2008 Woodie Awards
What the hell is going on?
Life, passion, and Baraboo, Wisconsin
Laura Baltuska
Issue date: 3/25/05 Section: Opinions
In my 20 years on this planet, I have found very few things to be definitive truths. First, there is the fact that life is very unfair. Second is that if you were ever born, you are going to die. The last but most important truth to my story today is the fact life is constantly changing.
From appearances to our likes and dislikes, life is like an unfinished book whose chapters are the years of our lives, telling an ever-changing story whose outcome no man can see until its last page is written.
Sometimes, like the average reader of a book, we try to predict the plot lines and conclusions in the story of life. Sometimes it works but most times the conclusions cannot be seen.
I have been dealing with this dilemma in my life in more than one way but in the most specific way is with my writing.
For the last three years, since my junior year of high school, writing has been my life. I truly do eat, sleep, breathe and live writing. It is so strong in me, I even dream about writing. (on what, I will not say). It is and it has been my life, passion and heart for such a long time.
In addition, like many that find something that they love and want to be a part of at an early age, I planned so much of my life around it.
Everyday since I realized my deep-seated love and passion for writing, in which I have never had for anything else I have ever done in my life, I have completely planned my life around it.
I planned to live the journalist dream. Getting a job for one of the biggest papers in the city of Chicago, sitting in the bullpen, tracking down the biggest scoops on the biggest stories, winning awards, becoming a syndicated columnist, working for that paper for years upon years until I become too old to be seen as a competent writer and retiring to a farm in Yazoo, Miss.
As of lately though, this whole foundation has been shaken. The more and more I live this so-called journalist dream, the less hungry I become.
From appearances to our likes and dislikes, life is like an unfinished book whose chapters are the years of our lives, telling an ever-changing story whose outcome no man can see until its last page is written.
Sometimes, like the average reader of a book, we try to predict the plot lines and conclusions in the story of life. Sometimes it works but most times the conclusions cannot be seen.
I have been dealing with this dilemma in my life in more than one way but in the most specific way is with my writing.
For the last three years, since my junior year of high school, writing has been my life. I truly do eat, sleep, breathe and live writing. It is so strong in me, I even dream about writing. (on what, I will not say). It is and it has been my life, passion and heart for such a long time.
In addition, like many that find something that they love and want to be a part of at an early age, I planned so much of my life around it.
Everyday since I realized my deep-seated love and passion for writing, in which I have never had for anything else I have ever done in my life, I have completely planned my life around it.
I planned to live the journalist dream. Getting a job for one of the biggest papers in the city of Chicago, sitting in the bullpen, tracking down the biggest scoops on the biggest stories, winning awards, becoming a syndicated columnist, working for that paper for years upon years until I become too old to be seen as a competent writer and retiring to a farm in Yazoo, Miss.
As of lately though, this whole foundation has been shaken. The more and more I live this so-called journalist dream, the less hungry I become.
