I realize it's been a while since I updated. I fell into a sort of blog slump. It came from various things, including a new workout schedule, being busier at work, and just a general "eh" feeling when it comes to writing. Well, I take that back--I've been writing, but not here. All I can say is that I suddenly decided I could write short stories since I've been reading dozens and dozens of them lately. They're a new obsession. Two days ago I finally set down the anthologies and picked up a normal novel for the first time since some time in January. It's a fairly crazy idea of mine, but what the hell, it's writing, it amuses me, why not, right?
Anyway. Today is essentially my Friday, since tomorrow is one of my unpaid personal days to save the company money and hopefully save my job. Every week should be four days, I've decided. This is no huge epiphany--I've said this over and over, but I continue to stand by it. It's good to have convictions.
Also, I've been anticipating tomorrow all week--not just because it's a day off, but also because the equine vet is coming out to the barn to check on Topper's legs. This is a huge thing for me. I had a mini breakdown over the weekend about this. Topper's accident-prone: About five years ago he put a hole through the major tendon in one of his front legs, and he couldn't go out for a ride or be turned out or anything for a whole year. He was only allowed to walk. He finally healed, and scar tissue filled in the hole, and I rehabbed him with slow work over the course of months, and he was fine again. Then about three years ago he somehow tore a ligament in a back leg, up in his hips, and he went through a treatment where the vet irritated the area with these injections to cause scar tissue to grow and connect everything back together again. It worked, and I rehabbed him again, but he hasn't really been able to jump since then.
Two months ago he got this mysterious lump halfway down his lower leg on the right side. There was no heat, no pain, and he was never lame, so I just kept an eye on it but kept riding. About three weeks ago he developed a similar lump on the left side, and now he's off. He doesn't want to work when I ride him, so we only walk around, and he just looks lame. I've waited for it to heal, but he's still off, so now the vet comes in.
The reason I'm so freaked out is I'm afraid this is finally the injury that will retire him and he won't be allowed to do anything but walk ever again. Or he can't do anything and has to be on stall rest for a year. He's miserable on stall rest. We had to drug him the first time around because he got so wound up in his stall. He was bred to be a race horse, he loves to go out for rides and work and jump, and when he can't, I just feel sorry for him. There's an awful lot of feeling sorry for myself, too--what if I can't really ride my horse anymore? I love jumping, and I miss it so much, and to lose riding altogether? Real riding, not just walking? Terrible.
The good thing is I can ride the pony, since he's back up to riding condition, and he's good and fun to ride and loves to jump as much as Topper. For a while, if Topper has to be off a bit, I have someone to ride. I know I'm also jumping ahead to worse-case scenarios (that's what I do). Maybe Topper just needs some time off or something simple. I am so wound up and nervous about this that I become nauseated when I think about it too much.
Other days I'm anticipating--next Sunday, a little over a week from now, daylight savings will dictate we move clocks forward an hour and gain an hour of evening sunlight. I'm so excited! That means I won't have to worry about getting out of work as soon as possible to get to the barn while it's still light outside. Whew. I love evenings, and I'd much rather deal with dark mornings than dark nights.
In journalism news, the Pentagon lifted its ban on photographing coffins of military members. Photos are ok, but only with the family's permission. I'd like to say congrats to the military for doing this. It's about time. These military personnel fought and died, in part, for the freedom of the press, so I think it's only right there should be access. I think there should be full access, but you have to take what you're given. Positive reinforcement! But this will let others recognize and honor those who died through the media, and that's a huge thing.
I'm sure tomorrow I'll update with what the vet says. If I can get going with blogging consistently for a few days, both here and on the Dork Reporter, then hopefully I'll be out of this blogging-block.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
I Know How Old I Am
Over the weekend we decided to waste some time at a really swank liquor store, complete with a fake French village inside it where the wine section is, and I bought myself a bottle of one of my favorite sparkling white wines to put away for my birthday, which is in another month.
When my birthday rolls around, I will be 26, which is putting me dangerously close to late-20s. I think the late-whatevers probably start at the sevens; 27, 37, 47, whatever. The thing is, I know I'm still pretty young, especially when it comes to being in the work world.
I got an e-mail from Emily the other day talking about some woman who made a snide comment about how young Emily is. Emily's about my age, and I really sympathized with her. With work stuff, I often get people saying "This was probably before you were born" or "You probably won't remember." I usually don't have a problem with it, since it often IS before I was born, and I do my research so that even if I don't remember something, I probably know of it.
What's irritating is the few individuals who think that just because you're young, you're silly or stupid. Most of our reporting staff is under 30, and we're all covering fairly wide areas that are complex and require some work. Obviously, we know we're young, and we probably all act a little older than our age at times, just to make up for the fact that it's obvious we don't have decades of experience. Whenever I come across really condescending people, I try to throw out the fact that I went to grad school or something like that, just so they get the idea that yeah, I'm young, but I'm not a complete idiot.
