Me Myself and Ty

Ripping into one

The Guinness beers we ordered weren’t going down as quickly as usual.

Our conversation was hardly engrossing either, with both of us looking around at the seemingly lifeless pub while our beers stared at us as if they knew something. As if they were waiting for my phone to ring.

Richard and I had pounded beers at The Flying Shamrock dozens of Friday nights before, but the atmosphere was sterile that night, even though there was a live band and a crowd of people around us.

It was only about 10:30 p.m. when my phone rang and before I even checked, I knew who it was and why she was calling.

It was my mother.

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Don't Call it a Farewell, DRIVEN, Journalism, Uncategorized

It’s in the Vault: Tall tale

My long-term absence will be explained in a future post.

When I got started in journalism, it wasn’t because I wanted to be a journalist.

It was because I wasn’t good enough to play sports at school anymore, so I sought a way to stay connected to them any way I could. Daniel Ellis invited me to attend a sports section meeting with him, and from then, I was sold.

Which is surprising, since I started out in the undesirable beats – for instance, covering our volleyball team which was riding a conference losing streak of more than 30 games.

Of course, I love volleyball, so it wasn’t really a stretch to stay interested, but there was also the spandex and the tall females I got to talk to on a weekly basis…

Maybe it wasn’t surprising, but regardless, I wouldn’t allow myself to date any of them.

I say that now and pretend like I was being an objective journalist with integrity, but it’s only because I was too afraid of them rejecting me to even ask. Continue reading