Once upon a time...

...there was a kid from Northern California who grew up, got married, wrote a lot, had kids, wrote some more, worked in politics, wrote still more, published a dozen or so op-ed pieces, wrote an unpublished novel, quit politics, wrote music reviews and feature articles, took over the newspaper he'd been writing for, ran it to the end of the trail, went to work for a non-profit, wrote another unpublished novel and a hundred or so more music reviews, took over the music review Web site he'd been writing for, got promoted at the non-profit, wrote still more music reviews, left the non-profit after nine years to try working at a for-profit and tried really really hard to like it, wrote another novel, got laid off by the for-profit and was less than heartbroken, and finally said to himself:

"I need a blog."

Or something like that.

At the moment I'm occupying my "between jobs" days with a couple of different freelancing ventures, while staying open to the possibility of finding a communications director-type position in the non-profit world. Me and the corporate for-profit world, we were not what you'd call sympatico. It's not that I have a problem with capitalism, it's just that I don't seem to be very good at it, since the nagging little voice in my head keeps insisting that my work should have a purpose beyond further enriching major shareholders.

In the meantime, my ongoing music-writing gig with The Daily Vault is ridiculously fun, but for all its inherent joys, it remains limiting. I knew all along that at some point I would write about other things -- politics, baseball, parenting, and generally navigating the dizzying, ever-accelerating evolution of our modern world -- again; I just didn't know when or how or for what audience. My first insight into how I might approach it arose out of a conversation I had with my oldest son. "I used to write these kinds of essays a lot," I said, after he'd read and enjoyed one of my early-90s op-ed pieces, "but they don't really fit in anywhere but the op-ed pages, and I don't want to have to tie everything I write about into whatever the op-ed editor has on his mind that week." Thick as I can be at times, the obvious answer did eventually surface.

So here we are. I don't have the slightest idea where this is leading, but that's half the fun. The tank is full, and the open road awaits.