Well, it doesn't happen too often, but I'm sick once again. I'll tell you, folks, there's nothing pleasant about it. I'm too cold and then too hot by alternating degrees, excessive light hurts my head and then too little light leaves me feeling blind, my ears are stuffed up and I keep going from being ravenously hungry one moment to wanting nothing to do with food the next.
When you want to do something of a presentation in a video format, i.e. a Youtube video, getting sick before you actually record the material can stop you up for a few days. I don't want to go on camera right now. I have a video I want to do, but I am in no shape (in my own mind, at the very least) to show up in video format. Neither Kate nor I have much of a voice right now, so audio would be crappy, and neither of us feels like we're looking at our best.
In short, getting sick sucks, but you already knew that, didn't you?
Cheers.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Not a Hometown Boy, But....
As a life-long resident of the suburbs surrounding and the metropolitan area of Buffalo, New York, I'm not precisely what one might deem a 'hometown boy' when it comes to my sports teams. I'm a Philadelphia Eagles fan when it comes to the gridiron, and they kicked some ass today against the St. Louis Rams. Sure, there were a few times when I worried for their seeming inability to COMPLETE A FUCKING TACKLE on a runner, but they did good.
However, there was another game on in the NFL that kind of blew me away today, and that was the complete and utter annhililation of the Kansas City Chiefs at the hands of my hometown Buffalo Bills.
When one mentions the Bills, one does not typically think of a capable team. One actually tends to recall that Buffalo is known as a big bar town, a big drinking town, where most of the athletics fanatics are drunk due to shame and horror at how terribly its sports teams perform. I mean, these guys haven't just been bad, they've been the stuff of legendary suck.
Except that today, on their season-opening game in Kansas City, they walked on to the field and systematically picked the Chiefs apart. Or at least, that was how it looked at first glance. If one has been watching football as long as I have, one might realize that the blowout was the result of two major contributing factors. Factor one, Buffalo came to play, they really did. They executed, stayed in it, and didn't falter at any point, as they've done in years past. They stuck with the game 100% of the time, and finished it out in the appropriate style, with a punch to Kansas City's eye.
Factor number two, however, and quite possibly more key to Buffalo's victory than their own stability, was the sloppy, undisciplined play of the Chiefs. This was a team that just showed up to earn its collective paycheck, it would seem. The sidelines showed little if any emotional reaction from either players or staff; the fans were clearing out of the stadium before the game was even five minutes into the fourth quarter; the silence in that stadium could have been used in a horror film to give a haunted house its creepy atmosphere.
When teams play piss-poor football, they're going to lose, period. What really helped the Buffalo Bills win their season-opener was the combination of sloppy play from their opponents and sturdy, steady play from their own squad. But if they want to compete in the AFC as a whole, or even just in their own division of the AFC East, where they face the New England Patriots, they cannot simply rely on steady play. They're going to have to become stellar.
It's early in the season yet, so nobody's sure who the league's superheroes and superzeroes are going to be as yet. I mean, just look at how badly the Pittsburgh Steelers got trounced by the Ravens! But man, it's going to be interesting to see as yet another season of the NFL rolls along.
However, there was another game on in the NFL that kind of blew me away today, and that was the complete and utter annhililation of the Kansas City Chiefs at the hands of my hometown Buffalo Bills.
When one mentions the Bills, one does not typically think of a capable team. One actually tends to recall that Buffalo is known as a big bar town, a big drinking town, where most of the athletics fanatics are drunk due to shame and horror at how terribly its sports teams perform. I mean, these guys haven't just been bad, they've been the stuff of legendary suck.
Except that today, on their season-opening game in Kansas City, they walked on to the field and systematically picked the Chiefs apart. Or at least, that was how it looked at first glance. If one has been watching football as long as I have, one might realize that the blowout was the result of two major contributing factors. Factor one, Buffalo came to play, they really did. They executed, stayed in it, and didn't falter at any point, as they've done in years past. They stuck with the game 100% of the time, and finished it out in the appropriate style, with a punch to Kansas City's eye.
Factor number two, however, and quite possibly more key to Buffalo's victory than their own stability, was the sloppy, undisciplined play of the Chiefs. This was a team that just showed up to earn its collective paycheck, it would seem. The sidelines showed little if any emotional reaction from either players or staff; the fans were clearing out of the stadium before the game was even five minutes into the fourth quarter; the silence in that stadium could have been used in a horror film to give a haunted house its creepy atmosphere.
