As I proceed into another year in my life, I see how much it has changed.

Particularly in the past two-and-a-half years.

I graduated from college in December 2005 hoping to enter "real life" with a decent job in the next few weeks.

But I was wrong.

Following graduation, I returned home to my job slinging pizzas thinking it would bridge the gap until one of my job prospects panned out.

However, nearly nine months later I was still covered in flour, seeing my prospects burn up like flies in a bug zapper.

Frustrated with corrupt management at the pizza place, I decided to quit and apply for a job as a laborer or hydroblaster at one of the local chemical plants.

About a week later, quitting appeared to kick things in gear.

I was browsing around on journalismjobs.com, like I always did, looking for something to put my Journalism degree to good use.

Lo and behold, I came across the listing for The Brazil Times, who were looking for a reporter.

Even living in Texas, it was too good of an opportunity to pass up.

I have an aunt living in Brazil and the majority of my family living in or around Indianapolis. Plus, I had always wanted to move up here so I submitted my application, writing and page design samples and called my aunt to make sure I could crash on her couch until I could find a place of my own.

Luckily, I got the job.

I packed up and after an 18-hour drive, I pulled into Brazil, unsure of what the future held.

My first day on the job was the day after Labor Day in 2006 and it has been a whirlwind ever since.

Working the government beat was a struggle at first, given my only journalistic experience was covering the Stephen F. Austin Lumberjacks men's basketball team, but like with most things, I adapted quickly.

Now here I am, nearly two years into the job, and while it can be frustrating, I truly enjoy the job.

The people I work with are great, some of my "sources" have become friends and the job continuously becomes easier.

Even on the most frustrating of days, I can still take a breath and find solace in that I would rather be doing this than hauling 40 or 50 pizzas to a chemical plant, driving many miles and not receive a tip.