I feel like Michael Corleone...

...I got pulled back in!



For just about 11 years, I wrote for a national EMS professional journal, titled interestingly enough, EMS Magazine. This was the place where I took my baby steps into the world of freelance writing, taking whatever skills I may have naturally possessed, and developing them with the guidance of an experienced editor. I wrote everything from educational pieces, to personal stories, to book reviews, all the while exploring a skill I never really knew I had.

In 2000, I wrote my last piece for the magazine. It was entitled, "What Are You Prepared To Do?" and dealt in part with the idea of who we were as EMS professionals, our identity, and how it had been co-opted by other emergency services, such as fire departments. While I left EMS behind the year before, I was still in healthcare, but that would be my final article. There was no real reason to write for the magazine anymore, and with my depression starting to bubble, I think somewhere inside I was thinking, "It's time to get away from this profession in every way."

Flash forwards 10 years: Now, having come to terms with so much of what I experienced, I feel I can go back and write for them, but from a detached position, which actually may be something of a blessing. I shot my former editor (who is still there) some recent clips of my work, she was bowled over, and was going to throw some story ideas my way, when I threw one at her. I'll be writing a two part piece that will cover how EMS personnel deal with impending retirement. It will be in their online edition. Part 1 will be out in June, and then part 2 in July. Even better? They're going to pay me. I didn't always get paid for what I wrote for them in the past.

So, here I go, diving back into the world I left behind. I'm thinking a little of Paul Simon's "Still Crazy After All These Years."

"I met my old lover
On the street last night
She seemed so glad to see me
I just smiled
And we talked about some old times
And we drank ourselves some beers
Still crazy after all these years
Oh, still crazy after all these years"

You get the idea, right?

Floods, famine, and hope.

I went on a job interview yesterday. The opportunity came out of the blue, via a Facebook IM conversation. About 10 days ago, a friend that is the public relations manager at a local legal professional organization mentioned to me that that her assistant had just quit, and she was now scrambling to find a replacement. She is familiar with my situation, in part because she is involved in the local theatre scene here in Rochester, and helps with PR for another theatre company in town. In the course of the conversation, I asked if she wouldn't mind looking at my resume, and consider it as part of her search process.

She was concerned that the job would be a bit boring for me, as there was not a ton of writing, and that the salary was not in line with what I might expect. She felt that I was far more advanced in terms of experience than what the position called for. I pointed out that I have been looking for a way to break into the PR world full-time, and that this type of entry level position could be just what I needed. She said to send her the resume, and I did, not knowing what would come out of it.

Well, on Wed. I got an e-mail from her, asking if I could come in for an interview on Friday. Of course I said yes, and started to prep for it, visiting the website of the organization and learning all I could about it. This has been the best opportunity to come along in quite some time. Being a realist, I know there are never any guarantees, but I wanted to make the best showing I could.

Of course, things are never smooth, and Thursday night, just before Mrs. Nighttime and I were to head to our theatre for rehearsal (we're both in a play there, opening a week from today), we come back home to find that the water heater has blown. Half the basement was flooded, so we cut the water off and started manning the bilge pumps. (Translation - We broke out the mops and the shop vac, and poured the excess down the sump.) Mrs. Nighttime got on the horn to someone she kn0ws, an HVAC technician that services her building. He was able to get us a new water heater, and now 24 hours later we have hot water again.

When this happened though, it jarred me some. I got really snippy, and I knew it was that "Oh, no. I don't need this shit, not now." feeling. The other thing that concerned me was, how was I going to take a shower Friday morning? All I can say it's a good thing we're on good terms with our neighbors, at least the ones we know pretty well. The ones' down the block, whose home caught fire last year, came to our rescue and let me use their shower in the morning.

Making extra copies of my resume, I went downtown for the interview, and while heading there, I realized how I needed to get over the nervousness that was running rampant inside of me. It's amazing; I can go up on stage in front of 200 people, and be far less nervous than sitting across the conference room table from one person. I took a idea from an acting exercise called an "as if," and simply put it in my mind that I was not really at an interview at all. I was simply sitting down and having a talk with a friend.

