%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |   A third attempt at this blogging business. |
 30-DAY BLOG CHALLENGE WINNER FOR SEPTEMBER 2011 AND APRIL 2012!!  BLOGGING CIRCLE OF FRIENDS "BLOGGER OF THE WEEK" MAY, SEPTEMBER, AND NOVEMBER 2013 JANUARY, FEBRUARY, AND JUNE 2014 After 380 entries and over 17,600 views, it was time to retire "Who Do I Think I Am??"  . Expect more of the same shenanigans and troublemaking you've come to know and love from me over the last few years. Tell all your friends, warn your family and hide this from your neighbors...this isn't your average blog.   
Thanks for stopping by and showing your support!    THIS BLOG IS NOW CLOSED.
Continue along on my journey over at "Still Figurin' Out Who I Think I Am" . |
| 30DBC PROMPT: "Recall a recent monumental decision you had to make recently. On the first day (today), share with us the decision you made and the outcome of your choice. Was the outcome generally good or bad? On the second day (tomorrow), you have a chance to make a different decision. If you choose to change your decision, write about how that choice would affect your life now. If you decide to stay with the decision you made, explain why." Good afternoon folks! It's your boy's favorite time of the month  where he gets to spend not one, but two days talking about something he could easily bust out in a day or less, but it's cool. I've even made peace with the entry that spawned a million YouTube channels single like-minded response, and with the idea that I'll hafta be really bored or need one hell of an amazing prompt for me to top it ("This one's about the video." ). But I'm at least gonna take a stab at this month's serial prompt bonanza (notice I haven't complained about it yet ), because screwing up monumental decision-making is something I tried to study once, but I had to drop the course due to my poor attendance. The only problem is that I haven't had to make too many "monumental" decisions lately. At least not in the recently recent, as semi-suggested by the actual prompt. Let's boil my mistakes major choices from the last year or so down, shall we? And let's do it like I did back in the days of old, usin' them bullet points, aiight?  Choice: Move halfway across the state where I know practically nobody, or go back to a homeless shelter.Decision: I moved from Buffalo to Cortland, about three hours east and dead in the middle of just about nowhere. Verdict: Still too early to call because I haven't quite been here a year, although I'm leaning toward this being another in a long line of bad decisions. Choice: Keep calm or show off your athletic ability by jumping over a raging bonfire.Decision: Dude, I totally jumped over that bonfire. Cleared it too. Several times, in fact. Kid's still got it. Mad skills. Verdict: I'll never walk the same again.  Choice: Shave, cut my hair, look presentable, get a real job, read the book the author gave us when the hot library chick had him come and give a presentation on, and ask her out after we talked about how good it was, or do none of that.Decision: I don't think I'm getting anywhere with my attempt at dreadlocks. Verdict: The hot library chick has moved on to another job where there is no presence of me, and, well, I'm still here. So as you can see, I don't play the whole "decision making" game very well. Rather, "Well do you play the game," says disheveled Yoda, "but suck largely at it you do." And that's his word, yo. Can't front on the OJG (Original Jedi Gangsta). What I can do though is share with you the decision I made to drop out of the "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" this month and take a turn at judging entries instead. It took some reflection, but I'm glad I came to the soft part of the landing.What, that I said it isn't enough? I hafta explain myself too?? Y'all are demanding at times! Whatever. Anyway, I knew I was gonna miss a few days due to doctors' appointments and some random stuff going on here and there, plus I'm having an out-of-town visitor later this week, so I didn't wanna burden myself with having to put the makeup and pretty dresses on for you kind people as well as taking care of some outer-blog obligations. There, I said it. Real life is more important than telling you what goes on in my real life. As it should be. Anyway, yes, I read every single blog entry posted in the "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" 's forum for the last week. Which is no great stretch since I usually read them all, and comment on 98% of them during most official months. Making the choice to judge rather than compete wasn't hard (even though I couldn't resist the urge to feel like I had to contribute something more than my time, which is why I still wanted to post entries). But waiting until almost the last minute to start judging a week's worth of entries? Listen son, don't ever do that again. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AfkdZ3tXFSsI should've better prepared myself for the task of judging. I could argue that I did actually prepare...I spent virtually all weekend with my phone turned off and I stayed out of the sight of almost anything with a time on it (and if you know me you'll know I need to know I'll be able to see what time it is at any given time) so that when it came down to reading all the entries and filling out my scoresheet, I wouldn't be distracted by thinking, "Oh, it's x:45, and I'll have to eat in x-amount of hours" or "Geez, I've been doing this for how long??". What I could've and should've known, however (if I'd done my homework), was that the Colonel's Secret Judging Recipe was sent to me via a Microsoft Excel document. And I have not used Excel regularly since, oh, 1998 or 1999. I took an hour-long class once maybe six or seven years ago on Excel just to brush up on it, thinking it'd be handy to know in case I ever got a job that required a working knowledge of it...and I eventually did get a job counting things, but that company used some crazy, incestual proprietary MS-DOS inventory tracking system that made almost no sense. For example:  On top of that, my laptop doesn't have Excel. Or Word. Or Powerpoint...or any other fancy Microsoft-sponsored computer fun stuff. What does it have? Notepad...and an option for a free Microsoft Office Suite 30-day trial. Which meant having to download it, and open it, and not screw that up. Which I successfully did, and it only took a few minutes. Of course, by the next time I'll consider judging or even have an official round to judge, my trial will have expired and I will need to steal graph paper from someone in order to make all the proper calculations, and then take a picture of that as proof of my scorecard, and go from there. And that was totally my plan B if I couldn't figure out what the hell was going on with Excel. I am glad to say that I'm pretty pleased with myself for having figured out the nonsense of computers in the last week of the seventh month of the year 2013, and that I passed up an opportunity to enter the 30DBC for a seat on the panel of judges. It's not an easy thing, believe me. I just hope I was fair and consistent, and I think I was. Once I got into a bit of a system and a rhythm, it was pretty fun...I looked at entries a little differently than I normally would. I scrutinized them a little more, I guess. Anyway, it felt good...I remember the first time I won a 30DBC, and Wordsmitty ✍️  suggested I try it. I kinda brushed him off, saying I needed to win it a few more times before I considered judging. This month, it felt right. I think I made the right choice. BCF PROMPT: "If you could be a “fly on the wall” anywhere and at any time in history, where and when would you choose?" Awww man...I've had all this time to think of something interesting, and you mean to tell me I've wasted all those thunken thoughts talkin' 'bout me when I could've been trying to determine where I'd wanna be when the crosshairs come out and the flyswatters start whippin' through my air? C'mon man! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N1NwW3GCn7k I'm gonna keep this one simple, with a twist...I wouldn't wanna be a fly on the wall. I'd wanna be a giant-ass wasp hovering near the light fixture or whatever mass body of pervasive light there is when I'm about to make another stupid decision that I'll wish in the coming moments or months what would've happened if I'd done things the right way differently. That way, I could just swoop down on my big dumb head and sting me in the face. I'm not actually allergic to insect stings of the wasp nature, but I do get light-headed, nauseated and drowsy when I'm stung. Then I wouldn't hafta worry about saying or doing the wrong things, because I'd just lay down, take a nap, and let the world go on around me without having to care. Life is so much easier that way! Besides, The Beatles re-released the Let It Be album ten years ago (as Let it be...Naked), remastered with a second disc featuring an interview titled "Fly On The Wall" {link:http://www.amazon.com/Let-Be-Naked-Beatles/dp/B0000DJZA5/ref=sr_1_1?s=music&ie=UTF8&qid=1375138569&sr=1-1&keywords=Beatles+let+it+be+naked+fly+on+the+wall}, and I'm not a really good person to ask about history anyway. All that I know about history is that you shouldn't repeat it, or something like that. Or something like that. MUSICAL BREAK!!  I'm more of a "fly in the ointment" than a "fly on the wall", anyway.  THE DAILY BOX SCORE:  It's here! The newest edition! If you're not signed up, get signed up! "Invalid Item" And then hit up the "Blogging Bliss Newsletter Forum" so you can let Wordsmitty ✍️ and the gang know how much you appreciate their hard work putting together the best issue yet! Smitty did all the heavy lifting...I was only there to watch and flex when the pretty girls walked by. Guess who has more followers on Twitter than  thisguy ? Moody Blue: Needs an Upgrade  ! Not that I use Twitter daily or anything...but go ahead and make a good decision and add @fivesixer and see what happens! (Nothing happens. It's an idle threat. But I do actually tweet once in awhile, so that'll happen. Probably.)Well, hopefully in the next few days or so (and definitely by next week) I'll be back on a normal schedule where it doesn't take me all afternoon and half the evening to write an entry and then read them all, plus a week's worth of re-reading to go on top of that. We'll see how that goes. And finally, I get to look at a clock and say, in the words of our old friend Brother Nature , O M G LOOK AT THE TIME!! I'm looking forward to seeing everyone else's serials, and actually finishing mine tomorrow. Peace, sometimes it blows my mind, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
