“It seems that when we give up on what was, well, that’s when things that we thought improbable, or impossible even, happen right before your eyes.” -- Kitty Walker, “Brothers & Sisters”
I made it.
Five hundred, twenty-five thousand, six hundred minutes later, I have come full circle. I passed my due date, my conception date, and now, finally, the one-year anniversary of my miscarriage. It was one year ago today that my life was turned upside down. In the last year, I have lost something -- and found something, too.
I have spent the last year on an intense journey of self-discovery -- one that I most definitely don’t recall signing up for. I’ve questioned my faith, my patience, my priorities. I’ve been angry, I’ve been in denial, I’ve been shattered, and slowly, I’ve managed to put myself back together again.
I never, in a million years, thought I would lose a child at age 24. I’m in good health. I don’t smoke. I drink very sporadically. I take my vitamins. I only go to Starbucks once or twice a week, and I don‘t eat sushi. OK, so maybe I don’t drink my recommended amount of milk every day, and I’d rather sleep an extra half hour than run on the treadmill, but seriously, come on.
But more importantly, I wanted it. I’ve spent my life pushing myself to succeed -- and, for the most part, I’ve done it. I was a good student from preschool through college. I got my dream job right out of college. I’ve been increasingly entrusted with new challenges at said job -- from taking over the election chart from a senior manager, to running the advance Sunday paper to, most recently, slotting. I was able to establish a name for myself within the L&C fic-writing community in a short amount of time and won two Kerths in my first year.
In short, I don’t do anything half-assed (except maybe that whole treadmill thing, which I currently technically do no-assed), and I don’t handle it well when I fail. And to have worked so hard to get pregnant in the first place (not that I’m complaining about the, uh, efforts, but as we all know, I am not the most patient person), and then not succeed, was an unbelievable blow. It still is.
I always indirectly knew it wasn‘t my fault, but I’ve always been very hard on myself, and it took a long time to truly believe that, and to accept that I didn‘t do anything wrong. If I hadn’t had that latte/glass of wine/Thai food … if I hadn’t told everyone before twelve weeks ... if I hadn’t bought all of those baby clothes so soon … if I hadn’t gone to the fateful ultrasound alone … My rationale has, at times, been pretty weak, but no one ever said grief is logical.
I called in sick yesterday when I decided that driving 42 miles to throw up all over my desk wasn’t such a hot idea. And as I lay on the couch all afternoon, reading “Faustian Bargain” for the zillionth time and vacillating between needing a cold shower and crying over Lois’ miscarriage (talk about being able to relate to your hero in a way you wish you couldn‘t), I had a weird sense of déjà vu.
A year ago, I was lying at the same end of the same couch, reading the same story, and in a lot worse condition. (And in my own defense, I am not a masochist; I wasn’t really thinking about anything when I started reading FB today except that I was bored being home, and that we seriously are in need of a supply closet at work if Chris ever gets a job there. Just kidding.) But I kept thinking that maybe this is some higher being’s way of pointing out that being home for the day with a stomach bug isn‘t that bad in the larger scheme of things.
It’s kind of bittersweetly ironic that “Faustian Bargain” is the story I was reading yesterday -- and a year ago. Last fall, Sue told me that once I got past the important dates -- the due date and the one-year anniversary, I would be OK. That piece of advice was the best thing I’ve ever read by her (and yes, that includes all of her Kerth winners). I clung to it for so long, and she was right. I started to feel OK after Feb. 15 came and went, and now, on July 31, I can honestly say I am at peace with myself.
Yes, I lost something, and I’ll never get it back. But sitting here a year later, I still have a hell of a lot -- an incredible husband who would do anything for me, wonderful friends who have rallied to support me from all corners of the Earth, a career that I love, a pastime that provides an outlet for my frustrations and my passion. A year ago, I didn’t see how it ever would be again, but from the view on my couch, life’s actually pretty good these days.
I can focus on what is to come, and not what was.
The year is over. The circle is closed.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Hell has frozen over ...
