Dream a Little Bigger, Darling

Okay, so, as promised, it's time to get back to the normal stuff. :)

The most important thing: I HAVE A JOB!

A real, honest-to-goodness job. Shortly after my February post, I interviewed with a company that I'd been talking to for about a month and a half, and she pretty much offered me the job on the spot (though not technically, since that's not how it works). I knew about it when I wrote, back in February, but I didn't want to jinx it, so I didn't say anything.

Anyways, about this job.

The company is called KPMG. They provide audit, tax, and advisory services for a significant number of the FORTUNE 500 companies (and I believe they are one themselves). They're one of the Big Four such companies in the country. I'm one of only seven editors in the whole company (the U.S. branch, anyway). We handle almost all of the client-facing proposals, emails, presentations, etc. that the company produces. It means I'm crazy busy pretty much all the time. (I even have homework about half the nights of the week, because I don't have time during the day to edit everything by the deadlines.) Working for a financial services company might seem boring to a lot of editors, but it's pretty much where most editors end up. And you know what? It's not all that boring. Most of it is business writing (which occasionally makes me want to smack my face into a wall because it breaks half the rules of concise writing that were pounded into me all through college), and business writing is much less dry than some of the other stuff I've edited over the years. Every document is its own little treasure trove of grammatical mistakes that I have to dig up and correct. It doesn't get tedious because each one is also written by a different author, so there are distinct voices and syntactical quirks to each piece.

I probably can't convince most of you that any of this sounds like fun, but that doesn't matter. I love it.

I had my doubts about editing for a little while. After two straight years of proofreading (which is pretty grueling, to be honest), I was second-guessing my choice to be an editor for the rest of my life. I wasn't sure I was cut out for it. I also wasn't sure that I would get the kind of job that would make me happy. Editing jobs are few and far between out here in Utah. My original plan when my job with the Church ended was to find something well-paying for a year or two and then pick up and head out to New York City, where all the publishing jobs are. I figured that's when my career would start. If I still wanted it to start.

I'm glad that the Lord has bigger plans for me than I did for myself. I was dreaming small, honestly. And this job was definitely His doing. A friend recommended me for an admin assistant position in the Salt Lake KPMG office, so I applied, because I was applying for everything. One interview in, the recruiter was like, "Wait, you like editing?"

"Yes."

"We have a position posted for an editor in L.A. Let me send them your resume."

I didn't really want to move, but I figured it couldn't hurt to explore it a little, so I let him. Turns out that they liked my resume so much that they decided to open the same editing position in Salt Lake so that I wouldn't have to move (my work is not region-specific, so I could literally move anywhere in the country and still do the same job).

I found out after I was hired that this whole situation was pretty much love at first sight for both me and the editing manager. She thought I was perfect and spent the better part of a month trying to find something wrong with me. When that failed, she kept trying to figure out how to get rid of all the other applicants, because she didn't want any of them. On my side, from the first time I talked to her, I knew that I wanted this job. It sounded right up my alley as far as my background went, and I knew that the position would be well within my abilities and that it would push me to be better, too. It also offered the possibility to work from home, to move wherever I wanted, and permanence. Plus, the editors on the team tended to retire. That told me that they didn't get dissatisfied and quit. They stuck it out until they weren't working anymore. I wanted this job so badly. I've wanted it since about the second week in January, but I was terrified that I wouldn't get it, so I was very close-lipped about it.

Turns out, I didn't need to worry. This is exactly where I was supposed to be, and things just worked out. Right down to the fact that I kept coming in second place for all of my other interviews. I had so many interviews, and they all went really, really well. But almost every time, I found myself thinking, "Please don't offer me the job, please, please don't. KPMG hasn't called me back, yet." Since I was collecting unemployment insurance, turning down job after job would have caused me to lose my income, which I couldn't afford. But despite their obvious interest, none of those other jobs extended offers to me. (Well, one company extended me a frankly insulting offer to write out descriptions of bedpans for their website for $12 an hour, even though they knew I'd been making twice that before. I turned them down, obviously.)

So, after two months of unemployment, I landed my dream job. Seriously. If I had stuck to my original plan and gone out to New York, this is probably the kind of thing I would be looking for, because everyone wants the book-publishing jobs, but the positions like this are more stable and pay a little better.

So I got everything I never even knew I wanted from a job about two years earlier than I'd planned. And I can stay with this job for the rest of my life if I want to. No expiration date built in. If, on some crazy chance, I do want to leave it, it's an incredible thing to put on a resume, and I'll have a huge boost finding my next one, though, frankly, I don't ever plan on leaving. I want to build my career here.

So yeah. I'm doing what I love (and rediscovering just how much I do love it in the process), and I'm doing it in an environment that offers me the kind of stability that I've been craving ever since I graduated from college. I'm pretty happy with how my life has gone so far. It really does get better with time. :)

Thanksvember: NaNoWriMo

So... don't get too excited, because I'm still not writing a novel in a month, but my aforementioned short story? Well, it's not really a short story anymore. I mean it is, because all I've written is a short story, but it's not done because there's more to the story. Know what I mean?