| 30DBC PROMPT: "Write a letter of resignation. Quit your day job (at least on paper). Rebel against doing yet another load of laundry. Abandon your post as jack-of-all-trades. Just make sure your explanation is funny and overdone." Yeah, what's goin' on? Yeah, I'm gonna have to ask you to rethink this prompt and come in on Saturday. And maybe Sunday too.  Whatever. What's up? It's Funny Friday...and it's hiiiii-larious because I can't seem to get hired in a house fire if my shorts were made of water, or somethin' like that. So already I'm behind the 8-ball with this prompt, since I don't have a job to quit (day or night). Add to that my rebellious nature already (am I s'posta rebel against rebelling? What does that even mean??), and all that's left is what I've probably been best at in my entire working career (again, what does that even mean??)...the "jack of all trades".Or as they (whomever "they" are) say, "jack of all trades, master of none". I won't bore you with my work history or how valuable I've been to every company I've ever worked for (or how I somehow manage to sabotage everything by being a nonconforming jerk). That's what my resume is for, and there's just so many KB's, GB's and TB's (kilobytes, gigabytes and terabytes, for those who have to take an extra second to recognize the abbreviations) in the world to go around, so I'm not gonna bother wasting internet real estate here trying to impress you for a job that doesn't exist. What I can do, however, is present you with the image of the anti-dream interview...you know, the one where you have to picture your potential boss naked for ten seconds before the interview starts in order to calm your nerves? Only the person interviewing you isn't gonna be your boss (thank you, human resources), and is actually repulsive enough that your eyeballs want to throw up a little in the back of your skull. [Here's an interesting side note about "human resources" people...I worked for a company once (that no longer exists so I'm not gonna snitch) who had the absolutely nicest HR guy you could meet, until the girls walked in, and then he turned into some kind of ravaging horndog who acted like he was 17 years old going to an all-boys Catholic high school and had just seen women for the first time. He looked like George Jefferson (ask your parents or Google him if ya don't know) but sounded like he swallowed a Smurf. I really wish there was some way I could make a comparison via YouTube, but I can't, and that's sad.] So you're an average guy like me, applying for an average job with average pay, and your average interviewer walks in. Shirt and tie? Child please...you're lucky I'm even wearing pants. At least I've got my dress shirt sorta buttoned...gotta show off the man-sweater underneath for the layyyyy-deeeees. I say w'sup to the dude, and kick my feet up on his desk. He thanks me for my time and starts to ask the scripted questions from his company's HR website, when I interrupt him and tell him I'll be asking the questions...in demand form. As in "this is what I'mma do, this is what I'mma need to do it, and this is what I'mma expect you to compensate a brotha with every damn time it's a payday 'round heeee-yah." And then, outta nowhere, the magical fryer gnome pops out of his desk drawer with a visor, grease-stained polo shirt made out of t-shirt material with two holes in it where the nametag goes, an employee handbook with W-4's and a direct deposit form, and a custom-made gold and jewel encrusted right-handed French fry scoop, and he shrieks "Welcome to McBurgerlandville's!", jumping up and down and leaving tiny little gnome footprints out of milkshake mix in front of me. We fist-bump, I say "Word!", tell the boss I'll see him on Monday, and wink at his 70-something secretary on the way out, who gives me a look like she hasn't seen a man in his tighty-whities since WWII. See, you could go on YouTube and type into the search bar just about anything related to quitting a job, and you'll notice hundreds of classy (and not so much) ways to walk out of the office/get away from the ranch/jump off the stripper pole, but where else are you gonna find a guy getting hired at a fast food restaurant by doing stuff you wouldn't do to get hired? As someone who's been in middle management long enough to interview plenty of people both under- and over-qualified for the work they're desiring, I know how uncomfortable and daunting the interview process can seem at times. Just remember these tips: 1) Smile and make eye contact during the firm handshake (groping genitals is inappropriate); 2) Nod and say "mm-hmm" a lot, but pay attention when it comes to the important stuff like salary, vacation time and the inter-company dating policy; and 3) Always be the best-looking person in the room...it intimidates people, and intimidation = leadership. Now go get that job the loser before you quit on...I do want fries with that! BCF PROMPT: "Think of a topic or issue about which you’ve switched your opinion. Why the change?" Oh man...I totally forgot that I might have to think today. I wasn't prepared for that. I guess when it comes to issues, I try to be knowledgeable enough about where I stand so that when the days comes that I have to back up my convictions, I won't look like a fool and concede just how flat-fuck wrong I am and have to change my side. That, of course, being that I actually care enough about any particular issue enough to have an opinion. The reality is that unfortunately, everyone's right about what they believe, whether they're actually right or not. That's how the people of the world are wired. And when you're trying to rationalize with them, you become wrong, no matter what. That's the sad, dark underbelly of a society informed by corrupt media and politicians, corporations, and "I knows a guy who sez dat...". Everybody's got a "guy" who "knows someone" that "said" what's "really goin' on", and treats that indulgence as gospel. But that's another story for another time, when I'll be your "guy" and spit my truths at you for you to pass around the next pot-luck dinner. My personal allegiance to certain opinions rarely varies, and it's typically somewhere down the middle of the road. I can't think of anything off the top of my head, except for maybe food. You know...when you hate something as a kid but you realize 20 years later you actually love it? Like tuna salad sandwiches, for example. I don't recall liking them after a certain point, but now I realize why: if they're made with Miracle Whip and sweet relish, they're disgusting. Contrary to popular opinion, Miracle Whip actually ruins everything it comes near. Nothing zings the shit outta your appetite than Miracle Whip, and I'll put that on my grave marker. [Another fun side note: I love how when you type "miracle whip commercial sandwich ain't a sandwich" in YouTube's search bar, this song comes up: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CprQhWh0SeI...totally forgot about that jam! One of my favorites!] So what makes a good tuna salad sammich? Start with two cans of Albacore tuna and a Kaiser roll, preferably toasted. Drain the tuna and mix it with finely chopped onions and celery, dash on some pepper, add a little dill relish if desired and stir it all up with real mayonnaise until it reaches your desired consistency. Spread some horseradish mustard on the roll, add some fancy lettuce and a slice or two of your favorite cheese, use however much of the tuna mixture you need (refrigerate the rest for later), and there it is: the tuna salad sandwich that tore apart my ideology of what tuna was to me in my youth. Food that makes me go back on my word...that might be as close as I can get to an opinion change. I won't be a Republican or gun owner anytime soon. My religion is no religion, and I have no right to tell a woman what to do with her body (although I do like it when I get to make suggestions ). Let people marry animals for all I care. Just don't beat me over the head with your beliefs, and I promise I won't wipe my feet on the furniture when I visit your house and leave my shoes on. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PDT_Po_hjJMI vote we all make getting along and understanding each other a bigger priority than having pissing contests over who's deity is grander and who's got the bigger bombs and why the royal baby's name is George today, but may not be if/when he actually takes the throne (true story...kings can assume their reign under a different name than what they're given). That's my opinion, and word is bond. MUSICAL BREAK!!  This is as close to a resume as I can allow myself to post freely for all the internets to see.  THE DAILY BOX SCORE:  Dear Cortland: I don't need to see "J-E-T-S Jets Jets Jets suck" all up in my face in dark hunter puke green everywhere I go, they traded Revis, they suck, and so do your fanny packs. That is all. Thank you, and good day. Jerks. Side note/question regarding the rising popularity of advertising on mobile devices when using data services: since a lot of cellular providers cap data usage, charge more for exceeding limits, or slow down data transfer speeds, is the end user being charged KB's, MB's or even GB's for ads they may not want or are seeing but not soliciting? It doesn't seem right that this could be happening, but according to USA Today, Facebook stocks have been soaring in part due to their strategy regarding potential profits in mobile advertising. Has anyone else wondered this? There should be some kind of consumer advocacy group that actually cares enough to do something about this. Note the operative words in that last sentence before you spit acronyms at me, please. And don't try to sell me on the overblown theory that we're so used to advertising now on computers and web pages that it makes sense to offer them in mobile platforms too, or that it's "business" and "an untapped revenue stream". I'm calling bullshit on the industry for allowing this to happen. I accept commercials on terrestrial radio and television because they're free services and rely on advertising money to turn profits and make their business happen, but for services that the consumer pays for, there should be strict limits on who can pimp what and for how long. Look at pay tv models...are they doing it right? Is that the right example? Is it less advertising or just better programming on a dollar-based comparison? Instead of determining who's too fat to do what on this great green/blue Earth, I want the number-crunchers to sink their pocket protectors into this. Speaking of USA Today, I'm impressed with the offline capabilities of their app in Windows' operating system. And their content tore my anger a new a-hole last night. Good stuff. I'm always impressed with the big nationwide corporate news whores machine run by Gannett.  Screw this royal baby nonsense! What I wanna know is what has to happen and how quickly can we get Kate's sister Pippa's boyfriend onto the throne, and can we change the law or whatever Britons call 'em so he doesn't have to change his name? So he'll have to get married and a bunch of important people have to die...so what? Wouldn't it be worth it just to see "King Nico Jackson" in the headlines (http://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&frm=1&source=web&cd=8&cad=rja&sqi...)? I need some of my British readership to show me their feelings about this.  Here's an idea for WDC's "Portfolio Search Engine"...add blog entry titles to it as well. It'd be so much easier than trying to type up an entry and open more windows and search through hundreds of entries just to reference a point made months or even years ago. Maybe this only applies to nerds like me who retain this kind of info to hopefully find useful some other time but can't remember what they told the last person who asked them what they had for lunch. C'mon...I can't be the only one who thinks this is doable and necessary. And besides, I'm suggesting this knowing personally what I'm asking for. Searching my blog titles is like trying to alphabetize a bag of M&M's anyway. But I think it could be helpful to others.I think that's all I have to say today, which seems like enough as it is. I'm off to find better ways to entertain myself...thanks for another raunchy fun-filled attempt at escapism today. Peace, sorry Charlie, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