I, the pink control freak, actually managed to go four days without turning on my laptop. I had it on during the flight to L.A. on Wednesday, and then didn't turn it on again until Sunday morning. I don't think it hit me just how badly I needed a vacation until I got on the plane -- and started crying. I think it was a combination of fatigue, stress, nerves, guilt about going on vacation without Chris, and, oh yeah, Celine Dion. Virgin America was awesome, and they have MP3s on their in-flight entertainment system, so I got to blare "Alone" during takeoff, and then I switched over to "A New Day Has Come," which, of course, had me in tears.
I spent most of the flight reading Vanity Fair and drinking vodka/cranberry juice. I normally don't drink before noon, but the TV feed wasn't working on my seat, so they offered me a cocktail. It definitely took the edge off. Hee. It was entirely too amazing to get off the plane in L.A. and see Sue, Lara and Steph sitting there.
It was not so amazing to get stuck in rush-hour traffic on three different freeways trying to get from LAX to Burbank. I cannot even put into words my newfound appreciation for good old I-5 in Seattle. Wednesday night, we went to the Burbank Bar & Grille, and then sang karaoke (go figure) and hung out. I think there may have been drinks, but I can't remember, and that is only from fatigue, not from having been drunk (unlike Friday, and that is all I am saying).
Thursday, we went on the Warner Bros. tour, which was just awesome. I don't watch any shows currently taped there, but it was a ton of fun to see where "Friends" taped -- including the Central Perk set -- and even more so to see some of the buildings used on "Lois and Clark." It's been 11 years since the show went off the air, but seeing the streets where Teri and Dean walked, and the buildings that once housed The Daily Planet and Metropolis City Hall, and the theater where the Kerths was held, and the scandalous Chateau Roberge, totally brought out my inner pink geek.
That night, we went to a ramen place that was about 25 minutes away, and spent another 90 waiting, but seriously, it was worth it. Ramen is my ultimate bad food, and this was like a thousand times better. As in $137 worth of ramen for 11 people. (OK, there was sake and potstickers and oolong tea, too, but still, you could buy like a million 10-cent packages for that much money.) When we got back to the hotel, we read a very interesting fic out loud, and I can honestly say that when body parts start shooting off, it's no longer sexy.Friday was entirely too awesome. We got up early and headed to The Grove in Beverly Hills. Steph, Anna, Sue and Lara went off to see "The Dark Knight," and I went shopping with Lauren, Kate and Laurie, who was kind enough to come meet us. I bought shoes at Nordstrom, and had lunch at an awesome organic restaurant, and also shopped at Victoria's Secret and Sur La Table.
And then we went to We finished off the evening with a trip to The Cheesecake Factory, where we ate pasta and laughed ourselves sick before traveling back to Burbank via a little, uh, detour through Studio City that took us past Chez Hatcher and Chez Clooney (and Chez Trebek, but who cares about him? The answer: No one, for $100).
Saturday, we went to Hollywood, where we saw famous handprints and built bears. Yeah, bet y'all didn't think I'd be the Build-a-Bear type, eh? I was going to do a Hawaiian bear, but I, uh, kind of made a Clark bear instead. He's in a suit, just like a fancy reporter (and totally unlike the reporters at my paper). We also took a tour of the famous Grauman’s Theater, which was really interesting. I didn't know that some celebs, including Julia Roberts, have turned down the chance to put their handprints in cement (in her case, three times). It kind of has me thinking there should be a Walk of Fame for journalists. ;-)I was dead tired by the time I dragged myself onto the plane to come home -- after three hours of sleep, which was well worth it to stay up and talk with my friends -- and while I am glad to be home, I had so much fun with my friends that I am already counting down the days until next fall when we go to Vegas. Like I tearily told them early Sunday morning, this vacation was exactly what I needed.
For four days, I didn't have to think about fertility, or cyber stalkers, or headline contests and Newsline, or any other stresses. For four days, I just had an awesome time. I feel refreshed and ready to write -- both L&C and G&L -- and I realized that having some "me time" was, for lack of a better word, absolutely brilliant.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Exactly what I (didn't) need ...
I would like to personally thank the person who broke into my car at Costco this afternoon. As if I didn't have enough to do in the next three days, I now have a shattered passenger-side window, a stolen work bag, no headlines for the June contest, no digital camera or Zune cord, and miscellaneous other belongings, including three forks, a chapstick, a birthday card for one of my friends and all of the cardstock for the CD inserts I am making, are gone, too. And, to add insult to injury, the bag was my bridesmaid present from Brooke, and I loved it.
