Who would have thought?

Two years ago today, I spent the morning in a stupor. Just before 8 a.m., I was laid off (fired, really, since there was no shot of coming back after a little break) from the World-Herald. It was a job I thought I really, really liked.

I was wrong.

Turns out, I really, really disliked it. I disliked having to wear khakis and button-up shirts in a secure building. You know, so I could dress up for my co-workers. I disliked chasing stories I didn't want to do. I disliked ... well, I disliked a lot of stuff, and that stuff really has nothing to do with the World-Herald in general and more to do with the industry as a whole.

Basically, I didn't realize that I shouldn't have been a journalist anymore. Had it been up to me to make that change, I'm not sure I would have done it. When jumping is a risk and not jumping is the safe, warm, dependable cocoon you've always known, who would jump?

Being pushed, however, makes transitions a little bit easier. When you have no choice in the matter, you have to move on. That's just the way it is.

As it happens, the shop I visited occasionally became my lifeboat. Sure, I could work full-time through the summer. Less money coming in is significantly better than no money coming in.

By mid-summer, I knew it wouldn't be temporary. This is where I belonged. Less money, longer hours, new stresses, sure.

But god, is it fun. I could never say that before.