It’s a simple life today, no matter what they pay me. Playing is my reward.

-Jason Mraz – All Dialed In

I am a writer.

That “-er” at the end of the word defines me because that’s what I do. We all do things and that makes us all kinds of “-ers.”

It comes without thought. “Ers” just do. Today, I just knew that I had to write because it had been too long, probably because I am in the clear and don’t need to keep harnessing my skills to impress employers. I have recently been granted a job which to exercise my abilities and let me be me; let the writer write.

This is a blessing I will not take for granted. Many of us want to be things life doesn’t allow us to be. A wannabe firefighter gets to put out a fire, but it’s in a restaurant kitchen where he is the downtrodden chef. There are many people who live in opposition to their definition. Cubicles are constraining and corporations are manipulating. Sadly, we can’t all be superheroes.

When your purpose is in accordance to what defines you, you have found happiness. It’s not about the money or the hours or the B.S. you have to deal with. You’ve made it.

There was a time, just before I became a writer, when I was a runner. I was averaging five miles a day on my own accord when I was offered a position to coach my former high school’s cross country team. That is what you call a dream job.

I loved the job, as you can see.

Because this was so in-tune to who I was, I wasn’t thinking anything except for how fun it was going to be, and to this date, it was about as enjoyable an experience as any college sophomore could have had. I coached the younger girls, who I adored, along with exercising and getting tan as my job. I didn’t even think about the nice salary or the everyday work I had to put in.

The only downfall was that it was a two-month commitment and, because I was not a teacher, I could not be a full-time coach. I had already set forth on the path to journalism, so it became too straining to return to that amazing job.

But it’s not a total loss. Like so many instances in my life, fortune smiles upon me yet again.

I endured a lot while learning how to write and become a reporter. I had to do stories about government, science, crime and other subjects I had no interest in covering.  I thought that my passion for writing about sports would keep me going as a writer.

But after all of my efforts to improve this summer, I realized that it’s not my love for sports that keeps me going, though it definitely helps. I have many friends that could embarrass me with their sports knowledge and their “rah-rah” team loyalty. I’m sure they know more facts than I do and they know the business structure better than I ever will. But I don’t need that stuff to be who I want.

Because it was my passion for writing that elevated me to the level that I am at. I learned to love good writing. Despite graduating college, there is still much to learn about what makes a good story. It’s not about your sports knowledge, it’s about how you choose your words. There are stories constructed solely on words you know, but they are put together in such eloquence that you are moved by simple black and white.

I don’t care about a home run or a touchdown. I care about who is responsible for them and what makes them human.

That’s a job for writer.

To my new employer: You chose wisely.

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