Just Listen!

Okay, I have got to beg you:

Do NOT do your homework while you are reading my blog. Do NOT multi-while you are reading my blog. Because I want you to listen to me. Because whenever I have a strange idea that I want to share with people, they are busy and cannot listen. This is not their fault. For some reason, I just have the worst timing all of the time.

So listen to this:

Let's say someone has two email accounts, account A and account B. Now, let's forward all of the emails from account A to account B in the settings for Forwarding and POP. So now B gets a copy of all of A's emails.

Now let's forward all of account B's emails to account A. Now A gets a copy of all of B's emails.

So my question: Does that mean you'll have a never-ending cycle of the same copies of emails going back and forth and back and forth and back and forth...between the two email accounts?

I think so.

And if that's true, and if I did that with two Gmail accounts, the amount of space i used in those accounts would increase at an exponential rate. You would probably have to use a LOG formula to figure out the specific details of that growth factor and you would have to base it on the statistical rate at which I receive emails.

That being said, do you think Google would send the FBI to my apartment to figure out how I was taking over the internet's memory? Or could I just keep collecting memory and eventually sell it, like property, when I delete those email accounts?

Just a thought.

More Songs

Guess what? I've got more writing to share with you guys.

Here are two poems I wrote that I intend to use with my guitar. Or someone else's guitar. And actually only one of them is done. And they are influenced by artists like Madeleine...something or another...and Norah Jones...maybe a little KT Dunsten. Actually, I don't know if that's right. Hmm. Well, you should also know that the second one isn't finished. I've got half of the first verse and a chorus. It's not much, but it's a good start, I think.

ALL THEY SEE
I feel like a wind chime
Or maybe a guitar
Perhaps I am a clarinet
Or a piano at the bar
I'm making simple melodies
and people listen on.
And though I'm hollowed out inside
All (that) they see is song

Gentlemen in the corner
They laugh and wag their tails
They point out my mistakes and flaws
They make me weep and wail
Yet here I'll play my pretty noise
So they can listen on
And though I'm hollowed out inside
All (that) they'll see is song

How long 'til my hollow fills?
When will my empty end?
Can people see through melodies
And finally comprehend
That I am hollowed out inside
Or will they just see song?
I guess I'll play my pretty noise
Since they just listen on
I'll keep on making melodies
'Cause all they see is song


MY WORDS
...
...
Staring out the window at the green side
Can't figure it out, believe me I've tried
Fishing for a feeling
But I'm shuffling 'stead of dealing

Where are my words?
What's on my tip?
My tongue holds still when I want it to slip
Where are my words?
Why don't they rush out?
I can't even whisper when I want to shout
Where are my words?


Oh! And I don't know if I posted this yet, but I thought of this in the car this summer. I'm trying to figure out ways to expand it into it's own cheesy song:

The sun's breath is kissed by the wind
I can feel it on my skin
When I'm with you
When I'm with you
The moon glances softest beams
They wrap around me or so it seems
When I'm with you
When I'm with you

That's it. No real news. I don't have a terribly hard work load. I just need to keep on top of it. The hardest part about school and work right now is how often I have to keep in contact with people. And I still need to put the finishing touches on a photoshop project for a friend...dang. That's like a week overdue. I need to work on writing things down in my planner...

INFP

If you are one of my many facebook pals, you may be one of the people unlucky enough to know that I love taking quizzes. Even if they are stupid quizzes, like "Are You a Potato?" (BTW, that's a classic quiz. Love it.) So naturally, I was bound to run into a quiz result that I wanted to share on my blog.

I took that stinking personality test that gives me a different result every time I take it (I must not know who I am, because apparently I consistently answer incorrectly, otherwise I would have the same result every time). This time I agreed with about approximately 94.76% of the personality profile it constructed based on my responses to the quiz's questions. I most like this statement:

INFPs are usually talented writers. They may be awkward and uncomfortable with expressing themselves verbally, but have a wonderful ability to define and express what they're feeling on paper. INFPs also appear frequently in social service professions, such as counselling or teaching.

So I think, heck, it might not be an accurate quiz, but hello? Has anyone ever heard me speak? It's generally a miserable experience. I have to start my sentences over more times than the average person starts their sentences over, and the fact that I'm an English major puts even more pressure on me to speak correctly. When I make mistakes in speech and people point them out to me, I usually remark on the fact that I paid a lot of money to learn how to use words and grammar properly, and I'm not going to be a good speaker unless someone pays me for my skills. But really, it's a cover. I make mistakes and I cringe at myself a lot of the time.

So yes, I'm awkward and uncomfortable with expressing myself verbally. But I love paper. Paper gives me multiple chances, and it doesn't provide any feedback. It's just a canvas, and I can work on it as long as I need to until I feel comfortable and confident about what I've said. And I already know that I like counselling and advising and teaching and leading and related activities. So happy day, what a test result!

Also, question: does anyone have special ways to prepare ramen noodles or to use peanut butter? I've got those food items in my cupboard, but I've been ignoring them lately. I want a way to make them more appealing.

Holly Lisle

I've signed up for a monthly email from a writer name Holly Lisle (that's me making a reference for the content I'm including in this post). When she isn't writing, she's encouraging other writers to write. So her life is pretty much dedicated to writing, either doing it or talking about it. I recently got an email that I think applies to anyone in any field. It's encouraging for anyone with talents, passions, and people who might be torn between the two.

