So, I just met an old British fellow (66) who knew the Beatles, all four of them, and all the people surrounding them (including the drummer before Ringo).

He might be lying (though I really don't think so--he's the right age and knows all the right stuff; if he's a fake, he's knowledgeable and a great actor), and even if he's not lying, I mean... it's just a guy who knew the Beatles, you know.

But still.

He knew the freaking Beatles! His band used to play gigs at the same places, on the same nights, as the Beatles, way back in Liverpool. They played at the Cave together. He chatted with John Lennon and George Harrison about their acoustic guitars guitars, shook their hands, looked them in the eyes, and communicated with them the same way as I'm communicating with you now. It's silly, but... jeez. For some reason it means something to me.

It's very vaguely like meeting someone who met Jesus in the flesh. (Hey, I said VERY VAGUELY, okay?)

I don't know if you guys like southern folk, but I do, and this here fellow is a fine one in particular. Love his videos, and this story makes me giggle. I think there's a song in here somewhere. In fact, I know there is. I wonder if he'd mind if I wrote that song.

"If men bore children, there would be no siblings, because men would only do it once."

-Wayne Dyer

Generally speaking, Hopkins wrote and played songs in basic 12-bar, I-IV-V chord progressions. Generally. The truth is that Hopkins often ignored the places where chords would typically change if he felt the lyric he was singing or the solo he was playing was more important. As he famously put it, “Lightnin’ change when Lightnin’ want to change.”*

*From

I have something to say, but I think I'm too tired to say it coherently.

Oh well.

The 4th of July always makes me so deeply contemplative..

I just spent 30 minutes chasing a spider out of my room and into the outdoors. I'd like to say it was humane, but that would imply irreparable psychological damage didn't occur to us both.

Maybe it would have been easier just to leave it in here with me, but I just really want to have a no bugs policy as far as my sleeping quarters go. I know it's a lot to ask, but... glah.

'We are really advocates of just getting as happy as you can be — which takes care of everything. Even if you don't have reason to be happy — make it up. Fantasize it. Make a decision that you're going to be happy one way or another — no matter what. "No matter what, I'm going to be happy! If I have to ignore everybody; if I have to never watch television again; if I have to never pick up a newspaper again, I'm going to be happy. If I never have to see that person's face again, I'm going to be happy. If I have to see that person's face, I'm going to find something to see in that person's face that makes me happy. I'm going to be happy. I'm going to be happy. I'm going to be happy."'

--- Abraham

Sarah Palin just resigned as governor of Alaska.

For the first time in my life, I am going to celebrate Independence Day, and with relish and true patriotism, all in honor of this resignation.

Maybe I am sick to take joy in this, but, alas, I do.

Great joy, in fact.

How do I turn off that father-d*cking adult content notice my journal has on it?

There's nothing blooming adult about this journal!

So I thought I'd use MS Paint and see which guitar I look cooler with. Please laugh with me at the results.

( Wow, I'm lolbad. )

If anyone wants to absolutely waste 15 minutes (or more) of their life playing paper Jesse guitar doll, here are the ( original photos. )

A lot of weird stuff happens in my city. Stuff, official stuff, that just doesn't make a whole lot of sense.

Here's one. I sleep with my window open (which does make sense). I also don't always get up very early (which also makes sense for a lot of people). Why, then, do I wake to the sound of a loud, blaring voice scream across town, "This is a test of Minot's outdoor warning system"?

I can picture the town meeting. We need to test the warning system weekly. What's the perfect time.

Oh, how about 9:30 am. Everyone's awake by then.

Okay! 9:30 it is. Next on the agenda.

Kinda wanna go to their house at 4am and yell in their ear.

I realize many, perhaps even most, people are awake by 9:30, but many others are not. How about testing the siren at noon? Or 1pm?

I'll never understand this city. Maybe I'm wrong, but it seems like half of what happens here is done on autopilot without anybody ever thinking.

By golly! I'm really excited for Harry Potter 6. I almost wanna read the book again first, but I don't think I will. (Better off if I don't have expectations!)

But jeesh, who the heckter am I gonna go to the film with? Hm.

