So I was asked, “You want to have some tempura and Sparkle sometimes?”

I was like,

But inside I was like,

I was standing at the counter when my crush stood beside me and said, “Hi, Kirby!”

And I was like … 

Ohhh … Music to my ears!

I miss swimming in the ocean. XD

And I was like … 

This morning, I was walking along the streets of Cebu IT Park when a group of four Hiligaynon-speaking teenagers approached me to ask a question. They were actually arguing about who should ask. Finally, one of the guys (as there were three guys and a girl) came near me.

“Uhm … pare, pwedeng mag tanong?” He asked hesitantly.

I nodded.

“Ano ba yung pwede naming sakyan papuntang Ayala?”

I smiled inwardly with the thought of messing up with them. “Jeep,” I said. “Or pwede ra pod taxi.” I continued in Bisaya, trying not to give a hint that I am also Hiligaynon-speaking.

“Ahh . .  . Anong jeep ba, at saan kami pwedeng sumakay?”

This time, I really made up my mind to mess up with them. “Kanang kuan, 04L. Tua ra sa unahan ay. Gikan diri, lakaw ra mo padung didto sa gate sa IT Park, unya liko mo’s tu, Unahan ana kay daghan man nag jeep didto. Atang nalang mo didto. Mu-agi jud na sa Ayala ang 04L maong di jud mo masaag ana. Syarong masaag pa mo ana. Pangutana na lang dayun mo sa driver ug duol naba sa Ayala para sure pod.”

I almost laughed upon seeing their confused and, somehow, frustrated faces.

“Ano kuno?” the girl asked. “Wala ko ya may naintindihan ya. Hamabala bi nga mag Tagalog na lang sya.”

This time, the other guy spoke up. “Ah, sorry pare, kasi hindi kami nakakaintindi nang Cebuano eh. Pwedeng mag Tagalog ka nalang?”

“Ha?” I pretended to be surprised. “Wala kamo ya kaintindi? Wala kamo guro namati ya,” I spoke in Hiligaynon, mimicking the boy’s city accent. “Hambal ko, 04L inyo sakyan. Halin diri lakat lang kamo pakadto didto sa gate sang IT Park tapos liko kamo sa tuo. Damo na da dayun jeep nga 04L sa unhan, didto na lang kamo bantay. Maagi guid na sa Ayala ang 04L muna indi guid kamo magtalang. Tanhaga nga magtalang pa kamo. Pamangkot nalang dayun kamo sa driver kung lapit sa Ayala para sigurado.” I contained my laughter at this. “OK na?”

“Hala Ilonggo!” the girl mused.

“Ilonggo ka?” they asked me.

“Dili uy. Nganu diay?” I replied.

“Ah … Ti, sige. Salamat nalang parts ah.” The first guy said and smiled. Then they walked toward the direction I gave them.

“OK ah. Halong!” I called out, definitely laughing this time.

Revenge is so sweet. And yeah, am not Ilonggo. I’m half Capizeño and half Negrense. In a way, I did not lie. LOL

I wrote this blog a few months back—that is, when I was still part of Xlibris where internet connection is in scarce.

As the new age of technology came, copyeditors now do not have to stare on pieces of papers and draw red lines for every correction. We now use computers. Sitting in front of computers for eight hours, human as we are, we get bored and hungry. Although internet is available, the sites we could access are limited only to references (i.e., Merriam-Webster Online, Oxford Dictionary Online, Urban Dicitonary, Chicago Manual of Style Online, ect.). So what do we do to ease our hunger and boredom? We watch videos on Merriam-Webster!

If you opened that site before, you might have noticed that there is a video on the upper-right hand side. It’s a collection of series called “Ask the Editor” where they feature different people (obviously their editors) to answer editorial questions. But our purpose of watching these videos is not to learn, but to have fun.

We compile screenshots of the editors’ faces frozen in a funny way. So far, these are the pictures we have compiled.

Don’t get us wrong. Despite these pictures, they are still editors of the household authority of dictionaries—Merriam-Webster. Yes, we still respect them. Well, maybe before and after the laughs.

This is an excerpt from a manuscript I was asked to index. Mr. Zaf Khan’s story about Lucas and the Geese.

You will probably never look at a cup of coffee the same way again.

A young woman went to her mother and told her about her life and how things were so hard for her. She did not know how she was going to make it and wanted to give up; she was tired of fighting and struggling. It seemed as one problem was solved, a new one arose.

Her mother took her to the kitchen. She filled three pots with water and placed each on a high fire. Soon the pots came to boil. In the first she placed carrots, in the second she placed eggs, and in the last she placed ground coffee beans. She let them sit and boil without saying a word.

