(no subject)
Redesigned my journal layout last night, and man was that harder than it should've been. The Bloggish style is by far the coolest and most useful, but the navigation column keeps loading at the bottom of the page and the text doesn't line up with the columns. I wanted to be able to see my tags, have the edit function visible on each entry, see an icon on every post but not have it take up its own column. Should not have been a big deal, and I would've coded it myself but there is exactly NOTHING user-friendly about the layers function. The way the tags/mood/music set run together at the end of the entry makes the baby Jesus cry, but otherwise it's an acceptable compromise.
So, hey, I graduated college! Not that the whole renting a cap and gown, sitting through a long, boring ceremony, walking across a stage, shaking hands with the two people I would've been content to never meet, then bounce between two sets of relatives thing didn't feel real enough. But my diploma arrived in Saturday's mail. Really, by itself it was a fairly forlorn and unimpressive piece of parchment paper. But then I put it in the frame my mom got, and all of a sudden it's this official, regal document wrapped in mahogany that says thing like The University of Florida has conferred on and bachelor of science and all the rights and privileges thereunto appertaining, two of which I didn't even know were actual words, and upon recommendation of the faculty of the College of Journalism and Communications. I'm a journalist, y'all, a whole college's worth of faculty say so! It was neat, I had to swipe at my cheek a little while holding up the final result. It's such a satisfying thing, to be that much closer to the person I've always wanted to be.
Don't think I've mentioned him before, but Sports Editor Ted is a hottie. Was officially introduced to him at the budget meeting during which I met all the senior editors on my first day, and it didn't help that he was sitting almost directly across the conference table from me and kept making the sarcastic but friendly jokes the whole time. But Sports lives at the opposite end of the newsroom from Copy Desk, and one of the Sports writers has seemingly staked claim to me until such a time as he has no confirmable chance of getting anywhere with it, all of which culminates in the sad reality that Ted and I have exchanged maybe three words in the two months I've been working here.
Well, that changed when I forgot my keycard at home and caught him, serendipitously because it has happened maybe once before that we were walking into the building at the same time, outside the lobby on Saturday. He congratulated my sprint (there's no getting into the building without a keycard or buzzing security, and we use the employee entrance so not all the guards know me yet) and we had a great little chat about nothing at all while he showed me an elevator trick to close the doors immediately after you get in.
But like most of my other co-workers, he's a good thirtysomething years old, and though I was 83 percent sure he's gay after our conversation, following the office afterparty at The Gym (not a gay bar, shockingly) that night, I'm down to about 42 percent and up an 11-year-old daughter. [sigh]
On a happier note, Copy Editor Brandon and I have started taking dinner breaks together. He does what I do most nights - go home and sit for about 20 minutes doing whatever, but a few nights here and there we have questionable Greek food from a place that advertises having chicken gizzards on a neon sign or just some redeeming value-void Taco Bell. Mmm, cruchwraps.
Also, I love doing the Local section on the nights Billy's the metro editor. He goes over to the designer to check out the pages once they're done and isn't shy about proclaiming which headlines he likes and why. Brandon says each of us writes about one really good headline per night, which is about right, and Billy never fails to pick the one I liked most, too. He appreciates a little rule-bending for a clever phrase, a depressingly rare thing in a business struggling to reclaim its edge.
Hitting up MegaCon in Orlando on Sunday was a neat little time warp exercise in remembering middle school, but otherwise largely unproductive. What's with the dearth of Stargate swag in the world? However, there was soft-serve ice cream and John Schneider (Bo Kent, as we call him down on the farm) juggling. He looked really ridiculously good, tan, longer hair with blondish highlights, fantastically fitting shirt, laughing and jumping around with fans. There was also driving with the top down in gorgeous, breezy weather, which meant not even getting a half hour's worth of lost dampened my spirits. And at the end of the day, I do have an Atlantis mission patch to sew on the ass of my favorite jeans.
The real reason for my lack of updates is that I've been reading SGA fic like a fiend. Came across something incredibly depressing the other day involving John and Rodney living to be old enough to retire from the Atlanis mission. They had bought a house by the ocean and Rodney swung a puddlejumper for the garage, and it was so hard to read. I don't even mean the fact that the likelihood of them living that long is infinitesimal, but the idea of wanting to preserve some pale shadow of the lives they'd led. Anyone who's ever lived knows the impossibility of recreating anything, a moment, a place, a memory. None of it will be perfect, and there's not a damn thing you can do about it.
As I fall deeper into the television abyss thanks to the DVR, Gilmore Girls' Jess has a pretty sucktastic father. He flunked out of high school, Luke threw him out, he went all the way across the country, tracked him down in Los Angeles and all he wants is a place to think and put his life back together, and he can't even say, sure son, you can stay after abandoning him for 17 years?
I have indefensible fondness for Robin Hood: Men in Tights. It's not my usual kind of comedy at first glance, but it's the fact that it's a parody, a self-effacing, pop culture-laden mockery of its source material that makes me weak for it. They're just so earnestly silly! Alas, the movie isn't out on DVD, and I've worn my VHS copy to bits, but the magic of DVR and ABC Family means I can watch it any time.
And it's officially at the point where I'm making a list of things I have in my refrigerator as opposed to things I need. To Publix it is.
Quotes
"The failure of my pessimistic imagination at that moment boggles my mind."
-Sarah Vowell about her fears for the environment at Bush's inauguration ceremony
"This is the Harriet Miers of port acquisitions."