It worked like a charm. The interview went very well, at least in my opinion, and I think I was able to convey what I wanted to achieve by working in this position. I stressed the idea that, even though the pay is lower than I would like, the possibility of acquiring new and needed skills (especially working with graphics programs, something I don't really do, since we farm out all our graphics work at my theatre), combined with the opportunity to finally work full-time in the PR world was worth not being concerned about the lower pay scale. I also stressed that this was something that I thought long and hard about, and it was not a "I need a job at any cost!" type of situation. I should know something hopefully by the middle of next month. As you can imagine, they were inundated with resumes, especially in this job market.

So, cross your fingers, toes, and whatever else you feel might be appropriate in this situation. The famine that has been my job search, I am hoping, has come to an end. If this comes through, you will probably hear my screams of joy across the country and beyond.

Spit take...

Ok, I just about spewed my coffee after reading these. #10 just stopped me dead in my tracks.

http://www.11points.com/News-Politics/11_Most_Painfully_Obvious_Newspaper_Articles_Ever

Thanks to Julia for these.

Northern exposure

When I first started this blog, I was adamant in that I wanted this to be as anonymous as humanly possible. After reading about the experiences of other bloggers, I decided that at least for the time being, I didn't want people to know who I was, especially if I was revealing things about myself of a rather personal nature.

Flash forward over a year, and now 193 posts later (including this one), and reading about the experiences of bloggers that have been outed, it makes me wonder if the ability to remain even remotely anonymous is simply a myth. I look at folks such as Petite Anglaise, and Girl With A One Track Mind (both excellent writers, mind you), and realize that while my blog isn't anywhere near as famous or visited, it still gives one pause for thought. They were both outed, and in the case of Petite, was dooced (Lost her job related to her blogging).

I have consciously avoided blogging about certain subjects in depth, such as my job and my marriage, the latter being at the request of Mrs. Nighttime. While it is a form of self-censorship, as with most bloggers we elect what, and what not to reveal out to the world. There are bloggers who are extremely open people, and their blogs are a reflection of their personalities. The only one or two subjects of an extremely personal matter that I'm open on are my liver transplant experiences, and my battle in the past with depression.

This said, I am now struggling with the notion of revealing at least, my first name and face. There are a few bloggers that I have become quite friendly with, and communicate with via Facebook or Skype, or in the case of Violet Sky, have met face-to-face, which was a nice time. So the question I pose to you out there is this:

What are your feelings about what you choose to reveal, or not to reveal, and the advantages and disadvantages of each? I'd also know what you do to protect yourselves so that not too much gets exposed.

I await your advice and counsel.

Resolutions? I don't need no steenkin resolutions!

I seem to remember last year posting that I was resolute on not making any resolutions. I'll quote again from Mark Twain, as I did last year:

"New Year's Day: Now is the accepted time to make your regular annual good resolutions. Next week you can begin paving hell with them as usual."

While I believe we make our own hell here on earth, to not have to worry about the possibility of another one after we die and at the risk of starting my own path to it, I resolve two things for this year.

1. I will get the fuck out of this mind numbing job, no if and's or but's, and become a successful full-time freelance writer. I am hoping that the recent good news of landing a national publication (finally!) is the first step down this yellow brick road.

2. I will learn to play guitar. I did try once a couple of years ago through the local continuing education at our local high school, but it became evident that learning in a group setting like that is not for me. I need 1-on-1 instruction for something like this.

Normally, I don't like making resolutions, especially at this time of year, but something feels different. I can' quite put my finger on it, but I think that I am finally going to make some headway with my own personal goals. So, maybe instead of calling them "resolutions," I'll refer to them as "personal bests." It has an Olympic-like quality to it, bit it gives me something to focus on; a target to aim towards.

It sure beats something that often carries the words "non-binding" before it.

Catching up.

