From The Margins:

One of my first columns to the Glendale News-Press was a two-part piece about my visit to the Department of Motor Vehicles. The column was different from what was to follow in one notable way. It was written a week before I officially became a columnist; it was purely as an exercise for myself. I had no idea it was going to be on display for thousands of readers.

It turned out to be a popular two-part piece. Perhaps there was a certain uninhibited quality about the writing.

Up to that point, I had never been in a situation where thousands of people had the opportunity to analyze the form or content of my work.

In my other line of work, whenever I produced a logo or a marketing piece, it secretly carried my studio’s name. Yet a logo, for example, does not accompany my signature with it everywhere. Only if someone asked, the client may have been kind enough to offer credits. I’ve always tried to produce work that I can be proud of. But writing is a different animal.

One night you submit the column and a few days later thousands of people have the opportunity to critique your style, inner struggles, opinions and even your photo. Initially, I even tried to fight the usage of the portrait, but I was told that was not negotiable.

Once I produced a few pieces, I quickly discovered it was so much easier to believe in certain ideals in the privacy of my own home. There was no risk when I did not share my thoughts with the public; I could feel self-righteous as long as no one had a chance to challenge my thoughts and point out the holes in my arguments.

As a columnist, I felt exposed. Yet this feeling led to quite a few valuable lessons.

One of the things I have been able to internalize is the fact that two individuals can look at the same situation and see completely different realities. If I may use a cliché, one can see a glass half empty, and the other may view it as half full. Are they both equally right or wrong?

How these truths are perceived is based on our personal experiences, cultural backgrounds, gender, age and a slew of other factors. This phenomenon used to surprise me.

This has helped me better understand where people are coming from.

After the murder of the Turkish-Armenian writer Hrant Dink, I realized how easy it was to be a writer here in America. Rest assured, I am not putting myself in his league, but I am trying to make a point.