and I’ve never sniffed a stinkbug,
and I’ve never painted daises on a big red rubber ball.
I’ve never bathed in yogurt,
and I don’t look good in leggings…
And I’ve never been to Boston in the fall.

Tuesday Morning didn’t already claim first place in my heart, the Veggie Tales Silly Song The Pirates Who Don’t Do Anything (audio here—RealPlayer required) would totally be my favorite song of all time.

“How it works” link to the About section of the sidebar; it explains how this site (and all my personal websites, in fact) is structured and contains some helpful navigation hints. Check it out!

but supercool all the same. (Via Drawn!)

light for the past few days because I have been thoroughly immersed in my short story; every spare moment, and maybe even some not-so-spare ones, was spent thinking about or writing it. Man, this writing stuff is tiring; it is not for the faint of heart. But anyway, as I have now completed the lion’s share of the work—the first draft—I’ll have more time to think about other things, and therefore to blog.

After a week spent living, breathing, eating and sleeping my story, I’ve finally completed a draft. I feel pretty happy right now, but that’s because I haven’t gotten any comments back on it yet. I sent it off to my three editors extraordinaire about an hour and a half ago, and am now waiting on pins and needles for them to get back to me.

This is the first serious prose I’ve ever really written, so I am a bit anxious. I have always known—not to be immodest—that I have the inclination and some small talent for writing. Now is when I find out if I can back up that big talk, if I can tread water with the rest of them. Wish me luck!

PS – No, I’m not going to post the draft. I did, to some extent, write about the draft now just to be mean to you non-editor people. Neener.

will be spent in workshops. That is, we’ll be spending that time reading and discussing our fellow students’ stories. Kind of a scary—but exhilarating—prospect. All other things being equal, I expect that fully half of the student stories we read will stink; and which, moreover, will be irretrievably stinky. And yes, I concede that mine could be one of them. Anyway, for the class, every time we read a story, we’re to compose a letter to the author describing our impressions of the story, and containing our suggestions for improvements—which, the instructor admonished us, are to be specific and helpful, and which, moreover, will have to be copied to the instructor, who will use them to help decide the author’s grade (if they’re taking the class for one). One student suggested that we do it like a sandwich; that is, begin and end with some praise for the story, and leave the bad stuff for the middle. The instructor quite liked that idea, and so that’s how we’re doing it.

But here’s my problem. When you’ve got a terrible story—and we’ve got one this week—how do you find something good to sandwich the bad? I’ve spent all weekend agonizing about this, and am no closer to a solution. When I talked to a friend about my predicament this past weekend, he said I should say something like “You have a very unique voice,” and leave it at that. Ha! He also suggested that I should, in my letter, draw a piece of bread at the top, put in my criticisms, and then draw another piece of bread at the bottom. An amusing idea, to be sure, but not one, alas, that will be any good to me.

Sigh. The things I have to deal with.

“How it works” link to the About section of the sidebar; it describes how this site—and all my personal websites—are structured. Check it out!

The fake e-mails asking you to log into PayPal (actually a fake site cunningly disguised as the real PayPal) and enter in personal information? The smarter ones just create a fake front page that looks just like the PayPal site and ask you to log in, after which I imagine they store your login information and then have access to your account and therefore your money. Here are instructions from PayPal (the real PayPal) on what to do if you get one of these spoof e-mails.

Will the real PayPal please stand up?

According to psychologist Daniel Goleman:

The Internet inadvertently undermines the quality of human interaction, allowing destructive emotional impulses freer reign under specific circumstances. The reason is a neural fluke that results in cyber-disinhibition of brain systems that keep our more unruly urges in check. The tech problem: a major disconnect between the ways our brains are wired to connect, and the interface offered in online interactions.

[...]

Such disinhibition seems state-specific, and typically occurs rarely while people are in positive or neutral emotional states. That’s why the Internet works admirably for the vast majority of communication. Rather, this disinhibition becomes far more likely when people feel strong, negative emotions. What fails to be inhibited are the impulses those emotions generate.

This phenomenon has been recognized since the earliest days of the Internet (then the Arpanet, used by a small circle of scientists) as “flaming,” the tendency to send abrasive, angry or otherwise emotionally “off” cyber-messages. The hallmark of a flame is that the same person would never say the words in the email to the recipient were they face-to-face. His inhibitory circuits would not allow it — and so the interaction would go more smoothly. He might still communicate the same core information face-to-face, but in a more skillful manner. Offline and in life, people who flame repeatedly tend to become friendless, or get fired (unless they already run the company).

He goes on to state that this “cyber-disinhibition” has caused an increase in phenomena such as “cyber-bullying” and child pornography. Pretty interesting; read the whole thing. (Via InstaPundit)