Deep Thoughts of the Day: The Back in NY Edition

"Start spreading the news
I'm leaving today
I want to be a part of it, New York, New York"

• Things that make me happy: a monthly unlimited MetroCard, black Old Navy flip-flops (am mildly disturbed by the fact that I wrecked a pair in less than three months).

• I am too old to live at home, though it is nice to come home to a kitchen that I don't have to stock

• I am out of the family loop ("Oh? You didn't know your cousin is seven months pregnant? Oops, forgot to tell you.")

• There is nothing that will make you be happier that you keep kosher than watching people prepare and eat crabs. Eww. Gross.

• Note to self: Do not forget that your yeshiva-educated self is no match for people educated in other venues when playing Trivial Pursuit. It is an embarrassing revelation every time.

• I sort of want to go out and buy school supplies except that I don't have school to go to. Right.

• Watching movies and packing do not mix.

• First days at new jobs = overwhelming.
  

A Copy-Editing Heroine

"One of the great things about being a copy editor is freedom from vulgar desire for public recognition."

A friend and I have had an ongoing conversation in which I insist we could make a movie with a copy editor heroine. And though she quite validly points out this problem with that conception, I'm just saying it can be done. Copy editors are quite heroic, in my humble opinion.

But seems someone beat me to it and wrote a novel in which the copy editor is the heroine and in which grammar plays a large role. I am psyched.

Money quotes:

"It’s hard not to love a book in which grammar features as a clue to the identity of a killer."

"Grammarians, rejoice. You finally have your own sleuth."

"[A]nd reinforces the fact that copy editors do it all with style."

Nothing's Right, I'm Torn

"Well, if that's love, it comes at much too high a cost."

It's not fair. It's not fair that no matter what I'm going to do I'm going to hurt somebody I love. It's not fair that there's no way around it, that it's not logical or reasonable and can't be rationally argued, that I don't know enough of what's going on to make any sense of it, that everyone has imposed restrictions on themselves that make the whole thing impossible. And it's not fair that I get stuck in the middle and have no way to resolve anything and will probably end up hurting everybody in trying to hurt nobody. It's not fair.

(Bonus points if you know where the title is from.)

Priority Disconnect

I spoke with somebody who has a relatively revered position in my office last week. She's an accomplished journalist and I am really interested in her job--in the theoretical, academic sense. So, I asked to meet with her. She readily agreed. I wanted to talk about her job. She wanted to give me career advice.

Okay, career advice can be useful--except when the career advice goes something like this:

Never take a job for the hours or the location. If you have to work 4 to midnight, then that's fine. And you should go somewhere far away and crazy, somewhere west of the Mississippi but not the West Coast [translation: somewhere in the middle of nowhere]. Maybe Denver or El Paso or San Antonio. Have an adventure. And don't, under any circumstances, fall in love. You're not in love already, are you? I cannot tell you how many women I know who got married and had kids right away and at 27 thought their lives were over. I got married at 34, and I think that's about the right age. Not before that. And you have to work at a newspaper [as opposed to a wire or a magazine or a trade publication] because that's the only place you'll learn anything. And don't worry, I knew an Orthodox Jew who worked at [a newspaper in the middle of nowhere] and she was terrified that she woulddn't get married, but she got married at 40 and had step-children since she couldn't have children of her own, so don't worry.

So, essentially, she told me that my most recent decision was dead wrong and that I should make my career my only priority and relentlessly pursue it. And maybe it worked for her--she, I think, is very happy with the way her life turned out. But that is not my priority list, cannot be my priority list, should not be my priority list.

It, nevertheless, did not put me in a particularly good mood. I never liked how she does her job anyway.

Out of Context: The Four-Inch Heel Edition

These have been sitting in draft form for a while, so I don't know if the links are dead. Sorry.

"that segment of the population that favors shoes with animal prints, polka dots and four-inch heels." --Newsweek

"Whoever gets the nominations next year will want to study Bush's experience closely — if only because they may not be able to count on their own." --NY Times

"Shoe fashion tends to swing dramatically on the pendulum from practical to beautiful, largely because shoes are even more utilitarian than clothes—and stylish clothes are rarely as uncomfortable as stylish shoes." --Slate

"using an image of The Journal as a citadel trying to repel an invasion by tabloid barbarians." --NY Times

The Birthday Countdown

I apologize in advance--when I get emotional, I write bad poetry. That's just the way it is.

Almost

She flips her calendar over to August,
circles her birthday
almost 23
almost old
almost there?
almost a real, normal person
almost employed
almost content with where she is
almost sure of where she is going?
almost confident in her abilities
almost comfortable with her body
almost come to terms with her family
almost come to terms with herself
almost happy with what she’s done, who she’s turned out to be
almost over college
almost ready to move on
almost done with 22
almost
almost 23

Poem of the Day: The Moving On Edition

Better

It is better this way
she thinks
the right decision
really

maybe

her jaw is sore
from being clenched all night,
grinding teeth through her subconscious ruminations
it is better
she knows,
counts the reasons
as if they are on a list—which they are
talks to herself as if she can convince herself verbally
a deep sigh which turns into a sniffle
the tears are held at bay for now
she tries to think through logistics,
as if the normalcy of figuring out when to move,
not if to move,
will calm her,
as if rational thinking is the cure to this sudden, unforeseen burst of emotion
she does not want to move
she thinks
but that is a lie
she does not want to move on