It’s oh-fish-ull–I’m a student again.
A student of life, I’ve always been. A student of the English language, I was, uh, twenty-two years ago, and as of this week, I am again. Go Tritons! Or rather, Go Extended Tritons, since I’ll be studying at UCSD Extension, which must mean that my type of Triton has a slightly elongated pitchfork. I’ll carry my giant pitchfork to class in order to complete my Certificate in Copyediting, which I’m pursuing 1) for my work as co-content-editor at thefeistywriter.com, which launches at the end of this month to showcase an awesome community of writers sharing feistily about their passion and encouraging others to do the same (I’ll share details soon so you can pass them along to your writer friends), 2) for other editing work I currently do and want to do more of, and 3) for my own writing.
It all boils down to this—it’s high-time I reconcile with my estranged friend, Semi-colon, her ex-lover, Gerund, and his dog-walker, Squinting Modifier.
Last night, Oldest Daughter said while wrinkling her nose, “What is Grammar Lab? It sounds terrible.”
“Really?” I said. “I think it sounds fun. I’m super excited.” I was serious; I could almost feel my tail wag. About grammar.
The above exchange tells me three things: 1) I’m getting old, 2) I’m a little weird, and, 3) I’m exactly where I need to be, doing exactly what I want to do. I can’t do much about the first two, but I’m psyched to cannonball into the third.