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| Tomorrow morning, we wake.
We magically find a ride.
We wander the grounds of a mansion.
We receive our certificates.
We brunch.
We wander some more.
We return.
We pack.
We sleep.
We wake.
We go.
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| Last night a we went to Red Rocks Amphitheater and watched Ghostbusters.
9450 seats, and each filled.
The best part?
Audience reactions.
Thousands of audience reactions.
(Honestly, that many people singing the Ghostbusters theme must be some wonder of the world.)
This last weekend was the aquarium, the art museum, and wanderings. (And my first Indian restaurant! Delicious!)
The aquarium was alright, but dinner was my favorite, I think. (Also being terrified out of my pants during the "Flash Flood!" display.) We ate fish while the fish in the aquarium along the wall watched accusingly and with looks of surprise. The giant blowfish in particular: 
Mock interviews were this morning. Fifteen minutes of set questions, followed by five minutes of critique/compliments/advice.
Luckily, I woke up with "Be Our Guest" from Beauty and the Beast in my head, so I wasn't nervous. My mock interviewers were from the company to which I applied, and failed to procure an interview (but in my defense, over forty people applied, and there were twelve interview spots. My heart is not broken as the hearts of others). They gave excellent advice, complimented my answers and presence, and encouraged my personality to show (which it did, I assure you). Also, lovely smile.
I will, however, be disposing of those wretched shoes. Luckily they were cheap. They sure feel like it.
This afternoon, we'll be meeting former graduates. Though I have loved hearing the "How I Got Here" stories from every visiting speaker, everyone seems to have stumbled into publishing on accident. It will be fantastic to hear from folks who not only did it on purpose, but used this institute to do so.
Oh, hope. What a lovely thing you are.
Apparently I used up my Flickr updates for this month (oh god! It's only the 5th!) (I also don't have the money to upgrade for another year of Awesome Photo-things), so final photos will take a while. I'm especially delighted to share the Red Rocks images, because wow.
Wow.
In the meantime, http://www.flickr.com/photos/kazillion/ for those who still need to catch up.
Your friendly neighborhood Publisher-Lady,
Beth
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| Week two flew by, and I'm in a tizzy.
The editorial section is done; this week, marketing. Next week, random follow ups followed by mock interviews, real interviews, packing, and leaving. Oh goodness.
This past weekend:
Friday night - Rockies game
Saturday - Colorado Dragon Boat Festival
Sunday - Denver Zoo
Getting to the game was hell. Since just about everyone was headed that way, the light rail was packed to the point of terror (to me), swaying unnecessarily around the bends and I had my face in some nice man's back. My claustrophobia nearly claimed me during the twenty-some minute ride. Guh.
The game was brilliant. They lost, but it was my second MLB game ever, which delighted me. I wish we had managed to sit with the rest of the institute folks, but I guess that's what happens when a guy does the planning.
Saturday morning, we decided to head to the Dragon Boat festival, having heard about it from one of the institute girls whose husband performs with a kung-fu group there. Sounded lovely enough, and we're adventerous. Let's go! Let's get there early, even, so we can see the opening ceremony!
Or try to, at least.
The directions online said to take the light rail to a certain stop, then take bus 16 to the lake, where the festival is. Sure, that's easy enough. The bus stops are usually right there at the rail stops anyway.
Usually.
The bus was nowhere to be found. A sign indicated an intersection for the bus, but no direction in which to go. In industrial warehouse hell, with chainlink fences guarding large patches of grassy weeds and row after row of train tracks, we guessed to the right, toward a bike path. Wrong. After twenty minutes or so of failed bus-finding, we returned to the sign, having forgotten the bus-friendly intersection. Still, no roadsigns to guide us. K tried her GPS on her phone, but it thought we were on the freeway, which was looming above us. I called Mum for help, but there's only so much she could do while I had no idea where I was. So we guessed again, the other way. No luck. But hey! A short, recycled school bus by that tiny enclosed pavillion. Perhaps someone inside could help!
