Travel & Lifestyle Freelance Writer | Market Research Consultant
No, not because I hate my roommate’s cat. (I do, but I that’s besides the point.)
I’m wondering because each time I head to work at the Daily Camera, I’m hoping that a group of people are outside smoking so that they can let me in the locked door.
Thus, because I’ve temporarily misplaced* my key, I’m promoting lung cancer.
*Misplaced=Lost likely permanently
So I’ve never been a huge fan of “chatting” on-line. I didn’t have the Internet when AOL was huge. I never really got into AIM. And I’m not on Facebook long enough to have any sort of conversation.
And let’s be honest … far too often it’s some random person who you haven’t spoken with since high school (and who you didn’t really like in high school) who’s apt to “chat” you.
But today, sitting in a Boulder coffee shop, Cafè Sole, next to two great friends, I made excellent use of the G-Chat function of G-mail.
See, somebody nearby smelled. BADLY.
So obviously, it would have been rude to say something along the lines of “Holy crap, what’s that rancid stench?” Or, “For crying out loud, who’s wearing onion-flavored deodorant?”
Enter G-Chat’s functionality. We were able to mock, laugh and deride whichever individual sitting near us hadn’t showered in a month. All in a (relatively) silent manner.
Actually, both ladies thought I should use my investigative journalism skills to figure who the culprit was. But what publication would run the story?
Obviously … The Onion.
It’s a beautiful spring day here in Boulder, Colo. today.
The birds are chirping.
The sun is shining.
And I’m stuck inside a classroom writing this damn paper.
Conclusion #1: Procrastination is the devil.
Conclusion #2: The weatherman who said it was going to rain today was wrong. And that makes him a jerk.
Sure, it’s a free country, but I think that some lines should be drawn when it comes to bestowing a moniker on a tiny little human that he/she will have to live with for the rest of his/her life.
For example:
Brutus: Et tu? Too Shakespearean; also implies impending doom.
Astrid: The woman rode “astrid” a donkey. You don’t name your kid that.
Anything that is or sounds like it could be a candy bar.
Shithead: Sounds pretty until you write it out.
Anything that is or sounds like it could be an insect.
Uranus: Sure it’s a planet, and if you pronounce it one way, it has an attractive ring to it. If you don’t, then your kid is bound to be an ass … or at least called one.
Ultimately, I have no beef with people with any of these names. How could I? It’s their parents who should be reprimanded and whipped with a wet noodle.
*This is all, of course, assuming I do give birth someday; definitely not a certainty since I’m not married and I’m way too selfish with my personal time.
A writer at SEED magazine once said: “Nearly everyone reads. Soon, nearly everyone will publish.”
Of course the reference is made in regards to blogging, the open forum capabilities of anyone with a computer and an Internet connection.
Still, not everyone can get something published … you know, like in a magazine.
Since that’s something I’m aspiring to do–and perhaps something you, dear reader, are as well–I thought I’d share this link to a collection of tips for writing the query letter.
Check out this article by Robbi Hess: How your query letter can land you the assignment.
It’s that time of the semester.
Which means that every spare minute, second, etc. counts–each is a chance to sneak in just a tiny bit of productivity.
(So what am I doing now, you ask. This is my gift to you: a chance to take a quick break, and hopefully, crack a smile.)
So that leads me to wonder what is more efficient: letting the computer mysteriously remember and then insert my username into the necessary box OR just typing my username in myself.
See, letting the name autofill usually means I have to hit the little drop-down box and click on my moniker; it’s helpful, but it necessitates an extra step where my hand goes to the mouse pad and away from the keyboard.
If you simply type in the username yourself–something we all do frequently enough that the series of letter/number insertions is likely an expedited process–then your hands stay on the keyboard, allowing you to easily hit enter after you’ve finished.
I’m starting to think that this frequently used, supposedly time-saving strategy is a crock. Are we all being duped?
And anyways … how the heck to all of these computers know my name?