And I really thought things couldn't get any worse.
I was wrong. Today got worse, much worse. So much that I am now a broken being and still in shock from the day's events. When I say broken, I mean that my entire ego, my confidence in editing, my excitement to be in this major was absolutely shattered. In about... 10 minutes.
It all started when I finally got a hold of the department chair. I had spent all day long trying to catch him between meetings and finally, around 1:30, I was able to catch his attention for. Earlier today, I was shaking up a storm when I was supposed to go and see him (but he was in a meeting), so by the time that I did speak with him, I was more determined to just get the whole thing over with.
The conversation started out well enough. I told him about myself, that I had my AA in English and that I was a transfer student. He even joked with me about having started out as an English major himself. Then it began. I explained why I was there and my purpose for speaking with him, even though my adviser and the professor had already spoken with him. He told me that since the copy editing class did have a prerequisite, I would have to wait to take it. I would have easily agreed with him and left at that point, but he felt that he had to continue. He felt compelled to inform me that, just because I had my AA in English, it might mean that I was a good proofer but it definitely didn't mean that I was a good copy editor. He said that if he had the option, he would not have hired me at the newspaper last semester and insinuated that he probably wouldn't have hired me this semester either. He also told me that he was giving his copy editing students a quiz the next day and he was positive that I would fail it.
I left his office, devistated.
The current chief copy did her best to cheer me up, but I still don't really feel better. I feel broken. She assured me that there was a reason why she has me as the lead section copy editor. But I still feel broken.
So, about an hour later, I finally got a hold of my adviser. The adviser who had told me that he would take care of it. The adviser that never contacted me. As soon as I saw him, I told him what the department chair had said. I expected him, like always, to be sympathetic and on my side. However, instead, he pulled me aside and began to speak to me very quietly. He told me that the entire thing wouldn't have blown out of hand if I hadn't been late to the copy editing class in the first place. He BLAMED me for the whole thing. He told me that once I had let the instructor know, that once the instructor emailed the department head, everything had blown up. He basically blamed me.
After discussing it with many friends, I've come to the conclusion that I have landed in the middle of a tiff between two full grown men. I realize that this argument cannot be about me. I haven't done anything wrong. All that I did was tell the truth. I told the truth that I was in a class that I technically wasn't supposed to be in. It may have blown up on me, but I fought and lost. I had a man break me into a million pieces simply because he was frustrated that my adviser had told me to sign up for the class. Taking it out on me was wrong and I'm still broken and frustrated by it. However, I know that he probably didn't mean it.
Still... it'll take me a while to pick up the pieces.
Showing posts with label the newspaper. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the newspaper. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
And Now Part 1 of the Dramatic Life of Megan...
I am convinced this day could not get any worse. And yes, right now, I look very much like this:
It started at 9:15 this morning. That's right. 9:15. When I woke up and realized that I was late for my first day of my 9am copy editing class. I don't think I've ever dressed so quickly. I realize that being a little late for a class isn't that big of a deal but I had heard stories of the professor that I was about to meet, so I thought that I was going to get grief about being late for sure. However, when I entered the class, breathless from running, the professor let me sit down without much of a problem. Sure, she teased me a little bit about being late but it wasn't bad. After doing a brief assignment of copy editing a story so that she could see where we were in our copy editing ability, I went up to apologize for being late. I did not want to start off on the wrong foot with this professor, especially because I wasn't supposed to take this class until after I took news-writing.
However, after she found out that I hadn't taken news-writing yet and that I was actually taking it this semester, she told me that I needed to talk to the department chair about being in the class. The same department chair, she also informed me, who forced her to drop 3 of her other students for taking news-writing at the same time as well.
JOLLY DAY.
I was devastated, of course. My adviser had promised me that taking this class would not be that big of a problem and I would be able to push through it fairly easily. So, I went to speak to him and he seemed surprised that he needed to speak to the department chair as well. What??? I thought to myself. Haven't you done this before?
I didn't hear from him the rest of the day (and still haven't heard from him... bad sign?) but I did run into my instructor. I got the guts up to ask her if she had spoken with the department head. She said that she had and he had said that, I quote, "under no circumstance is she allowed into your class this semester." No circumstance? What if I was dying and finishing my journalism major was my last dying wish? What if I was getting a job at a large magazine in the summer? No circumstance... I think wanting to be Chief Copy next semester is a freakin' decent circumstance. It means, "Hello. I'm willing to kick my butt taking a class that's going to be a little harder for me than other people because I'm taking the prereq at the same time instead of the semester before... see how dedicated I am???"