So I thought I'd share it. I'm starting in the middle of her email, so keep that in mind if it doesn't make sense at first. And substitute the whole writing idea with whatever you love to do.

"...on some level you know it, but that level can get buried pretty deep in the mire of "You should write because you're so good at it," or "You owe the world your story," or "You're wasting your talent if you don't do this."

So right now, let's clear out all that deadwood. You do not EVER owe anyone your story.

Okay... This is not entirely true. If you've signed a contract with a publisher and taken their money, you owe THEM your story. But right up to the moment where you cash the check, NO. You do not own any debts you did not choose, and that includes obligations to the world at large or any subset of it to teach or share what you know.

Next point: Writing a book because you're good at it is one of the worst reasons in the world for doing it.

Doubt me? Okay. How about this? You are the best toilet cleaner your mother has ever seen. You're awesome at it. You hate cleaning toilets with every bone in your body. Do you think you should make toilet cleaning your career just because you can do it well?

No? Of course not. And for an awful lot of folks, including an awful lot of folks capable of stringing words together well, writing is right down there with scrubbing under the toilet rim in entertainment value.

Finally, the "You're wasting your talent" line.

A little story here: When I was a kid, my father wanted me to grow up to be a famous artist. That was how he phrased it, too. "When you grow up, you can be a famous artist."

Emphasis on famous. Emphasis on artist.

As a kid, I drew well. He taught me, I learned on my own, and I got to be pretty good. I had an art school picked out for when I graduated, until I found out I couldn't afford it.

I got a job as a commercial artist instead, doing handpainted signs and billboards. Some of it was great decorative art.

I LOATHED the work. I hated the smells of paints and fixatives and thinners... the kerosene heat in the studio ... the way my hands cracked from the cold. I hated the complaining customers, dealing with my employer's bill collectors, waiting for work to come in. It was a miserable job. So my brother and I set up a little silk-screening studio, designing our own T-shirts.

And I hated that, too. I discovered that I didn't want to be an artist, famous or otherwise. I simply didn't like the work.

I eventually became a writer, and as a writer (though somewhat famous, at least in my own small circles) I was a huge disappointment to both my parents.

But I was happy. AM happy.

I am doing what I love.

Write only because you love to write, because sitting down and weaving a tale out of thin air makes your heart sing and your pulse race. Write ONLY because it makes you happy.

There is no other good reason to do this job."

The End of Time

i ate lunch at 10:30 AM today, but it's totally not my fault. i had no idea it was that early in the day. all i knew was that i was hungry, and the display on the microwave insisted that it was the END of time.

i'm just disappointed with myself. i'm disappointed in my selection of a last meal. clearly, even if i knew it was the last thing i would eat, i would still settle for the fastest possible solution to hunger. a frozen dinner.

*yes, that means i had a SmartOne Ziti frozen dinner for second breakfast, like a true fat kid (or a hobbit...).

and then today, while i was for some reason looking through all of my posts under the edit funciton in my dashboard, i realized that i had a lot of drafts. it was fun looking through them and deciding what to delete and what to save...

until i realized something.

i had 2 drafts before my 40th post.

and the number of posts displayed on dashboard that i went by when counting how many posts i've done, well that is the total number of posts, drafts included.

so now i know why it is the end of the world. that microwave was trying to tell me that it will not allow me to see any more numbers because it knows what i did. it knows i betrayed numbers around the world. i lied about my 40th and, more importantly, 44th posts! i horrifically offended the number.

and now, i feel my heart sadden as the day darkens around me. today, Tuesday, September 8th, will be a day to mourn. it is the day i realized that i am a traitor.

how on earth am i supposed to enjoy taco tuesday now?

*note: i am exaggerating. i am EXTREMELY disappointed in my counting and the fact that i didn't double check, but i will most definitely still enjoy taco tuesday as always. food is more important to me than being correct.

Splash

I got another award from my amazing friend Andee (visit her blog here) called the Splash Award.

I've added the award to the right column of my blog (scroll down to see it), and as a recipient of this award, I have the honor of awarding it to other worthy bloggers.

I don't have much time tonight, so I apologize for not making excellent introductions and speeches for each of the winners, but I would like to congratulate:

1) Jaycey (click here to visit her alluring blog full of amuzing posts for friends and family. *NOTE: it is a private blog, since i last checked), and

2) Rebecca (click here to visit her impressive blog full of inspiring posts for writers).

I think both of you are more than deserving of this award, and I would like to thank you for sharing your perspectives on life and writing!

and of course, congrats to me!

Found This...

So I found a video that I took after USU's 2008 Paint Dance. I went with Becca, Keara Lei, and Chelsey. Chelsey is outside during the filming of this video (at least that's what Jake says in the recording). Anyway, it was a fun thing to find in my archives. I apologize for all of the motion. I am much better with a camera now, I promise. But just in case you can't deal with moving cameras, just skip this post. NOTE: I previewed this post, and the video on blogger is a lot darker than the video on my computer, and the quality is lower, so I apologize for the lack of quality as well as the constant motion.

And, just so you know, paint is very hard to wash off of anything. And I had the shortest hair of the bunch, so I had the easiest time cleaning up. Still completely sucked, though. Ha ha.