-Stephen Colbert (figures that he leaves bears out of the Threat Down for the first time ever Wednesday and a woman in Toronto has to fight off a 700-pound polar bear at a kids hockey game the next day. I love life's morbid sense of humor.)
So, hey, I graduated college! Not that the whole renting a cap and gown, sitting through a long, boring ceremony, walking across a stage, shaking hands with the two people I would've been content to never meet, then bounce between two sets of relatives thing didn't feel real enough. But my diploma arrived in Saturday's mail. Really, by itself it was a fairly forlorn and unimpressive piece of parchment paper. But then I put it in the frame my mom got, and all of a sudden it's this official, regal document wrapped in mahogany that says thing like The University of Florida has conferred on and bachelor of science and all the rights and privileges thereunto appertaining, two of which I didn't even know were actual words, and upon recommendation of the faculty of the College of Journalism and Communications. I'm a journalist, y'all, a whole college's worth of faculty say so! It was neat, I had to swipe at my cheek a little while holding up the final result. It's such a satisfying thing, to be that much closer to the person I've always wanted to be.
Don't think I've mentioned him before, but Sports Editor Ted is a hottie. Was officially introduced to him at the budget meeting during which I met all the senior editors on my first day, and it didn't help that he was sitting almost directly across the conference table from me and kept making the sarcastic but friendly jokes the whole time. But Sports lives at the opposite end of the newsroom from Copy Desk, and one of the Sports writers has seemingly staked claim to me until such a time as he has no confirmable chance of getting anywhere with it, all of which culminates in the sad reality that Ted and I have exchanged maybe three words in the two months I've been working here.
Well, that changed when I forgot my keycard at home and caught him, serendipitously because it has happened maybe once before that we were walking into the building at the same time, outside the lobby on Saturday. He congratulated my sprint (there's no getting into the building without a keycard or buzzing security, and we use the employee entrance so not all the guards know me yet) and we had a great little chat about nothing at all while he showed me an elevator trick to close the doors immediately after you get in.
But like most of my other co-workers, he's a good thirtysomething years old, and though I was 83 percent sure he's gay after our conversation, following the office afterparty at The Gym (not a gay bar, shockingly) that night, I'm down to about 42 percent and up an 11-year-old daughter. [sigh]
On a happier note, Copy Editor Brandon and I have started taking dinner breaks together. He does what I do most nights - go home and sit for about 20 minutes doing whatever, but a few nights here and there we have questionable Greek food from a place that advertises having chicken gizzards on a neon sign or just some redeeming value-void Taco Bell. Mmm, cruchwraps.
Also, I love doing the Local section on the nights Billy's the metro editor. He goes over to the designer to check out the pages once they're done and isn't shy about proclaiming which headlines he likes and why. Brandon says each of us writes about one really good headline per night, which is about right, and Billy never fails to pick the one I liked most, too. He appreciates a little rule-bending for a clever phrase, a depressingly rare thing in a business struggling to reclaim its edge.
Hitting up MegaCon in Orlando on Sunday was a neat little time warp exercise in remembering middle school, but otherwise largely unproductive. What's with the dearth of Stargate swag in the world? However, there was soft-serve ice cream and John Schneider (Bo Kent, as we call him down on the farm) juggling. He looked really ridiculously good, tan, longer hair with blondish highlights, fantastically fitting shirt, laughing and jumping around with fans. There was also driving with the top down in gorgeous, breezy weather, which meant not even getting a half hour's worth of lost dampened my spirits. And at the end of the day, I do have an Atlantis mission patch to sew on the ass of my favorite jeans.
The real reason for my lack of updates is that I've been reading SGA fic like a fiend. Came across something incredibly depressing the other day involving John and Rodney living to be old enough to retire from the Atlanis mission. They had bought a house by the ocean and Rodney swung a puddlejumper for the garage, and it was so hard to read. I don't even mean the fact that the likelihood of them living that long is infinitesimal, but the idea of wanting to preserve some pale shadow of the lives they'd led. Anyone who's ever lived knows the impossibility of recreating anything, a moment, a place, a memory. None of it will be perfect, and there's not a damn thing you can do about it.
As I fall deeper into the television abyss thanks to the DVR, Gilmore Girls' Jess has a pretty sucktastic father. He flunked out of high school, Luke threw him out, he went all the way across the country, tracked him down in Los Angeles and all he wants is a place to think and put his life back together, and he can't even say, sure son, you can stay after abandoning him for 17 years?
I have indefensible fondness for Robin Hood: Men in Tights. It's not my usual kind of comedy at first glance, but it's the fact that it's a parody, a self-effacing, pop culture-laden mockery of its source material that makes me weak for it. They're just so earnestly silly! Alas, the movie isn't out on DVD, and I've worn my VHS copy to bits, but the magic of DVR and ABC Family means I can watch it any time.
And it's officially at the point where I'm making a list of things I have in my refrigerator as opposed to things I need. To Publix it is.
Quotes
"The failure of my pessimistic imagination at that moment boggles my mind."
-Sarah Vowell about her fears for the environment at Bush's inauguration ceremony
"This is the Harriet Miers of port acquisitions."
-Stephen Colbert (figures that he leaves bears out of the Threat Down for the first time ever Wednesday and a woman in Toronto has to fight off a 700-pound polar bear at a kids hockey game the next day. I love life's morbid sense of humor.)