Secrets of the universe

People who follow me on Twitter might notice I've been tweeting a lot lately about happy dances and good things happening in my life.

What can I say? I had an awesome weekend. Slightly whirlwind, but it was a good enough mix of professional and personal and down time that I can't believe it's only Tuesday (technically my Sunday).

Professionally, I got to meet with two other journalists: K., who has worked for a daily and now is still quite involved in the media scene, and G., whom I've worked with before and have a lot of respect for.

Talking with K. was a lot of fun, and it was exactly what I was hoping would come out of my discussion with her. In community newspapers, the unspoken expectation is that you do a couple years at a smaller paper, usually in the middle of nowhere, before moving up. Except I don't know what I want to move up to, or even if I want to "move up" — I love copy editing, but as both K. and G. pointed out, those specialized jobs either don't exist anymore or won't exist for much longer.

K. and I started talking about making digital journalism more interactive and she mentioned some local people who do exactly that, by not only being a journalist, but by being a journalist who understands programming and can create interactivity with words and visuals online. Did I mention they're local?

Wait, so if I were driven enough to self-teach myself some new online skills and fine-tune my existing print skills, I could eventually do that?

I follow an American journalist on Twitter whose somewhat official description and/or title is programmer-journalist, but I just thought it was one of those American-Canadian things — they have all this stuff we don't have (I can't think of any good examples personally, but everyone has that one thing they always have to bring back from the States).

I didn't realize there were people here that did the same thing, and that they are and can be self-taught.

I have vague memories of using Dreamweaver in second-year university, but I haven't really touched it since; I've been more focused on teaching myself Illustrator. I'm now considering picking up Dreamweaver again.

That's exactly it. One of K.'s points was that since journalism is becoming more interactive, you can either learn this stuff well enough that you can do it yourself, or learn it well enough that you can still talk to someone else who can do it better and explain, within realistic parameters, what you want.

It's funny how these things come together. I needed a new challenge at my job, and so now I run the online Sunday edition of the paper — it's specifically designed for smartphones and tablets, and going in the direction of this new interactive, digital journalism. I know this sounds like I've completely flipped away from my dream copy editing job — I haven't, but there's all these other options too (exactly what I wanted to know).

My conversation with G. veered a little bit into the digital journalism realm, but we also talked a lot about newsroom chemistry and making the real world jive with everything we learned in school — and some of the things we didn't learn. It was a lot of what I needed to hear, and I'm seriously debating posting a nice-looking sign with all those reminders on the back of my apartment door so that I can see it every day before I leave my place.

 This is my 140-character summary of my meeting with G. Want to know more? Ask.

I couldn't have predicted how these meetups were going to go, but like I said, both of them were exactly what I needed, and I was very glad for the two-hour drive home yesterday as I got to turn some things over in my head.

Funny enough, of the other three coffee/dinner dates I had this weekend, two of them were with journalism friends, and the third, I still managed to talk a lot about journalism. (Oops?)

In between all that, I got some shopping done — not Christmas shopping yet, though it was in the back of my head — as I nearly froze last winter, since I don't like to wear and don't have that many long-sleeved tops. Living somewhere that doesn't have chinooks however, means I'm going to have to come to terms with finding warmer clothes. Although last winter, I realized that my part-time job was the warmest office in the world, and so I could get away with not wearing long-sleeved tops. A friend and I also went to go see some live theatre, even though we were a couple minutes late (my fault, I didn't give myself enough time to get into the city), and I got to hit up the farmers' market and walk through the river valley, which I love.

As I go through the digital resources that K. pointed me to, I'll probably be tweeting more about being #happyhappyhappy, though the downstairs neighbours will probably be glad that I've stopped jumping around and happy dancing. :)

Christmas crazies

This year, people can actually talk to me about Christmas, at this point in the year, without me wanting to scream. That does not mean that the Christmas decorations that I saw today at West Edmonton Mall are OK (it's not even Halloween yet!) but being able to talk to me about Christmas without me screaming is a definite improvement.

For the past four years, I've been in post-secondary. Getting to the end of October was an exercise in survival, never mind getting anywhere near December. I literally could not think about Christmas until Dec. 22 or so. I was a girl who shopped for Christmas presents on Dec. 23. I had to. For the sake of my sanity, I could not do it any other way.