So, where to start this post? It has been so long since I last blogged that I wondered whether or not I had simply lost the urge to blog, or to write, for that matter. I have come to discover that I need not be concerned. Sometimes, stepping back from a task, even something that I might love, creates new opportunities not yet realized. I can say that it has been a difficult month and a half, starting with Nelson's death, and continuing through to the start of the holiday season here, and trying to pull out some sense of joy amongst all the senseless things I see around me.

Nelson's funeral was as expected, an extremely difficult and sorrowful event. To die at 45 is never an easy thing to deal with for those left behind. It's worse when looking at the legacy he left behind (his family, friends, colleagues and students) makes all realize what a loss this world has suffered. He was an only child, which made it even worse for his mother. It was however, not without its lighter moments, of which Nelson would have approved.

During the wake the night before, a priest that knew Nelson well commented during his eulogy that Nelson had a habit of being late - for everything - something that was not lost upon my brother, his best friend of 38 years. My brother then commented to me as to how they used to tell Nelson to be somewhere half an hour before he actually needed to be there because of his preponderance to to be late.

The next day at the funeral, which was actually in a chapel on the grounds of a Greek Orthodox seminary (Nelson converted to Greek Orthodox from Roman Catholicism some years ago), we were standing and waiting for the coffin to be brought in, and I took note that the time was 10:10 am. About a minute later, his coffin was brought in and I chuckled to myself. The funeral was due to start at 10 am. Leaning over to my brother, and his friend Marc (the third member of the trio of childhood best friends), I said, "You do realize he's late to his own funeral, don't you?" I suspect that it took all of my brother and Marc's strength not to burst out in hysterics, but we all knew Nelson would be laughing right along with us.

After the funeral, we went to Nelson's aunt's home in the Throggs Neck section of the Bronx, and gathered with his family and shared memories. The wound of his loss is still very fresh for my brother, but he is doing better these days.

Now, the rest of the month and into this month was relatively uneventful, save for one event from last week.

I FINALLY BROKE INTO A NATIONAL PUBLICATION AS A FREELANCE WRITER!

Yep, it finally happened. I pitched a story to this magazine:

http://udsakron.org/services/kaleidoscope/

about this theatre company here in Rochester:

http://www.rocartistsunlimited.com/

I knew about the theatre group through my own connections in the theatre community here, albeit with not a lot of details. One of its officers however also sits on the board of directors with me at my theatre, so I began to ask him some questions about Artist's Unlimited and found that there was a great story in the making. I have time to write it, as the magazine only publishes in January and July, but will be starting on the preliminary interviews after the first of the year.

I am hoping that this is the break I have been waiting for, and that it will lead to other national publications, if not just more work in general. I would like to be full-time freelancing by this time next year, as I already missed this years' goal due to, well, due to me not putting in the effort I should have.

I have also gotten myself on to Skype, and have been talking with the ever so lovely Zoe over at MBIAT. We've had some great conversations, and I have resolved to visit Belgium to meet her and Peter over at Antwerp Calling as well within the next year or two.

So I now resolve to get back into the swing of things and try to blog a minimm of 2-3 times per week. Here's hoping.

The Parting Glass

Of all the money e'er I had,
I spent it in good company.
And all the harm I've ever done,
Alas! it was to none but me.
And all I've done for want of wit
To mem'ry now I can't recall
So fill to me the parting glass
Good night and joy be with you all

Oh, all the comrades e'er I had,
They're sorry for my going away,
And all the sweethearts e'er I had,
They'd wish me one more day to stay,
But since it falls unto my lot,
That I should go and you should not,
I gently rise and softly call,
Good night and joy be with you all.

Please keep my bother's best friend Nelson in your thoughts, as he died yesterday at the age of 45 after suffering a massive heart attack. Nelson was a professional violinist, and a pubic school music teacher. My brother and Nelson have known each other since they were 6 years old, and this has been a devastating loss for him. I have known Nelson as long as my brother, although we were never close friends, we got a along very well, an I respected him greatly.

Farewell Nelson, and may we be forever in your debt.