04/18/2015
Last Dig: A farewell to RMC http://ift.tt/1EUCtGi http://ift.tt/eA8V8J
Life is quite interesting.
A little over two weeks ago I was flying home from New Zealand, tired — exhausted, to be more accurate — yet excited to be returning to the US after spending six weeks hitchhiking across the country: climbing mountains, tramping along beaches, diving in glowworm caves, camping beneath glaciers (while nearly freezing to death!) and partaking in all the other typical conundrums that go along with recklessly gallivanting wherever you please. It was without question the best month and a half of my life. But while hiking I thought a lot about life, my career, what I believed in, what makes me happy; and one of the things I concluded in all my tireless days of thinking was that I’d step away from Roundball Mining Company upon my arrival back home. There was simply not enough time for me to run this site and continue to live the jaunty lifestyle I so fell in love with over the last few years while traveling. After all, I was turning my car into a hippymobile and cruising to Canada this summer. That was the plan, the vision, the dream.
Then life happened.
Before even stepping foot inside my house in Southwest Colorado I received a message from Brandon Spano, a radio host in Denver, about possibly joining an upstart website that would cover Denver-area sports. So I did some more thinking (too much for my own good actually) and came to the conclusion that I’d accept his offer and become a full-time reporter for his website BSNDenver.com.
This was without question the toughest decision of my life. And I don’t say that lightly. The amount of mental energy and effort I invested into making this decision has left me with a stress hangover powerful enough to power all of Colorado for a week. And though this decision may seem like a no-brainier to most (ironically enough, considering how much brain power I put into making it), you have to understand where I was coming from. As I alluded to above, I was about to drop off the map harder than boats over the edge of the earth when people still thought the world was flat. I had the next two years (maybe more) of my life planned out. I was going to live out of cars and Airstream trailers, hitchhike on the back of trains cross country like something out of a John Steinbeck novel, camp along roadsides, dance beneath the stars with cheap whiskey on my breath, howl at the moon, go where I want, do what I please, conquer the living hell out of this one life I’ve been given. Again, this was not a plan. This was happening. I’d already written the story in my head.
But similar to the last 3.5 billion years on Earth, life changed — as it always does; as it always will.
In short, this was an opportunity I simply could not squander. When I attended the first BSN meeting this past Tuesday, Brandon utterly sold me — and about six other local Denver bloggers who will be head editors at BSNDenver.com — on his vision and the direction of BSN well into the future. And so on Monday, April 20, I will be leaving RMC for BSN to do the exact same thing I’ve done here for the last four years, only this time it will be my job, not simply a passionate hobby.
As for the fate of RMC, again, similar to life, it will evolve. Charlie will now be running the day-to-day operations of the site; meanwhile most of the current 14-member staff will stay on board here. A few writers will join me at BSN and I’m looking to add more, so if you’re interested please contact me on Twitter. I know Charlie and his writers will do an excellent job maintaining RMC and I encourage all our readers to continue to support this blog in addition to BSN as vehemently as you have in years past. If you do the Nuggets community will only grow more boisterous and our voices more powerful than ever.
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To be honest I’ve thought about writing this article for quite some time now. I thought about what I’d say, how I’d feel, who I’d thank, as well as the departing sentiment I’d leave to all the loyal readers RMC has had over the last four years during my tenure as owner and editor. But what I never really thought much about was how emotional I’d be when it actually came time to say goodbye forever.
This blog has meant everything to me over the years. It’s played such a pivotal role in the development of my writing career and of my life in general. I’ve poured hundreds of hours into this site to try and give something to the Nuggets community, something I thought they couldn’t get anywhere else. Honesty, unbiased analysis and tackling reverent subjects with a sense of humor have always been attributes I’ve prided my blog in far more than traditional who-what-where-when-why articles. Because to me, that’s what real journalism is all about: freedom of the press. Holding people accountable. Saying what needs to be said. That’s what writers are for. That’s who we are. That’s why we exist. We are a written representation of the voiceless, scribes of the people. If any of my writers or I ever came even somewhat close to verbally illustrating a thought or feeling you may have had about the Nuggets but had no megaphone nor platform to express it on, then I can depart this blog peacefully knowing I did my job.
Throughout the years I wrote over 400 articles on this site — a quarter of the total number published in RMC’s eight-year history — and yet at no point amidst the tens of thousands of words I’ve written have I ever made a single statement about life, the thing I’m most passionate about.
So, at the risk of sounding entirely too mawkish and didactic (which, when editing this, I can see I totally failed at) I’d just like to say this:
Life is incredible. The odds of you being here, on Earth, on this absolutely marvelous thundering serene chaotic festival of a planet are absolutely positively infinitesimal to the most microscopic level imaginable. So make something of it. Find what makes you happy and clinch whatever that is so tightly that your knuckles turn pale, and keep gripping tight till the day you die. Create the world you want to live in. Be the person you look up to. Put yourself out there. Don’t just walk on the edge — live there, make a home there, and be sure to look down every day and marvel at the view you’ve been so blessed to have. Imbue others with love; a smile goes a long way. Spread positive energy, positive vibes, positive electrons. Make the most of the time you have on this earth, on this absolutely ethereal blue haven that somehow just spins and spins round a bright warm star amidst an unimaginably deep dark destructive universe. Because although I don’t know much, I do know you’ll never be here again, not in this place, not at this time in history.
In closing I’d just like to thank everyone who’s ever read my work, who’s ever said something gracious about an article I wrote or who disagreed in an agreeable manner with something I’ve said. It means the world to me.
Peace, love and Nuggets championships (… someday),
— Kalen