Anyway, I emailed the department chair (due to much persuading by the managing editor of the newspaper) and am going to go in and talk to him tomorrow, whether he emails me back or not. I will not take "no" for an answer until he tells it to my face. I'm not an ordinary student and I want him to know that, even if he tells me "no" again. I would be fighting for this a little bit harder if I didn't have 12 units (luckily the newspaper saves me with an extra 3 units because, technically, it's a "class"), but I do want this. And I'm not a fan of being told "no" when he doesn't even know me.
Apart from that, the day went fairly... I guess I could call it smoothly. (Since there were no tears. Weird things still happened.) My C.S. Lewis and Tolkien class took an interesting turn when 1) my professor decided to "make fun" of the story of Job in the Bible and 2) my professor decided to call this class useless and said that neither the works of Lewis or Tolkien were great works of literature. Luckily, with the first, I discovered that there is another fairly strong believer in Christ in my class, who I will probably be paired with for projects since we appear to be the only 2 Christians in a religious studies class. And with the second... I pretty much blew the professor away with why the works of Lewis and Tolkien not only matter, but are great works. (I'm going to give props to my background in Literature.) Then, in my other journalism class (it's a basic people & media class), my professor decided it would be funny if everyone told him what food we would be when he called our name for roll, and then made crude sexual jokes about whatever we picked. I don't give a darn if the man has tenure... he needs to learn some manners.
Right now, though, I need to begin to read 5 chapters of the Hobbit (due Thursday) and get some sleep so I don't wake up at 9:15 again. More to come with the events of tomorrow...
It started at 9:15 this morning. That's right. 9:15. When I woke up and realized that I was late for my first day of my 9am copy editing class. I don't think I've ever dressed so quickly. I realize that being a little late for a class isn't that big of a deal but I had heard stories of the professor that I was about to meet, so I thought that I was going to get grief about being late for sure. However, when I entered the class, breathless from running, the professor let me sit down without much of a problem. Sure, she teased me a little bit about being late but it wasn't bad. After doing a brief assignment of copy editing a story so that she could see where we were in our copy editing ability, I went up to apologize for being late. I did not want to start off on the wrong foot with this professor, especially because I wasn't supposed to take this class until after I took news-writing.
However, after she found out that I hadn't taken news-writing yet and that I was actually taking it this semester, she told me that I needed to talk to the department chair about being in the class. The same department chair, she also informed me, who forced her to drop 3 of her other students for taking news-writing at the same time as well.
JOLLY DAY.
I was devastated, of course. My adviser had promised me that taking this class would not be that big of a problem and I would be able to push through it fairly easily. So, I went to speak to him and he seemed surprised that he needed to speak to the department chair as well. What??? I thought to myself. Haven't you done this before?
I didn't hear from him the rest of the day (and still haven't heard from him... bad sign?) but I did run into my instructor. I got the guts up to ask her if she had spoken with the department head. She said that she had and he had said that, I quote, "under no circumstance is she allowed into your class this semester." No circumstance? What if I was dying and finishing my journalism major was my last dying wish? What if I was getting a job at a large magazine in the summer? No circumstance... I think wanting to be Chief Copy next semester is a freakin' decent circumstance. It means, "Hello. I'm willing to kick my butt taking a class that's going to be a little harder for me than other people because I'm taking the prereq at the same time instead of the semester before... see how dedicated I am???"
Anyway, I emailed the department chair (due to much persuading by the managing editor of the newspaper) and am going to go in and talk to him tomorrow, whether he emails me back or not. I will not take "no" for an answer until he tells it to my face. I'm not an ordinary student and I want him to know that, even if he tells me "no" again. I would be fighting for this a little bit harder if I didn't have 12 units (luckily the newspaper saves me with an extra 3 units because, technically, it's a "class"), but I do want this. And I'm not a fan of being told "no" when he doesn't even know me.
Apart from that, the day went fairly... I guess I could call it smoothly. (Since there were no tears. Weird things still happened.) My C.S. Lewis and Tolkien class took an interesting turn when 1) my professor decided to "make fun" of the story of Job in the Bible and 2) my professor decided to call this class useless and said that neither the works of Lewis or Tolkien were great works of literature. Luckily, with the first, I discovered that there is another fairly strong believer in Christ in my class, who I will probably be paired with for projects since we appear to be the only 2 Christians in a religious studies class. And with the second... I pretty much blew the professor away with why the works of Lewis and Tolkien not only matter, but are great works. (I'm going to give props to my background in Literature.) Then, in my other journalism class (it's a basic people & media class), my professor decided it would be funny if everyone told him what food we would be when he called our name for roll, and then made crude sexual jokes about whatever we picked. I don't give a darn if the man has tenure... he needs to learn some manners.
