If beauty wasn’t only skin deep

Posted by samantha on May 19, 2014 in What I Think

Wouldn’t it be interesting if our outer appearance reflected our inner self? Like if inner beauty was visible as our physique.

The reason I’ve been contemplating this is that it is hard work doing the right thing, am I right?

After years of being called Pollyanna, Goody-Two-Shoes, and the like, I am curious if other “goody-goodies” are in the same boat with me.

Being good isn’t always easy. It is hard to be the good example, the responsible party.

It’s making a choice to do what’s right, even though you would really like to flip off that person who cut you off in traffic, or throw your drink in a rude person’s face, or even pinch that frenemy at work who is always “complimenting” your full figure, straight hair, short stature, etc, etc.

I would love to experience things. Sure, no one is telling me that I can’t try drugs or smoking, or run around naked. But what would the consequences be?

And then I think about people I know who seem to get by with everything, when I got my first speeding ticket going 74 in a 70 passing a semi truck.

If your inner self was reflected on your outer person, imagine what the world would look like. I can tell you right now I would be devastatingly gorgeous! **wink**

What I miss about my last job

Posted by samantha on May 16, 2014 in What I Think

It’s been almost a year since I was let go from the Daily News Journal. That was a very hard time for me. Don’t get me wrong: I love what I’m doing. I love that I am able to do what I enjoy. However, there is plenty I miss, not only about being in a “traditional” office but also about that place.

Being independent means you get to set your own hours for the most part. You get to work on projects in the order you choose, and of course, in your lounge wear when you aren’t meeting clients. (I mean, I guess I could…)

It also can be very lonely. You don’t have the constant hum of other voices, clicking of other people typing, or the occasional laughter from another part of the building.

There is no one to break up the monotony by visiting your desk, sending you a chat about a silly coworker, or even meetings to attend. It’s you, your computer, and that’s it a lot of the time.

I definitely miss my coworkers, some of whom were more like family, and others whom I didn’t get to know as well but regret not being able to do so.

I miss being in-the-know and being the font of information all things Rutherford County. It was so much fun having people call me to see what was coming up, or emailing me to tell me about story ideas, even if they weren’t on my beat.

I miss the camaraderie of being in the trenches with coworkers on election nights, storm-chasing, or other big stories that brought us together and lend helping hands.

But what I will really miss is my favorite spot in the office.

When things got really crazy I used to love to run up to “the morgue.” That was where our old paper copies, archives and extra stuff was stored. Most people avoided it because of the bugs. In case you didn’t know, roaches LOVE paper. The morgue had no air or heat, so depending on the time of year, it could get really uncomfortable. Yet it was quiet, and it was filled with really cool treasures — and I don’t mean dead insect carcasses.

I looked up what was in the paper the day I was born, when Pearl Harbor happened, coverage on 9-11 and the Kennedy assassination. I flipped through decades of advertisements for things that don’t exist anymore and other things that have evolved. I found solace in the legacy of the newspaper and how it had been a part of people’s lives for generations, the same way it is today, digitally or in print.

It’s one thing that I can’t get over knowing the DNJ office will be moving soon. I would really love to visit the morgue again. To flip through those hallowed broadsheets, to say goodbye.

Random thought 611

Posted by samantha on May 12, 2014 in What I Think

I have now suffered the first earache of my life. As a generally healthy child I somehow managed to avoid this awful infirmity. But now that I have experienced it, I understand why babies scream their heads off. I wanted to drive a screwdriver into my brain through my ear to release the pressure and pain. Ick! Let’s hope I never have to relive this particular injury again!