A new chapter. Well, a new job. But it has to do with chapters.

I’ve been slacking on the writing… normally I do something every two or three weeks, but I’ve let it go five weeks now I believe. Usually this means a blog is dying and dreams of being an aspiring popular blahgist are crushed by the reality that only the few readers you’ve gotten are going to keep looking at your Internet drivel and you’ve come to accept that you will never attain even Internet-mediocrity, but will reside with the other 4 billion people who blog about their irritable bowel syndrome and how they keep thinking they are being abducted by aliens.

Dear readers (all 7 of you, thank you!), I want to assure you that I have not resigned myself to the destiny I just described—at least as far as quitting goes! While you will not hear about my thoughts on irritable bowel syndrome (though I’ve learned corn chips really run me through the mill) or my fears that I’m being abducted by aliens (though the past couple of nights my dreams have been really exhausting and I don’t remember what they’re about), you will still continue to hear from me with the occasional odd stories, humorous anecdotes, and rants on men who go to the gym smelling like they’ve been rubbing against a French whore. Have no fear, friends, I am going nowhere.

I feel I should clarify that last sentence. My permanence of locale, no where, just mentioned, is only in reference to my Internet residence. Maybe one day I’ll make it big on the dubdubdub, hitting the black gold of the Web and getting a book published about the funny things my kids say while picking up the dog’s poop, but until then… now I’m rambling. Sorry.

As I was saying, while this blog is not going away, I want to assure you that I’m moving onward and upward in the world (as far as I can tell at least). It seems that the Big Guy in the sky has smiled on me and after a brief hiatus from work that paid well and was rewarding (by brief I mean 2 and 1/2 years, and by rewarding I mean paid the bills), I have chanced upon a well-paying job and feel that I may well be on my way to being perfectly content at the average age of 38 (still 2 years away). For married couples this is 42, so it might take longer, but I’m okay with that.

Where's the "any" key?!

I’ve left the traditional workforce to pick up my first contracting job as a desktop publisher. It chanced upon me as a call from a recruiter. I met the qualifications by the skin of my teeth (that “entrepreneurial” endeavor of starting a golf magazine seems to have paid off), and interviewed really well thanks to my friend Ron Woldoff at TestPrepAZ and am working for UTI (that’s not an infection, look it up) working on Harley-Davidson® training manuals. It’s a pretty good gig that I’m quite happy with.

I spend the most of my day in InDesign doing layout of copy and images. I also do a little bit of editing and kvetching about the poor quality of the images that we have to work with. Sometimes I get to spruce some images up in Photoshop a bit… it’s nothing fancy, but it’s cool.

All in all, I can’t believe that I’m getting paid for something that I’ve been doing on a hobbyist/”entrepreneurial” level for the past 8 years. It’s really exciting, and with my first book coming out as a real true-to-life editor (available for pre-order on Amazon), I am ready to head in a new direction with my professional life. It’s my goal to make this book, and those that follow, a stepping stone to a real career and not just something to add to my portfolio.

To my seven readers, and other passerbys (thanks for making it this far!), if you know how I can build a real career in the publishing industry please drop a line. I’m happy to meet people, go places (after the snows leave [if applicable]), and do things to build something that I love out of this.

I’ve always hated it when people asked me what I wanted to do with my life. I’ve always hated it because I don’t know… well, I didn’t know for a long time. Mostly because it was hard to be honest with myself. One day someone asked me that question… I think it was my wife. She asks me that a lot now that I think about it. Anyway, in that moment I asked myself what I wanted to do. And do you know what I said? I said, “I don’t want to do anything. I want to sit on a beach (under an umbrella because I don’t tan well, or at all) and have beautiful women in bikinis bring me drinks just like those old Van Halen music videos—the ones with David Lee Roth, not that other guy, DLR was the only singer for VH, but that’s another post. I’m willing to check emails and do some admin stuff a few hours a day—I have to do something right?—but really, I want to be able to just be a beach bum and find causes that I want to support.

This is really perfect for me because I have never really cared about what I want to do. Just anything that’s interesting and stimulating is all I’ve wanted. I figure I’ve been doing some form of publishing since I was 16, so it seems like a good enough path to go down, right? On the bright side, this gives me a goal. I’m quite happy about that because I’ve never been one of those planning/goaling kind of people so I’m quite proud of myself.

Wish me luck. Or help me line up a new job for March 2012.


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