My activity on this site is nothing less than sporadic. Sporatic? Fneh. As much as I'd like not to care, it's going to eat away at my perfectionist soul, and I won't sleep nor eat (well, I may snack...) until I find out how that's actually spelled. I'll chain smoke my cloves between frantic sips of coffee, while pacing the paths of my small apartment complex.
Or I'll Google it. Yeah, I see a Google inquiry in my near future. Result: the former. I should usually trust my first instinct when dealing with spelling and/or grammar. (I say that, and I get some passerby nitpicker who's crazier than I am, and leaves a comment about split infinitives, runon sentences, and that I use too many commas.)
Can you tell I've been reading <i>Eats, Shoots, & Leaves</i>? Fascinating book, makes me feel less self-conscious about my nitpicking neurosis. I just feel sorry for my poor boyfriend, who deals with the brunt of my nitpicking. Figures I'd fall for a fellah with atrocious spelling and questionable grammar. Smart cookie, just not terribly concerned with the rules and regulations of the written word. Whereas I am a clumsy, er, talker? Let's just say my eloquence (if not pretension) doesn't get much further than the page. Or screen. Depening on what media I/you are reading.
When I'm at work, I marvel at how stupid I come off as sounding. I mumble, smush words together, and just generally make a complete ass of myself. Because I have a sense of humor about myself, and am generally good-natured and polite, my customers don't seem to mind. Unfortunately, when it comes to scoring awesome jobs, this inability to verbalize adequately is a serious problem, and I honestly think it cost me the job with the Sacramento News and Review. (Just a receptionist gig, but with the local indie newspaper? There was definetly the possibility for advancement.)
My boyfriend, on the other hand, is charming as can be. Granted, he'll stumble, but not like I do. His flubs are generally along the line of assuming his boss' s younger sister is his older sister. (True story. And she was pregnant at the time.) However, he still strings a sentence together better than I can.
On a completely unrelated note, I wish to move to Vancouver. No reason, really. I've been enamoured of the idea of living in Canada for quite some time now, and it's not too far away from California. I suppose I could move to Seattle, and not have to deal with the mess of crossing the border, but these are all things that should be considered at a later date. I am merely fantasizing about moving to Vancouver. It gives me something to do with my idle hours. I research the immigration process, look for affordable housing and jobs on Craigslist, and maps. Because I was not certain where in BC Vancouver was. But now I know. So there.
I hadn't read a book in a long time before last night. I had been feeling on the stupid side, but it's as if the book has recharged my batteries. Or at least my drive to blog. I feel much more intellectual than I have of late. But that may not be saying much. Hardy har.
Or I'll Google it. Yeah, I see a Google inquiry in my near future. Result: the former. I should usually trust my first instinct when dealing with spelling and/or grammar. (I say that, and I get some passerby nitpicker who's crazier than I am, and leaves a comment about split infinitives, runon sentences, and that I use too many commas.)
Can you tell I've been reading <i>Eats, Shoots, & Leaves</i>? Fascinating book, makes me feel less self-conscious about my nitpicking neurosis. I just feel sorry for my poor boyfriend, who deals with the brunt of my nitpicking. Figures I'd fall for a fellah with atrocious spelling and questionable grammar. Smart cookie, just not terribly concerned with the rules and regulations of the written word. Whereas I am a clumsy, er, talker? Let's just say my eloquence (if not pretension) doesn't get much further than the page. Or screen. Depening on what media I/you are reading.
When I'm at work, I marvel at how stupid I come off as sounding. I mumble, smush words together, and just generally make a complete ass of myself. Because I have a sense of humor about myself, and am generally good-natured and polite, my customers don't seem to mind. Unfortunately, when it comes to scoring awesome jobs, this inability to verbalize adequately is a serious problem, and I honestly think it cost me the job with the Sacramento News and Review. (Just a receptionist gig, but with the local indie newspaper? There was definetly the possibility for advancement.)
My boyfriend, on the other hand, is charming as can be. Granted, he'll stumble, but not like I do. His flubs are generally along the line of assuming his boss' s younger sister is his older sister. (True story. And she was pregnant at the time.) However, he still strings a sentence together better than I can.
On a completely unrelated note, I wish to move to Vancouver. No reason, really. I've been enamoured of the idea of living in Canada for quite some time now, and it's not too far away from California. I suppose I could move to Seattle, and not have to deal with the mess of crossing the border, but these are all things that should be considered at a later date. I am merely fantasizing about moving to Vancouver. It gives me something to do with my idle hours. I research the immigration process, look for affordable housing and jobs on Craigslist, and maps. Because I was not certain where in BC Vancouver was. But now I know. So there.
I hadn't read a book in a long time before last night. I had been feeling on the stupid side, but it's as if the book has recharged my batteries. Or at least my drive to blog. I feel much more intellectual than I have of late. But that may not be saying much. Hardy har.