Daydreams & Dream Dreams

The back-end of wordpress just got so much cooler, you guys! Amazing what a little gradient can do to make the blank unreality of the internet seem more welcoming and modern and thing-like.

(If my grandma were still around to hear the words, “the back-end of my blog just got cooler,” I think she’d tell me to put some long pants on. It’s windy in springtime, and you’ll freeze in those shorts, Lulabelle.)

Speaking of spring wind, I walked across campus today clutching 200+ just-edited loose printer pages, ready to finally take them off my To Do list.
Tightrope walkers, high over pits of flame, have felt less tension than I did while imagining the slow-motion tableau of myself dropping the stack on the sidewalk. If ever there was a moment to go all Lucille Ball in comic failure, this was it.
Pages everywhere! Hours of work gone! Squirrels scurrying away with the index! Suddenly there’s a lake on campus and the papers fall in and Colin Firth jumps in to save me!

Imagination is a powerful thing, folks.

As I clutched this cursed project like it was the Gutenberg Bible, protecting against the wind and wasted effort, I realized in that moment of ridiculous paranoia that there was a time in my life (circa 1993, probably) when I would have died — I mean, like, just DIED, like that drug dealer on Nash Bridges* (That’s me being 10 in 1993.) — if you’d told me that it was going to be my JOB someday…That people would give me MONEY…And also a DESK with my own mug of colored pens & stuff…for me to edit 300 pages of pure typo treasure-hunt like this project was:
We’re talkin’ formatting inconsistencies in paragraph spacing.
We’re talkin’ subhead colons that should be bold but they are not bold.
We’re talkin’ watching out for “unievrsity” instead of “university.”

And I get to fix it. All By Myself.

NO WAY!, 10-year-old me says.
Yes, way., I reply. And you can make your desktop picture anything you want. 

*Nash Bridges actually premiered in 1996, when I was 13. Felt like I owed you that fact, readers. What would 10-year-old you think about you?