Right now, though, I need to begin to read 5 chapters of the Hobbit (due Thursday) and get some sleep so I don't wake up at 9:15 again. More to come with the events of tomorrow...
Barely Hanging On
I'm beginning to feel like the beginning of my semesters are going to start the same way over and over and over. Last semester, I had a problem with my legs. This semester, I have a cold that won't go away.
Last Monday began with a flu of about 102. Most of my friends freaked out and wanted to take me to the hospital but, after calling my mom, it was determined that I was fine. Heck, even the nurse at the student health center said I was fine (but I'm still having a tough time trying to trust those people.) Then came everything else that comes with a cold: the stuffy nose, the headaches, and the sore throat. I've had a million colds in my 21 years but nothing compared to the intensity of this one. As the week went on, a cough developed and, though my throat seemed fine during the day, at night it went all Dr. Jeckle on me. The past couple of nights have been impossible for me to sleep, either because I can't stop coughing or because my throat hurts so bad that I don't even want to consider swallowing. All the Halls in the world did absolutely nothing for either of those. So, I'm currently on amoxicillin and praying that all of this stuff goes away. I'd like to feel normal again.
That being said, school started back up again today. My first class, newswriting, was extremely awkward. The professor decided to call out not only the names but the majors and years of each student, so I quickly discovered that I was the only junior in a class filled with freshman and a few sophomores. I was on the verge of mentioning that I was on the newspaper staff but I don't want to get off to a bad start with all the younglings around me, so I kept my mouth shut. A little later in the day, I had my rock climbing class, which I had to drop due to the fact that the professor wanted to go on class trips on the weekends and my entire weekend is dedicated to the newspaper.
And speaking of the newspaper... if I said we were busy today, that would totally under-estimate how swamped we were. I spent the majority of my day downstairs with the rest of the editors, helping out as best as I could. My new job as Lead Section Copy Editor has definitely taken on many more responsibilities. I stepped out of the newspaper for an hour to go to a class and, in the time, I received a call from the Chief Copy Editor, wanting to know if I could edit four opinion stories that had arrived extremely late and the current opinion copy editor was at soccer practice. So, off I tromped to the basement again for 2 hours of copy editing. (I had been down there earlier for about 2 hours before my next class and, at that time, they didn't have anything for me to do.) Then, right after I left the school to go home and crash from all my copy editing time, I recieved another call, this time from the managing editor, who needed me to look over the final proof of a couple of stories because the Chief Copy Editor needed to go to class (class? What's that?) and didn't get the time to look over again. So, as I waited for my pasta to cook at home, I sat and edited another three stories.
I'm basically the on-call, go-to copy-editor, when people need someone.
I'm really glad that I decided to take this job before becoming Chief Copy, just so I start feeling the weight of responsibility on my shoulders getting heavier. I realize that this is the first week of school, so things are a bit crazy, but getting used to being on-call isn't too bad. Especially because I'm going to have a lot more responsibility next semester.
Tomorrow, I have a copy editing class, the religious study on C.S. Lewis and J.R.R Tolkien, and Women, Men, and the Media. It should be an interesting day...
Now, if I could just stop coughing, the world would be dandy.
Last Monday began with a flu of about 102. Most of my friends freaked out and wanted to take me to the hospital but, after calling my mom, it was determined that I was fine. Heck, even the nurse at the student health center said I was fine (but I'm still having a tough time trying to trust those people.) Then came everything else that comes with a cold: the stuffy nose, the headaches, and the sore throat. I've had a million colds in my 21 years but nothing compared to the intensity of this one. As the week went on, a cough developed and, though my throat seemed fine during the day, at night it went all Dr. Jeckle on me. The past couple of nights have been impossible for me to sleep, either because I can't stop coughing or because my throat hurts so bad that I don't even want to consider swallowing. All the Halls in the world did absolutely nothing for either of those. So, I'm currently on amoxicillin and praying that all of this stuff goes away. I'd like to feel normal again.
