freestyle extinction

the floor is covered with staples. some of them are stapled staples, some of them are unstapled staples. some of them are bent and crooked staples. all of them are loose staples, littering the dingy carpet.

they're snagging holes in your nice black dress socks. you took your shoes off because your feet were killing you. your feet are still killing you. outside the sun sets on you and your papercut fingers.

when i was an intern at isotope, i saw a certain side of magazine production. the submissions. the management. the wordcounting and design work. the filing systems and the the marketing. the address labels and large white envelopes. isotope didn't pay me anything. i worked there in return for nothing but sheer undergraduate academic bliss.

back then i didn't know the weight of the paper the university printers printed that magazine on. i couldn't tell you whether the cover was uncoated or coated cardstock. today i could. because now i've seen the other side.

now i'm the one who gets the pdf files in her inbox. i'm the one that juggles reams of paper and toner cartridges. i'm the one who collates and staples and folds and trims and counts and boxes each little booklet. i'm the one whose hands are bleeding.

and despite the papercuts and bent staples, i'm still quite enamored of the process of creating magazines. the whole gamut of digging content out of the sky and organizing it just so and spitting it into a tangible piece of work that people want to read. mmm.

provided, of course, that said content is enlightening and meaningful, accurate and artful.

i miss isotope's style. i miss the way i could go up to that little fourth floor office any time of day. i miss the skylight. i miss the editors.

the side of magazines i'm on now is all clients and deadline. it's all papercuts. it's hard work. it's not cushy and it's not academic. the creative bit isn't on this side. the decision-making bit isn't on this side. there is no art on this side; there's only quality assurance.

what was i thinking when i jumped off that ivory tower?