I hope they enjoy their new belongings, and I also hope they rot in hell.
On a positive note, I got some stuff done last night and earlier today -- this is a huge setback, though. And I have to cancel the June headline contest, and I am really, really upset about that. I take every single element of my job seriously, and I HATE having something get in the way.
If only it would work, I'd be up on the paper's roof right now, screaming: HELP, Superman, help!
I hope they enjoy their new belongings, and I also hope they rot in hell.
On a positive note, I got some stuff done last night and earlier today -- this is a huge setback, though. And I have to cancel the June headline contest, and I am really, really upset about that. I take every single element of my job seriously, and I HATE having something get in the way.
If only it would work, I'd be up on the paper's roof right now, screaming: HELP, Superman, help!
Friday, July 11, 2008
It's a skill to be zen ... or bitchy ...
Zen. Must find zen. I have been ordered to be zen.
In between doing my job and changing my blog url for the third and what I hope is the final time (thanks to all of those who still bother to read this!) I have managed to cross a few more things off my to-do list, thanks largely to Lara, the best beta, bat and Canadian ever -- and yes, even more so than Celine Dion -- and Trin, my little sis and Pink Mafia henchman. And I have to give props to Mel, whose real name should be SuperSlot, because she knows stuff about India and can calm me down, and to my fabulous husband, who has tolerated my lack of time/inclination to cook dinner, listened to my rants, and even dropped off my dry cleaning.
So I'm trying to think of someone zen I can look to for inspiration -- and I'm thinking Mad Dog Lane isn't the best choice in this case. And ... I couldn't think of anyone. So I'm going to post a few of my favorite quotes instead, some of which I have loved for more than a decade, and others, more recently. Some of them are from celebs, some are from my friends, and several are from TV shows.
They all mean something to me, and honestly, even writing an entry right now is helping to restore my sense of zen. And I think, without a doubt, the first quote is going to have to be how I govern myself for the next five days ... and uh, maybe not the third quote on the list. I do have some common sense, after all.
-- Clark Kent, "Lois & Clark"
"I think we can only justify our actions for so long before we crack and either go back to our 'normal' self or become someone else entirely. Either way, we have to deal with the aftermath of our actions."
-- My big sis Sue, on the plot to "Faustian Bargain"
"There is a land called Passive Aggressiva, and I am their queen."
-- Addison Montgomery, "Grey's Anatomy"
"People are just starting to scratch the surface on who I really am and what I can do. So I’m out to tell it like it is."
-- Teri Hatcher, in a 1995 interview, and my very favorite quote
In between doing my job and changing my blog url for the third and what I hope is the final time (thanks to all of those who still bother to read this!) I have managed to cross a few more things off my to-do list, thanks largely to Lara, the best beta, bat and Canadian ever -- and yes, even more so than Celine Dion -- and Trin, my little sis and Pink Mafia henchman. And I have to give props to Mel, whose real name should be SuperSlot, because she knows stuff about India and can calm me down, and to my fabulous husband, who has tolerated my lack of time/inclination to cook dinner, listened to my rants, and even dropped off my dry cleaning.
So I'm trying to think of someone zen I can look to for inspiration -- and I'm thinking Mad Dog Lane isn't the best choice in this case. And ... I couldn't think of anyone. So I'm going to post a few of my favorite quotes instead, some of which I have loved for more than a decade, and others, more recently. Some of them are from celebs, some are from my friends, and several are from TV shows.
They all mean something to me, and honestly, even writing an entry right now is helping to restore my sense of zen. And I think, without a doubt, the first quote is going to have to be how I govern myself for the next five days ... and uh, maybe not the third quote on the list. I do have some common sense, after all.
"I'm trying to be my powerful me. It’s in there, but I have to find the strong part underneath the layers of ‘I'm shit. I'm never going to go anywhere!' "
-- Teri Hatcher, in a 2005 interview
"Please don’t mistake my anal retentiveness for actual affection."
-- Bree Van De Kamp, "Desperate Housewives"
"I am feeling the need to do some drinking. Actually, I’m feeling the need to do some crying, but my tear ducts seem to be too proud, so I am going to do some drinking instead."
