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Issues, Interviews and Really Bad Poetry
Mar. 1st, 2010 12:29 pmDon't worry - by 'issues' I don't mean I've gone mad. I mean that is is March 1st, which means it is the launch of a magazine I work for. There are 3 issues a year, which means 3 times a year I get hundreds of thousands of emails about line spacing, images and FTP-problems. Once I wave both the web issue and the e-newsletter goodbye and send them out into the world wide web I celebrate with one of those energy drinks I'm addicted to again...
One thing that struck me this morning is how normal I find madness. One woman recently emailed to tell me she actually has 2 names (a nom de plume for writing related things and an actual name), so can I start calling her by her pseud, or her initials. So, I email to her pseud, address her by her initials - and today, without even thinking about it, texted her to her real name which remains unchanged in my phone.
Tomorrow I'm heading to London for an interview - not an actual job or anything, just a voluntary governance post in an organization. In preparation I got out my 'adult' clothes, my practically dusty iron and ironing board, and went to bed early last night so my body clock is running on normal people time. All of this has made me even more sure that I would not be suited to a 'real' job. I'll just stay in the grad school bubble, thanks very much.
I'm a site editor for a poetry website, so I've read my fair share of terrible submissions. However, last week in my poetry class we reached new lows with a poem about Old MacDonald (the one who had a farm, e i e i o) having inappropriate relations with the goats. I don't know quite what to make of it all. More wine please.
One thing that struck me this morning is how normal I find madness. One woman recently emailed to tell me she actually has 2 names (a nom de plume for writing related things and an actual name), so can I start calling her by her pseud, or her initials. So, I email to her pseud, address her by her initials - and today, without even thinking about it, texted her to her real name which remains unchanged in my phone.
Tomorrow I'm heading to London for an interview - not an actual job or anything, just a voluntary governance post in an organization. In preparation I got out my 'adult' clothes, my practically dusty iron and ironing board, and went to bed early last night so my body clock is running on normal people time. All of this has made me even more sure that I would not be suited to a 'real' job. I'll just stay in the grad school bubble, thanks very much.
I'm a site editor for a poetry website, so I've read my fair share of terrible submissions. However, last week in my poetry class we reached new lows with a poem about Old MacDonald (the one who had a farm, e i e i o) having inappropriate relations with the goats. I don't know quite what to make of it all. More wine please.
