I can handle the stress (I hope), as well as the hours, the gore, the violence and the drug and alcohol induced craziness (of others, of course) my new beat will most likely entail. And as The Evening Sun’s latest in a long line of police, fire and emergency management (not to mention court) reporters, I’m well-prepared for all of the above. Really, I am.

Can you tell I’m trying to convince myself?

Maybe it’s just my inner Jimi Hendrix talking, but my most recent journalistic assignment feels more like the “rock-n-roll beat” than anything I’ve previously tackled here at our hometown daily. It has the potential to be fast-paced, exciting and – I would imagine – even a little dangerous at times. Kind of like playing the guitar in a raunchy, sweaty, smoke-filled tavern somewhere on the edge of town, which I’ve been doing for over 20 years now.

What I’m not prepared for, however (as our esteemed editor would call it), is the 21st century. To be more specific, I fear texting.

Those who know me best are well aware of my long-held distaste for the activity, especially when it comes to the strange, alien way of non-spelling – even the simplest words, I might add – most text addicts employ. In fact, I’m sure if someone could come up with an abbreviated way to spell “I,” texters the world over would embrace it wholeheartedly.