My parents and grandparents, however, like to ask for Christmas lists at the end of September. Beginning to see the problem? This year, it's been kind of great. I actually started a Christmas list in July, so I was ready to give it to my parents at the end of September.

What I wasn't ready for, was that my parents would ask me for it, over and over and over and over and over and over again. And over again. The first time we talked, they forgot to write it down. I don't know what their excuse was the second and third and fourth and possibly fifth time. The sixth time, they wanted a list to give to my grandparents.

Yeah, the list still hasn't changed – though, to be fair, there are a couple of things I've added as I've thought of a couple things I'd like. These are the things I want. Decide among yourselves who wants to give me what. I am not dreaming up eight different lists for everyone in the family. Here's the master list. Do what you want with it.

I am only slightly worried I will be unwrapping socks this year.

Some call it fall

OK, so it gets colder in autumn. If I were a bear and hibernated for the next seven months or so, I would probably be OK with this. Unfortunately, I'm a person who apparently has a body temperature 10 C lower than everyone else. This is these season where it begins — I go to introduce myself, shake someone's hand, and their reply is "Ooh, your hands are a little cold."

Yeah, I know. It is literally a conscious thought for me when all of my body is the same temperature — "Hey, I'm comfortable, and no part of my body, including my hands or feet, are burning hot or freezing cold." (The dead giveaway is if I have my hands pressed to my cheeks in an "O" expression — it means my cheeks are burning and my hands are freezing.)

Like I said, I think my body temperature is a good 10 C below everyone else's, because I was in Toronto this summer when they had that 48 C heat wave, and I thought walking outdoors from the Royal Ontario Museum to the harbourfront was a great idea. Yes, I was drinking a lot of water, but I was comfortable. On the other hand, though my friend didn't exactly say it in those terms, he thought I was crazy.

I must admit, I don't really help my cause — I have very few long-sleeved shirts, even in the winter I wear a lot of T-shirts, and I will wear flats, delaying wearing socks until the last leaf falls off the trees. I've tried to wear heavier sweaters in the winter, but seriously, my internal thermometer does not co-operate. Then, I'm way too warm.

But just once, I would like to go to an event, introduce myself, shake someone's hand and not have their next comment be, "Ooh, your hands are a little cold."

Hey, cold hands, warm heart, right?

Big City lights

It's been nearly a month and a half since I've gone into Edmonton or Calgary. To put things in a little bit of perspective, I've been living in Lloyd for 10 months. So a month and a half just hanging out here shouldn't be that bad, right?

More perspective: the last time I didn't do some major highway travel for roughly a  month was May. I went home at the end of April for Easter, and then was back in Calgary in June for convocation. Up until now, actually, I think May is the only month that I haven't gone into either Edmonton or Calgary at least once.

I mentioned this to my mom the other day, and she asked me what the big draw was. I've been trying to figure that out ever since.

I think one of the major things is an occupational hazard: if there's something going on in town, I'm probably there already, covering the event. If there's nothing going on in town, then I'm not working, but then, what do I do with my spare time if there's nothing going on?

In bigger centres, however, even if there's nothing going on in St. Albert, for example, that doesn't mean there's nothing going on in Edmonton.

I hate to admit it, but loving Edmonton had a lot to do with where I lived: I spent my Saturdays walking down to the Old Strathcona Farmers' Market, dropping in at the library, then across the river to the market on 104, sometimes I'd drive out to St. Albert for a bit too. I loved walking down Whyte Ave. and through the river valley; I got to start my Sundays with free yoga every week because lululemon was a couple hops, skips and a jump away from my building. So I'm worried if I go back to Edmonton, and I can't get a place in Old Strathcona, Garneau, Bonnie Doon or areas on the north side of the river (my running route used to take me through a couple of them, but I don't know what they're called) I'm still not going to be happy in a Big City.

I don't really have any desire to work at a daily paper unless it's for copy editing; I like doing everything from writing and photography to layout and copy editing at a community paper. So I knew that in order to do that, I'd have to move to a smaller town. The unspoken expectation is, however, that you do a couple years at a community paper, before "moving up." Except I don't know exactly what I want to move up to.

So I'm trying to find positives about living in a smaller city. The one I came up with this morning is that I don't have to jump through a million media hoops to talk to the director of education at the public division. His direct line is on his business card and he picks up when I call. (This in contrast to the million media requests and run-around you get when dealing with a certain school division in Calgary.)