| 30DBC PROMPT: "What makes a person become famous and stay famous? Do most people become famous because of their innovative/"new-age" thinking, or because they adhere to a traditional mindset? In today's world, what is the "easiest" way to get famous? Pick examples from history or current events to illustrate your point." <insert the non-existent 'le sigh' emoticon here> 'Sup y'all? I'm about to have my patience tested doing simple things today, I see...don't ever let anyone tell you having a computer is fun, free, easy or liberating. You have my complete authorization to smack them for trying to convince you of such fallacies. As I type this the limits of my medications are being tested...and the words aren't appearing as fast as my fingers are moving, which is double the frustration when you're a shitty typer to begin with. Anyway, I like how this prompt was prefaced with the immortality/religion question...like how one seems to follow the other so often that it seems like common knowledge that they're totally related. I'm not here to speak about that one way or another. In fact, it's probably best for all involved that I don't (and I don't mean that 'cuz I feel like putting my feet in my mouth, but I don't recommend my feet going many places). I guess to start, you have to look at the word famous and realize that there are many unstandardized definitions and concepts of the word. Famous doesn't mean the same thing today as it meant back when it actually meant something to be famous. I think the word's evolved along with the different times, eras and ways people can present themselves in the public eye. Before books and newspapers...that's a thought I don't wanna consider. Radio, television, color tv and cable all changed what was presented to us and how we reacted to it (and all you need to think about for an example is news itself...the art of journalism and media). And then came the internet, where any jackhole with a camera on his or her cell phone can become "famous" to their friends by taking a funny video or making an outrageous statement. In fact, to further my point, look deeper into the screen you're reading this on and tell me if you can see your reflection behind the words on the page. That's you...and to paraphrase one of my favorite songs of ever: I am he is you are me and you are we and we are all together http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ap6kSV_U45o Because of blogging, now everyone who wants to be a writer can. What did you do before computers were a little worm in Steve Jobs' Apple? Probably nothing...maybe you kept a silly little diary under your bed with a lock on it, or piled notebooks on a shelf, or scrapbooked (and complained about how hard and time-consuming it was to family members who could care less about looking at it), but you were writing to an audience that consisted of yourself basically. Now, depending on how high your threshold for notoriety is, you can be as famous as you want because of YouTube, Twitter, Facebook, your friends and family, and anything else you wanna throw in that cement mixer. And when you're famous, this is how you roll:  To continue on with the topic at hand though, it's not exactly right to say people become famous mostly for doing things one way or another way. It's all in the eyes of the beholder (dude, I hate it when I reduce myself to clichés) versus supply and demand. For all the Paris Hiltons and Kim Kardashians out there, there are millions of people holding them up to some awkward pedestal where all they know is "they saw 'em on tv". But if there were no tv, what more would you know about them? About as much as you'd probably know about me if you didn't have internet access. If there were no telephones, what'd we have to say about Ma Bell? Conversely, nobody remembers the name of the person who thought shoving billions of harnessed, radiated particles into food heats it up faster, but haven't we all been screwed one way or another without the use of a microwave (and/or microwaveable food)? That's a person that should be famous, and not some punky-lookin' wannabe singer brat who can't wait for a proper bathroom like a normal person http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/07/10/justin-bieber-pees-mop-bucket-video_n_3.... I think this is the point where I need to start getting economical with the words and sum the "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" portion of this one-sided conversation between me and your eyeballs up: There are (probably too) many factors that make people famous, and there's a big chasm between "famous" and "timeless"...famous is what you get when you try too hard to be timeless, and timeless is being so awesome at what you do that your ideas gain recognition, praise, and all the cool points in the world, while outliving your generation and many after it. That's not an official definition...I just made it up. And to sum up my summing up: don't try to be cool 'cuz you'll look like a douchebag, and if you make me a sandwich I'll like you a lot longer than maybe you think you deserve. BCF PROMPT: "What writing work of yours are you most proud of?" I wonder how many people who opened up an email containing this prompt looked at it and said, "Isn't that kinda like asking me to pick a favorite child?" I almost did, but since I have no children I have no concept of what it would be like to favor one over another, or another couple hundred or thousand for that matter. I don't even know if I have a "writing work I'm proud of", because I'm so effin' anal about not trying to be conceited about doing something that so many people don't do. It's not like I go up to random strangers in line at the bank and be all like, "Hey yo, here's a copy of my latest epic poem...it's 32 pages long and I wrote it using four different colors of ink". And you know why I don't do that? Because I don't write epic poetry.  I couldn't even try to cheat and sorta tie an old poem in with the "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" 's prompt, because the item I had in mind hasn't yet made it back into my portfolio since the last time I purged it from the internet in that dance we writer-people know and love called the "Oh crap, my upgrade's expiring in 27 minutes, I don't know when I'll get paid again, I don't remember what items get locked and what items don't, and my eyes are on fire thinking about this". All I'm gonna tell ya about the item in question is that it was written some time in the very late 1900's and referenced an event that was supposed to happen in the future, but never did (which is the opposite of how writing works, isn't it...you write what you know rather than trying to predict what may or may not happen and/or why). And no, I'm not referring to the flying cars I wrote about in a blog entry awhile ago that I'm too lazy to find and apparently so's WDC's "portfolio search" engine.What's gonna happen here instead is not purposely meant to compromise the integrity of the prompt offered to members of the "Blogging Circle of Friends " , but yeah, since it's me basically saying, "I see what you did there with the prompt, and I don't care", I'm gonna pick a somewhat random item out of my port and link it up nice here. And why am I doing that? Because I don't even have the one item I've been fortunate enough to see published in an actual book up in my WDC collection, that's why! And that's pretty much the total summation of the mood I'm in today...if it's good enough to get the hardcover treatment, and not even endorsed enough by the author himself in an area where the traffic is that much greater, then what does it matter anyway what I think??And yeah, now the tie-in between the two prompts: what an author/performer/artist likes and what gets them famous aren't always the same thing. See: Cobain, Kurt (and how he felt regarding the success of this song in relation to the rest of his music): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hTWKbfoikeg. So that being said, here's something I'm glad I wrote, I hope you like it, it's not the only thing that defines me, and so on and so on and so forth ... "American Troubadour" .MUSICAL BREAK!!  I also wrote something once about someone remembering someone else when they're famous. Don't remember who it's actually about becoming famous...me or another person or just in general. So you get this instead...just a random song I wanna hear and a video I wanna see.THE DAILY BOX SCORE:  Clearly I've been having wild mood swings lately, so I've made an attempt to address that with the proper parties. Correspondingly...7: ...is now the number of pills and/or medications I'm up to, which makes me feel like a walking pharmacy that sounds like it's got an answer to everything while still solving nothing.  The biggest mistake I made this morning was not eating...good thing one of the pills that isn't supposed to make me sick will also keep me from passing out, while increasing my daytime drowsiness, which I fight off enough that I have trouble sleeping sometimes...so that's how this medication thing is supposed to work??   Let's see...Apple has determined that most of my iTunes library needs to be downloaded in duplicate, WDC crashed on me twice during that spree (causing me to have to watch even moreso what I'm typing 'cuz spell-check is only catching what it wants), pictures aren't coming up the way I want, eBooks aren't happening the way they should, and random internet outages have made this day almost completely e-impossible to e-navigate. Sometimes technology should just go e-eff its-I-elf into oblivion and we'd all be better off in caves (where I'd be completely justified in clubbing people that piss me off, rather than cursing at no one in general like I've got Tourette's, which seems to be my modus operandi the last month or so). So yeah, not good times. And if you're keeping score at home, a whopping total of one person "favorited" the Tweet I posted above. That's enough of me being famous for one day, I suppose.  Ok folks, I've spent way too much time on this and not enough time on what I thought I wanted to be doing today, so I'm just gonna pack it up and call it a day. Plus I've really gotta eat something, and maybe see some of the outside so I don't forget what it looks like. Peace, look it up on the interwebs, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