When teams play piss-poor football, they're going to lose, period. What really helped the Buffalo Bills win their season-opener was the combination of sloppy play from their opponents and sturdy, steady play from their own squad. But if they want to compete in the AFC as a whole, or even just in their own division of the AFC East, where they face the New England Patriots, they cannot simply rely on steady play. They're going to have to become stellar.
It's early in the season yet, so nobody's sure who the league's superheroes and superzeroes are going to be as yet. I mean, just look at how badly the Pittsburgh Steelers got trounced by the Ravens! But man, it's going to be interesting to see as yet another season of the NFL rolls along.
Sunday, September 4, 2011
I'm Not Your Fucking Doormat
I imagine this isn't going to be received well by some. Wait a minute, I don't intend to link this blog entry on my Facebook account or anywhere else, so the liklihood of anybody I'm speaking of actually seeing this are slim to none. And if they do chance across this, fuck it, they deserve to read it.
To those friends of mine, or rather supposed friends who I've made on Youtube and Blogtv and Skype over the last year and a half, guess what? I'm not your fucking doormat. I'm a human being. I'm going to get pissed off when you make assumptions about me, or draw conclusions based on erroneous and incomplete perceptions of who directly the hell I am.
I'm a human being, and am not subject to your rules and regulations of who I should or shouldn't like. I'm male, but that doesn't mean I have to start humping air whenever an image or a video of some half-naked woman is thrown at me in a link. I have every right to tell you that it's fucked up that you do that on the sly. If you're going to make assumptions about my intentions and reasons behind my behavior, I reserve the right to do the same motherfucking thing to you, assholes, so don't be shocked and amazed when I call your ass out on it.
This is not the language or behavior you may expect from me, but guess what? Deal with it! You don't have to like me; you don't have to respect me; you don't have to listen to me. And I don't have to give you the benefit of any of those things either. You don't have to forgive me; I don't have to forgive you.
But I often do forgive people. I offer forgiveness more frequently than some Catholic priests! And without the unnecessary unpleasantness of a church scandal involving little altar boys. What's my point in all of this rambling and ranting? To say to those that need it said to them the following: if you are honestly and truly so upset with me, consider who and what I was to you up to the point of your issue or annoyance with me. Consider all of the times I've offered advice, or just a friendly set of ears to hear you out and consider what it is you have to say. Think about the times I've offered my assistance.
Think about all of that before you start growling at me.
And oh yeah, that bit at the beginning, where I said I wasn't going to link this blog post on my Facebook account? Scratch that. If you're reading this, it probably came from clicking on a link.
At least you'll know what you're about to see.
To those friends of mine, or rather supposed friends who I've made on Youtube and Blogtv and Skype over the last year and a half, guess what? I'm not your fucking doormat. I'm a human being. I'm going to get pissed off when you make assumptions about me, or draw conclusions based on erroneous and incomplete perceptions of who directly the hell I am.
I'm a human being, and am not subject to your rules and regulations of who I should or shouldn't like. I'm male, but that doesn't mean I have to start humping air whenever an image or a video of some half-naked woman is thrown at me in a link. I have every right to tell you that it's fucked up that you do that on the sly. If you're going to make assumptions about my intentions and reasons behind my behavior, I reserve the right to do the same motherfucking thing to you, assholes, so don't be shocked and amazed when I call your ass out on it.
This is not the language or behavior you may expect from me, but guess what? Deal with it! You don't have to like me; you don't have to respect me; you don't have to listen to me. And I don't have to give you the benefit of any of those things either. You don't have to forgive me; I don't have to forgive you.
But I often do forgive people. I offer forgiveness more frequently than some Catholic priests! And without the unnecessary unpleasantness of a church scandal involving little altar boys. What's my point in all of this rambling and ranting? To say to those that need it said to them the following: if you are honestly and truly so upset with me, consider who and what I was to you up to the point of your issue or annoyance with me. Consider all of the times I've offered advice, or just a friendly set of ears to hear you out and consider what it is you have to say. Think about the times I've offered my assistance.
Think about all of that before you start growling at me.
And oh yeah, that bit at the beginning, where I said I wasn't going to link this blog post on my Facebook account? Scratch that. If you're reading this, it probably came from clicking on a link.
At least you'll know what you're about to see.
Monday, August 29, 2011
"Servants of Destiny" Finished. Now to Move On....
