Over the past couple years, there have been many occasions when I've thought to myself that writing a blog could be really a lot of fun. I'd find myself Replying All to my friends with longer-than-your-average emails filled with tangential storytelling and curious non-sequiturs, and realize that though I enjoyed the ensuing correspondence spawned by these e-orations, it was really the authoring that engaged me. So I'd sidle up to a blog hosting site to get the ball rolling, but never ended up giving it more than a furtive nudge. In the rare event that I managed to come up with a title I thought appropriately witty/thoughtful/irreverent, I'd usually be good and stymied when it came time to write my first entry. I viewed the first paragraph as crucial to the inception of my blog, as if the success of my endeavor was going to be ordained with those first few sentences. You never get a second chance to make a first impression, right?
While that aphorism does reflect some truth about our world, it wasn't really a good fit when it came to my predicament. I imagined would-be readers being put-off by a turn of phrase I'd used or by some opportunity for wit I'd let pass, and promptly judging my blog to be lacking and leaving to never return. So much for my 100% reader retention rate. As I cowered in the cold shadow of this horrid specter of failure, I realized that there have been plenty of times when I've been put-off at the beginning of something then gone on to totally enjoy it. I didn't really like the first episodes of Battlestar Galactica, but now I think it's one of the best shows on TV. I thought Fight Night Round 3 was an emasculating brew of frustration and humiliation, then I finally won a match and found the game transformed into a hearty draught of exultance and satisfaction - liquid boo-yah. Had I given up on these things after a bad first impression, I would have missed out on all the awesomeness they had to offer.
I first applied for a job at GameSpot almost two years ago. It was, admittedly, a long shot at the time and the outcome reflected that, but I kept it up. Every time a position came open that I was remotely qualified for, I would update my resume and send it off post-haste. Many applications, a few years, and some relevant work experience later, I'm now writing having finished the first full week of my new job at GameSpot - career boo-yah.
What is my job? I'm a Data Producer. What does that mean? Well, you know how GameSpot is the place to go if you want to know any information about any game ever? That data just doesn't roll into our inboxes, you know. Alright, some of it does, but there's a lot more that doesn't. After a week of learning some of the many ropes, one might more descriptively refer to my position as Data Harvester. Or Data Sleuth. Or Data Repo Man. Or He To Whom All Data Shall Make Itself Known, Lest it Burn in the Cold Fires of Obscurity Forevermore.
In my first forty hours, I've met all types of friendly and engaging people and been jovially welcomed by all. I'm excited to be here, excited to get involved in this community, and excited to tell you all about it. I've finally followed through on my oft-started blog, and my first post is nearly at an end. That icy specter may still be lurking nearby, but at the moment I'm flush with the warmth of new beginnings, so I heed it not.