| 30DBC PROMPT: "You are given the opportunity to create a kingdom of which you are the sole ruler. How would you design your kingdom? Keep in mind things like government, religion, education, etc." BCF PROMPT: "You win a contest to build your dream home. Tell us all about it. What features will it have?" Good afternoon, folks! I love it! The stars have collided aligned a certain way and I've been handed two electronically intrinsic (look it up...I plan on it later but for now it sounds cool and it didn't set off my spelling guru) envelopes of prompts that I originally intended to blow off because I don't wanna be rushed (what, you think I sit here trolling blog entries all day? I got places to do and stuff to go!), but they're kinda linked (or in ways at least I can pretend they are), so I'm gonna give 'em a go. Why not? I'll take a two-fer any day! Hell, it also felt like 50 degrees when I woke up this morning (rather than feeling like I'm marinating in my own lather of sweat whatever else is in that secret formula I fall asleep in when it's Mega-third-world country hot outside), so anything can happen and dreams can come true! And just as I highlighted that last sentence to perform the italicization function of WritingML, I realized the error of my ways. Sorry y'all, but dreams don't always come true. If you're hearing that for the first time, uhhhh, mah bad, but I doubt it's the first time in life your dreams have been smashed like the poor insect not merely glancing and careening off the window of a BMW flying at 85mph down I-90 with the top down, chillin' like he didn't just get smashed by a vehicle. But enough about you. Let's talk about me, cuz that's about all I've got time for today. So let me ask you this, since I'm out of ideas to talk about me for (or of or and or whatever)...do you really want me to be the king of your kingdom? Think about it. Carefully. Go on...I'll even wait a few minutes for you. Time's up. Now, regardless of how your imagination tried to talk you out of me frontin' in a universe like I'm a somebody, this is my kingdom. Who's house? My house. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0xMJZHrG_94 What's ironic is of the three factors to consider (cited as examples of how I'm supposed to design my empire...government, religion and education), I'd probably rate a 3 on a scale of 1 to 10. One year of college, one year as vice-chairman of a political party based in a small village of about 20,000 eligible voters where only a quarter of them actually hit the polls, and unless I'm standing up in your wedding or taking your daughter down the aisle, I ain't goin' to no church. So you do the math, multi-taskers. I'm not fit for a Ding-Dong http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ding_Dong, let alone a whole kingdom. But I'mma tell you one thing...it would be the bestest kingdom in the history of kingdoms (once I hope I learn to type the word "kingdom" right on the first try and not skip the "g" or throw an "e" on the end of it). Yes, we would have a good time. But I'm not stupid folks, no sir-ree (or whomever that is). I would use my street smarts and savvy business skills (hey, running a drug store once in awhile did have some merits after all ) and put together a top team of people in every important category imaginable. A little stronger than a popularity contest, but not a total dictatorship either.Everything would be done in small panels. You'd think my palace was run on solar power. Top threes from all over the mortal world (which excludes all the immortals from yesterday's entries...think; no zombies or vampires or dragons or anything else that sparkles like it's Hollywood in a light-reflective rainstorm) placed appropriately in their respective area of expertise. And each panel would have a hand-designated "+1" appointed by me and my hand to provide an outsider's insight (is that an oxymoron?) and suggestions. And we'd all tie up together under my compound ('cuz screw that...it's my world and it ain't just a dream house...it's a damn compound). Maybe you've got triumvirates of different world leaders pullin' weight for the government...can't be lettin' fools run the streets mobbin' and lootin'. I'd let the religious people do their things, all religically, because they know more about that stuff than I do and can speak fluently in regards to church stuff. My favorite teachers would be cloned from the DNA they've left behind so they can drop knowledge on the students of our amazingly best world in the world (and yes, I'm aware that we might be violating what I said earlier about immortals...let my scientists and their "+1" figure out how to navigate that stream). Maybe I go ahead and let Jay-Z Jay Z (he's not using hyphens anymore, which is ok with me http://ballislife.com/jay-z-changes-name-to-jay-z/) sit in on the creation of sports leagues and OJ A-Rod Aaron Hernandez someone who's not a thug, cheater or killer sit in the entertainment division's ivory towers. And about those towers...I meant compound. Complete with some bad-ass wrought iron gates that someone from where you don't know and can't see has to buzz you in (and how come no one's ever poised that question...where is the gatekeeper?? Oh wait...http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YnJvsBbELvk). Maybe a moat with whales instead of alligators. A kick-ass entertainment complex where I can get live (I mean live, in-house) on-demand athletic events and concerts. If I want the Super Bowl, and I want the Buffalo Bills to win it, and it's only July, I get on the global standard Blackberry Central, and I make it happen. A Beatles reunion for the halftime show? Got it. Economic policies to cover all that? I'mma hit them too. Who needs food stamps when you can have Mighty Taco delivered to the recliner sitting poolside in my living room https://www.mightytaco.com?? And everyone's encouraged responsibly to fend for themselves...you wanna eat? Grow it. You can't grow it? Buy it. But self-sustination will be greatly encouraged at all times...later for that though, because I need to figure out who's gonna head that department up. But back to the command center Death Star compound. I'm not gonna fill it with some freeloaders off the streets who get hanger-on jobs 'cuz they're fun to hang out with (except for maybe this guy: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BkeAzqhlkNk...he can stay), naw...they gotta serve a purpose up in here if they're gonna live in my supa-fly ginormous establishment serving as "dream house-turned-home base". And when the giant mirror ball drops outta the grand ballroom, drinks are on the house and all the day's work is completed. Why?  I don't know what else could make my house any bit more amazingly amazinger. I'm wracking my brain, but I'm afraid it's shot after going this far with such a deeply-flung subject and I fear anything more I might add would be considered mere overkill. Yeah, like your imagination didn't already scream that to you about 1/10th of the way into this nonsense. If you made it this far, immediately click the "close" icon in your internetish browser of choice, and seek attention from the proper authorities. If you do not know how to do that, hold still. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=giTL1sLyrjkMUSICAL BREAK!!  Are we sure we can handle all of this today? Of course we can! Yet, all the names of the cheesy videos I saw on MTV in the eighties have escaped me.  THE DAILY BOX SCORE:  Wow...it's been awhile since I went so link-o-maniacal in blog form. And I wonder why sometimes it takes me all day to write a damn entry. Sad news yesterday...saw on Facebook the hot chick that works at the library has left for another job somewhere else. I don't know what's sadder...that I can't ogle her anymore, or that she broke up with my imaginative love and undying admiration for her via a Facebook status update for a building I have no clue remembering clicking "like" on the page of. Oh well. We'll always have that moment she offered me a bottle of Wegmans' https://www.wegmans.com bottled water and addressed me by my first name. Ya know, every night at some point I have a couple of neat ideas for this section...and I never write them down, and then the next day when I don't feel like writing at all and wind up blasting off nonsense for a few hours, I draw more blanks than a busted pencil when I reach this concluding phase of entry conduction. I should know better, but nope...I'll never learn.And that's where I gotta wrap the rest of this up anyway. Thanks for droppin' over and chillin' in a place that someday you'll be lucky enough to see on MTV Cribs. Peace, it belongs naturally, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
| 30DBC PROMPT: "Do you believe immortality exists? What does it mean to be immortal? Does reincarnation exist?" What's good, y'all? As usual, the "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" asks you the tough questions, and I'm here like almost always to volunteer my insight and fashionably real wisdom. And I also have an interesting story to go along with that today!  But before I get into that, I gotta tell you...if there ever were to be a "Top 5" kind of list created for topics I've considered the least or knew the smallest amount of information on, reincarnation would not only probably be on it, but someone would turn that list into an internet meme, and a jerk like me would end up setting cheesy instrumentation to it and sharing it on Youtube, complete with a picture of me making a dumb face. However, since you're not here for that kind of entertainment today, I will instead pass on a bit of my own personal writing history that still never ceases to somehow amaze me (and actually bears a slight kinship with what we're supposed to be using the prompt for). Allow me... About twelve years or so, out of the laziness one might acquire upon first signing up and taking advantage of WDC's features, I sloppily eschewed the process of writing stuff in notebooks and went directly into typing things to save in my WDC portfolio (with the thinking being that I was cutting out the middleman by typing instead of writing things down first, and believing that my WDC port would forever remain unscathed in the still-growing yet young expanses of all that was good and well with computer trickery technology). As we've all come to learn many times and many ways, items as we originally intended for them to be viewed on WDC don't always meet our expectations or considerations. What do I mean? I mean...one day, I sat in front of a computer typing random words and phrases in WDC's text-entry box within a box within a box that I eventually titled "Reincarnation Theory" . What it means, I haven't the slightest idea. I know one little part of it involves a redheaded woman I haven't seen in many years, and another part of it deals with the overcorporatization of everything in society. It certainly, at least on the surface, isn't a theory and has little to do with anything reincarnating. It's been in my port in a few various ways, due mainly to portfolio maintenance and occasionally needing the space for other items. What really surprised me the most about "Reincarnation Theory" wasn't that it took so little time to write (considering how long it is), or how it kinda tied in different concepts of colliding and/or abstract realities, or the fact that it quickly became one of the most read and reviewed items I'd shared up to that point on WDC. Nope...for someone whose only experience with the word "genre" came to equating it with just the stuff I cared to write about, and not things that actually described events, happenings and goings-on, I had been asked if it could be featured in an official WDC newsletter. The Fantasy newsletter. Me, the soft-shoed, romance-writing, lovelorn, poetic, pie-eyed trinkler of words substituted as tears for currency in a pocketbook of the English language...not knowing a damn thing about science or fiction, was going to be featured in a newsletter that would go out to lots WDC members, most of whom never would have read me in a million years because I wrote mostly mushy, sappy love stuff, and the likes of which probably wouldn't involve me in their social circles because we'd have nothing in common, now had an audience beyond the women who were fawning over how sweet I could be and were wondering why they couldn't find men (or women) that felt as emotionally attached to my words as I was to the situations that predated them. All of the sudden, I was getting asked about this piece I'd written that was so unlike anything else I'd done at the time, and my main physical response (had you been able to see it) would've simply been a shrug because I didn't know anything about it other than yup, I wrote that. Even on this day, having known it's sat in my collection of writings for twelve years or so, I still couldn't give you any explanation about it or why people responded to it they way they did (or why I've added and removed it from my port as often as I have). And what does all of this have to do with the prompt? I have no idea, other than sure, reincarnation exists on some level. Maybe we don't come back to this planet in the same shape we left it, be that a good thing or otherwise, but we become something or another someone. I don't buy into the whole "heaven and hell and your soul does this" idea. Maybe I come back when I die as a snail or a rock