I loved being a journalist — the researching, the interviewing, the crafting of a story.

At my best, I was able to pull a reader into the experience…

Maybe it was a sweaty, stinky club in Manchester as The Ataris were killing it on stage. Maybe it was watching Ben Harper and The Blind Boys of Alabama record the vocals to “Satisfied Mind” in the legendary Capital Records recording studio.

Once it was waking up at 4 in the morning to drive from the East Bay to Candlestick Park and then working with the grounds crew at Candlestick Park during a giants’ game.

At my not so best, I typed.

Anyway, one of the things that made the job so meaningful was that I could wrap my brain around an event, put it in order, describe it and bring some understanding to it.

I miss that understanding. I miss that beginning, middle, end. I miss that narrative.

And I’m not one of those my job is my life people, but right now it feels like life is a stack of notes, hours of un-transcribed interviews and jumble. I’m struggling to put the pieces together into a story.

I’m typing.

When I’m able to take a step back, I realize that what I need to do is take a step back.

But I also need to type. I need to grasp the narrative. I need to connect to the story. And, I need to pull myself into this experience.

It took me months to realize it, but that’s what I’m doing here.

So, let’s get on with it.