And help he did. Sort of.
"We're trying to get to the lake, for the dragon boat festival. How do we get there?"
"Well, you'll want to go down ____, and follow _____, and then-" My face must have given my desperation and confusion away as I tried to remember everything. He ended with "But... You'll probably want to take a bus."
"..."
"..."
"... And where my this bus be?"
He and his coworker, sweltering in the confined cubical in the middle of an industrial parking lot, between tracks and underneath giant twists of gloomy overpass, gave directions out of the lot and towards the right street. Excellent.
So we headed that way. Except that then we got lost, pretty quickly. Luckily (?) a (clean) Kurt-Cobain-a-like, chilling in the doorway on the sidewalk outside of a hardware store, looked friendly enough for me to ask directions. In retrospect, I should have asked for bus 16 specifically, but okay. He gave us directions to the nearest stop, which sounded easy enough, except that the roads made no sense whatsoever there, in industrial hell.
Finally, a bus stop.
It was the wrong one.
We waited, fed up, hot, and nearing the last of our humor. At that point, we had been walking at least an hour, perhaps an hour and a half. I hopped on the bus, put on my best 'pity me, I'm an adorable tourist' face, and asked for help. It must have worked, for the entire front of the bus (including the driver) adopted us and promised to get us there, somehow.
That bus travelled a whole two blocks before dropping us at a terminal-of-sorts. Luckily, several of the gentlemen got off, too, and the little boy with them entertained everyone with elephant noises and pony sounds as we waited.
Unsure if the 16 was the right one, I tried to ask the driver, but he was considerably less helpful than the last, and had no idea what I was talking about. So we got on anyway and prayed. The tattooed, heavily pierced fellow next to me seemed less than entertained by our group's stupidity, but the man next to K was oh-so-perfectly wonderful, and promised to stay on the bus to tell us when to get off, walk four blocks that way, and you're there. (Oh, thank you thank you thank you!)
True to his word, he told us when to leave, where to walk, and... YES! The lake! It was lovely (gross, but lovely), and the buildings of downtown Denver stood tall across the lake, and there were geese and ducks and happy people with balloons and the festival tents...
were on the other side of the lake.
Crap.
A mile later, we made it.
The festival was brilliant, celebrating Asian culture with a hefty dose of Hawaii, and boat races took place on the lake the entire day. When we weren't watching those, we wandered and found food (yes, I had a bite of a monkeyball. I will never repeat it, but I did it) and picked up some trinkets from the stands (from which I wanted everything) and watched the AMAZING performances on the stage. A was kind enough to drop us back off downtown (where I was considerably self-conscious of the monkeyball sauce A had spilled on my pants).
We wandered, found the giant blue bear, got entirely drenched in the downpour, went out to eat at a stunning Irish place, and headed back.
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Quite fun, but far less traumatic, was the Denver Zoo on Sunday, which was delightful. Sadly, the battery of my camera ran out before the hysterical romping leopard, but c'est la vie.
I also turned in a cover letter and resume for a possible opportunity. Many, many others did so, too, and the publisher will be weeding out the ones they have interest in. Those they choose will be interviewed next week. Cross your fingers for me.
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While I can't believe it's halfway done, and I'm worried about finishing my food by the end (oh, that shouldn't be a problem, really, it just looks like a lot), and I still haven't learned about much other than editing yet (which is a huge chunk, of course), I've been a bit homesick today. Well, people-sick, I suppose. I can't believe I'm missing Markeen, Leighton, and Brian, and I can't wait to help David move to Chicago and then...
What'll happen next?
Okay.
If anyone's praying, I could use a little help.
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Roy: [singing] We don't need no education.
