You want to have a scintillating class? You give a very detailed view of the art of resume building. Oh the kids always love that class. I get to tell them how long I’ve been writing those things, and give tips and tricks and ideas. I tell war stories and share the advice of others. I show off great resumes and let them make fun at mine. We talk about what not to put on this important piece of paper. Oh, it is riveting. <\/p>\n
Did that today. And if that reads sarcastic it shouldn’t, I actually enjoy the day we talk about resumes. I get to think fondly back upon all the people that have helped me write and edit them over the years. Those were big favors. I’m glad to be able to do it for others as part of a class. <\/p>\n
Also scheduled a lot of field trips today. Scheduled some guest speakers. Signed a lot of paperwork. Met a new section editor. Wrote a lot. Read a great deal. Had too much lunch, two good class sessions and got rained on a fair amount. Or drizzled on, at least. <\/p>\n
A cold drizzle is the worst liquid precipitation when it comes to morale. It could just rain, which is something you can be in for a moment and then laugh about. It could sprinkle, and those drops you can avoid. The heavens could open and a monsoon descend into the small pond you didn’t realize you were standing in — at least we have the good sense to stay inside when that happens. But drizzle? A drizzle you feel like you can just walk through without consequence. Then you get back inside and see the impact on your slacks and think at least I’m not wearing cashmere<\/em>.<\/p>\n Drizzle is the fog form with a fear of commitment, the undercooked and runny part of a day’s weather. Who needs drizzle?<\/p>\n Links<\/strong>: On my journalism blog at Samford the past few days I’ve written about the end run<\/a> around journalists, the history of yellow journalism<\/a>, found a reminder about the importance of audio<\/a> and linked to Frank LoMonte’s terrific reaction<\/a> to Ward v. Polite.<\/p>\n