It happens. Not all Word documents are built to my liking. No use complaining. It's far too late to do anything about it. The dissertation is done. The dissertator is defending in a few weeks.
I can imagine the desperation she felt when her reviewers said, clean this thing up or you don't graduate!
Word is not a user-friendly program. I know it pretty well, but sometimes it is hard to figure out the quirks of a new template. There are a hundred styles in this thing. I picture bored academics sitting in offices drinking beer and gloating over their next creative ploy to make dissertators insane. And editors. Although I doubt if they are thinking of us. Me. No, they don't care.
They probably think they are making the formatting task easier for their dissertators. And if they knew what they were doing, I would say, right on. But it's just stupid to set a style to all caps and then assume the dissertator will figure out what to do when their page numbers suddenly appear in the Table of Contents in uppercase Roman numerals. I mean, I ask you. It's a travesty.
My brain is mush. I think there was some big game today? Did your team win? I hope you are fully recovered from whatever happened. I'd rather stay immersed in my resentment against Microsoft Word. It's easier to gripe than to see the news and be reminded that so many people around the world are suffering.
Today as I walked along the bike path, enjoying the sun as I dodged the bikers, I thought about a crossroads moment in my young adult life. It was more than a moment, I guess. Maybe you could classify it as a three-year-long crossroads moment. I was in college (the first time around). It was around 1975 when my life forked into two distinct paths. One path headed toward the practical world of business, probably accounting (can you imagine?). The other path headed toward the mystical realm of art and creativity. It was never a real choice to me, but looking back, I wish someone had pointed out to me that I did have a choice. I didn't see it. I only saw one path, and so I took that path.
It would not have taken a crystal ball to show me the possible outcomes of the two paths. One path would likely have led to a decent income, probably a house, a nice car, a growing bank account, and a retirement fund. In other words, wealth. The other path, the one I chose, has given me an interesting life of creativity, magical thinking, and constant struggle.
Other crossroads presented themselves over the years. I took a few of them, in my quest to be a normal person. I went to school multiple times to reinvent myself. The editing skills I have now are a direct result of one of those detours. My detours have led me in some pointless directions, mostly because I let others persuade me it was the right choice. I wonder what sort of life I would have had if I'd ignored them, settled on one art form, and stuck to it. Painting, maybe. Or writing. I might have actually had a career. On the other hand, I wonder what my life would look like now had I chose to become an accountant. I can guess. Safe. Secure. Predictable. Now that I'm old and tired, it doesn't sound too bad.
I suppose it's not too late to look for another crossroad. As long as my brain still works, I'm probably employable somewhere. However, my best years, physically and mentally, are behind me. Barring a miracle, I fear my best earning time has come and gone. I should be living on my wealth now, and instead, I am still chasing the dream. Or it is still chasing me.