Well, I've finished publishing 'Servants of Destiny' on the Tamalarian Tales blog, chapter by chapter, and now it's time to kick back and let it sit a while. I didn't get too many views thus far for it; the blog itself has only garnered a little over 80 views overall, which isn't precisely stellar numbers. I know there are plenty of folks who get thousands of views/hits on their blogs on a daily basis.
Still, a storyteller I am, and a storyteller, well, they tell stories, regardless of the size of the audience. I'm hopeful that this was the right course of action to take with the Tamalarian Tales; I'd haote to think that this was a waste of time and/or effort. I don't think it was, but only time will prove out one way or the other if this venture is going to be beneficial to my standing as a writer.
I could have held off and made 'Servants of Destiny' a commercial title through my usual fantasy publisher, Mr. Robert Preece, of www.booksforabuck.com. But I didn't, and there's a couple of reasons for that. Reason number one: I promised myself I'd produce a few free tales. Reason number two: I wanted to offer this story up as a way of trying to generate some interest in the realms of Tamalaria. Did I succeed?
I ceratinly hope so.
Still, a storyteller I am, and a storyteller, well, they tell stories, regardless of the size of the audience. I'm hopeful that this was the right course of action to take with the Tamalarian Tales; I'd haote to think that this was a waste of time and/or effort. I don't think it was, but only time will prove out one way or the other if this venture is going to be beneficial to my standing as a writer.
I could have held off and made 'Servants of Destiny' a commercial title through my usual fantasy publisher, Mr. Robert Preece, of www.booksforabuck.com. But I didn't, and there's a couple of reasons for that. Reason number one: I promised myself I'd produce a few free tales. Reason number two: I wanted to offer this story up as a way of trying to generate some interest in the realms of Tamalaria. Did I succeed?
I ceratinly hope so.
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
The 'Great American Healthcare System' and But One of Its Failures
So, Kate and I frequented the emergency room at Lake Shore Hospital last night, as she was experiencing a great deal of pain in her abdomen, dizziness, and shakiness. She felt weak and on the verge of collapse. I drove her up to the hospital since an ambulance ride around here, from Rural Metro Ambulatory Service, carries a standard charge of $500, and she didn't want to take that ride (she didn't feel ready to die or anything, but still, one worries, you know?).
It's a good thing she wasn't bleeding from the eyeballs or something, because we sat out in the waiting room for three hours before they registered her and took her in to get a bed and be seen by a nurse. They took her blood pressure, and walked away, since their ER was, unfortunately, full. There weren't any major patients for the most part, although one little boy did come in with one hell of a gash on his leg from falling on a glass bottle at the beach. Poor little man was bleeding quite profusely.
I can understand that they needed to tend to him right away, and for the good. Kid turned out okay.
What worries me, however, is that in the course of the nine hours it took to get everything checked out and squared away with Kate (yes, nine fucking hours), if something had become serious, I doubt she would have been properly tended to. The nurses only came in to check on her a total of about six or seven times, the doctor (some form of African native, from his accent and demeanor) only saw her about three times total, and the pain medications they tried on her only worked for a short while each before the pain returned.
People talk about American Healthcare as if it's this bastion of hope and power. Yet the incompetence and disorganization displayed by the staff at Lake Shore's ER made me question that, severely. I realize that it's only one hospital, and not every medical practitioner is nearly as bumbling as these folks were, but the fact remains that it's the nearest hospital to us, and we may have to at some point go there again for medical attention.
I think I might prefer to go an extra thirty minutes to get to ECMC the next time something's wrong. How fucked up is that?
It's a good thing she wasn't bleeding from the eyeballs or something, because we sat out in the waiting room for three hours before they registered her and took her in to get a bed and be seen by a nurse. They took her blood pressure, and walked away, since their ER was, unfortunately, full. There weren't any major patients for the most part, although one little boy did come in with one hell of a gash on his leg from falling on a glass bottle at the beach. Poor little man was bleeding quite profusely.
I can understand that they needed to tend to him right away, and for the good. Kid turned out okay.
What worries me, however, is that in the course of the nine hours it took to get everything checked out and squared away with Kate (yes, nine fucking hours), if something had become serious, I doubt she would have been properly tended to. The nurses only came in to check on her a total of about six or seven times, the doctor (some form of African native, from his accent and demeanor) only saw her about three times total, and the pain medications they tried on her only worked for a short while each before the pain returned.
People talk about American Healthcare as if it's this bastion of hope and power. Yet the incompetence and disorganization displayed by the staff at Lake Shore's ER made me question that, severely. I realize that it's only one hospital, and not every medical practitioner is nearly as bumbling as these folks were, but the fact remains that it's the nearest hospital to us, and we may have to at some point go there again for medical attention.
