Due to circumstances ultimately beyond my control, I have landed an amazing job as a web producer at the Center for Investigative Reporting in Berkeley.

Before you chide me for being too humble, I believe that getting hired required four things:

1. Right time
2. Right place
3. Right skill set
4. Right connections

I did all I could for the last two, and the first two happened to fall into place.

I’ve been on the job for more than a month, and I couldn’t be happier. I’m working with an incredible crew, including past (and future) Pulitzer Prize winners. I work extensively on CIR’s biggest project, California Watch. For all of CIR’s sites, I’m posting stories, coordinating reporters and tech people, planning some redesigns and fixing bugs in the look and feel of the sites.

I have to make this post rather short, but here is more information from About.com and Wikipedia about what a web producer does. In three words, they rock it.

I’m biased.

Me at Vesuvio Cafe in North Beach, San Francisco

I’m leaving San Jose in two weekends, back home to Visalia. Whatever “home” means nowadays.

I have no idea what’s next, but I’m open to any possibility. I could up-sticks and move clear across country – I could use a bit of East Coast butt-kicking in my life. I could end up in the Middle of Nowhere, Kansas, and reconnect with that whole Real America contingent, as opposed to the Fake America I now live in.

But for now, I have to unlatch myself from my current Bay Area location. Which means I have to get my kicks in now in case some opportunity draws me far, far away.

I’m just trying to wrap my head around the fact that San Francisco is no longer going to be in my backyard.

There is so much I wanted to do up here and never did: cheesy touristy crap like ride the cable cars, or sophisticated geeky things like sit in a café in North Beach and write my heart out.

The second item on the agenda is being fulfilled right now. Here I am at Vesuvio Cafe, on the second floor that overlooks City Lights Books. If it was good enough for Jack Kerouac and Francis Ford Coppola, it’s good enough for me.

Sign for Vesuvio Cafe, San Francisco

I felt like I’ve been applying to jobs left and right in the area, to no avail. So I’ve expanded my search nationwide. It’s no secret that it’s competitive up here. Look, I can throw down with the best of them, and I’m still hustling to find something in the web producer or social media arena. I have confidence I’ll land something great soon.

But this idea of saying goodbye to the Bay Area has consumed me at the moment. It’s ironic that the handful of job applications in my queue that could allow me to stay here permanently are being put on hold for this ridiculous, drawn-out, sappy farewell.

I feel like I’m in mourning. Or in panic mode.

When I was in Visalia, I would drive the three-and-a-half hours fairly often to be in San Francisco. When I moved to San Jose, I took advantage of BART and CalTrain connections constantly.

My admiration for this city is making me do strange things now, like spelunking in buildings I have no business entering, or paying far too much for ferry rides to Sausalito _{(OMG I’m on a boat!!1).}.

It also led me to the epicenter of San Francisco tourist traps: Hyde and Beach streets. But I was only happy to be trapped in such a beautiful panorama.

Behind me, Ghirardelli Square. In front of me, the cable car turnaround. To the left was the Golden Gate Bridge gently arching above blue bay waters. To the right, Buena Vista Café, where I met Sean Blanda not too long ago and sipped an Irish coffee while talking tech and journalism, an issue this Silicon Valley place helped create.

People give their life savings to be in this city. They travel halfway around the world to be here.

I’m here now, eyes wide open, phone camera at the ready, neck craned upward.

I’m here, San Francisco.

Not for long, but I’m here.