An Honest Assessment of an Interesting Question

This e-mail came in from a friend:

“You are not blogging much and you sound massively discontent. I always come back to the old cliché question: What would you do if you didn't have to worry about money? What really makes you happy? Anyway -- I've found that simply seeking an answer usually produces one... even if it is unexpected.”

I’ve responded to her personally, but it does beg a blog post. 

I am massively discontent – about 21 hours a day. There are times where I am content. Happy, even. It ebbs and flows and last seconds to even more than an hour. 

There are issues, personally and professionally. My health is suffering. 

But my heart suffers more. 

I realized – especially during my recent roadtrip through the Midwest – that what I am most lacking in is human contact. Sure, I have acquaintances  here, but I need more. 

And I need to write again – for myself. I need the balance between putting out a newspaper each week where every inch of copy crosses past my eyes and writing what’s in my heart, my head. 

Easier said than done. 

Plans have been formulated. Things I need to bring to fruition. 

And that’s the challenge. 

Life, as I know it (now).

Something interesting has happened. 
Community leaders have been reaching out the past few days to seek out my opinion/input on a situation that has, for better or worse, polarized the small burb where I’ve find myself.
I’d be a liar if I said the attention has gone unnoticed. 
Since I have a solution that is fair to all parties. One that is so simple, yet so hard to implement. 
Here lies a turning point; a place where the community sought out the editor of the community newspaper for his opinion, council. It is a point of acceptance in what is altogether a close-knit community that counts history above all carpetbaggers. 
I have been accepted as a voice of reason within the community. 
Someone to seek out.
It is what I have wanted since I came here. 
And it is what has me so confused. 
I am still fraught with what to do in my life. As The Clash so eloquently said, “Should I stay, or should I go?”
Misery dogs me.
True misery.
The feeling of going home and pulling the covers up over your head and watching your dog stick her face into yours, her eyes pleading, “I can help, pet me.” 
To love this land, those people so close to me and the community who have accepted an outsider as a voice of reason.
It is hard to simply walk away from in the absolute.
It gives one a sense of false hope.
The situation is far from ideal. No place is. 
While talking to First Sister recently, I said, “I have a hard time with having people telling me what to do. Basically since birth.”
“Everywhere you go, everything you do, there will be someone who tells you what to do. That’s a given. You’ve got to get over it. Even I have to do what others tell me to do.”
I do not consider this a fault. To question those “in charge” is to seek new ideas. But sometimes, no one is listening. 
And that’s the dilemma. 
I am the consummate community newspaper editor.
(Bold? Fuck yes. I am beyond good in what I do. I’m fucking built for this.)
Can I reach my potential here?
That feels like a no.
There is so much to love about this place, this time. I am great at what I do. The staff responds in a way that any editor would hope – they learn, adapt and strive.
I have impediments in front of me that make it difficult to move forward in a way that satisfies myself – and the rest of the world. 
I wish it were not so. 
No situation is truly perfect. 
And fight as I might, the only logical solution is to wander forward. 
Seek another adventure. 
And try and find my place in this world.