That being said, school started back up again today. My first class, newswriting, was extremely awkward. The professor decided to call out not only the names but the majors and years of each student, so I quickly discovered that I was the only junior in a class filled with freshman and a few sophomores. I was on the verge of mentioning that I was on the newspaper staff but I don't want to get off to a bad start with all the younglings around me, so I kept my mouth shut. A little later in the day, I had my rock climbing class, which I had to drop due to the fact that the professor wanted to go on class trips on the weekends and my entire weekend is dedicated to the newspaper.
And speaking of the newspaper... if I said we were busy today, that would totally under-estimate how swamped we were. I spent the majority of my day downstairs with the rest of the editors, helping out as best as I could. My new job as Lead Section Copy Editor has definitely taken on many more responsibilities. I stepped out of the newspaper for an hour to go to a class and, in the time, I received a call from the Chief Copy Editor, wanting to know if I could edit four opinion stories that had arrived extremely late and the current opinion copy editor was at soccer practice. So, off I tromped to the basement again for 2 hours of copy editing. (I had been down there earlier for about 2 hours before my next class and, at that time, they didn't have anything for me to do.) Then, right after I left the school to go home and crash from all my copy editing time, I recieved another call, this time from the managing editor, who needed me to look over the final proof of a couple of stories because the Chief Copy Editor needed to go to class (class? What's that?) and didn't get the time to look over again. So, as I waited for my pasta to cook at home, I sat and edited another three stories.
I'm basically the on-call, go-to copy-editor, when people need someone.
I'm really glad that I decided to take this job before becoming Chief Copy, just so I start feeling the weight of responsibility on my shoulders getting heavier. I realize that this is the first week of school, so things are a bit crazy, but getting used to being on-call isn't too bad. Especially because I'm going to have a lot more responsibility next semester.
Tomorrow, I have a copy editing class, the religious study on C.S. Lewis and J.R.R Tolkien, and Women, Men, and the Media. It should be an interesting day...
Now, if I could just stop coughing, the world would be dandy.
Friday, December 4, 2009
Bible Thumping Crazy Christians
I am a Christian.
I'm not a flaming Christian. I'm what I would call a "quiet Christian." I share my beliefs with people who would like to listen and share their ideas and opinions back in a calm manner. When my family moved to the coast when I was in high school, I was (what people called) a "pretty crazy Christian." I called people out right on the spot, I didn't explain myself after giving the answer that I believed was right. When someone asked me if they were going to hell and told me they weren't a Christian, I stuck with the "yes, you are going to hell" and was told that I hurt a fair number of people's feelings that way. As time progressed and people stopped talked to me, I turned my tone down from an 8 to a 4, realizing that the way you approach people about Christianity should be gentle, calm, and optimistic. As much as I believe that the Bible is the way, someone else has a right to their opinion as well and it would be just of me to listen to it, even if I'm going to contradict it with another verse from the Bible.
So... when I saw this man on my campus looking exactly the way he does in this picture, claiming to preach a message of love from God... my blood boiled. And every time I look at this picture, my blood boils.
How would you like it, Christian or no, if you came upon someone like this? From this picture, what I gather is that he is pointing his finger, his mouth is open, and his eyes are narrowed. Which means... he's accusing someone of something. And that's just what he is on campus to do. I don't care what he has told everyone. His yelling and screaming and finger pointing presents a message of hate.
I'm come across this guy twice on campus, by myself, and both times I felt compelled to speak to him. The first time, he was standing on top of something, looking over the heads of students, screaming how they were all sodomites and lovers of homosexuals and how God "abhors" them all. I witness a young man from the college standing next to him, holding a sign in cardboard that read "God abhors this guy" and I listened to students laughing at guy screaming. I praised another young man who was telling the crowd that God and Jesus both love everyone and that they want to save everyone, while the preacher tried to scream over him about how they were all sinners and horrible and going to hell. I attempted to say something to him but he didn't listen to me and, I admit, my yelling up at him just blended in with the rest of the chaos.
The second time, Wednesday afternoon, I found that guy out again with an even bigger audience circling him this time, and a buddy who was holding the sign that the guy was holding the first time that I saw him. Off to the side were two young men holding cardboard signs with phrases such as "Jesus loves all!" on them, and I decided to approach them this time. I was grateful to find that they were from a Christian fraternity on campus and were trying to prove to the audience that you can preach a message without screaming, which was true because people continuously approached them, talking to them calmly, and mainly asking if they were with the two men who were yelling at the crowd. After talking to one of the guys for a while, I saw the preacher had stopped yelling so, against the boyfriend's warning earlier that day, I approached him.