or a word someone else puts on a page in a book that the author didn't understand but is beloved or revered for it anyway. That is what ultimately to me measures one's immortality...the legacy of the body of work person leaves behind (in his life as a whole and not just in his job, his hobbies or pursuits) and how it affects those who come after him. A man's name can live forever as an example of the life that person lived being memorable enough after his passing. That's immortality. That's the spirit reincarnating itself over and over. BCF PROMPT: "Tell us about the farthest you’ve ever traveled from home." I'm staring at this prompt, thinking about how I'm gonna manage to tell one simple story over and over so that it sounds fresh to me every darn time I tell it, when it hits me...I don't know if I can do it. Even if you've never heard me say it, I'll know I've said it, and to me that's one person too many when you're writing a blog entry that likes to be humorous at times. Just knowing I'll be repeating myself again isn't the greatest consolation, but I guess when you've seen as many blog prompts as I have, you're bound to trip on the same logs from time to time. So for those who haven't heard me say it before, the farthest I've travelled from Western NY would be to the Bahamas. I don't have a map and don't feel like looking up how far it is from Buffalo to Nassau, but I can tell you that we flew to Florida and took a cruise ship from there. For my money that's the best way to travel...and there's so much to do on the ship itself that you don't even need to get off at the islands if you don't want to. All these big ships are different, so I can only speak from my own experience, but man, the one we were on was huge...swimming pool, large dining facilities, bars, lounges, shops, dance floors, casinos, a rock climbing wall, a gym...these things are like floating cities. Granted, that was many years ago, and cruise ships have been getting lots of bad press lately, but you'd never hear me not recommending that to be the best way to vacation. Flying, on the other hand, is something I'd prefer to never have to do again if I can absolutely avoid it. I don't know what it is about planes, but something about moving in the air that high up and at that speed gives me a case of please-no-thank-you's like you wouldn't believe. It's extremely uncomfortable for me in a physical sense, which then makes the mental part of me even more annoying to handle. And that's not a picture I care to describe for anyone. That makes vacationing less than perfect for me. I understand that my living so far inland, the best option to get on a cruise is by taking a plane to it. It's not like these big-ass boats are gonna just come to you, but that'd be nice. I may really have to rethink this not-living-by-water thing...or just not vacation period. Too much stress and hassle between airports, idiots, rules, and restrictions. In order to really feel like you've been on a vacation, you probably hafta feel like you need a vacation just to recover from where you got back from. Funny how that part works and always bites you in the ass. That one little space between coming back from an awesome trip and realizing you have to go back to work and life and all that...no one ever plans a getaway and says they can't wait for that day. And if you strung a week's worth of those days together, you'd probably call that one of the worst times of your life if it weren't encrusted in a bacon and vacation flavored coating once or twice a year on your calendar. Maybe I'm wrong, or maybe I'm missing all the fun in that, but just drop me off on a beach for seven days, keep my glass full, and return me back home to my perch when I'm good and sunburned and have to pretend about caring about stuff again. MUSICAL BREAK!! Yeah, this about sums it up for me.  THE DAILY BOX SCORE:  Ok, so I'm in a little better mood today than I was yesterday, but that doesn't excuse anyone or offer them a pass at certain things in life. You've heard me say so many times that some situations just require a different pattern of behavior than what seems to be tolerated, and me having earbuds in my ears (whether I'm listening to anything or not) should be a pretty solid sign that I'm not into conversation with random strangers, but maybe I need to get that written on a t-shirt or put it on a bumper sticker and wear it...especially if the offending bit of speakage happens to be a stupid question (and it's not really important so I'm not gonna waste the time typing it).64: Ounces...ounces!! Someone has randomly placed a large bottle filled, one would presume, with water (since it looks very clear) in the middle of the floor in the library. Nobody's picked it up or even acknowledged it (since I don't work here, I'm under no obligation to handle what could be just about anything goin' on in that bottle)...and I've counted at least eight people who work in this building, the oldest of which has twice made a point in the last half-hour of pushing or moving the chair across from me even though I haven't bothered to put my feet on it for a change (and the chair still isn't pushed in enough to a level where one would describe it as "being pushed in"). This is the same library where a librarian once grabbed my lidded cup of coffee, wiped her hand underneath it, and warned me of the "no food and drink" policy 'round here...a policy that states, among other indiscretions, food will "not be tolerated" and "crumbs and liquid drops attract insects, which eat paper". I wish I could make that last line up, folks, but no...sometimes this aggravation has to write itself (although I'm getting better at repeating it to you people). And that's where I'm gonna draw the line today. It's super nice and hot outside (and the doors to this building are wide open, also attracting rather large insects flying around that I'm sure also eat paper), and I've some reading to catch up on before I go off wasting more time today. Peace, pack your bags, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
| 30DBC PROMPT: "What five websites do you visit often, and why?" What's up y'all? I missed a ton of great prompts last week, and today I get one I feel like I could speak a lot about but have absolutely no patience. So stick with me, 'cuz here goes, without a filter. https://www.writing.com Obvious choice, but not for obvious reasons. I love writing, and part of that is reading, so I feel some kind of kindred value in the two. And now that I'm judging this week's "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" , I have all the more reason to be something more than a spectator, or just someone who reads headlines.https://www.facebook.com Yes, I have to check in, and almost on a daily basis. I don't post anything unless I have to, and 'like' or 'comment' even less. But I flat-out ranted on some guy's post about Rolling Stone magazine featuring a bomber on its cover.  Of course, now the internet doesn't want to play along with me. Go figure. I post random shit I find slightly funny, and I'm persecuted by the powers that control the internet by not getting to be able to do what I want in a free atmosphere. If I wasn't so tired, I wouldn't take this sitting down, you fucking fuckers...but it's a lot easier than putting my shoes back on. I do really want to flip the table I'm sitting at, because I know I'm hitting the right keys but skell-checp keeps motherfucking me like I've done blasphemous things against a keyboard and Windows 8 has decided it won't load Internet Explorer to edit documents when your tiled version of IE is open. I'm a tired angry that you may have never seen...and it's at its worst. This is really disconcerting. And I'm over it. I feel like because of some things I think the NSA is now on my shit. Did I mention I was angry today? https://www.espn.com That's where I get my hockey and football fixes from. Columnists I feel like I've grown up with. Stories told in the "I can't believe it just happened but did" lexicon similar to old broadcasters of news no longer around, for people who don't have to turn on a tv to see what's going on. And if only three minutes or less (on average) is dedicated to sports on your local newscast, here you can get more than you need, when you need it, for as long as you want it. https://www.youtube.com Where else could I soundtrack these episodes of life I write about so easily? I get my prompts, get a song in mind to go along with it, and luckily I usually find something sort of comedic to smash it all together. Ideas are made of magic, and the beauty behind them has to start somewhere (or sound something like this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JjgOSxKy-FQ). Considering how much time I spend on the internet, it surprises me that I'm troubled finding five sites I visit most (and my Hotmail email address isn't one of them on this list, by default). So I'm gonna go with https://www.google.com. How could I have forgotten about Googs? I mean, it's got something for everybody who wants to know anything...and aren't we all guilty at some point of either being that person or wanting that person? The mighty Googly Monster has all we could ever hope to know! It spell-checks our spellcheckers and smacks them into shapes we'd have to Google just to be aware of. It knows what we like before we like it. It Chuck Norris-es our thoughts before Chuck himself gets the urge to punch us with the fist under his beard. Rumor has it Google even won an Emmy before the Emmys became something losers with nothing better to do began searching the internet for better things to do when they couldn't figure out how or what Emmys were. Silly rumors. Poor lambs. Know what'd be really hysterical? Share this link of your Facebook and Twitter accounts, and all of the other social networking friends those sites have: http://www.Writing.Com/authors/fivesixer/blog. Just do it for the hell of it, and let's see how fast it starts to trend. I'll be checking in the morning (which is more than I can say about many people in my past, for or against). BCF PROMPT: "If you could trade places with someone for a week, who would it be?" Again with a sort of recycling of old prompts. This has appeared in many different flavors, as recently even as "If you could switch places with one blogger..." or "name someone you admire/would have dinner with/thought you saw in a box of Corn Flakes". Not challenging. Not insightful. Not relevant. But dammit, I took the effort to try and type something today, so something's what you'll get, as I'm sitting barefoot in a public building swearing openly at a man who keeps wandering around and distracting me while I know my fingers are hitting keys and letters aren't showing up on the screen. Did I mention earlier I was a little angry?? I really wanna try and play nice, but I'm in too much of a snit to do so. I don't wanna trade places with anyone. I don't wanna deal with the fame and pratfalls of someone more successful, nor do I wanna deal with the bullshit I'd have to put up with if someone like me just sat unannounced at my table pretending he wasn't better than the sweat in his palms as he reads the crap he's consumed in and pretending my feet don't stink at the same spot. I wouldn't want to see me...me being all kinds of broken on the inside in ways that just a snapshot can't help, or of just being sick of it not healing. I prefer face value as long as it's not my face and I don't have to answer anything about it. And yet there's people out there who want you to believe you can't love anyone if you don't love yourself. I won't be carrying a locket of myself around my neck anytime soon, but I've been able to get along ok with me off and on for quite some time. Just because I can't hold it down for my own cause doesn't mean I can't do so for others. It's such a fine and fickle line..."love yourself, don't be egotistical, and see how others love you for it!" It simply doesn't work that way, at least not for me, and shame on those who claim that it does by shoving it down my throat knowing full well the hatred spawned behind it and the emptiness of satisfying others who won't kiss your ass brings. Whew. I feel almost relieved. But I still don't wanna change places with anyone. It's not worth it...not to gain something I'd have to eventually give back, or put others through the backstory I've created and they have to figure out for themselves. Ain't fair, y'all. MUSICAL BREAK!!  