pedestrian saga

Once upon a time, I got paid to watch television and movies and to represent their dialogue and sound effects in text form with accuracy and precision. I was mentored in this work by a real editor who tapped my propensity for second-guessing myself and validated my dictionary worship. I was encouraged to embrace my anal-retentiveness and to apply it in exciting new ways. The job was a kind of English major’s refuge, nay, a little chunk of paradise. (I majored in linguistics and Italian, which is close enough.)

But I left that desert oasis for the greener pastures of Oregon, and now I sometimes feel bereft of an editorial outlet. In my current position (at an institution of higher learning, interestingly), my timid, unsanctioned efforts to raise the quality of our textual output are often met coldly by colleagues who probably disdain me as a grammatical Goody Two-shoes.

Thus I lamented to Scott during a Friday-night rant, and he sweetly and thoughtfully wished that I might harness my verbal prowess to some noble cause. How such gentle encouragement from someone you love can inspire confidence and creativity! Around town yesterday afternoon, I began to see the possibilities: a flyer by the Corvallis chapter of the Northwest Earth Institute deploring “the Wal-Mart affect,” a street sign tagged to read “Stop driveing”…