So you like little cartoon monsters? I know you do. Then check out the Monsters Party.
Also, I have a comment about this article, but I'm not going to get into it now. I'll just say I'm glad my breakups aren't publicized. Awkward!
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Monday, July 21, 2008
Women in the Workplace
Today a coworker brought in muffins for the whole office. This is the third time a new person has brought in food in the past month. I think they feel as if they have to. After working here for one week, an administrative assistant wrote thank you notes for everyone in the office. I had been on vacation and hadn't even met her yet. Another one of our new assistants wrote an email to me that said, "Thanks for everything you do." I felt like this was a little backwards as it is I who hands them things and tells them to mail them, and all I had done that day was print out three color copies.
There has been so much awkward thankfulness and baking I've theorized that it will lead to a battle among the women of who can be more domestic. Since I am a woman, I am considering making everyone bathing suits for the summer and hats and scarves for the winter. Perhaps I'll bring in cookies and ice each one with each person's name. Of course, I would include their family members, too. Because 2 month old Johnny can't be left out!
Now I dare them to be more domestic than that!
There has been so much awkward thankfulness and baking I've theorized that it will lead to a battle among the women of who can be more domestic. Since I am a woman, I am considering making everyone bathing suits for the summer and hats and scarves for the winter. Perhaps I'll bring in cookies and ice each one with each person's name. Of course, I would include their family members, too. Because 2 month old Johnny can't be left out!
Now I dare them to be more domestic than that!
Can't Hear the Forest for the Trees
So the other day someone came up to me, all busy and kind of excited. They were holding a copy of Wired Magazine. All at once they asked me if I read Wired and if I knew who the person on the cover was. A sexy brunette posed on the front of the magazine--nothing out of the ordinary. And next to her was a tiny caption, "Who is this woman?" Below this in a much bigger typeface: Internet Famous: Julia Allison and the Secrets of Self-Promotion.
So the person keeps going on about who could this person be. She looks like someone. But who is she?
I just had to laugh. If only there were a way to solve this mystery. Like read the cover, or read the magazine.
When I opened the magazine to the feature article, the other person seemed surprised there was an article in there about her. I suppose it might be fun to live that way.
So the person keeps going on about who could this person be. She looks like someone. But who is she?
I just had to laugh. If only there were a way to solve this mystery. Like read the cover, or read the magazine.
When I opened the magazine to the feature article, the other person seemed surprised there was an article in there about her. I suppose it might be fun to live that way.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
A Day In The Life
I'm making edits. Yes, to the same document. Yes, I'm still working on it. I have reached page 30. How do I describe this? Let me try to paint a picture:
You are sitting at a desk. A Macintosh computer is in front of you. To your left is a packet of paper stapled together. It is opened to a spread, page 30-31. Taped to this large piece of paper is a smaller piece of paper--it is a copy of page 32-33. On it are edits in black ink, red ink, and graphite. There are seven asterisks, an erased one, the phrase "investment services" was written in twice and crossed out both times, a check mark and an arrow. Under this piece of paper, on the page 30-31 spread, there are two arrows, one that encompasses three sections and indicates to move them to nowhere. There is a Post-it note on it and another small piece of paper taped to it. That makes three extra pieces of paper on this one. And, again red and black ink, apparently used for the writer's delight, not an actual editing purpose. Or if it was, it's not clear to you.
What do you do?
_
I just had it explained to me, and now it makes sense. No, not the markings. They still resemble the scribblings of a frustrated editor gone mad, locked in a cell with a typewriter, a black pen, a red pen, a pencil and a stack of old photocopies. So while the markings still bear no resemblance to sanity, I understand what I'm supposed to do.
You are sitting at a desk. A Macintosh computer is in front of you. To your left is a packet of paper stapled together. It is opened to a spread, page 30-31. Taped to this large piece of paper is a smaller piece of paper--it is a copy of page 32-33. On it are edits in black ink, red ink, and graphite. There are seven asterisks, an erased one, the phrase "investment services" was written in twice and crossed out both times, a check mark and an arrow. Under this piece of paper, on the page 30-31 spread, there are two arrows, one that encompasses three sections and indicates to move them to nowhere. There is a Post-it note on it and another small piece of paper taped to it. That makes three extra pieces of paper on this one. And, again red and black ink, apparently used for the writer's delight, not an actual editing purpose. Or if it was, it's not clear to you.
What do you do?
I just had it explained to me, and now it makes sense. No, not the markings. They still resemble the scribblings of a frustrated editor gone mad, locked in a cell with a typewriter, a black pen, a red pen, a pencil and a stack of old photocopies. So while the markings still bear no resemblance to sanity, I understand what I'm supposed to do.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Take A Letter, Maria
I am editing a pretty lengthy publication that is very text heavy. I'm updating it from last year's version. Some new entries need to be added. So, my editors provided me with text that is printed out and taped to my proof. This wouldn't be the slightest bit odd twenty-five years ago, when typewriters and photocopiers reigned over type-written matter.
Even though the person sat and typed it up, printed it out, taped it and handed it back to me, it is now my turn to type it again. I'm not the best typist. I got a B in that class.
Why they didn't provide me with the electronic file, I don't know. But this I know, the clunky spirit of typewriters live on at my office. Hurrah!
Even though the person sat and typed it up, printed it out, taped it and handed it back to me, it is now my turn to type it again. I'm not the best typist. I got a B in that class.
Why they didn't provide me with the electronic file, I don't know. But this I know, the clunky spirit of typewriters live on at my office. Hurrah!
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