Working hard, hardly working...

Preparing to leave the house on a boat - thankful I wore a dress.

Every now and then I have to admit, I have an awesome job.

It's not like you have to drag it out of me, I adore what I do, it's literally everything I've wanted for at least a decade, probably (as in definitely) longer.

Saturday, I had the pleasure of enjoying free and fantastic food, meet some awesome people, and ride a boat that was a house.

Obviously, every day isn't that busy, but if there is one thing that keeps me coming back to my job, it's the knowledge that I'm going to be doing something different, learning something new, every freaking day.

I mean...how awesome is that?

Some people are happy to stick with an office job, they like the comfort of having a job with specific hours and great pay, don't get me wrong, there are moments I'm jealous. I would love to be able to go to a class at the gym right after work at 5:30, I would love to be making considerably more than I'm making - I won't divulge, just know that one of my friends says I "work for peanuts" and another refers to my occupation, lovingly, as "slave labor" - but this is one of those jobs that I absolutely love.

I'm paid to tell stories.
I'm paid to go on adventures.
I'm paid to ask questions.
I'm paid to write.
I'm paid to read.
I'm paid to follow my dreams.

It really doesn't get much better than that.

Life As Usual

The past year has been quite the journey.

December 9, 2011, I sent the email that would change my life and begin my career as a reporter. Since then, I've packed up my car, moved to a new city, met amazing people, challenged myself emotionally, spiritually, physically and financially while pushing myself to new boundaries mentally.

It has been tiring, exhilarating, hilarious and amazing...and now I'm sitting here waiting for what comes next. I know in my heart that this month has a lot in store for me, there is the potential for a lot of change to occur in the next 3 weeks and I'm terrified but absolutely looking forward to what it could mean.

--------------------------------

I've had the nickname "Gimpy" for the past week after spraining my ankle and busting up my knee while going for a run (I wish I had a better story for my injuries, but alas, it was not meant to be) last Saturday. This comes at the heels of a possible move to a new opportunity - ie. the worst possible time to ever be injured. In addition to that, having a job that requires lugging around a camera and a tripod means that being on crutches is out the question if I intend to actually make any money, so it goes without saying that this week has been interesting, especially when fueled by pain medication.

-------------------------------

I've recently been paying more attention to the emails I receive, especially from Danielle LaPorte. Recently she launched this thing called The Desire Map. I went to her site to read up on it a bit more and saw this:

What if, first, we got clear on how we actually wanted to feel in our life, and then we laid out our intentions? What if your most desired feelings consciously informed how you plan your day, your year, your career, your holidays - your life?

It got me thinking. Danielle's email talked about how she stopped pursuing goals and started pursuing her feelings - something that was recently plaguing my own mind. I've been feeling unfulfilled though I know I'm doing something that I've wanted all my life. On Facebook, I put up a status quoting Alain de Botton from an article on BrainPickings:

We suck in messages from everything from the television to advertising to marketing, etcetera. These are hugely powerful forces that define what we want and how we view ourselves. What I want to argue is not the we should give up on our ideas of success but that we should make sure that they are our own. We should focus in on our ideas and make sure that we own them, that we're truly the authors of our own ambitions. Because it's bad enough not getting what you want, but it's even worse to have an idea of what it is you want and find out at the end of the journey that it isn't, in fact, what you wanted all along.

It's odd how other people's words can really click with what's going on in your own mind, so I've decided to pursue my feelings fully, to pay attention to what it is that I really, truly want and then do what gives me that. What do I want to feel? It's not enough to say I want to be happy, what does happiness look like to me? What do I do that makes me feel complete? What do I do that makes me laugh, enjoy life - those are the things worth pursuing.

Giving makes me feel good, reading, watching movies, learning new songs, eating healthy, working out, talking to people about their own lives - all things that make me happy and all things that I can do. Even in my career as a reporter, I can use that as an avenue to give to people, to learn about them and help them move forward.

These messages were like a divine intervention that said, your passion doesn't have to exclude what you do in your day to day life - they can match.

Now comes the fun part of making it happen.

From Prison, With Love

In case you wanted to read the letter from my inmate in it's entirety, here it is. I am typing this letter precisely as it is in front of me. All spelling, punctuation, everything is all him. Please remember: this letter is long.

August 12, 2012

Dear Ms. Arnold,

First and foremost…in bringing the writing of this missive for your consideration this writer does so with all due respect and genuine intention, thereby harboring hope that you will not consider this letter an irritant or insolent imposition. Undoubtedly, receiving correspondence from an incarcerated person is utterly and completely foreign to you. Nonetheless, in receiving this letter from an incarcerated person, there is absolutely no reason to even remotely entertain fear, alarm, apprehension, or an avalanche of concern. I am not some predatory threat or evil lurking on the horizon, not by any stretch of the imagination could this writer be any kind of threat to you or anyone else.

When Wishes Come True

Ahh, the phrase "be careful what you wish for," has never been more true.

Women often fantasize about receiving a letter in the mail from a lover, an admirer from afar, proclaiming their undying affection for them. Many times, people say that my generation is one that has lost the zeal of written word, that we--as a group--have been sucked dry when it comes to our ability to hold conversations that don't involve character limits.

Frankly, I'm inclined to agree that many people in my generation have stopped long form writing, however, I would say that it has taught us--well…some of us--the importance of being concise in our manner of speaking.

Facts matter. Details, sure. But once things start getting long and flowery, it's time to chop it up.

That's my news side taking over as well…BUT back to the whole letter thing.

August 14th started like any other day…oh, how it changed once I arrived at the station to find this gem waiting for me.

Yes…I, Ashley received a 4 page letter from an admirer. In fact, I wouldn't call it a letter, he referred to it as a MISSIVE. Yes ma'ams and sirs. A missive. 

He would go on to tell me how beautiful I am, that my eyes are mesmerizing, that seeing me on his television screen causes his blood to become the place the gods must have gone before they found fire.

YES.

I have what seems to be a stalker. 

However, like any good stalker/admirer/fantasizer, there are limitations to our conversations. The biggest limitation? The fact that he is incarcerated and will be in prison until November 2013. At which point, I should be far, far away from Panama City Beach, FL. 

And yes, I do plan on writing back. I mean, that's the right thing to do, especially considering the final page which illustrated all the reasons that my not writing back would be ignorant on my part and the disclaimer at the beginning of the letter (2 paragraphs) that explained why I have no reason to be alarmed that I was getting a letter from a man in prison who has only seen me on a television screen.

Oh, life. You truly are stranger than any fictional movie I could put together. Thanks for that.