Thursday, July 12, 2012

I’m a Writer.

No, seriously. I am officially a “writer.” One of my long-time dreams has finally come true!

I was recently promoted at work and my new title is Associate Writer/Editorial Services. I can now tell people on the street, “I’m a writer” and not look like a crazed coffee-house addict.

Though I’m very experienced in working with publications, I still have a lot to learn. For a long time I was in a dead-end job and I thought that I’d never be able to have a career as a writer or editor, so I stopped writing. I haven’t really written for a long time. (As seen by my steady drop-off of blog posts.)

But that has all changed because I’m now a writer!

I have many goals for this new position. As a “writer,” I’m going to write them down here:

  • Get a firm grasp of AMA (American Medical Association) style. I work at a medical advertising agency and while I’m familiar with Chicago Style, I will need to become bedfellows with the AMA Manual of Style.
  • Take courses and become involved in membership organizations to improve my writing and understanding. A colleague recently forwarded a set of classes and conferences that all appear to be very helpful.
  • Become intimately involved in the accounts I work with so that I will be seen as a resource for that product or marketing goal.
  • Most importantly, write! It’s incredibly nerve-wracking to put my work out there, waiting for it to be criticized. But that’s the only way to learn, right? Right.

Signing off from my throne (before the reality of hard work sets in),

Bicycles... and life

About a month ago I bought a brand-new bicycle. It was pretty and shiny and expensive. 

My new Trek 7.3 FX
Remember when you first learned to ride a bicycle? That sense of freedom it gave? That’s how I felt with my new bicycle. Since I was no longer living downtown, I was restricted to the trains and buses---which were sometimes a huge pain. If I had a late soccer match, I would spend more time on three busses just trying to get home than I did playing the game!

I loved my bike. It was great. And then I locked it up outside my apartment rather than bringing it up two flights of stairs. (Note: want a lesson in physics? Try carrying a bike up flights of a winding stairwell) My bike got stolen. I only had it for three weeks.

Want to know the saddest website in the world? The Chicago Stolen Bike Registry. Some of these people had their bikes for only a few days before they were stolen!
The theft bothered me, but everyone's self blame bothered me the most. I met up with a group trying to track down our stolen bikes and everyone in that group had locked up their bike. But everyone still said, “It’s my fault that the bike was stolen.” We all had excuses: We had either left it in an alley, or left it outside, or it only had one lock on it instead of three…

NO! If you locked up your bike, it’s not your fault! You didn’t steal your own bike. It bothers me how we all instantly blamed ourselves when it’s the crime that’s the problem.
There should be a special place in hell reserved for bike thieves. 
The good news is that my friend Sean and I went Craigslist hunting (I HATE Craigslist, but that’s a rant for another day) and I found a new, better bike!

My new bike is a road bike---something I thought I was never “good enough” to be able to ride. Turns out that they’re just like every other bike. You just hop on and enjoy yourself!
Here’s a picture of my new baby:
Women's Cannondale Synapse 7

Maybe the new bike is a blessing in disguise since it works much better for my needs, but I still wish I wasn’t out $800 in the process. Stupid thieves.