You know I’m kind of embarrassed that I haven’t updated this blog in so long. Now that I have a job writing, I kinda forget to do it for enjoyment. So I apologize. But let me explain why:

I never could have anticipatedthe last month of my life. I’m the education reporter for a new media company located more than an hour away from Rayce. I got a cheap apartment here to stay up during the week, and I go to his house on the weekends. I also try to go home once a week if I can. It helps the week go by so much faster that way.

But yea, I thought being an education reporter in this somewhat sleepy little town would be fun and kinda easy… Then, one month into my professional journalism career and the high school teachers go on strike.

My world was thrown upside down. I no longer got to do fun little features for the print product. My main concern was current updates on negotiation numbers, the union said this and the board of education said that, teacher rallies and student rallies and AAAAHHHHHH! I had people following me on Twitter as I updated them on how negotiations were going. During that 10 hour meeting, I really wished I wouldn't have started Tweeting about the mediator walking back and forth, but that's all there was. And people loved it.

Then, the superintendent of the high school committed suicide. Woah. He was honestly the nicest source I had. He'd always returned my phone calls and emails, always answered my questions without a sense of formality, even offered me water whenever I interviewed him. He was just an all around nice guy. No one, besides his closest friends I'm sure, had any idea what kind of pain he was hiding behind his smile.

I had to cover his funeral. Needless to say I wasn't too comfortable with that, but I did it anyway. I paid my respects to him during his wake, kind of apologizing for having to work his funeral. I tried to be as discrete as I could during the church ceremony. The next day when the pastor called me to thank me for the story I did, I cried.

After his death, the strike just had a bad aura to it, and it really needed to end for the sake of the community, but it lasted another two weeks.

This community has been through so much, and I did my best to provide them with the information they needed. I gained a lot of respect by working so hard, and the bonds I've made with people are incredible. I love my job. I don't like how exhausted it makes me, or how I seldom get a break, or how mad Rayce'll get at me for taking it— but I love it.

The strike ended just this past Monday, thank God. It lasted three and a half weeks. My editor gave me a big hug for breaking the story the night before. I felt like a rockstar, because I was the first medium to announce it was over. Oh yea, that was me.

I'm thankful for the strike, because it pushed me. It made me think deeper and write faster. When you HAVE to finish a story in 30 minutes or the whole print product will be late, you write. No questions. You just do it.

It also was a blessing in that it got our little newspaper noticed by the community it serves. People came to us for the news. Not the long-established traditional newspaper here— us, the new guys.

So hopefully now that things have slowed down, I'll be able to take more time to build my blog. I have stories to tell, now that I'm actually out of the house.

Next up is how terrified I am of the upcoming winter, and how there are leaves everywhere up here!