I want to marry Hermione Granger. No, not Emma Watson! Hermione.

Studies have shown that texting and driving is worse than drinking and driving. However, nothing has been found to be worse than drinking and texting.

http://www.care2.com/greenliving/herbs-for-the-mind.html

This is a great article about herbs which may help your brain function better. I wanna try some! Link above, reposting article here if it works and no one sues me.
__________

Herbs for the Mind

send </div> </div> </div> </div>

Next year on October 10th, the date will be 10.10.10.

Isn't that something?

I'm surprised people haven't formulated twelve different end of the world prophecies to go along with it.

Oh Lawd.

Tell everyone you know: "My happiness depends on me, so you're off the hook." And then demonstrate it. Be happy, no matter what they're doing. Practice feeling good, no matter what. And before you know it, you will not give anyone else responsibility for the way you feel -- and then, you'll love them all. Because the only reason you don't love them, is because you're using them as your excuse to not feel good.

--- Abraham

Excerpted from the workshop in Asheville, NC on Saturday, April 30th, 2005

Our Love,
Jerry and Esther

Visit Us Online ©1997-2009 Abraham-Hicks Publications.

I have a special fondness for people falling. Bonus if it's on ice and includes stripped shirts or flailing limbs.

Also..

It occurred to me that I should have put up a link to the interview with Steve Earle I took all those quotes from. Here it is, in case anyone wants it! The whole thing is amazingly brilliant.

Steve Earle interview at Pitchfork.com

I'm supposed to make people cry, but not by manipulating. What art does is let people know that they're not alone. That's what its function is. It lets us know that fucked up shit doesn't just happen to us. We can take that past the decimal point and figure out that we're not necessarily bad people, that things can get better, and we hang in there. The difference between us and the animals is not an opposing thumb. It's the fact that we make and consume art. That's one of the most fucked up things about American society. We think art is an elective. We call them elective subjects in school. But it's not an elective, dude. It's sustenance to human beings, just like food is. This is what keeps our souls from dying. It's what keeps us from becoming Dick Cheney.

[...]

What's important is you wake up in the morning and something doesn't exist, and when you finish your day's work, something is in the world that wasn't there before. There's a lot of ways to arrive at that, but the world's a better place for it. I'm absolutely, totally certain of that. I have no doubt in mind that I justify the space I take up in the world.

Discipline's a bad word to use when it comes to not taking drugs. There's discipline involved, and I'm a very disciplined person when it comes to my work, but discipline can‘t save m from being a drug addict. What saves me from being a drug addict is sort of the opposite. It's me realizing that I don't really control anything. I'm not sure racism works like that. There are too many people and too many forces out there that want you to believe that the other is a threat to you, for their own agenda. They want to divide people. So you have to overcome it every day of your life. People are trying to teach it to your children. It's like the immigration thing. It's not people coming here from other countries that are taking people's jobs. People's jobs are being shipped away to other countries. The idea of building a fence to keep people out to save jobs is a total red herring. It's a complete and total bald-faced lie being told to take attention away from something else that's taking away your job.

...it takes effort every day of our lives to overcome racism, because it's ingrained. I'm not a racist, but I do have to work at not being a racist, because of where I grew up. I don't ever lose sight of that, and I'm totally OK with being mindful of it. I had to work hard, and I have to work really hard not to instill it in my children. But it only takes one generation to drop the ball.

-Steve Earle

Of course, I'm known for calling people on the whole concept that Lynyrd Skynyrd is or ever was cool. I don't think Kiss was ever cool, and I don't think Lynyrd Skynyrd was ever cool. I think those are dangerous, revisionist ideas. They had the worst drummer in the history of rock music. Abso-fucking-lutely. Look, I know those guys. They're rednecks.

-Steve Earle

I could be wrong, but I don't think it would be that hard to play the banjo. At least, not for a guitar-player like me. It does not seem like a complex instrument, not even as complicated as the guitar is commonly played. The banjo seems to normally be tuned in "open" tunings, most commonly open G, so even if you don't fret a note, you've got a chord.

A lot of the banjo technique is picking in pattern the right hand fingers, but, as Steve Earle demonstrates here, it can be strummed with a pick as well. He's playing it like a guitar player, really, which is how I'd want to play it, too. I'm not too interesting in playing it traditionally or stereotypically.