I can't help it, nor do I have a right to.  THE DAILY BOX SCORE: Yes, I've been getting increasingly angry at smaller and smaller things lately. My keyboard should be staring aces into my eyes for the way I've been pounding on it for not being as receptive to my words. I hope this doesn't bode ill for the entrants of the "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" , entries of which I'll be judging this week. A salutatory fist-bump to you all!3:22 Hours/minutes I've been in public for full display in a few days and I can't even take it anymore. People just really piss me off. And it doesn't help that I'm not getting along with the technology that was supposedly created to make our lives easier as well. I need to go home and beat up my garbage can or something. I'm getting the hell outta here. Maybe I just need a cigarette and a glass of calm-da-eff-down...or my laptop typing "and" instead of "an" when I've clearly hit the "d" key several times. It's clear everything's setting me off today. Be your day not like mine, passionate people reading this. Peace, boom, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
| 30DBC PROMPT: "Describe an odd or unusual writing habit or ritual you or someone you know has." What's up, dear readers? Thanks for spending your afternoon (or whatever time it might be in your preferred place of living) reading about the things I do and don't do. Making me a part of your day is a pretty great and powerful thing, depending on how you look at it. If you know only a few things about me, and I'm judging that solely on what I share here in this sliver of internet mischief masquerading as a blog, you might be aware that when a discussion turns to writing in general, I'll open up and talk for what might feel like days about it (but trust me, that's only a rough estimate). What I'm about to share may not qualify to some as "odd", but it's me, and after all, isn't that why you're immersed in this blog anyway? Recently, when I attended the local library's self-publication function, the following dawned on me as I said the words describing my own writing history: I've been taking on writing poetry seriously for about twenty years (and blogging for maybe five), and I've had one poem professionally published. I was also fortunate to be able to go through my entire cache of writings through time, and it's been fun if not awkward and sometimes painful. So here's my deal...most of all my best writing outside of blogging has been in standard spiral notebooks (preferably college ruled). They're all titled, and each item features the date it was written on and is personally signed by me. And if that weren't dorky enough, I have a separate three-ring binder that includes the date and title of just about every poem I've written in my collection, and what notebook it's in (and I estimate that I've written well over a thousand poems...it's been quite awhile since I've tried to count). I've always viewed writing as kind of the same thing as a musician who's working on releasing an album would. They're extensions of an artform, whether it's any good or not or holds any commercial value. I envision the better works as "hit singles" and their companion pieces as "b-sides". In my head I see artwork coinciding with them (although it doesn't always translate onto paper). I imagine a day when I'll be able to sell each notebook to the masses in their original, complete form as their own book, and the followings they'll accumulate as the anticipation builds for more material when I do book signings and tours and some crafty, crazy Broadway director eventually puts on some kind of stage production based on my life and/or my words. And as cool as that would be, I've realized I could never write an autobiography. I don't possess the attention span necessary for that to happen. I need the short, rapid-fire pace that poetry and blogging offer over the imagining, reimagining, editing, and everything else in the process of writing an actual book that people wanna read takes. It's hard to believe I've been doing these things for as long as I have, and that it just hit me the other day. I think I'll need to settle on a solid plan soon, so that when I'm ready to be published I'll be able to dive in head-first rather than testing my toes in the water and hoping I don't end up shark-bitten. Of course, there's no diving in the shallow end, so I know I'll need to be prepared far better than my skills and imagination have led me to consider up to this point in my game. BCF PROMPT: "We have people from all over the world on WDC. We have several different nationalities even in BCOF. What are some things you've always wanted to ask about a different country?" Months of therapy have convinced me of only a few things in life. One is that therapy is generally bullshit, and another being that I'm what's considered as a "contrarian". Whether I'm right, wrong, or completely batshit crazy, I'll have a perfectly logical rationale for whatever I so strongly believe in, and I'll fight to the death to prove it. Seems I prefer to live and die by that kind of edict. Why am I saying this? I have no idea. I had a point and then got lost in watching my fingers type this stuff. Sometimes my hands amaze me. I've probably said it in more words, but we're all kind of the same on WDC in that we have stuff we wanna get across and now we've got the means to do it. We see people of all sorts of diverse backgrounds on here, and we work our ways into the fabric of different lives by the way we go about things. Outside of a cruise to the Bahamas, I've been to one other country besides my motherland in the United States...Canada. And the great white north isn't all that different than the US, besides the weird-looking money and the shape of their cigarette boxes. I've never really pondered what life would be like in other countries, although I'm sure some time during the course of reading blog entries written elsewhere in the world I've considered it in a vicarious state. And that's ok. Sometimes it's easier to comprehend things when seeing them as others have rather than how you might in a carefully calculated safe place within your head. I don't know if I would have any questions about foreign lands; at least not until I got to one. Experience tends to be the best host in times like that. I'd still be a human being. I'd still function with my habits and tendencies. I'd still spell the same words wrong over and over again, and my spell-checker will still not catch the words I've misspelled but are still real words in their own right. There's no exchange rate to cover me putting on shorts one leg at a time, or worry that I'll have outgrown my body with another six inches of height or a need for a third sneaker. And thankfully, a pint is still 16 ounces wherever you go. I suppose if anything I'd be curious as to how the US is perceived in other places abroad, but maybe that's just another selfish way of saying something stupid like "Wish me happy birthday!" or "Enough about you; let's talk about me". And while I could easily pick up a newspaper or look at a website, this information would be better if discerned from a national of another area. No matter how many Twitter followers you've got, you're not gonna have a conversation with a news media conglomerate. Why not just go to the source, in terms of actual people? I wanna wrap this up by saying that WDC is much more of a melting pot that the US ever imagined itself to be, and I've learned a lot by interacting with all kinds of people from everywhere over the years. I know I once tongue-in-cheekily changed my handle here to Fivesixer Worldwide in mock brand establishment, but the reality is WDC members have the ability to actually claim their words can be read by members reaching all over the globe, and that's the coolest thing in the world to try and wrap your head around. MUSICAL BREAK!!  I had forgotten about this band until recently...another example of how music that comes from Canada is superior to rock originating stateside. Even if this remix sucks the absolute life out of the original version of this song. I'm pretty sure greatness translates well in other languages.  THE DAILY BOX SCORE:  This is really random, I'm well aware...but the library I'm sitting in right now smells ridiculously like Arby's sauce. And I haven't had Arby's in over a year, but I feel like I've mistakenly dumped some sauce on my shirt...that's how palpable the smell is. I've been to two stores in the local area that you would think might sell hats, and neither of them (one being a sporting goods outfit) sell anything close to what I'm looking for. I might have to step far out of my comfort zone to get either a new Mets hat (maybe one commemorating last night's All Star game) or a Brooklyn Nets hat. Something by New Era, 'cuz they make the best hats. http://www.neweracap.com/Locator.aspx691: I just finished a book (approx. 200 pages) that contained this many footnotes. I don't mind footnotes too much when they're at the bottom of a page, but all of these were at the end of the book, and provided no deeper meaning than source info (so they really didn't add to the material in the text). I feel bad for the author because he included all of that stuff and in reality paid more for publication because of that, even though it didn't feel necessary in relevance to the book itself. But what the hell; I'm just amazed that a book about the roots of organized crime in Buffalo was actually available in a Cortland library...when the book first came out in The 'Lo it was hard even for bookstores to get their hands on it.  Courtesy of https://www.edge.ca (only the best radio station in the world) and our friends at the all-knowing Google empire, I was able to start asking a question relating to another nation in the world, and it already knew what I was trying to say! Ok folks, I'm gonna post this and try to distract myself from the crazy person who's aggravating me by literally trying to photocopy the screen on her laptop in the copy machine. As much as I want to help, this person's utter stupidity is really frustrating and upsetting, so I think it's time for me to go about the rest of my day and get the hell outta here (that, combined with the stench of Arby's sauce, is making concentration on anything else here difficult). Peace, it's all that you are, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
