Eight rows back

I complain a lot on this blog. About politics, about sports, about religion, about overflowing Spencer Haywood’s toilet.

My life, however, is sweet.

Very, very sweet.

As I write this, I’m sitting inside the Staples Center, covering Thunder-Lakers from six or seven rows back. A few moments ago I was hanging with Dyan Cannon, chatting about her new book and Los Angeles basketball and whatnot. I get paid to do this. As in, someone literally gives me money to experience things the majority of folks never get to see. I am handed money to ask people personal questions; to place myself in their shoes; to eat and smell and feel.

The majority of people I knew in high school and college followed their dreams for a week ot two, then were confronted by reality. I mean this not as a slap or a brag, just a truth. Most bank employees didn’t aspire to be bank employees; most lawyers didn’t aspire to be lawyers. Life happens, and takes us in surprising and unique and awkward directions.

My life has taken me here.

I am blessed.