Archive: Geeky

• The word is “agreement,” not “agreeance.”
• If you didn’t care at all, you couldn’t have cared less. If you really could have cared less, and you were just lukewarm about a topic, why point it out?
• “The reason is because…” is redundant since “reason” and “because” imply each other. The reason I do something is that I want to do it, or I do something because I want to do it.
• While I’m at it, the same goes for “where” and “at.” The question, “Where are my girls?” is sufficient, so it shouldn’t have an “at” at the end.
• When you let a person do whatever he wants, he gets free rein — yes, like a horse — not free reign.
• When a word is included in an abbreviation, there’s no need to say it again. I don’t want to give my personal identification number number or use an automatic teller machine machine.
• You do things by mistake or by accident, not on mistake or on accident. You do other things on purpose.
• An acronym is not simply a set of initials; it’s a set of initials that’s pronounced as a new word, like scuba (self-contained underwater breathing apparatus) or laser (light amplification by stimulated emission of radiation). Sorry, CIA, you’re not an acronym unless we pronounce you as “see-ya” or something similar. You’re just an abbreviation. Or a set of initials.

Anything else to add?

Secret Blogger Santa is ready to rumble with 41 participants! It’s all very exciting and I can’t wait to see what kinds of fun gifts people create in the next few weeks.

However, the excitement of the moment lies in the information within those 41 rows of the spreadsheet I created for this little endeavor, just waiting to be uncovered. Oh, sure, we could have just forwarded people’s sign-up e-mails to their Santas, but we would have missed the fun inherent in sorting! Trending! Graphing! Mail-merging!

Allow me to demonstrate (click for larger versions):

In the following graph, we see that peaks of sign-up occurred on the announcement day and the day before the deadline of November 16. We can see that SBSers are both quick on the draw and benefit from a last-minute reminder, if necessary.

When we examine the geographical distribution of United States-based SBSers (of the 39 participants who identified location), the most gifts will travel to New York (5), Minnesota (4), and Virginia (4). We also have 2 participants from our nation’s capitol — which was eerily excluded from this map — and 3 from outside the country!

From the personal tidbits SBSers provided to assist in the gift-buying process, we see that our pool of participants has quite a bit in common. SBSers are:

• To the point: 5 directed folks straight to their blogs for gift ideas
• Literary: 15 like to read (2 specifically mentioned Us Weekly)
• Busy:
  3 like crafty things (4 appreciate cards, especially)
  2 enjoy scrapbooking
  3 enjoy cooking (relatedly, 2 love wine)
  3 like to travel
  2 write
• In shape:
  4 love sports
  5 go running regularly
  2 practice yoga
• Family-oriented:
  3 mentioned their children
  8 love dogs
• Fans of color: 11 shared favorite colors
  3: pink
  3: purple
  2: green
  2: yellow
  1: blue

See how handy a spreadsheet can be? How else would we have known all of this invaluable information?

Check out the complete list of SBSers after the jump and see how you match up!

#51

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With less than a week left before Thanksgiving, I’m in full preparation mode for the upcoming Christmas season. JG and I are already planning out the scheme for our Christmas lights, how tall the tree will be, and what we’re making for Christmas dinner. One of my favorite parts of the groundwork stage is making lists, because that is really what this time of year is about. I jest, of course, but lists are a huge part of how I get through the holidays; otherwise, I would feel very overwhelmed and not in control, which we simply cannot have. So far, I have running lists/spreadsheets to track the following subjects (yes, a list of lists):

• Items to pack for Thanksgiving
• Gifts to give
• Gifts to receive
• Secret Blogger Santa participants
• People to receive Christmas cards
• Ingredients needed for Christmas dinner
• Desserts to make for Christmas
• Items to pack for Christmas
• People to e-mail about New Year’s Eve
• Food to make for New Year’s Eve
• Policies to follow to take holidays off from work