But it is fun. I haven't written for fun like this in a really long time. So it's fun. Let's see how many times I can say the word fun. Fun is a really weird word, when you think about it. Also, it's always been intended to be a noun, which is why everyone has such a hard time with its adjectival and adverbial  usage. Have you ever tried to say "that was funner than what we did last time" and just cringed? But "more fun" just sounds stiff? And forget trying to say "He did something funly." Yeah. Not going to happen. *whispers* That's because it's a noun. You have fun.

Granted, modern English usage has accepted "fun" as an adjective too, and the preferred method is to say "more fun" or "most fun" when qualifying the amount of funness something has. Isn't English grea--HOW DID THIS TURN INTO A USAGE LESSON?? I WAS WRITING ABOUT HOW I'M GRATEFUL FOR WRITING!

Geez, Lynnae. Get your nerdy little butt back on track.

Did I mention I've been writing for like, two whoa, FOUR hours straight, plus proofreading for 8 hours prior to that, so I might be a little loopy? No?

Well.

Now you know.

Welcome back to Lynnae the Writer. She's a bit of a nut. Editor-Lynnae tends to be more polished. Writer-Lynnae usually takes Editor-Lynnae and jams her in the corner, stuffs her face full of cookies, and bullies her into silence. Incidentally, that's also what we do to Editor-Lynnae while online, so I will never judge you for poor grammar online, because Editor-Lynnae is tied up and gagged to spare her from the pain of it all.

Yes, I'm switching in and out of plural first person. It's a weird world in here.

*AHEM*

Back on topic.

This November, I am thankful that my amazing writer-roommate (who, between you and me, is going to be the real author in this dynamic duo because she's just brilliant) is sending off her writer-vibes so strongly that my own urge to write has lifted its sleepy head. I may not be as dedicated a writer as she is, but I appreciate the creative outlet.

In the meantime, in case Roommate ever reads this: AISLEY. YOU GOT THIS. Own that book. I've been betting on you from day one.

Also, for your enjoyment, a slight peek at what an apartment of two writers looks like on a Thursday night (and if that doesn't sound dramatic enough, don't worry, we'll definitely be holed up like this on Friday night, too... who needs boys? (I'm just kidding. I do. I love boys.)): <-- That is not meant to be a frowny face. It is a colon, meant to present to you the following. Oh, who cares. PICTURE.

Me on my fluffy beanbag typing away. Roommate wrapped in snuggie
and cozy hoodie, also typing away. It's a wild night in this house.

To Brighten Your Day

Here's a little book-nerd humor. :)

Love you all.

MindBomb

You know how everyone seems to have that one word (or 50) that they never learned correctly? I just found one of mine today.

Remunerate (verb): To pay, recompense, or reward for work, trouble, etc.

My whole life I have read and pronounced that word as "reNUMerate" and it is, in fact, "reMUNerate." In my proofreading, I tried to correct what I perceived as a misspelling in the Book of Mormon Index, only to find out that it was right and I was wrong (an off-putting situation, considering how many errors that stupid index has...)

I've just been schooled by the Book of Mormon Index.

Job Hunting

Yes, in answer to the question that some of you may be asking after my last post, I do in fact have a job opportunity. More proof---as if I needed any---that the Lord blesses me far more than I deserve. I've been attempting to job hunt for the last couple of months (emphasis on "attempting"), but every time I tried, I found myself stopped in my tracks, or completely sidetracked onto something else. I kept pushing at it, but only got the feeling that the Lord was saying, "Lynnae. Relax. I've got this. Focus on the temple. I'll take care of the rest." (Incidentally, that exact same answer also applies to my dating life...)

So, with a little bit of grumbling and suppressed internal-freak-outs, I did just that, keeping an aloof eye on the job postings online, just in case anything jumped out at me.

Then, I happened to talk to the copyeditor at the Ensign (the beautiful Lia who taught me a ton about editing during my internship) and she happened to mention that, due to her soon-to-be-born daughter, the managing editors were accepting applications for her position. "You should apply," she told me.

Right at that moment, I felt like a huge flashing sign went off in my head that said, "YesyesyesyesyesyesYES! Apply!"

So I did.

After a couple of grueling tests that left my brain feeling more than a little mushy/sloshy, I finally have an interview. For today. So I'm all dressed up, squeaky clean, and praying desperately that I get this job. I can't think of anything else I'd rather be doing.

Whichever way it works out, this has been proof that the Lord is indeed at the reins. I'm just glad that I've been paying attention when He gives me an answer to the questions I'm asking. I'm not always good at that.

I Can't Read!

So I made a somewhat distressing discovery recently. I can't read anymore.

Okay, obviously, I still have the ability to read (and write... I hope). But I just can't sit down, open a great book, and read for hours on end. Even if that book is a page-turner (and the one I'm trying to read right now does, in fact, fall into that category). No matter how much I like the book, I'll put it down after 10-15 minutes.

I'M BROKEN!

Why has the voracious bookworm's appetite died? Turns out this is a completely unforeseen side effect of being a proofreader. We've been reading aloud in teams of two through ALL of the Book of Mormon and the Bible.