And I'll admit, Steve Earle is the reason I want to get a banjo. He's playing it in "sawmill" tuning here, which I guess is an open G-minor? Or maybe he isn't. I really don't know. Trying to figure out a banjo song without a banjo is not particularly easy.

Rolling Stone's music reviews are just atrocious.

And it's not because I happen to disagree with their reviews but rather because their reviews just happen to plain flat blow. Often you'll have no idea why they're giving a certain score to a certain album, and when they do tell you why, you just want to hold them face-first in a bowl of jello and poke their backs over and over with toothpicks dirty, wet toothpicks.

Their interviews are great from time to time, but most of every month is nearly unfit to recycle. I'm vexed that a magazine as artless as they now are finds the authority to pan brilliant art, but then again, they aren't so high and mighty that they don't dole out praise from time to time. TO GWEN FREAKING STEFANI AND EMINEM.

If there were any way to render a middle finger in text, I would now do so.

Clearly I'm wrong and Rolling Stone is correct. Overproduced junk is far superior to anything decent. Eminem's latest dirty Dr. Seus rant set to infectious beats is certainly more deserving of a five-star review than anything Steve Earle has done. Brilliance is overrated. Hurray for radio garbage.

"I kinda miss your hair. It was cute!"

"Well it's not anymore, unless you like the balding old man look."

I tell ya. I've written about this before. But, here it is again. If I get too wrapped up in other stuff and don't play video games, I get a little batty. I need them, or something like them. I enjoy the gameplay, the nuances and the design, but I think what I like the most is getting lost in imaginary worlds, and the games that facilitate that the best are the games I enjoy the most. I like the stories and the feeling that I'm part of something (whether big or small). If the suspension of disbelief is good enough, and the funnel coercing the player down paths (every system has its limits, even reality) are invisible enough, it really does fool you into feeling fantastic. Other things like books and movies and (very seldomly) TV can do it for me, but, for whatever reason, video games have always been the most effective, perhaps because of their interactivity. Even if the experience is as entirely linear as a book or a movie, and even if the interactions are simplistic, that added punch does a lot for the brain.

It's been a few months since I played anything. That's so sad. I do believe it's about time I play something. Maybe The Witcher. Great game that I never finished.

Or, maybe I'll play Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion. Again. In the summer of 2006 when I was home from Hawai'i, I bought an Xbox 360 just to play that game, and I obsessed over it all summer long. There were bad things about that summer, and about being that obsessed, but truthfully, locked away, hardly bathing, seeing very few people... I was having a pretty good time. Now that I have a better computer, I could run the PC version and all it's weird user mods. (But then I'd have to download and organize the things, and that's almost more time-consuming than actually playing the game.) Anyway, it seems every summer, I get the urge to play it again, ever since. Nothing like the windows open, a fresh breeze, and getting absorbed in an entirely fictional world.

And there are still lots of Japanese games I want to play... (even if they maybe don't make'em like they used to...)

I may never have a career in video games (I really did want to be a game journalist), but that doesn't mean I don't have room for them in my life. They're something I feel I need to make time for, just like music is something I need to make time for, no matter what. But I got so busy with music as my main thing (taking up all my spare time) that I forgot.

So I was browsing an internet site, and lo and behold, what should get posted but some prototype pics of a particular guitar. They were yanked back down probably within 10 minutes, and I didn't get a chance to save them.

I don't want to spread them around or anything, but I'd like to have them for myself...

I did view them, but I didn't save them. Now I wish I would have. Does Firefox cache stuff like that somewhere? How could I find them? They have to be on my HDD somewhere!

Seems odd to post something like that to my journal, but someone on here (two smarty-pants gals in particular, although a few dudes have been extremely knowledgeable as well!) always seems to know exactly what to do for nearly any problem I ever have. You guys are frankly better than ask.com or any of those other sites.