I think I might prefer to go an extra thirty minutes to get to ECMC the next time something's wrong. How fucked up is that?
Thursday, August 4, 2011
And So, Another Sonofabitch Roomie Starts In
Okay, so a couple of months after moving out of a bad apartment situation with the previous roomate, also a coworker of mine, starting to charge more money for rent while offering nothing in return, the new roomie is starting in with the same crock of shit.
I am tired of people trying to take advantage of Kate and I. I am tired of playing the nice guy. I am tired of being screwed over by people who seem at first glance to be halfway decent, but then turn out to be money-grubbing laze-about sonsofbitches! I work 40 hours a week, busting my ass at a chemical plant as a janitor. Kate sweats her ass off cleaning the houses of elderly clients four and five days a week. We bring money into this house; the roomie doesn't do a fucking thing to my knowledge. He has no regular job, and this apartment is part of his parents' house. He keeps finding new things to start tacking onto our overall expenses for staying here, and I've got half a mind to tell him to get off of his fucking ass and get a job, so that Kate and I aren't paying for everything.
To top things off, just as was happening at the previous apartment, this asshole is starting to use up all of our stuff and ruin/lose it without asking. I am SICK of being taken advantage of!
I am tired of people trying to take advantage of Kate and I. I am tired of playing the nice guy. I am tired of being screwed over by people who seem at first glance to be halfway decent, but then turn out to be money-grubbing laze-about sonsofbitches! I work 40 hours a week, busting my ass at a chemical plant as a janitor. Kate sweats her ass off cleaning the houses of elderly clients four and five days a week. We bring money into this house; the roomie doesn't do a fucking thing to my knowledge. He has no regular job, and this apartment is part of his parents' house. He keeps finding new things to start tacking onto our overall expenses for staying here, and I've got half a mind to tell him to get off of his fucking ass and get a job, so that Kate and I aren't paying for everything.
To top things off, just as was happening at the previous apartment, this asshole is starting to use up all of our stuff and ruin/lose it without asking. I am SICK of being taken advantage of!
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Dreams Are Strange Things
It makes little if any sense at all to try and figure out what a dream means. In the dream I had early this morning, I found myself floating in a sea of soup, the thick, chunky kind my mother always makes. At some point, there were giant chocolate Easter bunnies rising up out of the depths, and one of them blew a soup bubble over me that made me float out of the pot.
When the bubble popped, I fell through darkness and landed on an old futon with a set of eyes on the left side. They stared at me, and I realized at that point that I was sitting almost naked on the couch. Don't ask me when the clothes disappeared. I haven't a clue, and it's a dream. Don't question the dreams, you'll never win. But I had these weird tiger stripes all over my body.
That's about all I can recall for the moment. Eventually, I'll think of a way to incorporate all of this oddity into a story of some sort, I'm sure.
When the bubble popped, I fell through darkness and landed on an old futon with a set of eyes on the left side. They stared at me, and I realized at that point that I was sitting almost naked on the couch. Don't ask me when the clothes disappeared. I haven't a clue, and it's a dream. Don't question the dreams, you'll never win. But I had these weird tiger stripes all over my body.
That's about all I can recall for the moment. Eventually, I'll think of a way to incorporate all of this oddity into a story of some sort, I'm sure.
Monday, August 1, 2011
Back To The Grind
So, I headed back to work today from a good weekend that had, as one might expect, a couple of unpleasant moments, as every day of anybody's life will (read: Frosty the Snow Wife being a pain in the ass when I was dropping the girls off, and by that title I refer to my ex-wife). The weekend itself was for the most part a good time. I was feeling pretty decent about the day ahead of me on the drive into work.
Then I got to work.
This is the part where you hear that descending whistle from the old Loony Tunes cartoons, where a bomb or an anvil is descending towards the head of some hapless animated victim.
Without getting into specifics, I'll just say this; I'm basically a janitor at the chemical factory where I am employed. There are two others, one guy for mornings, one for evenings. I covered this before.
Well, when the two of them walk around with their thumbs up their asses for most of their shifts, I can tell. How can I tell? I can tell by the extra workload I have to pick up. I could have done what I've done in the last couple of months, and just silently picked up my pace to get caught up so that I could get to my own list of things to get done around the place.
