dorothean gave me 23. I turned 23 in August 1982.
This was a good year.
I lived in:
A tiny apartment in Philadelphia with oil-stained bright orange wall-to-wall carpet. I had my desk in an alcove off the galley kitchen. Through a small and rather crooked window, I could see the Art Museum. The front windows looked out onto 22d Street, just off Spring Garden. At that time, the neighborhood was only just beginning to be gentrified. I lived alone, as I almost always did until my marriage.
The last time I spent much time in the Philadelphia area was the week when I had norovirus after Wiscon. This is a real pity, because I still love Philadelphia.
Nothing. I walked everywhere or took a bus or the subway or a SEPTA train. I didn't learn how to drive until the end of 1983.
In addition to a car, I use BART and sometimes MUNI.
I was in a relationship with:
Brian. An economist from LA. Not a long-distance relationship, either. I met him just after he'd moved to the city to take a new job.
Obviously not still together. The relationship ended after more than 3 years when I wanted a commitment and he didn't. I moved to Connecticut to make the severance stick. That's where (after four months) I met Billy; we married a year later.
Doing something awful to camera-ready copy.
Home computers changed publishing. Camera-ready copy is no longer insanely expensive and difficult to replace. Hell, most of the time it's a digital file.
I worked at:
Temple University Press. That's where I learned my editing and book production trade.
Now: I still love publishing and would be glad to get a permanent job in it.
I wanted to be:
A writer and editor.
Now: I have the life I want.
This entry was originally posted at http://wordweaverlynn.dreamwidth.org/584052.html. Please comment here if you want, or there using OpenID. Or send em a message via carrier pigeon or fortune cookie. I'm dying to hear from you.