I was calm. I asked him if he had a moment. I then proceeded to inquire how he thought all of this yelling was preaching a message of love, when it appeared to everyone that he was preaching hatred. He yelled at me after I had approached him quietly, inches from my face, with his horrid crooked teeth and horrid crooked breath, while I stood there quietly, looking at him quizzically. I felt the full force of his confrontation with his face so close to mine, accusing me of not being a true Christian, of not spreading the message of God. (I wanted to tell him that he reminded me of my father but I was afraid he would actually suggest my father is a good man.) Yet, never once did he open the Bible that he had been slapping around in his hand. He asked me if I had read the Gospels and seemed a little surprised when I confidently replied "yes" and wanted to add "have you?" When he went so far as to say, "What do you think your little ice cream socials and your little Bible studies can do compared to my preaching?" I actually shook my head and walked away. I wanted to slap him. I wanted to punch him in his crooked teeth and get him to stop making Christians look bad, make him stop angering Campus Crusades and the Christian fraternities and sororities. Of course, I didn't, but I wanted to. Perhaps I felt this way because the message he was spreading inspired anger and I wanted to show him anger in the form of my fist.
I later found out from another staff member at the student newspaper that the police have a record on this guy. His group travels around CSU campuses, screaming "the love of God" messages, and getting in people's faces so that someone physically assaults them. Then, they sue that person for a lot of money (claiming that they were in the campus free speech area) and they move to the next CSU. Personally, if I could, I would convict them of a hate crime.
My blood boils when I see that picture. My blood boils when I see that man.
I wonder what the police would say if a girl decked that guy in the face.
I'm not a flaming Christian. I'm what I would call a "quiet Christian." I share my beliefs with people who would like to listen and share their ideas and opinions back in a calm manner. When my family moved to the coast when I was in high school, I was (what people called) a "pretty crazy Christian." I called people out right on the spot, I didn't explain myself after giving the answer that I believed was right. When someone asked me if they were going to hell and told me they weren't a Christian, I stuck with the "yes, you are going to hell" and was told that I hurt a fair number of people's feelings that way. As time progressed and people stopped talked to me, I turned my tone down from an 8 to a 4, realizing that the way you approach people about Christianity should be gentle, calm, and optimistic. As much as I believe that the Bible is the way, someone else has a right to their opinion as well and it would be just of me to listen to it, even if I'm going to contradict it with another verse from the Bible.
So... when I saw this man on my campus looking exactly the way he does in this picture, claiming to preach a message of love from God... my blood boiled. And every time I look at this picture, my blood boils.
How would you like it, Christian or no, if you came upon someone like this? From this picture, what I gather is that he is pointing his finger, his mouth is open, and his eyes are narrowed. Which means... he's accusing someone of something. And that's just what he is on campus to do. I don't care what he has told everyone. His yelling and screaming and finger pointing presents a message of hate.
I'm come across this guy twice on campus, by myself, and both times I felt compelled to speak to him. The first time, he was standing on top of something, looking over the heads of students, screaming how they were all sodomites and lovers of homosexuals and how God "abhors" them all. I witness a young man from the college standing next to him, holding a sign in cardboard that read "God abhors this guy" and I listened to students laughing at guy screaming. I praised another young man who was telling the crowd that God and Jesus both love everyone and that they want to save everyone, while the preacher tried to scream over him about how they were all sinners and horrible and going to hell. I attempted to say something to him but he didn't listen to me and, I admit, my yelling up at him just blended in with the rest of the chaos.
The second time, Wednesday afternoon, I found that guy out again with an even bigger audience circling him this time, and a buddy who was holding the sign that the guy was holding the first time that I saw him. Off to the side were two young men holding cardboard signs with phrases such as "Jesus loves all!" on them, and I decided to approach them this time. I was grateful to find that they were from a Christian fraternity on campus and were trying to prove to the audience that you can preach a message without screaming, which was true because people continuously approached them, talking to them calmly, and mainly asking if they were with the two men who were yelling at the crowd. After talking to one of the guys for a while, I saw the preacher had stopped yelling so, against the boyfriend's warning earlier that day, I approached him.