I could have, but I opted not to. I opted instead to growl at the morning cleaner just a little, and he sprang to life since I offered to help him get caught up (my subtle way of apologizing for getting grumpy with him). When he went home at 3:30, I was busy cleaning out of the plant's bathrooms. I didn't run into the second shift cleaner until a few minutes before going on my own lunch break at 4. I could have grumbled at him right away, but I decided to wait until after my lunch.
When I got back in from my break, and noticed that he hadn't even started on any-fucking-thing that needed doing, I stalked his ass down like Jason Voorhees and made a very flat statement that was as follows: "If you don't get to doing something around here, you're going to be coughing the tongue of my boot out for a month, because it's going to be so far up your ass that you can feel it in your fucking throat."
Stunned silence met me at this point, because I have never, in the five months I've been working there, taken such a cold and harsh tone with anybody. Sure, I've ranted, grumbled and growled, but I've never, until today, delivered such a threat in the cold, calculated demeanor that it came out.
It seemed to work, though, because that asshole finally got around to cleaning out the locker area. About fucking time I wasn't the only one doing that chore.
That's been my day. How about you folks?
Then I got to work.
This is the part where you hear that descending whistle from the old Loony Tunes cartoons, where a bomb or an anvil is descending towards the head of some hapless animated victim.
Without getting into specifics, I'll just say this; I'm basically a janitor at the chemical factory where I am employed. There are two others, one guy for mornings, one for evenings. I covered this before.
Well, when the two of them walk around with their thumbs up their asses for most of their shifts, I can tell. How can I tell? I can tell by the extra workload I have to pick up. I could have done what I've done in the last couple of months, and just silently picked up my pace to get caught up so that I could get to my own list of things to get done around the place.
I could have, but I opted not to. I opted instead to growl at the morning cleaner just a little, and he sprang to life since I offered to help him get caught up (my subtle way of apologizing for getting grumpy with him). When he went home at 3:30, I was busy cleaning out of the plant's bathrooms. I didn't run into the second shift cleaner until a few minutes before going on my own lunch break at 4. I could have grumbled at him right away, but I decided to wait until after my lunch.
When I got back in from my break, and noticed that he hadn't even started on any-fucking-thing that needed doing, I stalked his ass down like Jason Voorhees and made a very flat statement that was as follows: "If you don't get to doing something around here, you're going to be coughing the tongue of my boot out for a month, because it's going to be so far up your ass that you can feel it in your fucking throat."
Stunned silence met me at this point, because I have never, in the five months I've been working there, taken such a cold and harsh tone with anybody. Sure, I've ranted, grumbled and growled, but I've never, until today, delivered such a threat in the cold, calculated demeanor that it came out.
It seemed to work, though, because that asshole finally got around to cleaning out the locker area. About fucking time I wasn't the only one doing that chore.
That's been my day. How about you folks?
Saturday, July 30, 2011
A Weekend to Look Forward To
It's Saturday morning, and I've already hit the point of consciousness wherein I can actually formulate thoughts and sentences somewhat coherently. Or can I? ajkoerjewioj! Just kidding. In all seriousness, it's good to be looking forward to this weekend. Katie and I have the kids for the weekend, and for reasons I can't explain, I think all's going to go rather well.
Perhaps it's just knowing that my family gets to all be together, if even for a couple of days. It could be because my mom and dad got a kiddie pool for the girls to enjoy. It could be because for the next two days, Katie and I won't have to worry about digging into our own supply of groceries. I know a part of it is not having to go into work until Monday. Halle-frickin-lujah to that!
I won't be bringing my laptop with me, though Katie will be bringing hers, so I won't likely be online much this weekend. I don't really worry about that on these weekends, though. I prefer to think that I get to soak up plenty of time with people I love, and that's more important to me than checking my e-mail. Unplugging for the weekend does a person good; I would recommend it to anybody who does most of their social interactions online.
Cheers!
Perhaps it's just knowing that my family gets to all be together, if even for a couple of days. It could be because my mom and dad got a kiddie pool for the girls to enjoy. It could be because for the next two days, Katie and I won't have to worry about digging into our own supply of groceries. I know a part of it is not having to go into work until Monday. Halle-frickin-lujah to that!
I won't be bringing my laptop with me, though Katie will be bringing hers, so I won't likely be online much this weekend. I don't really worry about that on these weekends, though. I prefer to think that I get to soak up plenty of time with people I love, and that's more important to me than checking my e-mail. Unplugging for the weekend does a person good; I would recommend it to anybody who does most of their social interactions online.
