I only have myself to blame.
I didn’t have any assignments today, or any ideas. I finished all the little things I had to do by 9 a.m. with a lot of day left.
This inspired my boss to get out her car keys and say, “C’mon. I’m going to teach you how to find stories.”
So I hop in her minivan and we ride around town looking at signs, odd going-ons and then we stumbled upon a house with a yard full of weeds taller than me.
I take a picture, mostly to appease her, and we drive on. Then we see a home with what looks like everything that once sat inside of it in the yard. Televisions, chairs, vacuum cleaners, stuffed animals — you get the picture.
Then, genius struck me. (This has been happening a lot lately: genius ideas)
Then I realized my stupidity.
Most unsightly eyesores reside in neighborhoods that eat little girls like me for breakfast.
Once we got back to the office and the idea was approved and the project was stamped with the idea that this would be mine to do, I set out to find some eyesores.
I walked out of the office with my head held high. I’m going to get readers involved with submitting stories, I have found a way to get out of the office and roam the area whenever I’m bored. I’m a freakin’ genius.
As I drove listening to my radio, sipping my ice water and keeping an eye out for ugly stuff, I slowly started getting more and more uncomfortable.
I was in neighborhood’s where domestic violence happens all the time, gun shots are always heard in the background and I know one of those roads had a dead body spotted on it not more than a year ago.
Not to mention, I have to stop and roll down my window or get out of my car to get these pictures.
My only thoughts as I finished up my photo taking sessions were, “This is how I’m going to die. I will be shot for taking a picture of a rusted car … Steve Irwin had a better death than that.”