I was calm. I asked him if he had a moment. I then proceeded to inquire how he thought all of this yelling was preaching a message of love, when it appeared to everyone that he was preaching hatred. He yelled at me after I had approached him quietly, inches from my face, with his horrid crooked teeth and horrid crooked breath, while I stood there quietly, looking at him quizzically. I felt the full force of his confrontation with his face so close to mine, accusing me of not being a true Christian, of not spreading the message of God. (I wanted to tell him that he reminded me of my father but I was afraid he would actually suggest my father is a good man.) Yet, never once did he open the Bible that he had been slapping around in his hand. He asked me if I had read the Gospels and seemed a little surprised when I confidently replied "yes" and wanted to add "have you?" When he went so far as to say, "What do you think your little ice cream socials and your little Bible studies can do compared to my preaching?" I actually shook my head and walked away. I wanted to slap him. I wanted to punch him in his crooked teeth and get him to stop making Christians look bad, make him stop angering Campus Crusades and the Christian fraternities and sororities. Of course, I didn't, but I wanted to. Perhaps I felt this way because the message he was spreading inspired anger and I wanted to show him anger in the form of my fist.
I later found out from another staff member at the student newspaper that the police have a record on this guy. His group travels around CSU campuses, screaming "the love of God" messages, and getting in people's faces so that someone physically assaults them. Then, they sue that person for a lot of money (claiming that they were in the campus free speech area) and they move to the next CSU. Personally, if I could, I would convict them of a hate crime.
My blood boils when I see that picture. My blood boils when I see that man.
I wonder what the police would say if a girl decked that guy in the face.
Friday, November 6, 2009
Wanting More
Have you ever felt when you walk into a room full of peers that you know that everyone likes you there but you simply don't feel like you belong?
That's how I have felt the past couple of weeks regarding my major. I love the people involved in it but I just don't feel as if I should really be there. When people come up to me and ask what I want to do with my major, if I don't automatically say, "nursing," (normally it's along the lines of running a woman's clinic), people give me funny looks or kind of a shun attitude. No offense to the people going into nursing; they are doing something that I completely respect but just don't feel like I want to be involved in. I've been keeping these feelings inside the past couple of weeks, only mentioning to the boyfriend sometime last week that I wondered what it would be like to be a religious studies major.
Wednesday, I decided that I was done with Health. I was bored and, when my Computer Applications teacher told us that we had to pick a motivational statement of our goals in Health Education, I couldn't think of anything to write. "What it is that you want to do with your life?" one of my friends asked me and my only response to that was, "write." It's true. All I want to do is write. But the realization that I didn't know what to do with my life (apart from write) hit me like a ton of bricks. I have already changed my major once. I didn't want to do it again. I had thought to use Health as a back-up plan in case my novel didn't take off (which there's no guarantee that it ever will) but I knew Health was the wrong back up plan. Even when a very close friend of mine told me, "It doesn't matter what you're major is; you could even take time off school if you want to work on your writing so badly," I couldn't agree. I needed a back up plan.
So, as you might have guessed, after much deliberation, I changed my major to journalism. Since it requires a minor, I am minoring in the Literary Editing and Publishing certificate (which, for some odd reason, journalism still considers a minor even though it is really a certificate). My Health friends are disappointed in me, my journalism friends (and the staff of the newspaper) are thrilled, and my new adviser did this funny little dance when I told him I wanted to change to journalism. I still haven't let my Health adviser know... I figured that would be the upsetting conquest of next week. People who were disappointed that I changed my major from English Lit are satisfied that I am do some sort of writing (as am I) and I really don't regret this change at all. Especially because if the minor falls through due to budget cuts, I'll be a creative writing minor. I've signed up for the classes that are still open and I'm really excited/intimidated by my Creative Nonfiction class next semester.
It was a necessary change and a good one. I don't regret it, even though journalism is a lot more work (unit-wise) than health education.
At least I wont be taking physiology next semester.
Excerpt from chapter 5:
To be posted later today.
Saturday, August 22, 2009
3-2-1 and the Editing Has Begun
I have spent the past 3 hours today, plus 2 hours yesterday, editing the first five stories that are up for review on Week One.
And I have learned something very important about myself, something I know pretty much already but was very obvious today: I'm not very patient with myself.
I like to know things. Now. I hate struggling with something that I know that I will be very good at in a week's time but am having a hard time with at the moment. For example, I'm learning how to do stuff in AP Style and I've only written in MLA format before. And, while AP Style is turning out to be fairly easy to learn, I'm having to learn it on the spot and apply it in what I'm doing. If I can't find it, then I have to contact one of the other copy editors to help me and I know that they're getting tired of my endless questions. Is this supposed to be capitalized? Do I have to state that it's the website specifically? Do I have to keep using Individual Honors or can I just shorten it to Honors? Do I have to use the "he said" and "she said" all the time? (That one kills me the most.) The list is endless.
