Second anniversary

Today is the second anniversary of my employment at the Medina Gazette. Two years ago today, I walked into the office with a knot in my stomach and sat nervously at my desk, not knowing how or when to look busy, not really knowing what this journalism game is all about.
Two years later as I sit at that very same desk, I have learned that everybody has an idea of what your job should consist of, what stories you should cover, who you should be holding accountable. In the end, the only people you really need to listen is yourself (because that's who you have to live with) and your editors (because they employ you).
Everything else, good, bad or otherwise, is just advice.
I've been at the heights of ego-stroking compliments and won an Associated Press feature-writing award. I have been at the depths of having angry readers trying to confront me in person and of having to run corrections because I got something wrong.
I've thoroughly researched and meticulously written a piece only to have someone call me up and try to yell at me because they think I didn't explain something I did, in fact, explain in the article.
(People largely skim newspapers, I have found).
I've probably spent what amounts to hundreds of hours on the phone, and have put nearly 40,000 miles on my new Saturn, which I bought in July 2003 (It should also be pointed out I commute about 25 miles to work).
I've seen a city's moment of triumph getting an income tax passed, averting cuts and layoffs. I've seen high school kids lose their school sports, then get them back three days later.
I've covered a girl getting struck by lightning, a man being cut in half by a train, and the pain of a mother who learned her vanished daughter had been murdered by a drifter, 12 years after the fact.
I've covered an opening day at Jacobs Field. I've covered the renovation and re-opening of a local landmark theater, only to watch it close again a year later due to lack of funds.
I have seen the good, bad, benevolent, petty, selfless, bickering, smiling, scowling, crying and altogether human face of my beat.
I am not a grizzled veteran reporter. I don't think I want to become too hardened. Any feeling in my writing is fueled in large part by emotional response. But I am no longer a rookie.
This job is stressful. But it is rewarding. I don't know if I want to do this type of writing my whole life, but its been a great starting point.