My journey through life has been, at the very least, interesting. I consider myself to be a traveler, as opposed to a tourist. I started my walkabout, to use an aboriginal expression, reluctantly at the age of 20, although my travel baptism occurred around the age of 5 when my parents first moved house.
For 30 odd years I was chewed up by the fledgling computer industry and finally spit out when it realized I was no longer palatable. In searching for a new occupation that met my exacting standards, I offered my services to a local news publication as their webmaster. We sat down and negotiated a comprehensive financial package whereby I would resurrect their web site for nothing. Several weeks later, perusing the latest edition, I spotted a classified ad seeking a freelance part-time reporter. I talked to the editor, and won the position, beating out the competition of zero. The pay, as advertised, is laughable, but at least it got me out of the house.
After several months of reporting on local city and county meetings, I came to two realizations. The first being that I was not all that bad at writing. I have had multiple positive responses and only two complaints, a misunderstanding of what was said and a potentially ambiguous statement, both of which have been corrected. The second was that I have done stuff, I have been places, I know things that others do not, I have ideas, and I actually enjoy writing.
So here we are at the beginning of what I hope will be another interesting step on my journey.
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