(I think I've probably ranted about this before in one way or another. If it's all sounding familiar, I apologize. I just do a lot of ranting here and can't remember it all.)
Plus, even people who've been around for a while make blatant work mistakes. I worked with a PR person just recently and I repeatedly told her we go to press on Thursday. On Wednesday I called to do a fact check, and she gave me a stat and then told me she'd have to check herself on that but she was fairly certain it was the right number. On Thursday, hadn't heard from her, so I assumed the stat was correct and we put it in a fact box and went to press. On Friday she got back to me by e-mail saying the stat was wrong and giving me the correct one. I had to write her back and tell her that we'd already gone to press with the wrong stat, and her e-mail said "Bummer. Sorry about that."
Yeah, I bet you're really sorry that we're having to run a correction because of your mistake. I wish there were a way to write a correction and explain how the mistake happened.
When my birthday rolls around, I will be 26, which is putting me dangerously close to late-20s. I think the late-whatevers probably start at the sevens; 27, 37, 47, whatever. The thing is, I know I'm still pretty young, especially when it comes to being in the work world.
I got an e-mail from Emily the other day talking about some woman who made a snide comment about how young Emily is. Emily's about my age, and I really sympathized with her. With work stuff, I often get people saying "This was probably before you were born" or "You probably won't remember." I usually don't have a problem with it, since it often IS before I was born, and I do my research so that even if I don't remember something, I probably know of it.
What's irritating is the few individuals who think that just because you're young, you're silly or stupid. Most of our reporting staff is under 30, and we're all covering fairly wide areas that are complex and require some work. Obviously, we know we're young, and we probably all act a little older than our age at times, just to make up for the fact that it's obvious we don't have decades of experience. Whenever I come across really condescending people, I try to throw out the fact that I went to grad school or something like that, just so they get the idea that yeah, I'm young, but I'm not a complete idiot.
(I think I've probably ranted about this before in one way or another. If it's all sounding familiar, I apologize. I just do a lot of ranting here and can't remember it all.)
Plus, even people who've been around for a while make blatant work mistakes. I worked with a PR person just recently and I repeatedly told her we go to press on Thursday. On Wednesday I called to do a fact check, and she gave me a stat and then told me she'd have to check herself on that but she was fairly certain it was the right number. On Thursday, hadn't heard from her, so I assumed the stat was correct and we put it in a fact box and went to press. On Friday she got back to me by e-mail saying the stat was wrong and giving me the correct one. I had to write her back and tell her that we'd already gone to press with the wrong stat, and her e-mail said "Bummer. Sorry about that."
Yeah, I bet you're really sorry that we're having to run a correction because of your mistake. I wish there were a way to write a correction and explain how the mistake happened.
Thursday, February 05, 2009
Close To The End
So I think, after a series of mini-meltdowns this week that occurred while I was driving in my car and never ended in tears but did get me close and also almost made me swerve into a huge pickup truck, that I'm getting close to the end of my despair over journalism. (That sentence was entirely too long.)
This does not mean that I have some great, profitable career lined up, like being a bankruptcy lawyer, or that my job is secure. No, it merely means that I am closing in on overload and so won't be able to process any more bad news. It will then just go in one ear and out the other and hopefully I won't think any more than, Well, that's a fucking shame, and move on. (Unless I get laid off. I just don't see how I couldn't NOT freak out over something like that.)
What finally got me to the edge? It was probably the news today that the Star-Telegram is going to lay off everyone it's ever employed and also their mothers and not let their kids run lemonade stands on the corners any more. Fifty cents for lemonade? Are you effing kidding me?! It turns out the rumors and rumblings Andrew heard were right.
I know, it's not my paper anymore, but it's more the principle of the thing. The industry is just slowly collapsing, like a flan in a cupboard, as Eddie Izzard would say. I'm taking off tomorrow afternoon as part of the whole five-unpaid-personal-days-to-save-money, and yes, I do expect to be drinking. And getting an oil change. I can't afford to pay for serious car repairs because I was negligant.
This does not mean that I have some great, profitable career lined up, like being a bankruptcy lawyer, or that my job is secure. No, it merely means that I am closing in on overload and so won't be able to process any more bad news. It will then just go in one ear and out the other and hopefully I won't think any more than, Well, that's a fucking shame, and move on. (Unless I get laid off. I just don't see how I couldn't NOT freak out over something like that.)
What finally got me to the edge? It was probably the news today that the Star-Telegram is going to lay off everyone it's ever employed and also their mothers and not let their kids run lemonade stands on the corners any more. Fifty cents for lemonade? Are you effing kidding me?! It turns out the rumors and rumblings Andrew heard were right.
I know, it's not my paper anymore, but it's more the principle of the thing. The industry is just slowly collapsing, like a flan in a cupboard, as Eddie Izzard would say. I'm taking off tomorrow afternoon as part of the whole five-unpaid-personal-days-to-save-money, and yes, I do expect to be drinking. And getting an oil change. I can't afford to pay for serious car repairs because I was negligant.
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