Sometimes you lose track of what matters. . .

Thank you, anonymous poster. Your comment about reviewing films reawakened something in me that I never had realized I had forgotten. Not that I'm going to run off and be a film critic (that's something we build to, I guess.) But I realized that the malaise I've been feeling lately may be due to the fact that in my search for a career I lost track of what I love to do.

Ever since I was a kid with a 70-page notebook and a pen, I've had a passion for writing. I remember sitting in church or school and ignoring everything going on around me while I wrote stories about my friends and I fighting ninjas or whatnot.

That love stayed through high school, as I channeled my teenage angst and rage into some rather dark and (now, in hindsight) disturbing tales. And then in college as I found a passion and a love for journalism. While it didn't stretch me as creatively as novel writing or screenwriting could, there was something noble and fulfilling in searching out someone else's story, gathering the leads, and putting it all to paper for all to see. And yeah, film reviewing was always in my mind. But I always came back to a talk I had with Terry Lawson, the film reviewer for the Detroit Free Press, where he stated how small and narrow the field for that was.

So where did I go astray? It was probably after my first rejection after college, when the local newspaper told me I didn't have the experience that they were looking for in a writer. I've never been one to handle rejection well, a must for a writer, I know. But rejection paralyzes me. Rejection from a girl two years ago probably plays a big role in why I'm still single today. And rejection from a newspaper I thought I was a shoo-in for put the thought in my head that I was not cut out for what I had studied for four years. And so I settled for the "safe" career at Verizon Wireless, talking to customers about their bill problems and knowing it was beneath me and no what I was passionate about.

But you know, you can't divorce your passions. Just like love for God drives me back to the cross, there's a passion for writing that still drives me to the empty page. James Michener said that a writer with an empty page is like an explorer staring down a new, unexplored continent. And that passion that I thought had been buried deep has had moments where it lets me know it still burns down inside of me.

I get the urge to write when I see a movie and think "I could write something better than that." When I read a book and find the stories buried inside me that I want to tell. When I see a movie like "Shattered Glass" and feel that old drive coming back to chase down the sources, craft the lead, and do the noble job of journalism.

There's a great deal of truth in the statement "do what you love." I can bide my time at Verizon. I can chase down my MBA. I can even have a lucrative career in marketing or management. But will I ever be happy? I'm beginning to think that no job will satisfy me if I'm not writing. There's a joy to be found in crafting out sentences, bringing thoughts to the page, being the first to tell an audience something.

I'm not quitting Verizon (yet.) I'm searching for another job right now, that's for sure. Because if you can get malaise by not doing what you love, you can go insane by doing what you hate. What will I do right now? I'm not sure. But I want to free up my time to pursue some freelance writing projects. Focus on building a nice little portfolio, similar to what I had in college. Get my name out. Write for Christian publications, do a few movie reviews. Earn some extra cash, yes, but more importantly, I need to WRITE. Tomorrow I'll go buy a writer's digest. I'll by the Writer's market guide. And I'll pray and focus.

In a silly way, I feel like those old soldiers in movies who've turned their backs on war. And then they pick up the gun again to go into where they're needed. Instead of a gun, I'll have a pen and a recorder. But the feeling's the same. This is what God made me for, the wonderful job of writing. And I'd be a fool not to follow that.

C-Dubbs