I was sitting here at my computer, and these little finches or sparrows or something that I'd been admiring earlier were still on the tree outside my window. Anyway, one of these little birds just flew right up to my window, hovering in place, wings flapping like crazy, and stared through the glass at me for a good second or two before saying "huh" and leaving. I suppose it was wondering if it could fly through and find somewhere to sit. But nope, there's glass and a creepy monkey sitting in a chair on the inside. Better stick to the tree.

I applied for two jobs last night. Maybe as a result, I'm feeling quite a bit better today. I need to get more sleep at night, though. Life is harder than it needs to be when you don't get enough sleep.

EDIT: Nevermind, somebody beat me to it. Drat! Oh well.

All right. Now this is weird. And I have to say that writing about it everywhere (and not even locking the entry) might encourage someone else to buy it instead of me while I deliberate, but I guess I'll take that risk.

See, I have this guitar. It's the best guitar I've ever played. I love it. It was expensive, and these days, it's even more expensive.

However, there is one on eBay. CHEAP. I'm talking cheap here. The reason it's cheap, I guess, is because it's had the electronics removed, strap buttons removed, maybe some other things changed, and it's been painted... pink. Not a good paint job. A... paint job paint job. Like someone was on drugs and decided, gee, I'm gonna slap pink paint on this thing. You don't do that to a guitar. But it's not a normal guitar, it's carbon fiber like my awesome guitar (in fact, it appears nearly identical to my guitar, maybe a bit older model with the inherent differences), and apparently it can take a coat of heavy, gross paint and still sound great.

As far as I can tell, it's not a fake.

This would make the world's most amazing beater guitar. Or I could sell it to my dad as a service (he loves my guitar) if he could stand to play a pink guitar.

This is insane. I don't know what to think of it. Well, might as well link to the auction here. Maybe you guys can see if he's trying to rip someone off or if he's clueless and accidentally giving someone a great deal.

http://cgi.ebay.com/Acoustic-guitar-composite_W0QQitemZ110391107836QQcmdZViewItemQQptZGuitar?hash=item19b3d2a0fc&_trksid=p3286.c0.m14&_trkparms=72%3A1205|66%3A2|65%3A12|39%3A1|240%3A1318|301%3A1|293%3A1|294%3A50

Two things could happen here. It could be a great CA guitar, just... pink. Or, it could be a fake and not a CA at all (but the guy does say in the description that it's a CA). Or something in between. One end of the spectrum would be waaaay worth the money. The other end... a money "pit", I guess.

PS, if someone randomly surfs in here and buys this thing instead of me, please stay in touch with me and let me know WHAT the heckter this thing is.

PPS Well, somebody bought it.

Okay, first, let me say that if you're able to give blood, I would encourage you to. It's a great way to truly be a hero and a life saver, and it is not difficult. You'll feel great about it. (Cue chorus of, Oh God, I'm so scared of needles! I only eat bread and my iron is low! I flatulate uncontrollably in public! etc)

But now, a rant. United Blood Services, STOP calling me! I swear, they call every four days to see if I can come give blood. Why did I ever give them my number? I'll get there when I get there, trust me! I know it's time! Lemme alone!

It was just last month that I had some time, and I tried to make an appointment, but I wasn't eligible yet (have to wait four months in between with the amount I give). Fine, whatever. So I was kinda keeping track. I woulda checked and made an appointment. I'd get around to it. I still will.

But now they are calling me. Constantly. I will come give blood, yes, but let me decide on my own. I'll get around to it in a week or two. You don't need to keep calling me!

My relationship with UBS is like relationships I've had with women. I bust my butt for them, and they fan me away. Then, I walk away for a little while, and all of a sudden they're swarming like flies on poop. "OH MY GOD, where are you? I MISS YOU! ring ring ring"

AGHHH!!!!!!! Get a grip, you finicky biddy!

One nice thing about this so-called economic downturn is that a lot of corruption is getting weeded out. The trees are getting shaken, leaves are falling out, and they should be burned. Aside from the banks and whatnot, there is one matter than I fear will escape attention, and that's the way college students are absolutely fleeced when it comes to text books.

This semester, I bought two books, a math book and a stats book, both used, and they came to $100 each. Even on the internet, not just at the local ripoff college bookstore. And now when it's time to buy them back, normally they buy them for a pittance and resell them for a huge mark-up, but this time they won't even buy them, period.