In about twenty minutes, she turned off the burners. She fished the carrots out and placed them in a bowl. She pulled the eggs out and placed them in a bowl. Then she ladled the coffee out and placed it in a bowl. Turning to her daughter, she asked, “Tell me what you see.”

“Carrots, eggs, and coffee,” she replied.

Her mother brought her closer and asked her to feel the carrots. She did and noted that they were soft. The mother then asked the daughter to take an egg and break it. After pulling off the shell, she observed the hard-boiled egg.

Finally, the mother asked the daughter to sip the coffee. The daughter smiled as she tasted its rich aroma. The daughter then asked, “What does it mean, Mother?”

Her mother explained that each of these objects had faced the same adversity: boiling water. Each reacted differently. The carrot went in strong, hard, and unrelenting. However, after being subjected to the boiling water, it softened and became weak. The egg had been fragile. Its thin outer shell had protected its liquid interior, but after sitting through the boiling water, its inside became hardened. The ground coffee beans were unique, however. After they were in the boiling water, they had changed the water.

“Which are you?” she asked her daughter. “When adversity knocks on your door, how do you respond? Are you a carrot, an egg, or a coffee bean?”

Think of this: Which am I? Am I the carrot that seems strong, but with pain and adversity, do I wilt and become soft and lose my strength?

Am I the egg that starts with a malleable heart but changes with the heat? Did I have a fluid spirit, but after a death, a breakup, a financial hardship, or some other trial, have I become hardened and stiff? Does my shell look the same, but on the inside, am I bitter and tough with a stiff spirit and hardened heart?

Or am I like the coffee bean? The bean actually changes the hot water, the very circumstance that brings the pain. When the water gets hot, it releases the fragrance and flavor. If you are like the bean, when things are at their worst, you get better and change the situation around you. When the hour is the darkest and trials are their greatest, do you elevate yourself to another level? How do you handle adversity? Are you a carrot, an egg, or a coffee bean?

May you have enough happiness to make you sweet, enough trials to make you strong, enough sorrow to keep you human, and enough hope to make you happy.

The happiest of people don’t necessarily have the best of everything; they just make the most of everything that comes along their way. The brightest future will always be based on a forgotten past; you can’t go forward in life until you let go of your past failures and heartaches.

When you were born, you were crying and everyone around you was smiling.

Live your life so at the end, you’re the one who is smiling and everyone around you is crying.

May we all be coffee!

(A poem for a fellow copy editor)

Your eyes, they seem to wander in time and space

as you stare upon those set of characters

encoded in a frame brilliant lights and squiggly lines of green and red.

Your voice, soundingly outlandish when you speak, catches my ears.

Your gentle yet aloof behavior amuses me.

You are this yet that—something that I can easily see yet not grasp.

You are cold, yet hot. You are here, but not.

I wonder how to call you. I wonder how to befriend you.

You seem indifferent with anything and everything that happens around you.

You are the paradox of this atmosphere.

The oxymoron of this milieu.

The irony of my interest—something I like, but not want.

A quarter before noon, and I was browsing through the Chicago Manual of Styles, Sixteenth Edition. I was getting ready for the tenth exercise that I have to take for my copyediting skills improvement. Today was just like all the other rainy and gloomy days. Nothing really spectacular. Ms. Jill was beside me doing her usual thing as one of our superiors. Next to her was Sir Ace, another superior. Joyce, Jennie, and Lara were there then.

Minutes before I could even skim on the new exercise, I noticed a little shaking on my chair. My monitor began to move back and forth. I shot a look around the people in the office and noticed that Marrion, one of our colleague, had gone under her desk. Sir Ace had done the same. Ms. Jill had given away in panic. I held the back of my chair with my left hand, my right hand holding the wall of my cubicle. The shaking continued.

Seriously? I asked myself. Is this really an earthquake? At this time? This strong?

“It’s done, it’s not shaking anymore,” I heard Joyce said. Panic was in her voice.

“No it isn’t, it is still shaking!”  Sir Ace snapped at her.

I fixed my eyes on the monitor, still violently shaking. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. I prayed.

A few more moments and the lights went off. That was then the time when all the people in the office started to show real signs of panic. People yelled. People stood. People asked each other.

A man poked his head in and announced that the electronic doors were locked. The exit was lock!

I felt my body shook even more. My eyes went blurry. Vertigo sets in.

“Fire exit’s open,” the man announced, “everyone, this way.”

I scooped my stuffs—-my jacket, my cap, and my tumbler—-stood and followed the rest of the people toward the fire exit. We reached the ground level and went waited for a few hours before we went back to the building and gathered our remaining things from our respective lockers.