I was relieved and terrified to send the completed stories to the chief editor, not know if I had caught all the corrections or not. The feeling of failure terrifies me.
This is probably a reason why I'm having so much trouble writing a second draft of my novel. My first draft is there, the idea is there, the basic plotline is there, but I'm afraid to get it done, get it edited, and get it rejected. The fact that I'll be published by October means very little to me because it is friends of mine (well, friends of Jo's) who are publishing my two stories and, while I know that all the professional astronomers who have heard the stories have thought they were good, I still haven't ever had to go through the terrifying process of submitting them to an editor to decide whether or not they are worthy of a book.
Today, I thought I would post the stories that my two sweet little cousins wrote when I was living with them two weeks ago. I'm sure they wont mind if I post them, since Mary is 5 and Zac is 7. This whole thing started when I first got to Bakersfield a couple of weeks ago and told Mary that I would make her into my little prodigy. She decided that she didn't like the stories I wrote and read to her (because she's 5 and who can honestly understand Pluto's issues with planethood at 5?) so she made me jump onto my laptop and write this little gem (btw, I somewhat corrected these stories grammatically so they would make more sense but the ridiculousness of it still belongs to the kids):
After which, Zac heard what we were doing and decided that I needed to write one for him:
And Mary demanded a third, which was interuppted in the middle due to a phone call so I'm sure that's why it sounds a little odd:
At this point, I saved their stories and switched back to working on my novel. Mary put up a fuss s0 I ignored her most of the time and she ended up sitting next to me on the couch, staring blankly at what I was writing, and pointing to a paragraph every couple of seconds and asking "what does that say?" She's a very vocal kid. I love her, though.
She and I spent one evening taking crazy pictures on my laptop (because I have the Mac Photobooth). Here's a few of my favorites:
Zac joined in here.
This is the totem pole with Mary, myself, and one of my uncles.
I taught her how to do a fish face.
She gives the weirdest kisses. They're all large and sloppy and wet but... gotta love 'em.
I don't actually look like this but Jo thought it was hilarious and forced me to post it. He just told me he wants to blow it up and put it on his wall. Meh.
Duuuuuuuhhhh.....
Cousins Unite!
None of these photos are flattering, of course, but it shows that, when Mary and I do get along, we have a TON of fun. I can't wait until she's old enough to come and stay with me for a week.
And I have learned something very important about myself, something I know pretty much already but was very obvious today: I'm not very patient with myself.
I like to know things. Now. I hate struggling with something that I know that I will be very good at in a week's time but am having a hard time with at the moment. For example, I'm learning how to do stuff in AP Style and I've only written in MLA format before. And, while AP Style is turning out to be fairly easy to learn, I'm having to learn it on the spot and apply it in what I'm doing. If I can't find it, then I have to contact one of the other copy editors to help me and I know that they're getting tired of my endless questions. Is this supposed to be capitalized? Do I have to state that it's the website specifically? Do I have to keep using Individual Honors or can I just shorten it to Honors? Do I have to use the "he said" and "she said" all the time? (That one kills me the most.) The list is endless.
I was relieved and terrified to send the completed stories to the chief editor, not know if I had caught all the corrections or not. The feeling of failure terrifies me.
This is probably a reason why I'm having so much trouble writing a second draft of my novel. My first draft is there, the idea is there, the basic plotline is there, but I'm afraid to get it done, get it edited, and get it rejected. The fact that I'll be published by October means very little to me because it is friends of mine (well, friends of Jo's) who are publishing my two stories and, while I know that all the professional astronomers who have heard the stories have thought they were good, I still haven't ever had to go through the terrifying process of submitting them to an editor to decide whether or not they are worthy of a book.
Today, I thought I would post the stories that my two sweet little cousins wrote when I was living with them two weeks ago. I'm sure they wont mind if I post them, since Mary is 5 and Zac is 7. This whole thing started when I first got to Bakersfield a couple of weeks ago and told Mary that I would make her into my little prodigy. She decided that she didn't like the stories I wrote and read to her (because she's 5 and who can honestly understand Pluto's issues with planethood at 5?) so she made me jump onto my laptop and write this little gem (btw, I somewhat corrected these stories grammatically so they would make more sense but the ridiculousness of it still belongs to the kids):
The End Book
There once was a girl who liked to sleep. Her mom said it was time for breakfast and her mom told her it was time for lunch and time for dinner and she didn’t eat any food. And she died when she was sleeping. The end.