The stress of showing up, being dressed properly, bringing the right gift or dessert, accounting for everyone, fulfilling family obligations and expectations, and still maintaining a light, fanciful holiday mode weighs heavily on me. Left to my own devices, I would let all of these worries roll around the floorboards of my mind until I was convinced that I had forgotten something or someone. The lists save me from waking up with a start, wondering if I remembered to pick up molasses or buy holiday stamps. They keep me from trying to decipher wee-hour scrawls on the notebook I keep on my nightstand. They mark off my accomplishments with dark slashes or a clean swipe off of the white board. It feels wrong to admit it, but the lists help me enjoy the weeks leading up to Christmas because I am confident that everything is where it ought to be.

All of this functional, preserve-my-sanity talk is only partially a cover for my deep-seated belief that lists are totally fun. They can be color-coded, categorized, alphabetized, and prioritized! What is not to love?

Now that I have the privilege of being an Editor For Real, I practically live with a red pen in my hand. If I’m not typing and someone wanders into my office, I quickly snatch up the one on my keyboard to, you know, keep up appearances. I used to edit in blue ink because it seemed less daunting and blood-like, but I have gotten over that. I am out for blood these days.

Of course, to say that I have only begun editing would be a gross falsehood. I have been hypercritical for my entire life, which is handy in my line of work but altogether irritating everywhere else. For better or for worse, I can’t turn off my editing eye. I am indignant with low-budget publications (we don’t subscribe to any local newspapers), my nostrils flare at errors on commercials, and I shout spontaneously if I see an obvious proofing lapse in junk mail.

“Look at this,” I say excitedly as I shake a flier in JG’s face, “Just look at this.”

He scans. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s a sale on ‘girls clothing.’ Without an apostrophe. Because we can have men’s and women’s clothing, but not girls’. It’s plural and possessive. What is so hard about this?”

JG shrugs. “I just read what I know it’s supposed to be.”

How convenient.

Needless to say, the editing tic rears its ugly head when I dive into the blogosphere. Lo, the online world knows no style guidelines. I don’t believe it’s useful to pipe up every time I find something wrong on any website I visit, so even if my eyes are bulging out of my head, I do my best to practice restraint, breathe deeply and click away, particularly if I can tell that the person is rambling in a stream-of-consciousness way. If I’m reading what I perceive to be a well-formed essay or credible publication (like a news site), I am much pickier. If I know the author to some degree and the typo affects meaning, I might send a painstakingly worded e-mail. In most cases, though, my cowardice about coming across as completely mean overtakes my anal retention, and the typo goes unreported.

A couple of weeks ago, I e-mailed Audrey with what I called “a small Red Pen Item (hereby known as an RPI)” on a recent post. As a fellow editor, I knew she would take to the edit more kindly than most, and more importantly, call me out on any fellow RPIs of my own. I thought long and hard about the e-mail, trying my best not to “be categorized as beeyotch,” as I ultimately put it. Just as I had hoped, Audrey was completely understanding and fixed up the offending sentence right away. Hooray! And also — phew.

Last night, I checked my e-mail, and at the sight of a certain subject line — “Red Pen Emergency” — I let out a sharp gasp.

“It’s nothing,” I sputtered when JG showed concern. “It’s just that Audrey found a mistake in my post that I really should have caught.” Kicking myself mentally and slapping my forehead physically, I amended the excruciatingly redundant “8am in the morning” to simply “8am.” I admit that I felt better afterward.

All of this is to say that there is no shame in invoking the RPI. It’s humbling to be edited, but as Audrey wrote in response to my initial RPI e-mail:

What are editor friends for if not to look out for one another where RPIs are concerned? I think of it the same way as good friends telling you if you have something in your teeth to keep you from embarrassing yourself. We editors have got to stick together.

Here’s to cleaner teeth, friends.

#20

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Special thanks go to Audrey for proofing this post and making sure nothing would embarrass me.