Reporting's Hard

I remember when making calls to dentists and doctors etc made me nervous.

I just did that now, because I've been needing to and because it allowed me to procrastinate on making calls for my stories, which is much harder.

Why can't I ever have a moment of plateauing, being able to lay on my back and think, "ah, I can do this, it's easy"... without some new and harder challenge ahead of me?

I guess this is the life I choose to live. But sometimes it's exhausting.

I've got 5 stories sorta up in the air right now and all of them are sort of stuck, mostly from people not calling me back. People I need. I'm about to go drag myself to the Missourian and make some more calls and talk to Schneller and try to bring at least one of the stories at least a little closer to finished. I like the stories, but Journalisms not the kinda thing you can lock yourself in and do with a pile of library books. Sometimes I long for that, for the selfishness and self-reliance of academia. Maybe I'm better at that.

And maybe that's why I keep pushing myself at this new thing, because I'm not bad at it either, I think I'm okay, actually, even if it's harder.

But sometimes I feel too scared, too shy, too lazy. And it's cold today. I just want to make popcorn and curl up in a fuzzy robe and I don't care, do Spanish assignments or Anthro assignments or whatever with a  book and a computer screen and maybe multitasking with Skype while I'm at it and if I fail, I have only myself to blame, and I won't fail, because I have all night and only myself to depend on.

This is so different. I need to dig out my autumn jacket and put on my boots and go out into the world facing cold and editor (admittedly very nice) and sources in all states of friendliness and willingness and real life and expectations.

... Alright. I'm going.