Right now, I feel...
Imperfect. And I don't like it. I realize I've never been perfect. I know no one is, although some days it feels as though I'm expected to be so. When your job requires that you correct other people's mistakes all day long, you quickly realize that imperfection is the norm rather than the exception. You also learn right away that people don't much enjoy having people telling them that they're effing up. Even if you do it in a polite, somewhat self-deprecating manner.
My job is to right the wrongs. But some days (most, in fact) I'm probably a sucky editor, because I just don't feel all that passionate about whether someone put the comma in a bad spot. Whatever. Some people are out there fighting for their lives. Others are saving the lives that are put on the line. Some folks are curing disease, some are educating our youth, some are developing state-of-the-art technologies to help rescue a world trying to do itself in at every turn. And here I am, nitpicking about whether that headline should be in Helvetica or Times New Roman. Whoopdeedoo.
Other aspects of my job and my life fall into this sort of "what's the big deal" category, too, but I'm not going to get into them here. It's pointless. And it could get me in deeper doo. After all, I'm an imperfect person. There's always someone waiting around the corner to tell me so. Many times that someone is me.
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