-- Addison Montgomery, "Grey's Anatomy"
"If you don’t practice what you preach, I’d say you shouldn’t be preaching."
-- Lois Lane, "Inside Out" (my debut fic)
"We don’t even schedule evil. It just happens."
-- My hilarious friend Lisa, in IRC last fall
"I don’t believe in regrets because every moment in our lives we make choices about everything. Once you pick a road, you’re down it, and you can’t go back, so there’s no sense in regretting."
-- Teri Hatcher, in a 1999 interview
"It’s a skill to be bitchy. It’s a weapon you can use."
-- From a story on office politics we published in 2006.
"You gotta wonder why we cling to our expectations. Because the expected is just what keeps us steady, standing, still. The expected is just the beginning. The unexpected is what changes our lives."
-- Meredith Grey, "Grey's Anatomy"
-- Clark Kent, "Lois & Clark"
"I think we can only justify our actions for so long before we crack and either go back to our 'normal' self or become someone else entirely. Either way, we have to deal with the aftermath of our actions."
-- My big sis Sue, on the plot to "Faustian Bargain"
"There is a land called Passive Aggressiva, and I am their queen."
-- Addison Montgomery, "Grey's Anatomy"
"People are just starting to scratch the surface on who I really am and what I can do. So I’m out to tell it like it is."
-- Teri Hatcher, in a 1995 interview, and my very favorite quote
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Z is for ... oh, who am I kidding?
Z is supposed to be for zen.
And Z is also supposed to be for zzzzs, as in sleep.
So why is the letter Z gone from my vocabulary?
Maybe because of the comment left on my blog earlier today by my friendly neighborhood cyberstalker: "The 'game' stops when we say," which is clearly in reference to my post on here about the hacking of my blog, as well as the posts I made on the L&C and ficboards. Needless to say, it creeped me out. Someone e-mailed her the link to my blog, and she is now spamming this address all over the Internet in Teri and Dean posts.
I set up a Google alert with their names so I could check for posts, and one came over about 2 a.m. Wednesday, a blog posting with an array of photos of Teri, discussing how gorgeous she is. I figured I'd beat this bitch at her own game, so I posted as "The Real EditorJax" and complimented Teri, talked about which pics I liked, etc. I checked the blog again about 1 p.m. before I left for work, and my comment was the only one there. Well, imagine my surprise when I found a nasty comment by "Editor Jax" about 4 p.m.
So, this blog is now friends-only. I decided not to change the URL because I know exactly who has access, and no one can get to it, anyway, other than those who are invited. I won't lie and say that I don't wonder what she'll do next. And I am very sorry to have dragged my friends into this. I am eternally grateful they are so logical and calm, and, in one case, a law student. It's like having a human Westlaw database right at my fingertips. I love you guys.
And I am trying very hard to restore some semblance of zen. I will be in L.A. this time next week, having a Drunken Superman (yes, it really is a drink, thank you Lara!) or a Pinktini with my friends, and man, does that sound good.
I just need to get through the rest of this week. Among the things I have left to do (in addition to eat, sleep, breathe and edit): Return pants to Ann Taylor, go to Borders, drop clothes at the dry cleaner, finish G&L16 and RD3, buy sunblock, etc., go grocery shopping so Chris doesn't starve to death while I'm gone, and, oh yeah, bake four dozen truffles for work and to take to L.A.
So, where exactly does the zen come in?
Assuming there are no disasters on my watch as Late News Editor, I can probably be somewhat zen at work -- until Saturday, when I slot again, and turn into a pink pile of panic. I look at the veteran slots and wonder how they're so calm, and I seriously envy that. Maybe I'll get there someday. I also could be zen if I could get some writing done -- blame my stalker for why the finale to "Reality Destroyed" is never going to get done at the rate I am going -- and I also could be zen by lying here on the couch, at 3:30 a.m., watching "Jon & Kate Plus 8." Seriously, as much as I want kids, nothing makes me appreciate my generally-quiet life more than watching six 4-year-olds and two 7-year-olds all screaming at the same time.
I can find some zen. I have to.
Bottom line: There is no Z in stalker.
