GPB & J

Today was my first day of work at Georgia Public Broadcasting. After working for about a month with my former professor Jonathan Harris on getting situated, I was finally accepted as an apprentice in his program.

The day began with their office party -- I've never had such good timing. A great way to meet people and a smörgåsbord of free food. And then my work day commenced, after a wonderful tour by Julian. I'm working on an oral history project featuring World War II vets from Georgia. It's really interesting, but not the most thrilling thing to work on. I'm reminded of the vets interviewed at the start of episodes in the Band of Brothers mini series. Only now the vets speak at great length about their experiences. It feels like a very meaningful project to be working on, which is very different from other shows I've worked on.

I just feel in my element at GPB. Plus, judging from the office party, the staff is a more approachable size, more close-knit. And much friendlier. The Executive Director thanked everyone and listed many projects that have been worked on. It seemed more arduous than endearing, but it did make me think, I can't remember the last time I worked on something and felt the impact of that work.

Another plus is the longer train ride. Granted, any excuse to ride MARTA for a shorter duration should be heeded, but I do, for some reason, enjoy the North/South line. It's very unreliable and there are a lot more people who ride it, but it makes me feel like I live in a city. And not to mention, walking through Midtown is an exhilarating way to start your day (it'll be better once it's cold again!). Plus, the longer ride means I have some real time to read.

I've begun reading Harry Potter. I'm minutes away from finishing the first book, and I have to say it rides the line between reminding me of reading books when I was a kid and being a really well-told story. This is all complimentary. The stories are so good and the characters so well defined that you can't help but get sucked back into that mental cave of comfort you had when you were a child.