Moss: Yes you do; you've just used a double negative
- The IT Crowd, a brilliant Brit show to which I am now addicted
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| This afternoon, the flatmates and I wondered around Lower Downtown (LoDo to you non-Denver folks). We essentially just walked the straight line from Union Station to the Capitol building, and back up again, stopping in a few shops on the way there and finding a restaurant on the way back. (Which reminds me: I've got tiramisu in the refrigerator!) There were also some side-trips to Scotland, Greece, and D.C., but that's another story. (For an idea, please visit my photos.)
It's the cleanest, most entertaining, most vibrant downtown I've ever seen, and I am in love. Of course, there were several musicians: a guy playing the didgeridoo most impressively made me dizzy, but that could have been the heat; a four-man-drum-drum-drumming group added a funky beat to my step; and the bagpiper made me weep a little. Obviously noting my sheer infatuation with the music, he switched from Amazing Grace to a jaunty lilt as I skipped away. Love!
Of course, the real-life transformer, samurai, and horse-and-carriage men made the entire day even better.
Dinner was a blessing, and the waiter was delightful. I'm afraid we broke his brain a little, though, when we all showed our IDs, since we're all from different states; it took him a while to find the dates, and then declared that K and I should be at war instead of sitting together, since we're from Ohio and Michigan, which led him to sing a song about Ohio... ("'hi' in the middle and round on the ends, Ohio!") (Also, his name was Tater. Beautiful.)
Good food, great company, and a bunch of non-scholastic/publishing chatter was the perfect ventilation/relaxation.
Time to get back to work.
Love always,
Your Beth.
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| We saw Harry Potter at midnight. We were sleepy in class the next day, but somehow no more than usual.
Now that's magic.
More folks have come to talk: someone about the numbers, someone about publishing university textbooks, someone about selling said college textbooks to said colleges. We've also been doing the editing workshop the past couple of days, meaning learning about what editors do, and a little bit how to do it. (I say "a little bit" because the editing workshop goes on another week.)
My looking-forward-to-the-most days:
Monday - a panel of independent publishers
Wednesday - production and design
THURSDAY! - CHILDREN'S BOOKS!
I also can't wait for the marketing workshop. Who knew?
Enough with the basics. What else is there?
I (and two others) sat with one of the editors at dinner today, and we chatted about lovely things. Some relevant to publishing, others on a tangent, and a lot of just random stories about where we are from. (Or, "From where we are," though apparently ending in prepositions is moderately okay, primarily because no one cares anymore.) I geeked out about Aaron Sorkin and Lincoln reenactments and my home city (for some reason). I also queased them out when I mentioned what "aphrosophic" means and how I know it.
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At night, I read before bed. At the moment, I'm working on The Book Thief.
I turn off the terrible flourescent lights, crawl into the top bunk, and turn on my booklight, the strong Denver-at-night breeze rushing through the non-screened windoe makes me almost-cold, aided by damp hair against my neck from the shower (and every time I think, "That's going to look terrible tomorrow. I should dry it. Oh well." And yes, it looks terrible in the morning. Tonight, I should dry it). Then I read.
No more than two pages later, I hear a small click. My friend is back. (K thinks he has a crush on me.)
An aphid lands on the bottom of the page, and walks up up up toward the light, weaving to and fro, making its own list of words. I followed it, and inserted my own punctuation:
Finished is this, for, instead, sugar outside tossing bent for her. Smiled. Said, "The take own you. You? Hitler." Hitler. Body waiting, shopkeeper. Right. To Rudy: "Take solitary sitting." Pure end.
I looked it up: Aphids are attracted to light with a wavelenght less than 500 nm, the area of blue light. My booklight is rather blue. Mystery solved.
You're interesting, little aphid.
Now get off of my book and out of my bed.
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PS. Yes, I posted some pictures. I'm in the same room all day every day, so I'm hard-pressed to find something worth photographing. Hopefully this will tide you over until I go downtown or to the mountains. There is a weekend coming up, you know.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/kazillion
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I found this a few days ago, out my window and a little to the left. And that roof? Gold.
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