the truth business
This may be among my final days in this world, and I can't be more excited. I've proposed a project to my editor and I've taken on the riskiest part of the assignment. I don't want to reveal too much, because I'm paranoid about the competition stealing my stories.

But, it's all in the name of journalism. After all, it's my cockamamie idea, and if someone risks maiming or death, it has to be me. At the very least, it's the part of the project with the potentially biggest pain-in-the-ass quotient, and it's fair that I take that on.

The unknown is the best part of my job. A colleague of mine once said that journalists either want to be novelists or private investigators. Me? I always thought that Jim Rockford had a cool life.

This is going to sound crazy but I'm giddy with anticipation over meetings: about the coordination, the graphics and other breakouts that we're going to need for this story. I love that sometimes I have a hard time sleeping at night because I'm so excited about what I'm going to do the next day. I really fucking love my job.

Um... so you don't wonder if I lived or not, that project is happening Tuesday night, so I'll post here again on Wednesday morning, just in time for five-second theater.

In other news, I got rid of my old comments provider for a Bailey Bridge solution to the problem. The "say something!" link now is to a guestbook, instead of a real comments program. It's not perfect, but it'll have to do for now. I'm sure everyone felt like they were wearing a gag when they came to my page.