SOMEWHERE I BELONG

Yesterday was my first day on the job as a reporter intern for the Sun Journal, a community daily newspaper in North Carolina's colonial capital. And for the first time in 19 years, my job isn't just a tedious chore for mindless drones. It's a career, and it trulymakes a difference in people's lives.

And so, Corey the supermarket bagger and Corey the waiter and Corey the coffeehouse barista are now just phantoms of the past.

Corey the journalist has arrived.

The day began with contract signing and the usual new hire jazz, followed by a crash course on the finer points of ACT Editorial and FirstClass, the shell system and e-mail program the paper uses, respectively.

Before long, I found myself writing obituaries--the starting point for just about every cub reporter. It's a little jarring to realize that you're typing up and filing the last thing to ever be written about a person. But nevertheless, it is important--if not glamorous--work.

I pondered how I'd like my obituary to read. "He is survived by ________."

Wife's name here.

The crushing weight of not being able to fill in that blank will remain an albatross around my neck for some time. I guess like death itself, some things will remain mysterious until the very end.

During my time at the Sun Journal, I'll be covering local government meetings, American Legion baseball games, car accidents and arrests, feature stories on local artists and musicians and maybe even a festival or two. I will also write a weekly sports column that will run Wednesdays throughout the summer.

Though I could blather on for a thousand more inches about the internship, suffice it to say for now that I'm having a blast at work.

If only everyone could be so lucky.