I love this post from the A Yankee’s Southern Exposure blog, and I would assert that freelancers working from home can get up and do an imperfect dance just to celebrate the day and shake things up for yourself alone. Of course, the real challenge to dance like Christopher Walken in the video might come during an interview, but…I’d advise against it. I enjoy this blog also because the author is, like me, a transplanted Yankee living in the south. Being a Yankee in Texas doesn’t necessarily make me dance, though, but perhaps that’s a post for another day. Advertisements
During my evening walk yesterday I came across a series of “Christian graffiti” chalk drawings on the sidewalk (I’m not sure what else to call them). They are super interesting – and the artist left a contact number, which I will be calling in the next day or two to see if there’s a story behind the chalk.
I read this article on the SPJ “Independent Journalist” blog. Eight months after moving into my home office I relate to nearly every point the author makes, and having spent my first four and a half years in Houston doing medical transcription from home and gaining 35 pounds I especially relate to the “fridge proximity” challenge. Now that I’m working from home again I struggle daily to avoid adding another 35! Over the last week I’ve been going out to do general reporting, trying to develop some kind of beat (I guess a religion beat of sorts) and it has been wonderful to be working but not in front of my home computer. It reminds me of grad school, when I lived in urban Boston and was out just about every day either at school, at my part-time job or just reporting. I lost 20 pounds during my first six weeks there, especially since I didn’t drive. I’m returning to the Wiccan magick bookstore today and even though I’m not reporting for any story in particular I love being out in urban Houston talking to people of different backgrounds – and maybe even walking a little. You can’t write about people if you’re not talking to them, in the settings of their lives, observing the things they do. The Religion News Service is a wonderful resource but I want to go above and beyond news reporting. My personal mission statement […]
I plan to submit an essay to Creative Nonfiction‘s “Southern Sin” issue. The guidelines are pretty broad – most importantly, the topic must somehow involve the south and sin – so I’ve been struggling for a while to find a good topic. I’ve especially been trying to avoid the mistake of trying to align a story with a concept, along […]
I turned 51 yesterday. At the documented time of my birth (3:45 p.m.) I was in the air en route from Newark to Houston, enjoying the view from the window seat. I had bought the aisle seat, but ended up hitting the coach jackpot: an empty row. With glee, I took my backpack out from its under-the-seat restriction and put it on the seat next to me. I spent $8.50 on a box of snacks and put the remains on the aisle seat. I chilled. Airplane seating puts me on the verge of panicky. I can only sit in the aisle seat; the middle makes me claustrophobic and the window restricts my freedom. The aisle seat allows me free access to the restroom, the aisle, the garbage can in the flight attendants’ area, and basically anywhere other than my seat. In the window seat I am dependent on the other passengers in my row. In the middle seat I am at their mercy. If I need to flee I can’t get away. The last time I sat in the middle seat I felt mercilessly penned in by diners on either side with their tray tables down. I didn’t know I was claustrophobic until my doctor prescribed a head MRI. I never even got inside the machine. I panicked just looking at it. After two failed attempts with an oral sedative and one failed attempt with IV Ativan, I ultimately had […]