Work work work?

Some days I am absolutely amazed at my luck in life. This amazement usually depends on how my work day goes; while I almost always enjoy work because of my coworkers, the articles I write that day can make or break my mood when I get home.

Yesterday, I wrote an article about a local lieutenant retiring from law enforcement after 35 years in the business. He told me several crushing stories from his tenure, one involving the suicide of a 12-year-old boy. The boy shot himself in the head and left behind a note simply reading, "Tell Mom she's a bitch." The lieutenant told me that when he pulled back the sheet to collect evidence from the boy's corpse, he initially saw his own son - who was 12 years old at the time, too - under the sheet. "I had to tell myself that it wasn't my son," he told me, his eyes hardening to fight back his emotion. "When I got home that night, I hugged my son and told him that if he's ever having problems, he can talk to me. That if something goes wrong, he can talk to me about it."

I found his story bittersweet. It made me think about how everything we do and everything we experience in life brings us to an epiphany about ourselves. These experiences help us figure out how to manage ourselves in often impossible situations. I haven't always been happy, spending most of my college years in a depression so deep I didn't even realize I was in it. But that's not a bad thing. It's a character building thing.

Today, I am writing an article about a special needs girl who was voted Homecoming Queen locally. Everyone I have spoken to has praised the girl, calling her "sweet" and "kind" and "hard-working." They described her attitude and personality, not the way she looked in her formal dress. The only physical feature they have discussed is her smile, which is always present even in the most unfortunate situations.

I found this story heartwarming, because I am not Satan or Pete Wentz from Fall Out Boy (basically the same person, if you ask me). No one I spoke to about this girl seemed to speak well of her out of pity. She seems like a legitimately positive person, which is often difficult for people who do not have mental disabilities. I know it is for me, at least.

My job is wonderful. I learn something new about myself and the world every day. Days like today make me feel so incredibly lucky to have a gift (writing, though I am also quite talented at writing dirty haikus and dancing like no one is watching) that I can utilize to share other people's gifts and experiences. It's why I wanted to be a journalist. It's why I keep doing what I'm doing.