| 30DBC PROMPT: "What are ten of your favorite words (whether they be your favorite because they are fun to say, fun to spell, fun to remind other people how to spell, have significant meaning, or some other reason)? List them at the top of your entry, then use them all in a short memory of an experience you had as a child." Mornin' y'all! Hope this finds you all well. Man, this prompt is tougher than it looks. Everyone's got a list of words in their mental capacities that they snicker at whenever they hear, or have issues pronouncing, or just flat-out mean something other than their actual definition (no doubt due to an inside joke of some kind), but ask them on the spot, and they'll look at you with the same blank stare and dumbfounded face similar to the one I'm sporting right now. Seriously. I'm like the vice-venture capitalist of made up words and meanings, and I'm supremely illustrating blanks on the chalkboard in my head over this. But I'm determined to somewhat push through...as for the childhood experience, well, that I'm not so sure about. Word bank: kid, stupid, conversate, ridiculicious, internetastic, pregnasty, bloggeriffic, haterade, awesomesauce, word. Considering most of these words sprouted out of the internet age (which happened long after my childhood had passed me by), instead I'm gonna offer definitions, usage, or anecdotes rather than try to dredge up memories. Makes more sense to me than trying to fit words that didn't exist into holes that weren't necessarily necessary. I know what I mean. Kinda like an owner's manual for past and future entries... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-eE4kutDzI4kid: A term of endearment, meant to describe a friend. Example: "What's up, kid?" stupid: When something's gone really, really wrong, it's stoooo-pid. Can also be used as an adjective to enhance how incredibly great something can be. Example: "That girl is stupid hot!" conversate: What we're doing when you and I are talking. ridiculicious: Something so crazy, it's poignant and amazing. internetastic: Relating to something fantastic on the internet. pregnasty: Something overgrowing or bursting with bad ideas or intentions; can also be used as a derogatory term in reference to a girl that looks terrible when she's pregnant (although I don't recommend or endorse using it that way). bloggeriffic: Pertains to how awesome something related to blogging is. haterade: What people who generally dislike stuff fuel up on before they start hatin' on what they don't like, especially when they're in the wrong or just sound stupid (and not stupid fresh). awesomesauce: What is covering or flavors ideas that are generally well-received and stellar in nature. word: Four letters combined to punctuate a sentence verbally. "...And that's how I feel. Word." Go Funk 'N Wagnalls that, y'all. BCF PROMPT: "When I look in the mirror, I...“ I have a tendency of not noticing what I'm really looking for. Like turning my phone on to see what time it is, but not actually seeing the time, or looking in a mirror to fix my hair but instead focusing on other flaws...when you look like me, there's enough going on that sometimes it's hard to pick out what to fix first. But I don't gaze in the mirror often anymore. I've been seein' the same face for a long time. I know what it looks like and what's behind it. I know what I see isn't the same thing others see, and getting all the sets of eyes to lock in to the same thing is impossible. People claim to see this or that, when in reality they're looking at reflections of themselves and trying to portray others in that same light just to make them feel better about the things they don't like within their own mirrors. If you're not careful, you can look at yourself and see every broken mirror that's cast your image in the past and colored it in some other kind of light that isn't reflective of your true self. It's hard sometimes trying not to get caught up in them glances...but if you see nothing in your mirror that's what can happen. In my mirror I see the image of a mirror behind me, casting infinite reflections of me ahead and behind me. And in my place is the person I am today, looking back and moving forward. MUSICAL BREAK!!  Couldn't make up my mind today, so I'm offering this...it doesn't totally cover the point I'm making about what I see in the mirror, but it kinda fits in a way..."If ya don't know the words you can make up your own." THE DAILY BOX SCORE:  Got nothin', especially after cleanin' out the cobwebs in my head during yesterday's entry. Took me awhile to type it, and now I'm kinda spent.And it's all said and done for another day...gonna head back home and chill for the rest of the weekend, and hope y'all do the same. Peace, all I can see is myself lookin' back at me, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
| 30DBC PROMPT: "Write a humorous listing for your eBay auction. Include the history of the item you are selling and why you are getting rid of it." Good afternoon, folks. After a few days away and a couple of false starts, I figured it was about time for me to drop in and kill a couple of minutes before the weekend actually starts. What better excuse is there than "Funny Friday", the one day of the week set aside for yours truly to be sorta entertaining? As you may or may not be aware, this remote location of internetastical loquaciousness has never been known as one to shy away from areas of absolute and utter outrageousness and sheer senselessness of thought. Today, I hope, will be no exception. I must admit that I've never, in all my years of website perusal, used eBay (fun fact: my computer's spell-checker recognizes eBay as an actual word, but gives Ebay the scarlet underline treatment). Shocking, I know. But I have purchased stuff from https://www.half.com (a site ran by eBay) in the past to buy used (and hard to find) cds at ridiculously low prices, with amazing results. However, today's focus is on eBay, so I'll stick to that and all that I do know about it through 3rd-party usage. The item up for bid is a one-of-a-kind, custom-built piece of internet lore known as "Who Do I Think I Am??" . Created in the month of March during the Year Of The Rabbit 2011, it comes complete with 380 hand-typed entries and over 17,600 distinct views. Included in this amazing offer are comments ranging from two to ten (and sometimes more!) per entry from some of your favorite https://www.writing.com authors. A blog of distinct value, it is a two-time Quills award nominee and has taken home an "Honorable Mention" as "Best Blog" in 2011. This item cannot be broken up into separate pieces for individual sale, nor will it be undersold!! You can own a piece of history! You'll laugh at such gems as "This one's about more shenanigans." ! Feel the emotions of real human life in "This one's about part one." , "This one's about part two." and "This one's about part three." ! And who can forget everyone's favorite, "This one's about growing up." ? Relive every moment in true bloggeriffic fashion when you purchase this exquisitely designed smattering of words that sometimes makes sense.With plenty of reviews averaging five stars, Who Do I Think I Am?? is a critically acclaimed masterwork in the genre of nonsense and a career-defining pile of steaming awesomeness served with sides of snark and hoof-in-pottymouthiness that only the most discriminating of poor souls can truly love and understand. It begs to be taken to bed with you at night just to wake up happy, and requires no watering! Just log in and go! You'll be on your way to wondering what you just wasted three hours of your life on in no time! The supply is limited, so act now!! But wait, there's more!! Just for your interest in Fivesixer  's magnum opus, you'll receive fo' free the original rave-up that started it all, "I'm Studying You" . That's right y'all...if you've ever wondered what it was like to be a Stogger or a Studyee, now's your chance to find out! The origins of the blog that speaks its own language have resurfaced and the experiences are waiting to be shared by a whole new mini-generation of admirers and haters worldwide!This liquidation of words is a limited time, no-risk offer that comes with a low set of expectations and a legendary lack of self-control! Both the original owner and the internet have decided it's too big for its britches to be where it sits now, and he's willing to part with it to the sucker highest bidder! So grab your checkbook (sorry, no checks accepted), tell all your homies, and bid...bid once, bid twice, or bid a thousand times yes!! to this incredulous offer of the bastardization of the famous language Americans are known worldwide for relating their words in! Bidding starts at: $627,356 US Dollars, or a case of Heineken and a pack of Marlboro Menthols (because the barter system is way more cooler than cash, fo' sho'). Operators are sitting patiently, reading Us Weekly and hoping not to be disturbed, so act now!! This offer is not valid on the planet Earth. Please cover your mouth when reading. Do not adjust your controls. Two drink minimum. Must be over the age of 18 and have a note from yo' mama. Cross your t's and dot your eyes. Safety belts must be worn at all times. Remove plastic before use. Not responsible for your oversights. Go Sabres. BCF PROMPT: "Tell us about the last time you had a real, deep, crying-from-laughing belly laugh." Dammit, people in the prompts business end of the "Blogging Circle of Friends Prompt Forum" ! I just closed out the window of "Who Do I Think I Am??" , and I know that somewhere in the last two years I've answered a prompt just like this one at some point. But I've already wasted enough time looking at last year's news to want to go back and reload something that takes forever to load, so I'mma just wing it and see what happens. I've had a good laugh internally just by creating this entire entry...too bad that's not good enough. There hasn't been a lot to laugh about for awhile, so I gotta take 'em when they come. I don't laugh much period, or show any kind of real emotion for that matter. I think I've been too desensitized and emotionalized by life and the world at large to really give too many damns about anything anymore, good or bad. That's how life rolls, I figure. Sign my paychecks with that and save a little bit for later. That's not to say I'm totally heartless or lacking for currency in what the people think is funny. I just have a different means of expressing myself in that regard, and it suits me, which is all you really need to know. Long gone, I'm afraid, is the cackle I used to bust that borderlined on annoying when something was truly butt-gustingly hilarious (and yes, I see what I did there). I believe it's been replaced with the appreciation of a more intelligent humor...the kind you have to witness two or three (or more) times to really understand, and it makes ya smirk more than anything 'cuz you're one of only a handful that really gets the joke. Any jerk-off can be funny. It takes a special kind of ridiculiciousness for me to crack my ass up laughing into a tear-inducing spasm. If that means I've set the bar for what I like pretty high, then so be it...I guess I'd rather be overwhelmingly impressed than laughing at damn near every little miniscule slice of standard comedy. MUSICAL BREAK!!  No sell out, since 1975.  