Editing

I keep reminding myself to edit before I hit the Publish Post button. I do it automatically at work, editing practically everything. From internal emails to proposals to text messages to colleagues. And hell, most of my friends are editors --- Margie, Kristine, Dodo, Marnie --- we can actually make jokes out of sentence constructions. No, not really, more like figure of speeches, but I know that we could if we tried. I've been re-reading my posts and I am aghast at my mistakes, my typo errorsssss. Now that at least 3 people are reading this, (Hi, Dodo. Uh, dyahe.) I'll put in the extra effort that would make clicking the Publish button actually mean "worth publishing."

I'm just not used to editing hardcore journal stuff. But I do it anyway. I've been editing my memories more than I should. Part science, part romance, I've been editing my life so it would become publishable bio-fiction.

And this is also why I keep this blog. I write about my life like it were a story, I edit like it were a draft, hoping to find somewhere between the lines, buried under the plot twists, the happy endings that are there all along.

And I think I have. So far, thank you,

1. Wilmer, happiness in our home, in our bed. In our sleep The Great and Secret Show;
2. Margie, tight scoobie hugs after the drive home with Ms. Love and District Sleeps Alone Tonight;
3. Kristine, Whiskey, Tango, Ghost;
4. Dodo, director of words and wow, there's never enough music;
5. The crew of Star Trek Voyager, now, there will always be coffee in every nebula;
6. Joss Whedon, still I always feel this strange estrangement.

Not bad. Six happy stories.