Letting go of ambition.

In terms of life-altering events, this one is the biggest I've ever experienced. I'm officially a one-year intern at The Star-Ledger. I'm typing this in between building portions of tomorrow's Morris County section. And it all feels pretty damn good. It's wonderful to know that the anxiety of searching for a job, prepping for interviews and picking up dry-cleaning for said interviews will finally come to an end -- at least for another year. The pay increase and health benefits are also major contributors to this new-found sense of well-being.

I'm very happy at The Ledger. My coworkers are amazing. While my job isn't exactly the most thrilling thing to do at a newspaper, it is fun and I do get to flex my creative muscles a bit. I'm hoping to do a little writing on the side for The Ledger as well. It's also kind of cool to make some editorial decisions. But one thing's for sure: I cannot let this be the death of my writing -- both fiction and journalism.

I wonder, sometimes, if this is what getting old is all about. You establish yourself in some sort of career. You find limited success. And then you settle. You settle for something less than you wanted or dreamed for. And this is the first settlement in a lifetime of settling.

One day, you're 40. You have a beautiful wife in a beautiful house with a big backyard. Maybe you have a dog and some kids. You have a little bit of hair. You wake up and drop $50,000 on a Harley-Davidson motorcycle, or $80,000 on a Dodge Viper. You start to play lots of golf. You pay close attention to erectile dysfunction and enlarged prostate medication advertising. Suddenly, you're one of those sad guys wearing a baseball cap, polo shirt, plaid shorts and white socks pulled up to the middle of your calves.

Terrifying. I hope this isn't the first settlement in a history of settling.

But like I said, on the whole, I'm very, very happy here. I'm just not quite ready to let go of my ambitions.