Yes, I just finished reading the Old and New Testaments. Probably for the first time in my life. (Okay, second, but I got nothing out of it when I read them for seminary.)

But I suppose when you're reading for 8 hours a day, 5 days a week, it tends to overload even my insatiable appetite for reading. As a result, I have no attention span for reading anymore.

And I hate it.

I don't hate reading. I still know that I love it. I just can't do it anymore.

Curses.

Oh, and incidentally, I also can't read aloud anymore. Not in any situations where I'm required to read the way a normal person would, anyway. Because as a proofreader, I'm now used to reading every piece of punctuation, every footnote, every capital letter and italic word... you know, all of it.

So once upon a time, I sat in class at church. Being the contributor that I am, I volunteered to read a quote when the teacher asked. Okay, brain, here's the deal, don't read any commas, okay? You're not proofing right now. So I read along great, managing to tell myself not to read the commas and still reading the words at the same time. Then I got to the period at the end of the sentence. "Point"! You're supposed to say "point" for a period! My brain was practically screaming at me, and I froze. What do I do if I don't say it? How on earth will people know that the sentence is over and I'm starting a new one? Wait. They don't know what "point" means. It's okay. But what do I say instead? OHMYGOSH I've forgotten everything I knew about reading out loud like a normal person! (Keep in mind, I'm still in the middle of reading this quote, and a longish awkward pause is starting to ensue as I pause to have this mental war with myself. Hopefully they just thought I was overcome with emotion at the beauty of the quote...) Okay, skip the point. Don't read the capped letter. Just get through this last, stupid sentence, and Never. Read. Out. Loud. Again. And thus ended the most stressful seconds of my life. The stupid part is that I was just reading a quote in class. Last time I checked, that's not supposed to be a major cause of stress.

So yeah. I can't read. It's great. (Not.)

On the other hand, I find stuff like this uproariously funny now. Because that's basically how it works. (Sadly though, the sounds are less fun than the ones he makes...)



So, what do you do with a broken bookworm who can't read anymore? Why, take her to see The Avengers, of course. And there you have my grand plans for tonight. :)

Frickin' Daisy Cutters

Have you ever thought about how boring our insults are today? It's probably not surprising that a Shakespeare-lover like me asks the question. Most of us have been given one of those "Make Your Own Shakespearean Insult" charts with three columns of insult-components that you slap together and generate an insult worthy of the Wordsmith himself.

But I'm not talking about just Shakespearean insults. The title of this post is an expletive muttered by that chopper-flying chick in Avatar. Amongst all the other typical military-language and "real" swear words, this expletive phrase actually made me laugh out loud in the theater. In a way, it was oddly refreshing. Mostly because it was different.

And, for your viewing pleasure, please take a stroll down memory lane with me to one of my favorite insult-trading dialogues:

Rufio: Boil-dripping, beef, fart-sniffing bubble butt!
Kids: Bangarang, Rufio!
Peter Banning: Someone has a severe ca-ca mouth, you know that?
Rufio: You are fart factory, Slug-slimed, sack-of-rat-guts-in-cat-vomit, cheesy, scab-picked, pimple-squeezing finger bandage. A week old maggot burger with everything on it and flies on the side!
Kids: [in unison] Ugh!
Peter Banning: Substitute chemistry teacher.
Lost Boy: Come on, Rufio, hit him back.
Rufio: Mung tongue.
Peter Banning: Math tutor.
Rufio: Pinhead.
Peter Banning: Prison barber.
Rufio: Mother lover.
Peter Banning: Nearsighted gynecologist.
Rufio: In your face, camel cake!
Peter Banning: In your rear, cow derrière.
Rufio: Lying, crying, spying, prying ultra-pig.
Peter Banning: You lewd, crude, rude, bag of pre-chewed food dude.
Thud Butt: [with the rest of the Lost Boys] Bangarang, Peter!
Rufio: You... you man! Stupid, stupid man!
Peter Banning: Rufio, if I'm a maggot burger why don't you eat me! You two-toned zebra-headed, slime-coated, pimple-farmin' paramecium brain, munchin' on your own mucus, suffering from Peter Pan envy!
Don't Ask: What's a paramecium brain?
Peter Banning: I'll tell you what a paramecium is! That's the paramecium! It's a one-celled critter with no brain, that can't fly! Don't mess with me man, I'm a lawyer!

I always felt a little guilty about loving it so much, especially since my mother told me it was crude when I was a child. Granted, this was before I think she finally gave up on stopping her kids from saying "fart" and "butt," as well.

So here's my beef:

Generally, I am uncomfortable with swearing. Which should be fairly obvious, since I've never sworn on this blog (or in real life). This is  because, aside from my religious desire to keep my thoughts and words clean, I simply don't want to. I find swear words unimaginative and boring. For the most part, they are ugly-sounding, single syllable words that even an idiot could spell (although ironically, they are often misspelled). And they've been beaten into the ground and overused worse than a "What I think I look like..." meme on Facebook.