It's not much. I guess rush hour is another thing — there are certain intersections to avoid at specific times of day, but I find if I don't drive the meridian and take a couple of side streets, it's fine.

Still, I'm going into Edmonton in a couple of weeks, and I can't. freaking. wait. It's nothing special — a friend and I are going to see some live theatre, I want to go to the farmers' market and the mall (I don't have that many long-sleeved tops and I am determined not to freeze this winter), and other than that, it's just going to be a lot of coffee dates with various people.

See? Nothing special. So I don't know why I feel so cooped up here sometimes.

What's that they say? The grass is always greener on the other side?

Do Not Disturb

Some people hide their phones on themselves when they start drinking. I'm beginning to think I should hide my phone on myself when I'm sleeping.

When I first got a cellphone, about five years ago, I turned it off every night. Somewhere along the way, I stopped doing that. I guess I figured that if people really needed to text or call me in the middle of the night, there must be a good reason. (So not true.)

And then, in third and fourth year when I had a car, I always left it on because I lived fairly close to school, and I was by default one of the choices for people to call when they were stranded at school because time had gotten away from them when they were working on a project, or they'd been drinking at the campus bar (or some combination of all of the above).

I also had a friend working night shift, and 2 a.m. was the only time we could talk, because he was sleeping all other times. I got really good at being woken up by texts and being able to respond coherently.

I seem to have lost that talent.

A couple weeks ago, a friend and I were texting, and I was falling asleep. One of his last texts came through after I had drifted off, and so I grabbed my phone in a half-asleep state, and while a simple "Yeah" would have sufficed, I replied, "Meanwhile up yup." Don't ask me what that means, but at least they were all actual words.

Last night, another friend and I were texting. M.B. has this uncanny skill of knowing when I'm either falling asleep or am asleep, and chooses those moments to text me. Without fail. (There's actually a plausible reason for it, our lives and schedules are just about as opposite as you can get.) Luckily, she's one of my closest friends, so I don't mind...much. :)

We were talking about various things, and at one point, I meant to text to say good luck on an upcoming quiz. Her last text had woken me up however, so my return text reads "You'll do fine! Do your job <s z zzz I'll."

It starts off good and then just goes downhill from there.

Real world Mack trucks

This portfolio scares me a little bit.

Actually, there's nothing really R-rated or doomsday about it, it's just it scares me because it's obvious that woman is very very very very very good at her job, and I wish I were that good at my job.

(Note: before, I've just looked at her blog. Today I was poking through her resume and experience, and it makes me feel just a little bit better that she has her Masters — mind you, I've worked for other people with Masters and they're definitely not very good at their job.)

I read bits and pieces of her blog in different chunks of time and usually skim a bit; there's only so much I can read before I get overwhelmed.

Tonight, I found this post, and I love it, maybe partially because I can totally relate to the post-conference hangover.

When the Reflector staff returned from Louisville, Kentucky, last year, we had all these ideas that we immediately wanted to put into action. That was in October, and the managing editor talked us into waiting until the new year, instead of instituting things pell-mell. (So I didn't really get to be a part of any of it, since I decided to go and do this thing called graduate in December. Oh well.)

The line that I love, however, is when she writes "…only to get slammed with…'a Mack truck' upon returning to the real world."

I don't get to go to Kentucky anymore (actually, this year the ACP is in Orlando), but one of my favourite things to do – usually it happens when I go home, since most of my school friends are still in Calgary – is go for coffee with j-friends and deconstruct papers. It can be the papers we're working for, it can be the paper sitting on the table in front of us that we have no connection to whatsoever. It's the exchange of ideas that I love. A friend and I went out to Vermilion last week, and for three hours (or more) we sat in a coffee shop, discussing grammar and copy editing, with a couple of editions of the Vermilion papers in front of us. I can only imagine what the teenager working behind the counter thought of us.

I love it. The part I hate is the Mack truck, because it's true. You get run over by it, in the form of just day-to-day deadlines and work, you don't usually have the extra time to cultivate the exciting things that you have all the time in the world to dream about other times.

I don't realize how much I go back to the Big Cities until I quit going back. I haven't been back to Calgary or Edmonton since the beginning of September, and while that doesn't sound like a long time, it is for me, considering how this year has gone.

One of the things I can't stop thinking about lately is how much I want to go for coffee with some j-friends and just talk.

Until then, I'm just going to keep reading this blog.