Granting

I suppose it is time.

This might sound harsh, but I think it’s about time I forgave God.

I know you’re supposed to thank God for wonderful things, and I do. I give God lots of love. But there’s also a part of me that might not ever go away witnessing the misery of this diseased world of which I am a big time member and blaming God. Maybe that part of me is ready to just let it go.

Just make peace, more than ever.

I think so. I think I’m really ready to acknowledge that part of me.
I've had an image of myself in the deep, dark woods. I see the sky, and trunks of trees. I ask for help finding my way out. I think I know the way. I go but only find more tree trunks and nothing else. And finally I stumble across a trail overgrown with weeds, but it is there. It is an ancient road. It isn't the way out. It's the way in deeper.
My out was in deeper.
Granting and seeking forgiveness are acts of generosity, seems to me. The release is the gift.

Tuesday

I have an idea.

I want to feature a local blogger on the news site I run-- and pay him or her $50. (Wish I could pay more but that's the budget for freelance pieces. Yeah.)

Whenever I've seen guest bloggers on mainstream news sites, they're usually news bloggers or sports bloggers, or advice-givers on relationships.

I'm thinking of featuring someone who blogs about his or her life, and anything else that comes to mind, like we're all doing.

I think I'm looking for someone who's been at it for a few years.

I cover Redondo Beach, Calif. Anyone know a good blogger in Redondo Beach or have any suggestions on finding one?

Monday

My life is changing. I start a 70-hour-a-week job today. It's an intense editing and reporting position for a local online news start up. I'll be working the job for a month.

I'm not interested in working the job permanently because of the 7-day-a-week demands, but agreed to do it temporarily.

I'm grateful for the work. There are plenty of applicants for this job, like all jobs in journalism. I'm looking forward to learning some new technical skills since this is an online news service and my experience is reporting for newspapers.

When I was a newspaper reporter, I worked long hours. But I always made sure I had one day off a week. I was producing one story a day back then, sometimes more, sometimes less.

At this new job, a team of freelancers and I will have to produce three stories a day. I'll be doing Facebook and Twitter for the gig as well.

I'm working for something called patch.com. It's owned by AOL, which is pumping millions into it. Since AOL calls patch.com a "start up," that allows AOL to impose such big demands on its employees. That's why so many local editors don't work out and positions become available.

There are some amazing journalists working at patch.com, and that's the appeal.

I'm eager to see how I do. If I can't produce three stories a day, I'll give 'em two. It'll be fun writing on deadline again-- there will just be more due on deadline than ever.

I'll keep ya posted on how things go with this new job.

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Went on a week's family vacation to Ohua. Below are my four nieces and nephews that were the hell and joy of the trip.

Treasure

I admit I was disappointed when God leaned out of Her kitchen window and dropped a string of black pearls in my outstretched hand. I was dreaming of chests upon chests of gold and silver coins and rubies and diamonds and emeralds, truckloads. 

And then all I got was a crummy string of black pearls?

WTF.

This was only my latest method of overlooking a dazzling gift.

Funny thing is, all that pirate's treasure I was fantasizing over, it would have been a burden to possess. I'd have been like a miserly old dragon sitting atop a mountain of jewels and never leaving for fear of someone coming along trying to steal a coin or two.

After She dropped those pearls in my paw, She said to stop by anytime. I guarantee that no matter what She gives me next time, I will initially be disappointed yet again. And I will let Her know by moping away grumbling under my breath yet again.

Still, no matter how much of a brat I am -- and I can be a famous brat -- She does not become irritated with me. She only calls after me to return anytime.

This is love of the highest order, just as the sun does not demand displays of gratitude from the earth.