This lunatic is NOT going to win.
And Z is also supposed to be for zzzzs, as in sleep.
So why is the letter Z gone from my vocabulary?
Maybe because of the comment left on my blog earlier today by my friendly neighborhood cyberstalker: "The 'game' stops when we say," which is clearly in reference to my post on here about the hacking of my blog, as well as the posts I made on the L&C and ficboards. Needless to say, it creeped me out. Someone e-mailed her the link to my blog, and she is now spamming this address all over the Internet in Teri and Dean posts.
I set up a Google alert with their names so I could check for posts, and one came over about 2 a.m. Wednesday, a blog posting with an array of photos of Teri, discussing how gorgeous she is. I figured I'd beat this bitch at her own game, so I posted as "The Real EditorJax" and complimented Teri, talked about which pics I liked, etc. I checked the blog again about 1 p.m. before I left for work, and my comment was the only one there. Well, imagine my surprise when I found a nasty comment by "Editor Jax" about 4 p.m.
So, this blog is now friends-only. I decided not to change the URL because I know exactly who has access, and no one can get to it, anyway, other than those who are invited. I won't lie and say that I don't wonder what she'll do next. And I am very sorry to have dragged my friends into this. I am eternally grateful they are so logical and calm, and, in one case, a law student. It's like having a human Westlaw database right at my fingertips. I love you guys.
And I am trying very hard to restore some semblance of zen. I will be in L.A. this time next week, having a Drunken Superman (yes, it really is a drink, thank you Lara!) or a Pinktini with my friends, and man, does that sound good.
I just need to get through the rest of this week. Among the things I have left to do (in addition to eat, sleep, breathe and edit): Return pants to Ann Taylor, go to Borders, drop clothes at the dry cleaner, finish G&L16 and RD3, buy sunblock, etc., go grocery shopping so Chris doesn't starve to death while I'm gone, and, oh yeah, bake four dozen truffles for work and to take to L.A.
So, where exactly does the zen come in?
Assuming there are no disasters on my watch as Late News Editor, I can probably be somewhat zen at work -- until Saturday, when I slot again, and turn into a pink pile of panic. I look at the veteran slots and wonder how they're so calm, and I seriously envy that. Maybe I'll get there someday. I also could be zen if I could get some writing done -- blame my stalker for why the finale to "Reality Destroyed" is never going to get done at the rate I am going -- and I also could be zen by lying here on the couch, at 3:30 a.m., watching "Jon & Kate Plus 8." Seriously, as much as I want kids, nothing makes me appreciate my generally-quiet life more than watching six 4-year-olds and two 7-year-olds all screaming at the same time.
I can find some zen. I have to.
Bottom line: There is no Z in stalker.
This lunatic is NOT going to win.
Sunday, July 6, 2008
Wastin' away in Pinkaritaville ...
I am slowly getting used to my blog's new name. I admit I miss pinkeditor, but this one is pretty Jenn-centric, too. I do love margaritas -- and Margaritaville (both the song and the restaurant). And, if I'm being technical, Vodkatiniville, too, which I so think belongs on the G&L soundtrack, but hey, I have some restraint.
And speaking of margaritas, I think I deserve a big one -- salted rim and all -- after the week I had.
First, there was the little matter of dealing with my cyberstalker -- the number of posts she has flamed me on is now up to about 50, including saying Teri "Hatchet face" should die, and that Dean is a "has been with man boobs" (editor's note: if it was really me making those posts, I'd have hyphenated has-been -- see how much I have learned in four years at a major metropolitan newspaper??!) and it was getting a little tiresome, to say the least.
I also am going a little crazy trying to get my 51-item to-do list (see, I know how to use hyphens!) done before leaving for L.A. in 10 days. Why is it that when you have nothing to do but wait for your vacation to arrive, the days just drag by, but when you have a trillion things to do and not enough hours in the day, time just flies? Among the things I have to do: drop off and pick up dry cleaning, hold the June headline contest meeting (which includes baking mini-cheesecakes), return pants to Ann Taylor and a book to Borders, go to the post office (right up there on my list of least-favorite things to do) and, just because I am a glutton for punishment, finish Chapter 3 of "Reality Destroyed" and Chapter 16 of "This Ain't a Love Song." All by July 16.
