one classy broad
Huntin' Fo' Wabbits...
Today decided to wake me up and be Carole day. She's a kid friend of mine who was here about two years ago...or is it three now? She's the Bunnie, Bunnie link; it's to her livejournal. I hope if you've had the chance, you've taken me up on the link and read her. As much as I didn't know how to take her sometimes, I really liked having her around. She was good to me, a real friend. She challenged me to become a better version of myself (that I'll admit, I haven't always kept up on).

She got offered a job at the Sun-Times. I feel proud, even though I don't think I have the place to feel that way anymore. I didn't do anything to spur it on. I'll have no place in whether or not she'll take it. All I can say is that if she wants to take it, she will--if she doesn't, she won't. She's earned another step up, but I don't think a reporter job is what she was ever looking for. I don't even think that's what she wanted while she worked at the Papillion paper.

Sure, she's good at it. I read a few things here and there that would indicate to me that she would be good for the job...but I don't think rooting underground for a carrot when there are 20 other people rooting for the same carrot is for her. Not that she couldn't handle it, she'd kick all the other wabbits' asses collectively and get that carrot. She's just really great at the stuff that keeps people human in stories...not numbers or quotes that turn them into stats or (for lack of a better phrase) sound bites.

Bah...I haven't done her nearly well enough. I'm shotty today.

Ah. Now I'll have to go back to my journal and find myself a page paperclipped in.