Meticulosity
Yesterday I copyedited my little heart out. It was quite satisfying. The hours flew by when I was editing; when it was time to write, the minutes tended to drag. One of the copyeditors, Bob, told me I was doing a great job, and that he was keeping many of my changes, but that I needed to write bigger. I agree. Felt-tip red pens on life-size font (tiny tiny) don't make for the most legible marks. This morning I showed up to work and Rhoda, who is kind of like mother hen to the three features interns, told me she heard a lot of positive feedback about my work yesterday. This makes me very happy. When I took my lunch break yesterday, I felt sure I was failing. I don't know why. I guess I just always expect myself to fail; that way, in case I do, I can't be disappointed. By the end of the day, though, I felt much better.
It's a little hard, though, because journalism by nature is pretty competitive. A girl I work with at the writing center already had an article on the front page of the paper. An editor had me look over her follow-up article and make suggestions, but I didn't get a credit or anything on that. (We get paid by the credit.) Even though I have thirteen assignments already and I proofread the fall arts guide, which is a pretty big thing to do my first day, I feel like I just don't have that competitive streak. I want to be assigned pieces, but I'm still a bit psyched out by interviews (always improving, though); I want to be a reporter, but the time crunch and pressure is a lot to deal with sometimes. I want to be competitive, but at the same time I love how peaceful copyediting is. Just me, the proof and my AP guide. I get in the zone. It's more my element than reporting, but I will not like myself in three months if I let these opportunities slide by.
Tomorrow I will do some follow-up on a "Tip of the Day" piece and gather more information for the "Park of the Week" piece.
Today at my other job, things weren't so great. It was just a staff meeting, but it put me in the most foul mood. First, I hate office gossip. Why, when I tell someone something, anything, do they think that is their cue to repeat it to everyone with ears? I mean, if I ever need to put out a memo, I'll just tell something to a coworker and wait an hour. I don't get it. What makes someone think it is their job to spread my business? It isn't their business to talk about. I hate that.
And remember my R&G guy? Well he kept bringing up what happened at the beginning of summer on Tuesday. Very embarrassing for me. I would like to retain professional dignity, and that won't happen if he keeps making references in front of coworkers. I don't want to be the office joke. Just grow up already and get over it. Then, today, someone made a joke at the meeting about me needing a good hard spanking. Excuse me?? I know they thought it was funny and that I was laughing with them, but I was horrified. During our break I went in the bathroom and tried not to cry. So, no surprise, I did not go to happy hour with my coworkers. So then the people that set up the joke didn't understand why I was upset and acted like it was the most inconvenient, invalid feeling ever. Well, screw you. I owe it to absolutely no one to be in a pleasing mood all the time, and even if you don't understand why I'm upset, don't act like I don't have a right to my own feelings. I am a sensitive person, and I have my dignity like everybody else, and I don't need to be the butt of inappropriate jokes at work. Can't people just be professional?
I am a smart person, and I am good at my job. I don't know why that isn't enough. I hope that next week will be better. All I did tonight was assert myself; why am I obsessing about it? I guess I'm just not comfortable speaking everything on my mind yet--but I am working on it.
To cheer myself up, tonight I went to my Starbucks in St. Paul and sat on a comfy couch and read 'The Trumpet of the Swan.' If you can read that book and not feel good about life, check and see if you have a pulse.
Oh, and I bought a mug that says, "Meticulosity: me-tic-u-los-i-ty: adj: extreme attention to detail" to reward myself for my mad copyediting skillz.