The wait list

I'm in the midst of a hellish waiting game. Waiting for graduation. Waiting for vacation. Waiting for the cheese and wine pairing class I'm going to on Saturday. But more than anything right now, I'm waiting to hear back about an internship that could be a total life-changer, and going crazy in the process.

I know a useful distraction would be a better choice, and actually tends to move things along in that ironic fashion. Similar to when you go to make that quick phone call for a dental appointment in line at the drive-thru: Then and only then does the seemingly endless line decide to move, and you're the jerk on the phone, making either Ronald or Dr. Weinberg now wait on you.

But waiting for something important is its own brand of paralysis--at least when it comes to doing anything truly productive. And while pondering this unproductively, I came across a blog post that makes some suggestions as to what to do with all that finger-twiddling energy: Several Unproductive Things You Can Do While Waiting.

I couldn't have said it better myself. But I'm gonna try.

1) Make lists. There's a shocker. But if there's ever a time when you can sort out all the stuff you're supposed to be doing, make it look all pretty and color-coded, but not actually do any of it--this would be it.

2) Google anything and everything related to what it is you're waiting for. Baby stuff if you're pregnant. Stuff to do on a trip if you're pining for that vacay this summer. Packing ideas if you're moving. Monologues if you're waiting for Godot. You get the picture.

3) Stare at the clock. This works best if you're waiting on something short-term, like the end of a class or workday, or the beginning of happy hour. If it's a longer timeframe, I recommend looking at the calendar a lot, maybe doing the X's thing, and using a site like this to have a more accurate grasp on the countdown.

4) Clean stuff. This is just about the only productive thing I can manage while waiting on something. It doesn't take a lot of focus or brain power, and in the end, my whites come out whiter. If you're already a cleaner by nature, maybe tackle those once-a-year chores, like dusting the blinds or cleaning the inside of the freezer. (If you do these more than once a year, kudos to you. I really should make a list to do them more often.)

5) Pinterest. What a waste of time. What a ridiculous and lovely waste of time.

6) Sleep. It's one of my favorite pastimes anyhow. Plus, it worked on Christmas Eve when I was 8, why can't it work now?

7) Watch a lot of movies and television. This borders on productive, if you're like me, with a giant list of things you "have to" watch. Clear out the DVR, rate some stuff on Netflix, discuss it with friends, feel better somehow.

8) Talk incessantly to friends and family about this thing you're waiting on. Actually, don't stop there. Facebook, co-workers, strangers on the bus, the checker at the grocery store, the panhandler at the gas station--you tell 'em. Go ahead; it's not annoying at all.

The Carefree Diaries

I've had a long enough hiatus from this blog, wouldn't you say?

Today's list will be a personal journey. OK, it's really not that sappy. Or maybe it is. Either way, you're getting this list, so keep calm and carry on.

My long-awaited, late-blooming graduation is now only three months away. And while I'm ready to relax and don sombreros in Mexico with my homegirls, it's not all fun and flan just yet. I have 18 units of absolute chaos to feel my way through first, balanced with a handful (read: three) of part-time jobs that keep the creditors away. And the group projects! So many group projects. I realize that's the case in the "real world," since I've been in it for some time, but more often than not, the real-world colleagues I'll be working with post-graduation don't ignore emails altogether and no-show to meetings. Le sigh.

Speaking of which, I have begun the incredibly intimidating, potentially life-altering process of applying for my re-entry to the real world, via internships and jobs that fall within--gasp--the field in which I want to work. I can't help but feel like it's a make-or-break moment for me: Will I work to live, or live for my work?

My point is this: I'm pretty overwhelmed at the moment. So in order to save myself from myocardial infarction, it's best to pull a Julie Andrews and simply remember my favorite things.

To round out this slightly stressful blog beginning, here's a relaxing end: a list of some of the strange and fanciful stuff that bring about my mellow. Feel free to comment and add yours; there's no such thing as too many of these.

1. Crayon-scented Volkswagen interiors

2. The Commodores' "Easy (Like Sunday Morning)"

3. Garrison Keillor telling me stories through my vintage radio/record player cabinet speakers

4. Road trips with good friends

5. Reading on a patio or porch (sublist: currently reading The Picture of Dorian Gray, Dante's Inferno, and Keith Richards' and Lucille Ball's autobiographies)

6. Theme parties

7. Bossa nova

8. The opening sequence to Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory, with the assembly lines of candy

9. Hiking with picnics at the end

10. Bob Ross

11. Golf and tennis tournaments playing softly on a TV in the background

12. Naps in the sun

13. Art museums

14. How my hands smell after I've been picking tomatoes from a garden

15. That wet musty asphalt smell reminiscent of log rides

16. Movies with balanced characters and ambiguous endings

17. Crossword puzzles

18. Coloring books

19. Knitting

20. The nostalgic feeling that winter always brings

On age, #1

As the number 30 steadily encroaches upon my nubile being, I figure it an appropriate time for age evaluation. But it’s important to strike a balance, I think, so as not to fashion a noose out of the knitting to my left upon finishing this entry. And with that, a list begins—some old, some young; some positive, some a bit cynical. Just one for this evening, as it’s late, and I’m old…er…than I used to be.

1) It makes me feel old when I try to train someone younger at work, and I wonder if they are mentally rolling their eyes.

Really, I do worry about this. I remember going insane when older folks would try to teach me things in a Windows world, when they were much more comfortable with a C prompt. It would take them oh-so-long to find something with the cursor, and even longer to use a drop-down menu. They behaved as though the “File > Save” command in MS Word changed locations at random. Each trip to mail merge was a painfully slow excavation, despite the fact that it was used at least weekly. A supervisor of mine was beholden to me for a good month’s worth of lattes after making her acquaintance with “Undo.”