They require no finesse. No nuanced understanding. And only very, very rarely are they the most accurate descriptor for the situation that's causing you to swear in the first place.

I don't get up on the soapbox of "English is dying! Save our younger generation from idiocy and diminished language!" because I've found that there can be a lot of value in the slang vocabulary of the rising generations. However, when it comes to our ability to utter expletives and throw out insults, I feel like most of us are stuck with Rufio's lame comeback: "You... man! You stupid, stupid man!" We're stuck shifting to the recourse of emphasis and repetition because we're out of creative ways to respond.

Just to be clear, I'm not advocating new "swear" words, or even promoting insult-bashing and vicious word-sparring. In general, I think society could stand to be a lot kinder and use fewer insults and expletives overall. But this linguistic rant, if you will, is stemming from my frustration with the language today. Especially in the movies I'd love to go see, but end up choosing not to because I'm not in the mood to be sworn at every other minute.

My second disclaimer: I am by no means perfect. I've caught myself mentally swearing from time to time, even though I try not to. So I'm not up on any soapbox, calling people out. I'm just feeling wistful for a little bit more of the PG-rated language that made Hook so fun. And since I got into a conversation about this the other day with a coworker, it's been on my mind.

It also provided more interesting fodder for a blog post than, "Dear Diary, I finished a book today. Again. Then I went to sleep. Again. Blah blah blah blegh." (You're welcome for not posting that post.)

I'm Not Speaking To My Body

Welcome, my friends, to the land of gusty sneezes, red eyes, rumbling headaches, and faraway voices. No, not the voices in your head that make you question your sanity. I mean literally. Your voice. Far away. On vacation. Or in hiding. At any rate, not present. (Yes, I did just use "literally" incorrectly.)

That pretty much sums up my weekend. How was yours?

Really, though, I'm a little frustrated. Now, I don't enjoy being sick (what kind of masochist would I be if I did?) but I seriously just had A WHOLE MONTH of downtime (also known as unemployment) where it would have been no inconvenience whatsoever to be sick. I could have stayed curled up under the covers for as long as necessary and devoured as much Vitamin C and apple juice as possible during that time. But no. I was the picture of health.

Then, SURPRISE! I get this providential job opportunity as a scripture proofreader for the Church and, two days before I start, I get slammed with a mondo cold that slaughters my voice, eats up my tissue stash, and threatens to overpower my Advil supply. (Gross? Yeah, I know. I'm disgusted on multiple levels right now.)

I feel like death. And now I'm back to putting in eight-hour work days.

Thanks for that, body. I kind of hate you right now.

On the bright side, yes, I am officially employed once again. I'm back at the Church Office Building. Home sweet home. I'm working on a project proofreading the scriptures for the new digital printing masters they've created. And please note right now that I said proofreading. This is not the same as editing. It falls under an editor's job description, and it is a form of editing, but we are not editing the scriptures. So don't get any funny ideas about that. Basically, I'm reading copy-to-copy to make sure that everything transferred from old to new and that the custom-designed font created for this project has most of the kinks worked out of it.

We're not correcting the grammar of the scriptures, or choosing better ways to say things. The Author knows how He wants things, and they're pretty near perfect as they are. We're just making sure that human error didn't creep in during the transferral process.

All complaints about my health aside, I'm happy to be back at work. It'll feel awesome once I'm functioning properly again.

In the meantime, I'm going to hide under the covers, chug juice and water, and hope the Cold Fairy decides to go bother someone else really soon.

Thoughts

Do you know how often I sit staring at my blog, knowing I want to write something, but unable to figure out exactly what to talk about? Yeah, it happens a lot. Because I like blogging. But the internal editor in me has to have something coherent and at least half-formulated before I can actually put something into writing. This is why I pretty much gave up on creative writing.

Oh, I still indulge when the muse strikes. Or, as many of my readers might have guessed by now, when I want to process a thought that I'd rather not get too specific about. Then I write some half-cryptic story that only a select group of people actually understand. But I can't ever write creative novels, because I just end up sitting around editing all of the ideas in my head before ever writing anything down, and inevitably, I realize that I'm much more content to let other people do the writing.

Because I. Love. Editing.

I forget that sometimes when I get bogged down in a boring task and I have absolutely no desire to focus. Or when I've stuck in a ritualistic job that requires the same thing every day. But then I find myself in a situation like  I am now, and I realize that I miss editing.

You know that swoopy, warm-fuzzy feeling you get when you think of someone you are in love with? Yeah, I get that sometimes when I stumble across some grammar fact or linguistic observation. Weird? Maybe. (Don't worry, I definitely get swoopy, warm-fuzzy feelings about boys, too. I'm not a total weirdo.)

And the funny thing is, when I was younger, I used to get a little jealous when someone else came up with a great story idea. As if I should have thought of it first. I was territorial about wanting to get my own corner on the fiction market. Anyone else who had a good idea was a threat.

Reason Number One why editing is a much better option for me: now when someone tells me a brilliant writing breakthrough, I get super excited for them. Because I know that they can go far with an idea like that. I don't get jealous or resentful. Just unbelievably happy for someone else. I like that editing helps me be a much less self-centered person.

