The End Of The Road

Look at the below picture. See something missing?

The answer is me. That was my office. Yes, I had my own office. That's my laptop, which I'm currently writing this post on. There's my little orange water cup, and that's my chair. All those things on the right are various production calendars for the magazine, Web site and newsletters. That view is of the river, looking northward toward the Chicago Sun-Times Building.

It's all very nice. It's all very special. I'm sure a lot of people would love to have their own little space tucked away in a big building in downtown Chicago. It makes you feel important. But for some reason, it just makes me feel kind of like a prisoner.

Despite my steady hours, despite my very reasonable pay and regular checks, I just couldn't go on living this life. I don't know what it is about me. There's just something in me that demands more, something that makes complacency and comfort feel, well, uncomfortable. I like flying by the seat of my pants and living a life that I make, not the life corporate America has made for me and for many others. It's not that I'm a unique little snowflake that must be recognized for my individual efforts. It's that I'm a human being, and I desire to live as freely as I wish.

So that picture you see up there, that's been my cage for the past several years. And I finally broke out that window, leaving behind my laptop, my little orange cup, my chair and those various documents, and flew over the river, past the Sun-Time Building and onward toward home.

Oh, and if you or anyone you know needs a solid writer or editor (editorial, marketing, PR), I'm your man. Just drop me a line.