THE DAILY BOX SCORE: Like I mentioned at the top, this week's been filled with false starts in regards to coming up with suitable blog entries. For example, I started one yesterday that completely got away from me for the prompt "Competition brings out the best and the worst in us. Should more activities or competitions be encouraged for children in schools? Or should they be discouraged?" I was doing well at first, and then it spiraled outta control to the point where I thought classrooms could be the equivalent of sports leagues, and it got way too out of hand for even my lack of taste, so I did the smart thing and delete the whole shebang before I even finished posting it (something I rarely do). But the point is, if it's done right with consistency and moderation, competition is healthy...as long as parents and teachers don't get too crazy and mean and overbearing, and we're not handing out trophies every damn time a kid shows up, does their homework, or wipes their ass. There's gotta be the right balance and the proper environment...the whole "time and place for everything" argument, basically. Why I couldn't just leave it at that, I'll never know. So I attended that thing I mentioned earlier this week about self-publishing. It was surprisingly informative. The author speaking was indeed self-published, and he gave us all a copy of his book (available here as well: {link:http://www.amazon.com/Way-Floss-Gary-Price/dp/0988582600/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1373656636&sr=1-1&keywords=The+way+to+floss}) as well as detailing the process of how it actually became what it was in physical form. He admitted he was no kind of public speaker, but he still was pretty engaging. If he was any bit computer literate, he would've saved himself hundreds of dollars trying to get his book out there, but thankfully it seemed like he was willing to spend money and make mistakes just to be able to share his experiences so that others wouldn't throw good money at bad products. It was well worth the hour and fifteen+ minutes of my day. I have to remember to send him an email and thank him for his time. 60: Dollars an hour Gary Price (the author mentioned above) spent on formatting, uploading, and other computer-centric tasks related to his publishing endeavors. $60!! Per hour!! And that doesn't include what some print-on-demand sites charge just to upload your writing! Screw being an author! I'mma get my ass some kind of computer doohickey thingamabob degree, 'cuz that's where the real money's at, my man. Ahh, well, another afternoon gone by, and all I have to show for it is an actual blog entry this week. Beats the lesser alternatives, I suppose. Anyway, have a great weekend, peace, say goodnight now, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
| 30DBC PROMPT: "Freeze a scene from your weekend and describe it in as much sensory detail as possible." Good afternoon, dear readers. Allow me to present to you the junior edition of the "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" 's "Sunday Review", entitled "Wildcard Monday: review a tiny snippet of your weekend, but with much more force". Can do, bloggers!Now, I can't complain. Buildings and forests aren't spontaneously combusting where I'm livin'. Oh it's been hot this weekend, that's for sure. I can't think of a moment that I spent outside where I wasn't covered in a glaze of sweat like a human donut. But stuff's not catching fire at random, so we're totally lucky in that department. For one brief moment of seriousness, say a few words to your maker for the people and places that are dealing with things burning uncontrollably. Ok...now that our good deed for the month is out of the way, let's proceed beyond how ironic it is that today's prompt begins with the word "Freeze" even though temperatures locally were somewhere between 85 and "I went to Hell and all I got was this lousy t-shirt with sweat stains in the armpits". I wish I could've frozen a little more than a scene...and all the ice cream I could've eaten in the world wouldn't have helped. It's no secret that I live life on the edge of living life truly on the edge. On a scale of 1 to "totally stupid to even think about doing", I kick my feet back casually on a 6.5. I'll run with scissors, I'll test the limits of a gas pedal, and I'll go swimming before the recommended time after eating a meal is up...but I'm not that crazy. There are things that will take a steep amount of money to do, and then there are things that I won't even consider (though, let's be fair, there isn't much on that list). Sunday is a good example of testing my limits. Rather than going to the crappy little memorial park two blocks away to spend an afternoon reading in front of their fountain (which in retrospect is what I should've done, because when the wind blows just right the fountain mists on you and it's really refreshing, but it doesn't mess up the reading part with the book), I decided I'd step literally and physically out of my comfort zone and walk to a real park to read. It was a park in a part of town I've yet to see in the nine or so months I've been a resident, and it's more like an actual park in that there's shelters, a playground, a creek and a swimming pool (as opposed to the aforementioned fountain, and memorial stones). It took me about twenty minutes to walk over there, and it would've taken considerably less time were it not for my now near-permanently disfigured left ankle (not even kidding...I took a solid look at it the other day in comparison to my right ankle, and they don't even look like they belong on the same body). I made my way over to a park bench and cracked open a literary classic. Third book I've read in a week (and I've mentioned in the past that when I start reading, I read in piles...this week has been no exception). After awhile I took a stroll around the park, and came back upon my bench to read some more. I really need to pay more attention to the people around me...however, the more I do that the more pissed off I tend to get (but that's another entry for another time). There I was, on the park bench, not paying attention to anything (and not http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iOVHpsc1LAI). Not the kids yelling and screaming, not the bad music being pumped in over by the pool, not the dog walkers, not the bikes zipping by, and not the people smoking in front of the "No Smoking" signs. Just me, the book and the bench. Until I heard a bike pull up and a voice say, "Hey, you must really be enjoying that book!" I'll take this moment to mention that I don't like being disturbed, especially when I'm doing anything that looks like there should be a "Do NOT Disturb" sign hanging from my eyelids. I took a deep inhalation and looked up. An old guy on a mountain bike, wearing old guy shorts and a old guy shirt but a not-so-old guy bike helmet, had stopped and was trying to engage a patron of the park (myself) whilst trying to do the most solitary of tasks (reading a damn book). It was for that very reason alone I wanted to tackle him, but I was more afraid of scratching his bike than inflicting harm to his person. I hesitated for a minute, filed all my sarcastic remarks to the bottom of my throat, and said, "Yes, I am, it's a classic." Then I looked down, into the book that was still open and being controlled by my hands and eyes, as if to send him the cue that I'm no longer wishing to be a party to any conversation. Good thing this old guy wasn't good at taking cues, 'cuz he kept right on talkin'. "Whatchya readin'? You been readin' that book for as long as I was sittin' over there..." and he pointed over to the next bench, maybe 200 feet farther into the park. I again swallowed my bitter tongue, looked directly at him, and firmly said, "One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest", hoping (foolishly, again) that he'd get the hint that I didn't feel like being bothered.Aaaaaaaaand, no. "Well gee, I never heard of it, but I'm not all literary or nothin'." Yeah Jethro, I get it already. Thanks for invitin' yourself to a gun fight and bringin' a knife. If I'm the guy who looks out of place to someone reading a book in a park, what exactly does that make the guy who's been watching a guy reading a book in a park? Take a snapshot of that for your scrapbook. Me in my white and various shades of blue plaid shorts, white "2008 National Night Out" t-shirt with the sleeves cut off and the Nike golf hat, barefoot on a park bench...not wearing any sunscreen against medical and practical advice because I'm dangerous and stupid like that to a 6.5, my arms redder than the screams from the inside of my mouth later that evening in the cold shower I took to try to wash a day's layer of sweat from my body with one of those scrubbie-sponges made for shower gel that felt like I was washing my arms with a cheese grater. Ten minutes after that shower those same arms felt like the Fourth of July was being celebrated between my skin and my biceps, and the sweat had returned to collect and drip off my neck just as fast as it went down the drain. I don't do sensory detail very well at times...I don't often do anything well when I'm consciously trying to do whatever it is. I'm just thankful that this entry hasn't caught any kind of fire yet. BCF PROMPT: "Would you rather spend time in the forest or the city?" If you were to ask me this question fifty times, you'd probably get a 25/25 split for either answer from me, depending on my mood. But I have to think that I would gladly take the city life over the forest more often than not, somehow. For all the crap and clamor that comes with living in a city (or something like it), it beats the blinding silence of expecting a noise and it not occurring. Maybe it's because I'm accustomed to suburbia, or at least a part of the suburbs that more closely resembles a city than a forest, so that's where I'd feel more comfortable. Even though people aggravate me, I need the din of somebody else's clusterfucks to feel more safely at home than the uncertainty that comes with unfamiliar wildlife noises from plants and animals that may or may not be trying to kill me. What I really need is to live in a bubble, where I can adjust the volume of the world around me. Maybe add in some preset noises too, so I can just hear whatever I want to hear when I need some kind of background sound that isn't music, but isn't nature either. One of them "white noise" radios, but instead of thunderstorms and babbling brooks it's the roar of a football stadium and rush hour traffic. I can tune out the neighborhood trash when I really want to and crank it up if I need a good laugh. And then I can bounce my bubble onto another place when I get bored with where I'm at. Sounds like I'd rather be in fantasyland than anywhere else, I guess. I tend to spend more time than normal there anyway. MUSICAL BREAK!!  Yep, goin' totally 80's with this classic.  THE DAILY BOX SCORE: I'll be keeping an eye on the "Blogging Circle of Friends " new contest, the "Invalid Item" . I love seeing contests like this that promote the community spirit and all, but I'm also a little curious to see how it's gonna play out. It'll be a good place to find some new reads, and that much I'm certain about, so check it out of you've got a few spare clicks.  I signed up for a gathering this coming Thursday at the local library regarding self-publishing. I guess they're having a "well-known regional author" (never heard of him) come in and lead a discussion on the topic. I was minding my own business when the hot chick that I believe shares a mutual distaste with me for each other came up to me earlier with possibly one of the worst excuses to talk to me ever..."Did I see that you signed up for our seminar..." and proceeded to give the entire one minute spiel and synopsis of the event. All I said was yes, and she said she normally calls people to remind them but since I was here she'd just tell me. How cute...she knows my name. She probably makes tremendous fun of me behind my back too. Stupid smart hot girls. And with that I'm gonna shut up and go back to minding my own business...I've got a lot of that to be catchin' up on over the years I've accumulated. Peace, one flew east and one flew west, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Awards
Badges
Send Email
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
Also, I learn a lot of my random facts by being that one person who reads all those tiny little things especially in nature/science museums. So many awesomely amazing things, and some museums contradict their information and I'll call over an expert and be like... uhhh, contradiction?? 