Don't get me wrong! I'm not saying all authors/writers are self-centered. I just know that I was when I was trying so hard to be one. Falling in love with editing was liberating for me, because, by nature, editors get little to no credit for what they do. I didn't have to worry about beating someone else to a good idea. Instead, I get to spend my time making someone look as good as I can make them.

Whenever I get bogged down in my own troubles, editing is often a great release. Because I'm serving someone else. I love it.

I'm grateful every day that I found something I could love for the rest of my life.

Fun fact: I actually pretty much word-vomited this blog post. No prior-thought involved this time. Hm. Seems I can do it after all. ;)

Verbing Weirds Language

Okay, so I usually try to space out my Calvin and Hobbes references, but I stumbled on this one the other day and it's just so... me.

I regularly do this to words when my inner-thesaurus stalls and I can't think of the one I actually want.

The Back-up Plan

So for all of you who are worried/anxious/concerned/curious/feeling noncommittally nosy about my future, I'm still up in the air about jobs, but I have a couple of good leads. I've interviewed for a position at the Ensign, and I've passed the pre-qualification screening for a job with this market research company. The latter is a big relief, because now I know that my resume is getting out there, that people are actually looking at it, and that my coworkers weren't just being nice when they said I was employable.

Other than that, I'm making plans to keep me busy once my internship ends this week. If the situation gets desperate, I may pick up a part-time job at the local grocery store or something to hold me over and occupy my time until something better comes along.

Incidentally, I have a secret fear that I'll be job-hunting and job-hunting and suddenly, 25 years down the road, I'll realize that I'm that little cashier who's been there longer than the last three bosses, because I never could get out of the rut. I don't want to be that person with the brilliant education who ends up running the local ChipperCheaper. (See? I even have a name for it! I'm doomed!)

I'm kidding. Well, kind of. I am afraid of it, but I'm pretty sure the Lord has something more in store for me than just trying to make someone's day better when they've discovered that they've massively overspent their budget and feel like it's my fault because the store I work at is so tempting. (Don't smirk. I've had that happen to me, back in the days of my high school cashiering.)

Plus, I have a backup plan---formulated 10 seconds ago, but foolproof nonetheless: If I'm not going to be an editor, I'll be a cashier moonlighting as a book editor and as an MBA student until I know enough about business to start my own publishing company and bid farewell to my cashier-y friends. No rut for me, goshdarnit.

OR!

I'll stalk all of the author conventions (still a cashier moonlighting as an editor) until I find that one author who will be the next J. K. Rowling (which hasn't been done yet, by the way). Then, said Rising Star Author will be so grateful to me for my invaluable editorial advice, that she'll take me with her in her rising fame and suddenly all of the publishing companies will be falling all over themselves trying to hire me. And I'll start my own business anyways. Yep. That's a foolproof plan.

So maybe that's melodramatic. In all likelihood, I won't get stuck for 25 years as the Target cashier. Nor is it really all that likely that I'll need to moonlight as an editor (like a superhero for the book world: I'd be the Batman of Books) behind everyone's backs until I'm brilliant enough to start my own company. I may end up going after an MBA or a Master's degree in publishing, but I haven't felt the push to do that quite yet---just the "keep it in mind" feeling, like maybe it'll be important someday.

But I suppose I should get my Batman-style cape of parchment pages and my utility belt containing red pens, sticky notes, the Chicago Manual of Style (magically shrunk to fit on a belt, of course), thesaurus/dictionary, and paper-clip-grappling hook ready, just in case. You never know when a poor little novel will need the aid of Bookworman to sweep in and rescue it. Yes, I made up that name. Yes, it's a combination of bookworm and woman. No, you can't steal it. It's mine.

So please excuse me. I have to go assemble my paper-clip grappling hook now. And assemble my lair. And make sure Batman can't kill me for ripping off his idea. If he does, I suppose that solves my whole looking-for-employment problem.

Bingo: another foolproof back-up plan.

We Keep Weirdness Here

Today, I'm grateful for work. Well, I'm always grateful for work. But the people I work with are pretty darn funny. I won't try too hard to describe it because most of it is situational humor, which is all about timing and context. It's never funny when you try to tell someone else.

But we laugh a lot at work.

And I love working with other editors. The similar background and training means that many of us are familiar with the same kinds of things. It also means we're drawn to or at least can appreciate the same kinds of movies, books, etc. I don't think I've ever made an Oscar (the movie, not the award show) reference among relative strangers and actually had someone understand it. (Well okay, it happened once, and I then dated him for several months: you just can't pass up that kind of compatibility. (PS: I kid. Quoting Oscar was not the deciding factor in us dating. But it was a nice perk.)) But there is a whole handful of people here who know the movie without me having to show it to them first! Kindred spirits!