While outside, I heard several reports about the intensity of the quake, other reports of tsunami alerts, and reports from other affected areas. I tried to contact my friends and families, but I just couldn’t. There was network coverage but the network was busy. I had to wait for hours before I was even able to make a call and confirm my family’s safety.

Two o’clock came and we were finally allowed to go home. I took the 17C jeepney with Joyce. We were almost near my stop—-we were at the Golden Peak Hotel on Gorordo Avenue to be exact—- when a crowd came rushing in from the opposite direction. At first, I thought a snatching incident happened; but then someone cried “Dagan mo naa ang ang tibig sa unahan. Nai tsunami.” Panic sweeped through me. Everyone in the jeepney started going down and running toward the opposite direction. I did the same.

All vehicles from the other side were coming as fast as they could, all shouting that water is coming. That tsumani has indeed happened. I ran as fast as I could. I pulled my phone out of my pocket to send a message to my friend living near our area. I pressed the Navi Key and my phone flashed the message “Battery Low.” I continued running while dismantling my phone to replace the battery, so I can contact my family and friends. I kept on looking back, hoping that water hasn’t reached us yet.

People from all directions were coming. All in panic, crying, terrified. All trying to save their lives and their loved ones. Fear, vertigo, confusion, chaos were racing through the streets. I was shaking. My hands won’t follow my orders. My legs were to frail I couldn’t even strand straight.

“What’s wrong? Why are you running?” A police officer pulled me toward the side of the road.

“I don’t know!” I blurted, almost ready to cry. “They say tsunami is coming.”

“Did you see the water yourself?” he asked.

“No,” I said, “but everyone is running. Panicking. I ran, of course, to save myself also.”

By then, I noticed a lot of rescue cars and police patrols were running all over the street.

Perhaps, the tsunami is true, I thought. I broke loose from the police officer’s grip and continued running till I came to a hotel.

There, I completely changed my phone’s battery, and desperately wished that the network wasn’t busy. After multiple attempts of calling my friend, I finally made it through the line. We exchanged information and instructions, and I went to the nearest high place. I continued my way toward home, running against the direction of people all panicking.

What I saw was almost like a movie—-2012, Armageddon, The Day After Tomorrow, Deep Impact—-movie dealing with the end of the world. I was running, wishing the tsunami thing wasn’t an inch true.

I found safety on a four-story building where my friend and I kept on talking about what happened earlier. I went home as soon as I could, and packed a few clothes, first aid kit, and other necessities in case of emergency evacuation.

This isn’t my first earthquake, but this is by far the worst. I was stuck in an avenue full of panicking people, saying that tsunami is going to sweep us all dead. I couldn’t even run. Let alone think what is the best way to do. Hopefully, no more like this will happen again. And most hopefully, the tsunami will never come.

This is not mine. This is just one of the articles I was told to read in preparation for being a copy editor.

When applying for jobs, my cover letter states that I don’t even date people who can’t use punctuation correctly. That line often gets me work, but what’s even funnier is that it’s true. One night, I was having drinks with a girl I was considering breaking up with. (Yes, I ended a sentence with a preposition; trust me, it’s okay now.) We were on our way to a birthday party, so she began writing the card. Her friend was turning twenty-nine. She wrote:

Happy “29”th Birthday!

Are you kidding me? Maybe, maybe I could understand if the quotes were around the entire 29th and she was really saying her friend was turning thirty, but it was only around the numeral. What does that mean? Other than to indicate dialogue, quotes are used to call attention to ironic or apologetic words. What is ironic about the 29 in 29th?

I broke up with her about five minutes later. I didn’t go to the party.

I am a professional copy editor and I love my job. I love reading people’s stuff and making it better and clean. I love explaining a rule to someone and seeing the moment he gets it. I love releasing my perfectionism in healthy and productive ways. I love being paid for something I can’t really help doing anyway.

The life of a copy editor is a curious one. We dream of a world in which things are perfect—rules are adhered to and guidelines followed. We yearn to read something that doesn’t look like it was murdered with a red pen when we’re done with it. But if these things were true, we wouldn’t have a job. We need you; you need us. You hate us; we make fun of you. Ah … the circle of life.

I often get asked what annoys me the most—when people can’t tell the difference between your and you’re? When folks don’t know how to use title case? The use of fragments? Yes, yes, and yes. All these things annoy me, but these five offenses annoy me the most.

