rehashed history

The past two weeks at the Collegian have been a worthwhile experience.

When I left the place on December 15, 2004, I did not know if I'd ever return to the Newsroom. I left my mark on the ceiling, sighed heavily, and left.

I spent almost a month at home in Council Grove, spending the last days with family and friends and realizing full well what I was walking away from.

I left for Washington on January eighth. I went over three months without seeing a friend from Council Grove. I healed some. I learned some. I changed some.

I came back in April, and at some point in the latter third of that month I went back in there. I looked about at the place I hadn't seen in four months. I saw a few smiles, a few welcomes, but I knew I didn't belong there. It was still wrong, it was all wrong.

I got a job with the Mercury for the summer, I covered the County Commission all summer long and dropped by the Collegian from time to time to open myself up to the place and try to adjust, to adapt.

Three or so weeks ago, we had orientation. A week later, we were producing our paper.

I've been doing one or two stories a day for the past week, and I'm going to continue at that rate for a while now, I think. Bylines are nice, and I like the freedom and trust my editors have been giving me.

Today, I found a note in my box from one of my editors thanking me for my efforts and tenacity in hunting down stories. It felt pretty darned good.

I have found the love I had for that place; the love that died slowly and painfully last fall is back, albeit in a different form. No more opinion. This time around, and from here on out, news is all that interests me.