Here are some other things that my coworkers do or have that will probably remind you of me:

1. a Star Trek cookbook (and scans of the newspaper spotlight on the Harry Potter cookbook) and a knowledge of exactly what Tribbles are
2. blogs about editing
3. the ability to talk for hours about literary theory and archetypal patterns
4. pen fetishes (you know, the ones where you will tear apart a room looking for that generic Bic pen because it "just writes better" than all the other Bic pens)
5. well-annotated and partially memorized copies of the Chicago Manual of Style
6. a "Hobbit day," which is pretty much arbitrarily assigned based on whether one or more people feel like not wearing their shoes around the office that day
7. a willingness to share books---but only because we know that the borrower will be just as violently protective of the books as we are
8. a movie quote for every occasion (at least one person quotes a movie every few hours or so)
9. debates won by who can get to the most reliable information first
10. mutually shared love for warm fuzzy things, hot chocolate, colored pens, and books---preferably having all of the above at the same time
11. getting ridiculously giddy about discovering an obscure word meaning or grammar rule and then telling everyone else about it
12. any mention of Shakespeare, Jane Austen, J. R. R. Tolkien, or C. S. Lewis has the mysterious ability to draw at least three or four people out of their offices for a brief chat before returning to work---even if they're many feet down the hall or the door is shut

Honestly, this job is awesome. I've never met so many Lynnae-kind-of-nerds in the same place before! The sense of humor and witty banter is straight up my alley, too. There's a couple of men in my office that remind me so much of my dad in that way.

I really hope that this kind of employee-camaraderie isn't unique to the Church Magazines. It probably is. But the fact that we can throw a "Bad Candy Party" (which was really just code for a dessert potluck) and spend an hour playing Signs and whacking each other with a rolled up newspaper is just fantastic. It's nice to know that I don't have to get boring as I get older. Many of these people are twice my age.

So yes, I'm grateful for the people I work with. I have a lot of fun doing the work, and I have lot of fun working with the people. It's the best part of my life right now. :)

Life at the Ensign

Okay, some people (*cough* Mom *cough*) have been complaining a little bit that my blog is not particularly informative about me.

*Blink blink* You guys want to read about me? Really?

Okay, well, once upon a time there was this fabulously successful book editor who owned her own publishing company...

Oh wait. That's how I think about me. Right.

Alright, alright, I give.

Life has been, well, fabulous, really. I love it. Confidentiality agreements prevent me from revealing a lot of the things that make my life so wonderful, but the stories I edit every day are incredibly educational and uplifting. Even if I wake up late and barely make it to work on time and am consequentially grouchy, just a few minutes at my desk working on an article can cheer me up.

I'm even writing some pieces of my own for the Ensign and the Liahona. When I first started the internship, I was a little terrified of writing, but for the last week or so, I've been itching to get some manuscripts written. I've found (with the help of the extremely supportive editorial staff) a couple of topics and submissions that, guided through my editorial voice, will hopefully become wonderful articles. Set for a more hazy future are some purely "me" ideas that haven't entirely been developed yet. But on the whole, I'm really excited to have the chance to tell someone else's story. That's how many of the articles in the magazines are, you know.

In the interim, we're in the middle of pre-general-conference madness where the rule is "drop everything when something conference-related comes up" so naturally my writing pieces aren't getting much TLC right now.

I've been doing a lot of proofreading of conference talks, which basically means that you sit down with someone else with two copies of the talk: one with the very light editorial changes (usually just a comma or two), as well as speaker revisions on it, and one that's "clean," or supposedly has all the changes made. One person reads the talk (including all punctuation--there's a special "language" for it: bang for the exclamation point, paren/end paren for the parentheses, com for a comma, point for a period, etc) and the other person follows along on the clean copy, marking discrepancies if there are any.

Fun fact: I catch myself reading punctuation sometimes now. Like when I'm writing, or when I'm reading a book on my lunch break.

It's really neat, actually. Having done that on the Relief Society Broadcast talks, I found that I actually got a lot more out of the talks when they were given because I'd already read them. Hearing the speakers' inflection and tone added a whole new layer of meaning to a subject I was already familiar with.

At conference, we get about 140 pages' worth of new information to process. Yes, the topics may be familiar, but the presentation of those topics is unique every time. It can honestly be a bit of an information overload. That's why it's so important to go back and read the talks in the conference issue (that was not a shameless plug for my job, I swear). Getting to proof the talks beforehand just makes it easier to process while I'm listening.

Granted, there are probably people who don't need that. Some people are amazing at processing audio information. Me, I have to sit and stew over it in print for awhile before I can really extract meaning from it.

Besides all of that, my favorite thing about my job is the people. They are incredible. They have so many diverse backgrounds, both professionally and personally. A lot of them have absolutely wicked senses of humor.

All in all, I love my job. My life is so fulfilling right now. :)

Gee Whiz Files: Vertigo

The Church Office Building is tall. Not as tall as those New York skyscrapers, maybe, but tall nonetheless. The place where I work is on one of the top floors (24. There are 2...8? total? Something like that) which means that I have the potential to be stuck on the elevator for obscene amounts of time every day. Especially considering how long it would take those stupid elevators in the four-story JFSB on campus.

Luckily, the Church is smart. They have two separate elevator shafts with six cars each. One of them only services floors 1-14, and the other skips those floors (doesn't even have buttons for them) and services floors 14-26 (the poor unfortunates on floors 27 and 28 have to go up to 26 and take the stairs).

