Invisibility

Ooh, goody. The first post. As if my Saturday column in the newspaper isn't self-sufficing enough...

One of the things I love most about journalism is the ability to blend into the background and observe. You don't have to stand out or dramatically shape the events of the world. You merely have to react to them.

In a way, it gives you a sense of invisibility that is comforting.

I found that invisibility a bit frustrating Friday night. After covering a Valley Baseball League game in the evening, I filed my story and, for the first time in who knows how long, didn't have to return to the office on a Friday night. With a rare Friday night without worrying about newspaper deadlines, I headed to one of the local watering holes in Woodstock, the Spring House.

As it turns out, that must be where the college kids on the baseball team hang out after games too. So do the coaches and a number of people at the local high school. As I walked in and saw so many faces I recognized, I thought I'd have a fantastic time.

That's when the invisibility kicked in again. I don't know why, but I always end up choosing a seat in a corner with a good vantage point of the whole room. And I always end up sitting there by myself, just observing the world around me -- not participating in it.

I did speak briefly with a masseuse in the bar that night, as well as a couple other people who I recognized. But I find it difficult to open up conversations without playing 50 questions.

Oddly enough, that's how you get over shyness when you get into journalism, knowing you have to ask questions and they're likely to answer them. But it just seems a little awkward in social situations, since most people are simply asked to volunteer stories in this setting.

I'm a "asking questions guy" in a "telling stories" world. Go figure.