the navel times and observer

Lately I've felt oddly Ohio-sick. It's strange because, after all, I've spent only a summer and, beyond that, just a few hours in Ohio in the course of my entire life.

I think I really got lucky last summer when I got a job in Toledo. I sent out 40 applications for internships last year and I got only one non-negative response. Lots of letters, but not even a phone call beyond the one where the Blade, without an interview, signed me on to a job without so much as an interview.

Really, outside of specific circumstances, I had no connection to most of the places where I had even applied. But I got lucky in the former swamplands of northwest Ohio because a very close friend lived only an hour and a half south of Toledo. And once again our close friendship got even closer. I also got to see the home of Wilson footballs, while not being a football fan, there is only one Wilson plant where they're made.

So even though my summer professionally was a wash and I realised just how remarkable my faults were (oh, and sometimes it seems are) as a journalist it was still in the end a really good summer. I made some new friends, had some amazing conversations, learned plenty. Maybe I'm a sucker for summer, so long as the weather's reasonable and not unbearably hot, but I tend to reminisce about them more often than other seasons.

To those of you who read this far I apologize, it seems again I've failed to stay on topic or even find one, what I guess I will say is the job here is going ok. My editors have been remarkably generous, particularly in the sense that my beat at the newspaper has been dry as toast lately (only three stinking bylines for the whole stinking week and while my editors have told me i'm doing fine and the newspaper doesn't keep track of bylines i still feel like the slow pony, inately setting high standards, i guess). I also prove consistently that I have reams of things to learn about designing pages, though I am learning.

On a positive note, I'm making deliberate efforts to get my butt back up on the treadmill and shed some of this miserable girth. It's also a lot healthier outlet for the anger and frustration of not meeting your own standards.

And a word those leaving for the summer and, in some cases, longer (i'll miss you) I'm coming back up to Columbia next weekend (wee hours of May 7 through May 8 or really really early morning, fivish, May 9). Call me. It is also likely to be the last time I'll see many of you before my birthday (May 16, turning 24), though I'm not sure what time there may be for a celebratory drink with finals schedules and all.

Cheers.