This is the most cheerful blog post on hate that you will read this year. Let me preface this post by saying that due to one of the unfortunate aspects of being of the female persuasion, I am not feeling so hot today. I hesitate to even bring this up because you don’t give a fuck about my physical state, which is fine, but let’s just say the Indy side of my personality is way closer to my ever-so-slightly-more-nuanced Real Person(TM) personality during these times.
I did my first scan of today’s science paper, noting the excessively high number of equations, and the mess that masqueraded as the author names and affiliations (civilians have no idea the number of ways the authors and affiliations can go wrong) and decided that I could work on my manuscript today. This came with the added benefit of being able to work on the couch rather than my
dining room table desk. (Before you hate me directly, reflect on the fact that you probably have stable benefits provided by your job.)
Huddled pathetically on my couch, I began to read my manuscript out loud. According to my fine readers, this is the best way to edit. You can hear words you repeat and see errors that if your editorial overlords knew you had made you’d probably be out of a job. The only thing worse than [physical ailment] is hearing my work being read out loud today. Shit. This summer I have been able to blow off work more than usual in order to write due to a brief incarnation as a summertime Adjunct Clause. But at 10 am on a Wednesday I’d better be editing a science paper or my manuscript. There is no way I can justify editing the back of my eyelids.
So I went to my trouble section and began to read it again. I’m 17 single-spaced pages in and am making real progress. Every time I see something I hate, I change it. If I hate my transition, I move shit around. If I hate myself, I look at my dog. He’s so cute that he removes hate from my heart (except at 6 am when he wants to go out. Even his cuteness powers are not that strong.).
I hate that I can’t figure out a strong ending for one of my little chapterlets, when it contains what is probably the best transition in the whole damn book. So I manage to write a blog post. I hate how much I complain about nothing so I try to be funny. By the time I’m sick of the word “hate” I’m going to dive right back into that chapterlet again.
What do you hate?