked at the behavior of those closest to me because I had already seen the worst that people could do. (Dead wrong.) I even had nightmares about some of the things I reported. While I loved, like with my whole heart LOVED, reporting, it just wasn’t for me anymore. But again, for those that know me, I’ll always be a writer.
Region 13 accepted me into their alternative bilingual certification program. I’ve had several people ask me if I’m going to be happy teaching. I’m not a fortune teller. I can only do what makes me happiest right now. Who wouldn’t love to teach? Kids are beautiful, innocent, and of course, the future. Spending time with them makes me happy. Speaking Spanish makes me VERY happy.
All about the HAPPY in this post, aren’t I? Well, in that case…here are some other things that have made me happy these last few weeks:
Zombie makeup, Thanksgiving with my future in-laws, wedding invitations, Ugly pug sweaters, bridal portraits, BAKING, Ainjel Emme’s music, many pregnancy announcements, Amy Minnie, sweaters and knee-high boots. And this photo:
I’m liking the word transitory. It’s the one I would choose if I had to describe myself in one word. I found the quote “Life is transitory,” the other day.
Several amazing opportunities have flourished recently and I’m crossing every finger and toe (well, trying to anyway) in hopes that one is right for me. I set out on this post-journalistic journey to find something that would challenge and push me past my comfort zone of a cushy career. I want to be pushed and pulled and thrown into something unfamiliar. *
On to my second night of boot camp. My calves are still SO. SORE. Tis nothing but weakness leaving the body. Or an excuse to drink wine, really….
*By the way, having your own blog means you can write run-on sentences at will EVEN IF you are a writer by trade, mmmmmKay?**
**Also, you can have your own footnotes. Fun stuff.
This is my dear Señor Pugnacio. He’s the main reason I couldn’t work from home. He will jump up on the couch, sit next to me, and stare at me with this expression. There’s usually a snort or a sigh thrown in — likely both…It’s impossible to ignore him.
Other things that are impossible for me to ignore:
*My body clock wants to wake me at 6 a.m.
*I start fitness boot camp on Monday.
*I need to get my wedding dress altered (know of a good alterations store?).
*Pugnacio snoring…like sawing LOGS, I tell you.
*Freelance deadline (yes, already).
*Procrastination. HAI. I’ve always worked best with it.
*I’m a bit delirious. That’s what not enough sleep and too many “Hi, nice to meet you’s” will do to you.
It’s been forever and a day since I’ve actually written something for myself. I plan to change that with this post.
It’s been one week since I left my career as a newspaper reporter.
It had been nearly one year since Central Texas had as much rain as we had last night. (More than two inches in some areas.)
I can’t remember the last time the sky was this gorgeous shade of magenta. I don’t know that Ive ever seen it this color.
This is my fifth blog and second personal web site.
I’ve worked for a major Texas newspaper for five years. Being a reporter is all I’ve known of full-time work. After many months, possibly years, of debating about what I wanted to do differently with my life, I’ve ventured on my own.
Many people have asked me what my plan is now.
The truth is, I’m not exactly sure. Part of me wants to teach. Another wants to continue to write. I just knew I couldn’t continue doing what I was doing at the newspaper. I loved that job more than I could have ever imagined, but like many great passions in life, it began to be overwhelming.
I’m excited about adventures and about challenging myself in new ways.
Thanks for reading.