Showing posts with label UC Davis. Show all posts
Showing posts with label UC Davis. Show all posts

Tuesday, October 17, 2017

Breaking the Ice (Or How I Became the Writing Diva!)

The following is from a speech I prepared for a speakers' group at my workplace. Enjoy!

My name is Carol Evonne Robinson, and I’m a word nerd.
I know it sounds like an introduction for a 12-step group. Let me tell you how I became a word nerd!

Reading and writing have been a part of my life since I was 3, and I’m glad to use my passion for prose in my position as chief editor for the California Energy Commission.
My love for the written word began when my father, an offset feeder for what is now the Office of State Publishing, would bring home imperfect textbooks for my six siblings and me to read. From a geography textbook about South America, I would practice words like “Brazil,” “river,” and “country.” I began writing at 6 years old, not just my name and address, but stories about imaginary places and real happenings on my street in Oak Park.

Although I attended UC Davis with the intention of going to medical school to become an obstetrician-gynecologist, science and math didn’t come easily to me. But writing always had. I worked as a news reporter for the campus radio station, one of three jobs I held while carrying a full course load. Writing and airing stories about events on and off campus gave me a rush.

Five years after graduation, I became a reporter for a small newspaper in Bellingham, Washington, then a small town 90 miles north of Seattle along Interstate 5. After a year there, I worked for small papers in Northern California, closer to home.

What I learned from my 12-year stint in newspapers is that people wanted news they could understand without the jargon they didn’t. At first, I would write the way city and county government officials wrote and spoke because it sounded “official.” But my city editors taught me that readers wanted to know what was happening and how it would affect them.

Of my 16-plus years working for the State of California, I spent 12 here at the Energy Commission. When I took the writing test my soon-to-be supervisors gave, it was supposed to take an hour. After taking the test and checking my results, I saw that I had finished in a half-hour.

When I edit, I have one character flaw – I curse under my breath. I’m not patient regarding terms like “in order” or “make contact with.” I bite my lip when I see needless capitalization. When it comes to working with prose, I’m a cross between ChloeO’Brien from the TV series “24” and Academy Award-, Emmy-, Grammy-, and Tony-winning actress Whoopi Goldberg. In other words, I do not suffer fools gladly – that is, I have no patience for nonsense, in print or in person. (Your fault, Dad!) So, when you see my edits, please don’t take it personally.

One of the most influential pieces I’ve read is an essay by George Orwell – “Politics and the English Language.” He also wrote Animal Farm and 1984. The essay focuses on the use of verbose, unclear language to hide the truth rather than express it. I consider editing reports for plain language to be a mission. Although energy scientists, economists, and analysts may know what the reports communicate, regular people who read at a ninth-grade level often don’t. I enjoy what I do because my position combines my writing skills with public service.

To conclude, I’d like to think that when I retire, I will write my own book and read the 250 books in my collection. From toddler to elder, I remain a word nerd.

Friday, June 26, 2009

Michael Joseph Jackson -- 1958-2009

It's still sinking in that Michael Jackson is gone. "Gone Too Soon," as he sang.

His music, with the Jackson Five and as a solo artist, was part of my family's soundtrack. When we were little, we saw the Jackson Five for the first time in 1969 on "The Ed Sullivan Show," followed by an appearance on "Hollywood Palace." (Only baby boomers and older would have seen these shows. Sorry, younger folk.) My sisters and I would go to our cousin's house down the street in the Oak Park area of Sacramento to rave over the Jackson Five's debut album. Their hits came in quick succession -- "I Want You Back," "ABC," "The Love You Save," "Mama's Pearl," "I'll Be There."

When we moved from Oak Park to South Sacramento in April 1971, the song "Never Can Say Goodbye" was on the radio in Mom's black Oldsmobile. My siblings and I were saying goodbye to our friends from Oak Park and saying hello to a new life in the suburbs.

My high school friends did the bump and the robot to the Jackson Five's "Dancing Machine." In 1978, when I was at UC Davis, Michael struck out on his own (for the second time) with "Off the Wall." When I would spend nights into the early morning studying, I would dance to "Working Day and Night" to keep myself awake.

When "Off the Wall" came out, that time was the best Michael ever looked. He was lanky with a perfect button nose and milk chocolate skin.

But it was "Thriller" that shot Michael into the stratosphere. It seemed everyone had a copy of the album. When MTV began showing "Beat It," I think that's when blacks began saying, "I want my MTV."

During the 1983 television special "Motown 25," he showed how much of a showman he was. When he sang "Billie Jean" and performed his famous moonwalk, I was in awe. I thought he was on par with Gene Kelly and Fred Astaire.

Yes, there were the tabloid tidbits -- the vitiligo, the makeup, the allegations of child molestation, his unorthodox fascination with children, his marriages, his young children being shielded from view. There were times when I'd shake my head. But it was like having an odd relative whom you loved anyway.

He was on his way to making a comeback when he went into cardiac arrest and died. It was a comeback that will never come.

May God rest your soul, Michael Jackson.

Friday, August 22, 2008

Dumped (Though I Deserved It)

The eHarmony suitor who only two weeks ago wrote to me "I want you, only you" is gone.

The gent closed his profile to me yesterday. And I don't blame him.

I think it was the last e-mail I wrote to him. I said that I had attended a luau hosted by a local singles group and had a good time. Then I asked him where he went to school. (I added that I was a UC Davis graduate.)

I asked him that because the e-mails I received from him were so poorly written that at times I couldn't understand what he was saying. One of my must-haves is someone who is as smart, if not smarter than, I am. I know it's elitist. But physical attraction is a small part of a relationship. If I can't discuss things on an intellectual level, that's half the relationship down the tubes.

I was also irritated by his emotional neediness. I realize that some people may call it affection or devotion. But to write every other day when I haven't written anything just to find out if I'm OK was starting to cramp my style.

To be honest, when I saw his closed message and his reason stated "other," I felt a bit stung. It was mostly my pride that was hurt. But later I realized that I deserved it because, at least in my mind, I treated him shabbily.

He deserves better, after having lost his wife and being alone for five years. I'm sure there's a wonderful woman out there for the gent. I know I'm just not that woman.

Be happy, K.

Writing Diva