After which, Zac heard what we were doing and decided that I needed to write one for him:
Zoo Mischief
Once upon a time there was a zookeeper. Once day, a chimp got out of his cage. He stole the keys from the zookeeper and unlocked every animal from their cages in the zoo. A little girl saw an elephant and patted its back. The elephant fell fast asleep and the zookeeper heard the elephant snoring. Quickly, he rushed to gather up all of the animals and locked back in their cages once again, especially the naughty chimpanzee. The end.
And Mary demanded a third, which was interuppted in the middle due to a phone call so I'm sure that's why it sounds a little odd:
Space Chimps
There were once three chimps. The littlest chimp said, “I have a mission.” The chimp went into space with his mommy and daddy. The chimp went into space. The big boy chimp went inside and then got out and the ship blasted back. He said, “Chimps don’t leave chimps behind.” Then they made a new rocket. They went back into space. The end.
At this point, I saved their stories and switched back to working on my novel. Mary put up a fuss s0 I ignored her most of the time and she ended up sitting next to me on the couch, staring blankly at what I was writing, and pointing to a paragraph every couple of seconds and asking "what does that say?" She's a very vocal kid. I love her, though.
She and I spent one evening taking crazy pictures on my laptop (because I have the Mac Photobooth). Here's a few of my favorites:
Zac joined in here.
This is the totem pole with Mary, myself, and one of my uncles.
I taught her how to do a fish face.
She gives the weirdest kisses. They're all large and sloppy and wet but... gotta love 'em.
I don't actually look like this but Jo thought it was hilarious and forced me to post it. He just told me he wants to blow it up and put it on his wall. Meh.
Duuuuuuuhhhh.....
Cousins Unite!None of these photos are flattering, of course, but it shows that, when Mary and I do get along, we have a TON of fun. I can't wait until she's old enough to come and stay with me for a week.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Busy Busy Busy
School is less than a week away and, suddenly, my life is busy again! I got filled in for the position as the second copy editor for the features page of the school newspaper so I spent all morning getting that set up. Apparently, I got all of the corrections right on the exercise that the chief copy editor sent to me, I just lacked a bit in the AP Style stuff, so I now have to memorize the AP style book by next week. My inbox for my email has been full because I have several different email addresses being forwarded to it so I can keep track of 3 or 4 different addresses in one inbox instead of going to all 3 or 4. Stories start being sent out for copy editing on Friday evening and they are due by Saturday evening so I have to get crackin' on those when they come in.
On top of this, there is a mandatory staff meeting next Monday, during the first day of my Human Sexuality class, so I had to contact my professor and ask if I could get out of class a bit early in order to go to the meeting. Apparently, the newspaper isn't just extra curricular, it's actually a class so the meeting is covering how I can get signed up for it. She (my professor) was not at all happy about it but she said that I could go if it was this one time only.
My inbox has also been filled with a lot of safety instructions from the college. Apparently, last Friday, a girl got raped by two guys just off of campus as she was walking home in the evening. I'm promising you all now that I will not be biking home alone at night. I have one class that goes until 9pm and Jo has already promised that he will come meet me and bike me home. Still, the whole thing is totally freaky and school hasn't even started yet.
Also, on the prompt side of things, I couldn't bring myself to write the prompt that Jo gave me, so he will be picking a new one for tomorrow. The one I was supposed to write was this: A couple on the brink of a nasty divorce gets snowed in together during a blizzard. Stay tuned for tomorrow's prompt!
On top of this, there is a mandatory staff meeting next Monday, during the first day of my Human Sexuality class, so I had to contact my professor and ask if I could get out of class a bit early in order to go to the meeting. Apparently, the newspaper isn't just extra curricular, it's actually a class so the meeting is covering how I can get signed up for it. She (my professor) was not at all happy about it but she said that I could go if it was this one time only.
My inbox has also been filled with a lot of safety instructions from the college. Apparently, last Friday, a girl got raped by two guys just off of campus as she was walking home in the evening. I'm promising you all now that I will not be biking home alone at night. I have one class that goes until 9pm and Jo has already promised that he will come meet me and bike me home. Still, the whole thing is totally freaky and school hasn't even started yet.
Also, on the prompt side of things, I couldn't bring myself to write the prompt that Jo gave me, so he will be picking a new one for tomorrow. The one I was supposed to write was this: A couple on the brink of a nasty divorce gets snowed in together during a blizzard. Stay tuned for tomorrow's prompt!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