Oh yeah, and there's that little thing called my job, too. Starting Tuesday, I am working eight days in a row (by choice; I am famously stingy about using vacation days). I am in Sports for one day, and then do Late News the rest of the week, so I guess I didn't do too poorly a job during my debut week last month. It's actually a lot of fun (with the exception of sitting there until 1 a.m. on Friday night, staring at the wall) to have such responsibility. Then again, nothing happened on my watch last time.
I also somehow managed to survive my days in Editorial last week, which I normally love, but it was a holiday week and we had to get out four days worth of sections in one day, which is about as fun as it sounds, especially when you consider that my designer is galactically slow. Basically, it was a whole lot of bitching about Obama/McCain/gas prices/the Oklahoma City Douchebags (formerly Seattle Sonics)/the war/global warming. However, I do get to flex my creative snark skills back there, so that's always a bonus. (A certain themed Letters to the Editor section comes to mind, and I'm still laughing about that -- and the reaction -- a month later.)
On top of that, I had to baby-sit two interns, to whom, by the end of the week, I was referring as Lois and Clark because of their entirely-too-cute flirting (ironically, it turns out there's a Lex Luthor in the picture, but that clearly isn't deterring young Clark). I'll just say this: I was eager and excited when I was an intern, but I never would have asked someone supervising me if they were staying on task.
One cool thing about my week in Editorial was that I kind of randomly suggested that we do a live editorial for Thursday's paper about the judge's ruling on the OKDs, and not only did they go for it (we just held the page an hour late), it was posted online and had hundreds of hits within fifteen minutes. I was stoked that it was my idea. Honestly, that is one thing I love about going back there -- they make me feel like a rockstar.
And speaking of feeling like a total A-lister, I am just soooo in love with slotting after my debut on the Fourth of July. I was scared to death, especially after a three-word pep talk from my boss: "Don't screw up" (hey, us journalists are concise), but I got to do it alongside one of my friends, who conveniently happens to be one of my mentors, so that made me feel better. I focused solely on the task at hand, and was very, very precise.
It really gave me a renewed appreciation of the slots; they are truly the unsung heroes of the business. They catch errors, change bad headlines and prevent us from getting sued, and yet you never hear anyone saying, "Man, that is one fine piece of slot."
Fortunately, I haven't heard any complaints yet (and I do check my work e-mail at home, big surprise)and I am really excited I get to do it again this Saturday because I traded my Late News shift with one of my friends. I hope that I will continue to get opportunities to learn how to slot, because it was just soooo cool. And yes, I know, I sound like a total journalistic geek right now, but I don't care.
Just get me a margarita and an AP Stylebook, and I'm satisfied.
The list can wait.
And speaking of margaritas, I think I deserve a big one -- salted rim and all -- after the week I had.
First, there was the little matter of dealing with my cyberstalker -- the number of posts she has flamed me on is now up to about 50, including saying Teri "Hatchet face" should die, and that Dean is a "has been with man boobs" (editor's note: if it was really me making those posts, I'd have hyphenated has-been -- see how much I have learned in four years at a major metropolitan newspaper??!) and it was getting a little tiresome, to say the least.
I also am going a little crazy trying to get my 51-item to-do list (see, I know how to use hyphens!) done before leaving for L.A. in 10 days. Why is it that when you have nothing to do but wait for your vacation to arrive, the days just drag by, but when you have a trillion things to do and not enough hours in the day, time just flies? Among the things I have to do: drop off and pick up dry cleaning, hold the June headline contest meeting (which includes baking mini-cheesecakes), return pants to Ann Taylor and a book to Borders, go to the post office (right up there on my list of least-favorite things to do) and, just because I am a glutton for punishment, finish Chapter 3 of "Reality Destroyed" and Chapter 16 of "This Ain't a Love Song." All by July 16.
Oh yeah, and there's that little thing called my job, too. Starting Tuesday, I am working eight days in a row (by choice; I am famously stingy about using vacation days). I am in Sports for one day, and then do Late News the rest of the week, so I guess I didn't do too poorly a job during my debut week last month. It's actually a lot of fun (with the exception of sitting there until 1 a.m. on Friday night, staring at the wall) to have such responsibility. Then again, nothing happened on my watch last time.