And those elevators move crazy fast. As in, shake a little because they're going so fast. From my floor to the ground with no stops on any other floors probably takes about 15 seconds. I haven't timed it, though.

Also, my ears pop when I'm in the elevator because of the elevation change. Or maybe I'm just weird. I have sensitive ears.

Vocabulary fun fact: Spanish did what we call a direct translation of the word skyscraper. The word is rascacielos, which literally means "sky scratcher." Cool, no? I like the poetic feel of it. The English word has it, too, but we tend to forget about it because we use the word so much.

Gee Whiz Files: Jeeps

I know what you're thinking: what on earth do Jeeps have to do with working at the Ensign?

Well, since it's not published yet, I can't provide details on it (or anything for that matter), but let's just say I had to fact-check that there were no Intellectual Property violations on the word jeep. The Church is pretty careful about such things.

Anyway, here's the fun fact for all you Jeep-lovers out there: when you're talking about the WWII army vehicles, you don't capitalize it. It's just a normal noun. The registered-trademark-you-use-it-right-or-we'll-sue-you Jeep only applies to the civilian vehicle manufacturer. Now granted, current army vehicles are probably supplied by said manufacturer, so today's army vehicles would be Jeeps, not jeeps, but if you're talking about WWII-era jeeps, it's babycase letters all the way.

And yes, I just made up the word "babycase." Not sure why I never have before, because my brain always stalls momentarily on what to call non-uppercase letters, and I wasn't patient enough to figure it out this time.

(Relax, I know they're called lower case letters.)

Just a disclaimer: most of these Gee Whiz Files will have some connection to editing. If you are bored out of your mind by such things, I have no clue why you're reading my blog in the first place. But feel free to skip these posts if you want to. I won't be offended. Let's face it, I won't even be able to tell if you did or not.

Absent but Happy!

Yeah, so I promised a bunch of people that I would tell them about my first day at the Ensign... and now it's my third day. No one has heard anything from me about how it's going, because I'm bad at updating my blog. Scratch that, I haven't been able to update my blog.

I've been so. stinking. tired.

My poor father called me on the first night to see how work was, but I was crawling into bed and my brain had already shut off (at 8:00 at night, no less) so he didn't get much information. And even though I tried to tell him I loved it, the exhaustion probably sucked all my enthusiasm right out of the words.

Anyway, it's been really hard to adapt to the new schedule: up around 5:45, shower, makeup, make lunch, out the door by 7:00. My body just doesn't work that way. I'm a night owl. Always have been. All through college, I was smart (or stupid) enough to take later classes so that I could sleep in.

Not to mention that I have the hardest time falling asleep because my idiotic clock has THE LOUDEST ticking noise I've ever heard. It's annoying even when I'm fully awake.

Plus, working at the Ensign is such a spiritual high, and there's so much to do and learn, that it's completely mentally exhausting. Totally exciting, but exhausting.

And that's the long reason why I didn't update anyone about my first day. That, and the first day was, technically speaking, kind of boring. It was almost all orientation stuff, which would be completely irrelevant to anyone but me, and even I was (shh!) a little bit bored sometimes.

That being said, I'm completely in love with my new job! On the morning of the second day, I found a stack of proofs plopped on my desk, along with some early-stage manuscripts to edit. Ah! Nerd heaven! This is what I went to four years of college for! Since then, I've been briefed on the entire publishing process, given a chance to brainstorm ideas for the Small and Simple Things section of the Ensign, and prepped for my part in the pre-Conference editing that we'll be doing.

I feel like I've been working here for months. Which is weird, but I've clicked so well with all of the staff members that it really does feel like I've known them for a long time. As a result, I keep catching myself feeling guilty that I don't know everything yet, and then realize that, Duh, Lynnae, you've only been here for three days.

Oh man, but I could work here forever! It's amazing!

Anyway, that's an update. Longer than I'd planned, but there you have it. More to come. Also, I might start a "Gee Whiz Files" series with all the random-but-cool stuff about my life on Temple Square. Stay tuned!

Cherry on Top

To anyone who saw me during graduation week, it was a well-known fact that I was having a terrible time. Well, more like, an extremely stressful time. So many things went wrong that I found myself frequently throwing my hands up in the air, glaring at the sky, and desperately asking, "WHY?? It's just graduation! It's not like I'm getting married or going on a mission. Why is it so hard?"

But you know what? I would do it all over again--every mishap, every problem--to relive today.

See, graduates can buy a Stole of Gratitude to give to someone who's made a lasting impact on their academic career. I chose to give mine to my editing professor, Brother Gardner, because he really is the reason I am where I am right now. I owe my career to him.

He wasn't able to be at graduation, so I called him to set up a time to drop by, mentioning that I had something to give him. So today, I took a brief break from work to run over to his office and visit for a little bit.

And look on his face when I gave him the Stole of Gratitude?

Yeah, I'd walk through fire for a smile like that. It made everything worth it.