Cheers!
Friday, July 29, 2011
Candy!!!
It's nothing spectacular, but Katie and I just picked up some candies from the bulk food aisle at Tops. It reminded me a little bit of what it was like to be a kid, being told that I could pick out any one candy I wanted, one pound, and no matter what it was, my parents would get it.
That was fine and dandy, until I realized I could just nab the most expensive shit in the aisle to drive my mother up a wall. Then, it wasn't cool anymore; it was just cause for mom to start throwing cans of soup at my head.
That was fine and dandy, until I realized I could just nab the most expensive shit in the aisle to drive my mother up a wall. Then, it wasn't cool anymore; it was just cause for mom to start throwing cans of soup at my head.
Meanwhile, at My Day Job....
Sooooooo, I work at a small chemical manufacturer as a 'cleaner', which is a pleasant way of saying I'm an underpaid janitor for the joint. This doesn't bother me in the slightest bit; it's actually a gig I've worked before, for a year and a half, at a New York State rest stop in Angola, New York. With a little more time in this kind of work, I can actually get myself a job at a school system in the custodial department. But that's beside the point entirely.
There are three cleaners at my place of work. There's the morning fellow, an evening cleaner, and myself. The morning fellow starts at 7 am and works until 3:30 pm. The evening cleaner starts at 3:30 and finishes at midnight. I'm an overlapping cleaner, starting at 11:30 in the morning, and staying until 8 pm. So for half of each of their shifts, they have a second cleaner.
This is about to change very soon, however. The evening cleaner is about to get canned, and the morning fellow informed our immediate supervisor that he'd be interested in switching to evenings. This puts me in the position of winding up as the morning fellow. Or at least, that's what our immediate supervisor wants.
However,
the evening supervisor wants the morning fellow to stay right where he's at, and bring me to evenings when the current evening cleaner gets shitcanned. So, there's going to be a bit of back-and-forth. It's a tug-of-war, and I'm apparently going to be the rope.
I don't want to be the rope. I want to be the evening cleaner. But I'm sort of without a voice in the whole process, which sucks majorly, because the morning fellow has seniority over me.
Why all the pronouns and failure to name names? Because I don't want to lose my job over my online activity! I don't want to wind up the Unemployed Fellow Who Opened His Big Fucking Yap Online and Got Into Trouble For It!
There are three cleaners at my place of work. There's the morning fellow, an evening cleaner, and myself. The morning fellow starts at 7 am and works until 3:30 pm. The evening cleaner starts at 3:30 and finishes at midnight. I'm an overlapping cleaner, starting at 11:30 in the morning, and staying until 8 pm. So for half of each of their shifts, they have a second cleaner.
This is about to change very soon, however. The evening cleaner is about to get canned, and the morning fellow informed our immediate supervisor that he'd be interested in switching to evenings. This puts me in the position of winding up as the morning fellow. Or at least, that's what our immediate supervisor wants.
However,
the evening supervisor wants the morning fellow to stay right where he's at, and bring me to evenings when the current evening cleaner gets shitcanned. So, there's going to be a bit of back-and-forth. It's a tug-of-war, and I'm apparently going to be the rope.
I don't want to be the rope. I want to be the evening cleaner. But I'm sort of without a voice in the whole process, which sucks majorly, because the morning fellow has seniority over me.
Why all the pronouns and failure to name names? Because I don't want to lose my job over my online activity! I don't want to wind up the Unemployed Fellow Who Opened His Big Fucking Yap Online and Got Into Trouble For It!
And So, We Begin
I cannot for the life of me remember how long ago I established this Blogger account, and for reasons best left unsaid, I have failed to utilize it as yet (okay, okay, I forgot I had the damned thing. Are you happy?!). Today, I'll begin changing that, as Facebook doesn't seem to me to be the best place to blog anymore. Why? Because it's frickin' Facebook, everybody and their cousin uses it, for every damned thing. I realize that's sort of the point of Facebook, but I personally feel it has lost some of its 'oomph' with all of the additional little applications and programs that are sort of rolled up into it. Facebook is like its own little internet now, and I think the Notes have outlived a lot of their usefullness.
I'll still use it, obviously, but mainly for the Penblade Writing Troupe, IMing, and short status updates, which will continue to link people to other sites, such as this one.
Let the oddity of me begin.
I'll still use it, obviously, but mainly for the Penblade Writing Troupe, IMing, and short status updates, which will continue to link people to other sites, such as this one.
Let the oddity of me begin.
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