I also somehow managed to survive my days in Editorial last week, which I normally love, but it was a holiday week and we had to get out four days worth of sections in one day, which is about as fun as it sounds, especially when you consider that my designer is galactically slow. Basically, it was a whole lot of bitching about Obama/McCain/gas prices/the Oklahoma City Douchebags (formerly Seattle Sonics)/the war/global warming. However, I do get to flex my creative snark skills back there, so that's always a bonus. (A certain themed Letters to the Editor section comes to mind, and I'm still laughing about that -- and the reaction -- a month later.)
On top of that, I had to baby-sit two interns, to whom, by the end of the week, I was referring as Lois and Clark because of their entirely-too-cute flirting (ironically, it turns out there's a Lex Luthor in the picture, but that clearly isn't deterring young Clark). I'll just say this: I was eager and excited when I was an intern, but I never would have asked someone supervising me if they were staying on task.
One cool thing about my week in Editorial was that I kind of randomly suggested that we do a live editorial for Thursday's paper about the judge's ruling on the OKDs, and not only did they go for it (we just held the page an hour late), it was posted online and had hundreds of hits within fifteen minutes. I was stoked that it was my idea. Honestly, that is one thing I love about going back there -- they make me feel like a rockstar.
And speaking of feeling like a total A-lister, I am just soooo in love with slotting after my debut on the Fourth of July. I was scared to death, especially after a three-word pep talk from my boss: "Don't screw up" (hey, us journalists are concise), but I got to do it alongside one of my friends, who conveniently happens to be one of my mentors, so that made me feel better. I focused solely on the task at hand, and was very, very precise.
It really gave me a renewed appreciation of the slots; they are truly the unsung heroes of the business. They catch errors, change bad headlines and prevent us from getting sued, and yet you never hear anyone saying, "Man, that is one fine piece of slot."
Fortunately, I haven't heard any complaints yet (and I do check my work e-mail at home, big surprise)
Just get me a margarita and an AP Stylebook, and I'm satisfied.
The list can wait.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
The games stop NOW ...
The following is the post that I put up on Zoom's boards and the Lois and Clark Fanfic boards tonight. I think it is self-explanatory:
It's a pretty sad day for this fandom when someone is committing egregious acts on a FoLC's behalf.
Someone has stolen my user name from here and is posting nasty comments all over blogs about Teri and Dean, comments that say that she is a whore, he is gay, she is washed up, he is a loser, etc., etc., etc., and linking to my personal blog, which people from all over the world are now looking at through these horrible links.
They have stolen the name I have been posting in this fandom with for FIVE years. The name I have written my fics with, and won my Kerths with.
This stops NOW.
I am making a post on my blog now and contacting the admins of those sites to get an IP trace.
If anyone sees a "post" by me on any of these entertainment sites, slamming Teri and/or Dean, please know it is not me. I have nothing but the utmost respect for both of them.
I am sure this is the same person who has left me comments on my blog saying a range of things from that my husband will leave me, that I deserved to lose my baby, that I am a fat bitch ... I have had enough.
The game is over.
I cannot believe that someone in this fandom would do this.
It makes me sick.
It's a pretty sad day for this fandom when someone is committing egregious acts on a FoLC's behalf.
Someone has stolen my user name from here and is posting nasty comments all over blogs about Teri and Dean, comments that say that she is a whore, he is gay, she is washed up, he is a loser, etc., etc., etc., and linking to my personal blog, which people from all over the world are now looking at through these horrible links.
They have stolen the name I have been posting in this fandom with for FIVE years. The name I have written my fics with, and won my Kerths with.
This stops NOW.
I am making a post on my blog now and contacting the admins of those sites to get an IP trace.
If anyone sees a "post" by me on any of these entertainment sites, slamming Teri and/or Dean, please know it is not me. I have nothing but the utmost respect for both of them.
I am sure this is the same person who has left me comments on my blog saying a range of things from that my husband will leave me, that I deserved to lose my baby, that I am a fat bitch ... I have had enough.
The game is over.
I cannot believe that someone in this fandom would do this.
It makes me sick.
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