And the Internet? Forget about it.

And so, I find myself in a similar predicament, at the ripe old age of 29. In a time where the average American 12-year-old understands HTML better than the proper use of apostrophes in their native tongue, the concern isn’t sheer paranoia.

Have I become the modern-day equivalent of the VCR that always blinks 12:00?

I try to deflect any feelings of “duh” from the kiddies by making clear my assumptions that most of the stuff I’m showing them is old hat, going quickly over things, using a lot of “yada, yada, yada.” I figure they’ll stop me if I’m going too fast and ask questions, or, more likely, suck at their work the first few times, and then I’ll correct them here and there, and all will be well.

Know-it-all little brats.

Words and phrases not meant to be uttered within the confines of the copy parlor

So, I'm a copy editor at a local alt weekly in Sacramento.

Yup. Fancy. Be kind to any errors you may come across in this blog. Employment in this field does not imply a prerequisite infallibility. Usually just a (humbly kept under wraps, of course) sense of grammatical and intellectual superiority.

Oftentimes in my workday, given that our news is, um, alternative, strange words and phrases will come up in print. Other times, they are simply spoken in the aural vicinity of the copy desk (otherwise known as the copy parlor--we have a pretty pink antique couch). These words comprise a list, seldom obeyed and ignored in perpetuity, that myself and the assistant copy editor wish ne'er to hear or read again.

Understand, I'm not opposed to the slow adoption of Internet jargon and other lazy vernacular that has found its way into the lexicon. Not all of it, anyway--"irregardless" will never be let go by me; I don't care if it's in the damn dictionary. Language is beautiful in large part for its flexibility, and meant to evolve. There's a time, place and context for newbies, which, granted, is changing every day.

Note the rethinking of ba-dunka-dunk on the list to follow, for example. Or this: I never thought I'd find myself ever going without punctuation. And now, sometimes, I feel the open-endedness of a periodless statement can leave a sort of cliffhanger effect, full of angst and, well, listlessness. It lends a sort of depth to an otherwise banal set of words. It can be a bad thing, or it can have the potential for a really "yeah, man, totally" kind of vibe, which we all need sometimes. All in all, a fairly accurate temperature reading of the cultural climate we've found ourselves in at the moment.

I doubt that's what the tween punks taking the Twitter state of mind viral were intending, but then again, intention isn't always synonymous with interpretation, or truth, and it doesn't have to be--art history taught me that one.

I'm getting boring.

The list as it currently sits on the bulletin board:

get 'er done
pizzist
cheers
chya
air guitar
what's doin'
ba-dunka-dunk
not!
top of his/her/their game (and really, any sports analogies/metaphors)
foreverz
LOL, et al.
"deets," as in details
brah
"I'm kind of a big deal"
preggers
scerred/scurred (or any variation on "scared")
butthurt
on-the-go
back 'n' da dizzay
"sneering vocals"
"uh oh" (at deadline only)

Christmas music for Christ's sake

Dear 20th Street holiday ice rink,

I was wrong. The musical stylings of the MARRS building weren't the absolute worst thing ever. They were much quieter, for one. Please stop with the blaring ABBA tracks and "Dude Looks Like a Lady," and commence with the less audible woodwind covers of Guns N' Roses and endless Mazzy Star. Or Christmas music, for Christ's sake. I can't believe I just said that.

Should you refuse, please simply hit shuffle—your alphabetical playlist is driving me completely insane. Also, Billy Idol doesn't sing "Real Wild Child," Iggy Pop does. That was 1986; please try to keep up.

Sincerely,
Kimberly's ears, working from an office building in close proximity

Things I wish my crazy neighbor would yell

OK, so this is a quick and random one, but at least I'm doing this thing finally.

I've got this neighbor in the seven-story building next door, which I'm pretty sure is some sort of mental facility, who quite fancies roaming the streets and yelling stuff. We've taken to calling him Dubby, as in W.B., as in...I can't even remember what that was supposed to stand for. Oh, right. Window breaker. Last week, he punched the glass of out his window during one of his rants. Is this a place where I have a random excuse to use the word "defenestrate?" Probably not. I digress.

Anyway, it's usually just boring stuff, like "Where you at?" and something else about his woman. I think he's picking a fight with some make-believe dude that is apparently trifling with his imaginary lady friend.

Without further ado, here's a short list of things, for my own amusement, I wish my stentorian neighbor would exclaim instead:

1. Oh yeahhh (a la Kool-Aid man)

2. Adrian! Stella! I'm Rick James, bitch!

3. If you don't eat your meat, you can't have any pudding! How can you have any pudding if you don't eat your meat?

4. I pity the fool...

5. How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?

6. De plane, boss, de plane!

7. The entire preamble to the Constitution...backwards

8. Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain

9. It's not a TOOM-uh

10. "Here we are, face to face, a couple of silver spoons... "

Stay tuned.

For those who are familiar, you know I write lists; it's my lifeblood. But often, a lot more time is spent with my head in the listmaking clouds than is spent checking these notations off as completed. Yet there are many things I could easily say I don't believe I ever would have done, or done as soon, had I not written them down, on my hand, a bar napkin, or nice and tidylike in a notebook or a word doc. There is room for spontaneity, yes, and I do have it, though I could often strike a better balance.

But if lists are a security blanket, call me Linus.

That said, this will not just be a place for lists of things to do. It will be a place to celebrate lists in all their grandiose forms--to do lists, grocery lists, laundry lists, top 10 lists, A lists, D lists, Craigslist--wherever the spirit moves me, productive or otherwise. Because Lord knows, the potential is limitless.

I'll get on this when I am so moved. For now, enjoy this oh-so-true piece from the Onion:
http://www.theonion.com/content/node/38659