Poor Choice of Words

Greg and I were discussing our favorite fashion blogger and her fashion-blogger-cohorts today and how, in an attempt to sound more refined, one of them always says that she picked up an item of clothing at an "estate sale," which, as far as we know, is really just code for YARD sale. She was just trying to make it sound more fancy than it is, and it kind of works, because "estate" does sound fancier than "yard."

But stop and think about this for a second.

What is an estate sale? It is an actual kind of sale. Our dear friend Wikipedia says: "An estate sale or estate liquidation is a type of garage sale, yard sale or auction to dispose of a substantial portion of the materials owned by a person who is recently deceased."

And maybe I'm just used to looking for things like that, but the first thing that crossed my mind when Greg said "estate sale" was, "You mean those auctions for dead people's stuff??" And it obviously occurred to him, too, since he brought it up and asked me about it.

So maybe the "refined" attempt isn't really working so well. How many other people think the same thing when they read her blog?

I mean, maybe she's using it correctly. I wouldn't know for sure. But if she is, that seems a little creepy, don't you think? I mean, who searches out auctions of a dead person's stuff on a routine basis? Well, except for Kirk from Gilmore Girls, but I think that only serves to strengthen my point that it's creepy.

Moral of the story: if you want to sound "more refined" than you are, check to make sure you know what you're talking about.

The Ensign!

I have three words for you:

I 

GOT

IT!

I got the internship with the Ensign. The one I applied for back in February and was consequently freaking out about all through March. I've never wanted anything as much as I wanted this and I. HAVE. IT! AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!

*ahem* So sorry. The enthusiasm isn't really containing itself right now.

But seriously! I will be working for this magazine:

At this building:

 And possibly talking to these people:

How can that not be completely exciting? (and a little daunting, but that's okay... life's not fun if it's easy)

So here's the full story. 

I actually have known since last week that I was 99.999% getting the job, since they called me up and told me I was their top choice. They just needed one more signature on their end, and my bishop's name so they could call him as a reference, and it was good to go. I gave them my ward and bishop, and then waited not-so-patiently for about four days. Just when I thought I was going out of my mind, they called again, this time to tell me that Bishop Schoenfeld was being a bit difficult to track down. The numbers weren't working, weren't getting through, or whatever.

Luckily, I have his cell phone number. Muahaha. 

I called him up, told him that the Church wanted to call him about me, made sure that it was the best number to reach him at, and called the Church back to give them Bishop's cell phone number. And then it was the waiting game again. 

It was agony. 

I wanted so badly to tell all my friends who've been rooting for me that I got the job, but I couldn't until they officially offered it to me. If they asked, I told them the truth, but I couldn't throw my arms out and shout it to the sky or any of that ridiculously ebullient stuff people do when all their dreams come true. 

Today, I got the phone call while I was in class, so I hastily shushed my phone before my teacher could give me a dirty look, even though all I wanted to do was bolt for the door and answer it. I called the number back and talked to the guy who'd called me last week with the "you're our top choice" thing. He asked me if I was still interested in the position and I practically shouted "Yes!" into his ear (I didn't, though, I promise). Then he told me the wages, starting date ($13/hour and September 6th, in case you were wondering) and asked again, "So, are you accepting this position?"

Yesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyes!! HOLY CRAP YES!

Okay, so I didn't really say that to a Church official, but only because I crammed all of that into an extremely fervent "absoLUTely."

He thanked me and said goodbye. It was all very polite and formal and composed. Proof that I can be professional when I need to be. But I hung up and almost couldn't dial my mom to tell her the news, I was so excited. (You want to know the sad part? She's on speed dial. 2. I had a hard time dialing 2. I know. Sad.) Then I texted all of my friends who had placed themselves on my contact-me-immediately-when-you-know-about-your-internship list.

And now, I'm telling the rest of the world that I got my dream job. I'm not kidding. I don't remember how often I've talked about this in the past, but I have wanted to work for the Ensign for at least the last year, if not a little longer. There were a bunch of impossibles and not-very-likelies in the way, which makes this all the more miraculous. And if you're curious, here's what I wrote when I first found out that I might actually have a shot at this internship. 

It's so rewarding to look back on those words from the other side and realize that the Lord really does guide us in the things He wants us to do. And for better or worse, this is right where He wants me to be for the last four months of this year. And you know what? This experience makes it easier to see how miraculously fast other things in my life can fall together, too. Suddenly, my other challenges don't seem as daunting, because I kind of feel like I'm standing on the top of the world right now, and the view is breathtaking. 

Sorry. One last time: I'm an editor for the Ensign. Ooh! That gives me shivers even whispering it to myself.

Feelin' Smiley

Just so you know:

I may or may not have gotten my dream job.

More details when I know for sure.

But it does mean I'm smiling an awful lot right now.

Also, my brother is going into the MTC on Wednesday.

Another reason to smile.

And General Conference is this weekend.

Still smiling.

I still have purple boogers.

That makes me smile.

Free cheesecake in British Lit class.

That equals another smile.

Running into friends in awkward places (like Victoria's Secret).

A few days old, but still smiling about that one, too.

Life is good.

That gets the biggest smile of all.