I like to on occasion to talk about what I do — whether it’s music or plays or creative writing or journalism — and this is going to be one of those times, except this time I am going to talk about what being a journalist is like.

Chances are you’ve watched some TV show or movie where there was this reporter who lived some exciting life, always poised on the edge of death by some nefarious character and late night corner meetings whereby secret documents are exchanged using code names and chalk marks on mailboxes as signals.

Allow me to correct some of this for you.

First off, I love my job. I get to do some awesome pieces such as the ones I do on a monthly basis with the Pickens County Museum — fun, fun, fun — and some other special interest things which give me a sense of satisfaction, charities and the like. But my passion in journalism is investigative work, the sort of thing you may have been led to believe is akin to being a freelance spy, open to the highest bidder.

I wish.

The fact is, most of the time the part of the job I love the most is boring. I spend hours culling documents, reading, researching statutes and case law, which in most cases is ignored by others who do what I do — and truth be told, it’s what I do best in journalism.

I ask the hard, heavy questions, and in some cases, questions no one else will ask. It’s the nature of the beast, and if you aren’t capable of asking questions to which people cringe or run the other direction, you’re better off doing something else.

The whole perception of the excitement, well, that’s just entertainment.

I don’t worry about drug dealers showing up at my home to shoot out the windows in a drive-by, if that makes any of you feel better. You’re not going to see my truck, the one with the Stones sticker in the rear window, outrunning gun carrying molls and their hit men boyfriends through red lights at breakneck speeds.

Sometimes I wish that were the case, then at least I could keep my heart rate up.

No, the reality of the situation is the threats to someone in my position come from a totally different place.

People are afraid of what they don’t understand and in most cases they operate on an assumption rather than finding what the facts may be. More specifically, this usually happens when I begin to ask questions an individual, or even a group sometimes, which they do not want discussed much less answered as it doesn’t move forward their agenda — or are just misinformed and have assimilated the viewpoints and opinions of someone else and don’t have a true understanding of the facts, merely dogma.

I do my job ethically and with respect, and will always do so. With that out there, it should be understood, I also do my job with a steady, persistent, and patient doggedness — and with great zeal and fervor for getting to the truth. And I never quit.

I suppose what I find entertaining — purely on a personal level, of course — is it seems to escape so many’s attention that I don’t ask questions I don’t already have the answer to or have an idea about the answer.

The beep-beep-beep of the backhoe as it begins digging a hole is music to this journalist’s ears.