5. using all lowercase

When I was growing up, one of my favorite poets was e.e. cummings. Back then, before texting and IMing destroyed the grammatical fabric of our lives, nobody wrote in all lowercase. What he did with lowercase is what Michelangelo did with paint, what Paula Abdul does with crazy. He made it sublime—the perfection of perfect. Check it out:

(i do not know what it is about you that closes

and opens; only something in me understands

the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)

nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands

Honestly, have you ever written anything that profound? No—few of us have or will. His lowercase symbolized something—and it wasn’t laziness. The fact is that the first letter in a sentence is capitalized. Proper nouns are capitalized. “I” is capitalized. Until you are a renowned and accomplished poet, you are subject to these rules; please follow them. Take the extra .000059278414th of a second and use a capital letter.

4. Random Capitalization

In the same vein as #5, the other day, I saw this on a Web site … The deadline for reservations is March 11, so please make your reservations Today. Am I missing something here? Is Today a holiday, like Christmas? Is it a proper noun like Tuesday or February or God? No, this sentence was just written by someone missing a few chromosomes, a linguistic Cro-Magnon man.

I don’t know why, but people have no concept of what words should be capitalized. (Don’t even get me started on titles.) I cannot tell you how much I come across random (and baffling) capitalization, yet the rules could not be easier. Like I said above, capitalize the first word of a sentence and proper nouns. What is so hard about that? Here’s an oldie but goodie: capitalization is the difference between helping your Uncle Jack off a horse and helping your uncle jack off a horse. First one—nice; second one—ewwww. For the love of horses people, just think!

3. The Use of ’s

In the book Eats, Shoots & Leaves, the author discusses a group of concerned citizens that go out and fix inappropriate uses of apostrophes on signs and in other public places. Then she asks if there is a militant wing of the Apostrophe Protection Society.

I ask myself that very often because there is nothing like a misused ’s that will leave me wanting blood. I absolutely can’t stand it. You cannot imagine how many times I have explained this rule to people, and they never—ever—get it.

The apostrophe has three uses—to form possessives of nouns, to show the omission of letters, and to indicate certain plurals of lowercase letters.

Example 1: The copy editor’s job is frustrating and thankless.

Example 2: Don’t (Do not) get on the copy editor’s bad side.

Example 3: The copy editor has to mind her p’s and q’s when editing the CEO’s work.

That’s it. Period. Do not use apostrophes to make regular things plural (it is CDs, not CD’s; 1980s, not 1980’s; oranges, not orange’s). Do not put them in the wrong place (the childrens’ clothes or its’).

On that note, I humbly request that you learn the difference between it’s and its. It’s is “it is”—the omission of letters. If you can’t use “it is” in place of it’s, use its. Please!

2. Mispeled Wurds

Sometimes I wonder if people even went to elementary school. Now, we all make mistakes, even copy editors. Sometimes, typos are mistakes. But other times, typos only show a troubling lack of rudimentary computer knowledge. Unless you have been writing under a rock for the past twenty years, you have used Microsoft Word. Up at the top of the program is a little button featuring a check mark and ABC. This, ladies and gentlemen, is a nifty little thing called Spell-check—use it! And if you can’t even remember that, just look for red squiggly lines underneath words; if you see that, it means the word is spelled wrong. Sorry folks, there is no excuse for typos. They are the quickest way to a copy editor’s shit list.

1. EMPHASIS!!!

There is a reason this is number one—it gets under my skin like scabies. There is nothing more agonizing than reading something that is overemphasized, yet people don’t think twice about using whatever weapon at their disposal. This is how it looks to the copy editor …

ALL CAPS

STOP SCREAMING AT ME! JEEZ. WHAT DID I EVER DO TO YOU?

Bold

Obviously you think I have no deductive powers at all since you feel it necessary to bold entire phrases just to get my attention.

Underline

Look Einstein, we aren’t in high school anymore. Just because we underlined books in bibliographies back in the day doesn’t mean there is any modern use for underlining now. Please grow up and learn about the wonderful world of italics.

Italics

When used sparsely and thoughtfully, italics (in my opinion) are the only sophisticated use of emphasis.

Still think it doesn’t matter? Write a love note to your boyfriend and tell him how much you LOVE!!! him—then watch him run for the hills.

My advice—use italics for emphasis, bold for headings, and don’t ever use ALL CAPS, underlining, or excessive exclamation points!!!

If you think I am stodgy and pedantic, a nitpicky perfectionist, elitist, surly, and unwilling to move on from the golden days of grammar and good writing—you are right. But this is not about my enjoyment of exercising power over you and your poor grammar. No, this is about the power of grammar over you and me. Nobody is above grammar—not kings, not geniuses, not God. Even the Bible was edited.

His sarcasm amused me. :)

 I think, all copy editors are like this. Ahhh.. The circle of life!