I like strawberry milk. A lot. I don’t get to have it that often, so I’m always happy when I get a chance to drink some. Moving on…
I’m trying to figure out whether I want to further my education. I’d like to have a bit more training in the sacred art of editing, for both educational and marketing purposes. I dread getting stuck between the “you can’t get a job without experience” rock and the “you can’t get experience without a job” hard place. At the same time, I don’t really want to complete a grad school program—or at least, go through all the craziness that grad school would bring (read: moving to a city other than Lexington [or maybe Louisville] once my time here at home is up). That being said, what’s a editor-who-wants-to-be-in-training to do?
Well, I’m considering a route similar to University of Chicago’s Editing Certificate Program. From UC’s online description:
“To receive a Certificate in Editing from the Graham School, students must complete four required courses and an elective. Students may choose from three course formats: eight-week courses meeting once per week, a four-week-intensive course, or two- or three-day seminars.”
Obviously, with this program, I’d pick the seminars, as that would keep me from moving. There’s also the possibility of doing an online program. I don’t know specifics yet, all I know is that I want to explore the finer points of the editing publishing world. More to come…
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I like my new job; for those of you not in the know, I’m now working as a clerk at a law office. Is it mentally taxing? Yes sirree, Bob. Is it physically tough? Not unless I have to fight the copier.
Since I was a little boy, I remember my dad always coming home, covered in grease/dirt/coal dust. That’s the reason he’s in the shape he’s in now—left leg amputee below the knee (though he can still boogie when he wants), heart problems out the wazoo, kidneys shutting down & forcing him to go on dialysis, degenerative spine disease, and the evil Diabeetus—because he has worked himself into the ground to provide for his family. Over all the years, he always told me, “Son, use that big brain of yours, don’t work with your back.” Translation: Learn from my mistake, use your abilities to give yourself a chance at seeing sixty candles on your cake one day.
I was reading my last post, and although it ends on a happy note, the first part was god-awful. Whining about a copier breaking? Dad’s had to change tires on a coal truck all by his onesies in the dark, and has worked on a drilling rig in temperatures so cold that, when he inhaled, he had a choice between sharp pain in his lungs or freezing the snot in his nose. I mean, I was upset that day because things kept piling on, but when compared to what my dad had to endure during his working life? Piece of cake. I’ll try to refrain from bitching for a bit.
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I like this format. I don’t know that I will use it for every single post that has a few different things to cover, but it’s something to do every now and then.
Thanks for reading, by the way. The blog is a weird little creature—you put it out in the public arena, and get surprised when people read it. Hehe.