I'll try the internet, but I doubt I'll get much.

It's just a system that needs to change. These publishers and college bookstores are raking it in, hand over fist. These are not private institutions; these are government-funded universities. The government needs to step in and do something about text books. It's beyond absurd.

AGHHHaahghghghhhuuuhhhhhzzzzzzzzzzzzzz... PUH!!!

Harvey Reid cheers me up and makes me happy. I'm listening to his album, Of Wind and Water. I actually corresponded with him via e-mail. That was before I fully knew the extent of his brilliance. Now I can't believe he took the time to share tips with me!



Can't tell for sure, but I also think he's playing one of "my" guitars, a Composite Acoustics.

I know they're useful and serve their purpose, but here, in my richie-rich residential neighborhood in Minot, ND, they are just annoyed as all demn feck.

The sound of a car alarm actually compels me to smash the vehicle with a baseball bat. Rather than subverting crime, it subverts me and drags me through the depths of rage, til I squeal and fill my pants and leap from my window shirtless, trousers stinky and sinking, brandishing a heavy object to engage the noisy vehicle in single combat.

But then the alarm stops, just as I reach the auto. I drop my weapon. Then I drop my pants.

Boy, do I feel embarrassed.

Time for a shower.

My mom thought this was about the best thing ever.

...but this is just too good to pass up. I hope it's real.


see more pwn and owned pictures

I really miss Hawai'i sometimes, particularly Hilo. I think going back to visit, the nostalgia would be almost crippling. I only lived there for a year and a half, but then again, that's the longest I've lived anywhere, except here.

I just didn't take advantage of Hilo when I lived there. I didn't experience as much as I wish I would have. I guess I did all I could've, but I wish I could've done more.

It's too bad it's so far away. That was always part of the problem. It was just too darn far away. I was tough, and I acted like it was fine and it didn't bother me, but I think being such a great distance from "home," and on my own at that, no family anywhere, sucked a lot out of me.

I think I'll be back to Hilo someday, probably not for keeps, but for a visit. I look forward to it.

(Would be nice if I were going back to perform, but that's probably just a pipe dream. I think they'd like my music more in Hilo than they do here, though, ironically, even though I didn't perform there once. I did write quite a few songs there, though.)

Sorry for all the updates today.

I'm considering taking a little trip to Winnipeg. :) There are a lot of stipulations that would need to occur to make it happen, but I really like Canada, and you don't need a passport to get in until June. It also just so happens that it is the nearest dealer for Composite Acoustics guitars, and I'd love to try out what they have in stock.

But then again, they have yet to return my e-mail that I sent asking them exactly what they DO have in stock. Not a great sign.

It also just might not be worth the travel costs unless I was actually going to buy something, and since I do not have the money to buy anything at the moment, I find it unlikely.

Oh well.

I just got an unexpected e-mail.

I think it was near the middle of January that I wrote in to a website who was looking for editors. At the time, I was hellbent on being a video game journalist. I started the Bonus Chance Blog, and I wrote in it pretty frequently and worked pretty hard.

Well, I heard back from the website, and they said I was among the cream of the crop and were wondering if I was still interested. If this had happened in January, I surely would have been, but the fact of the matter is that March, April, and so far May, have been all about music. I haven't played a video game for quite some time; I have no idea what's even going on in the industry.

That doesn't mean I couldn't do it; I still have my skills, I still have an interest in gaming and the industry (I miss it). But right now, I am just so focused on my music. I don't feel like I have room for more, and I don't feel like I want to let up on the music either.

Life is so bizarre.

This would be an unpaid position, but it would give me good exposure and experience. It could lead to a paid position someday.

It's just not as easy as getting up the gumption and saying "I'll do it!", though.

Sigh.................................

Why is life so confusing? I don't know what to do. And I'm irritated at myself that I move from thing to thing like this. Maybe next year, it'll be back to video game journalism and I'll say, "Darn, I could've been writing for those guys."

This is vexing, to say the least. I had kind of given up on what seemed like too tough a task and moved on. (And before that, I was hellbent on getting into graduate school and focusing on Japan.)

Why am I like this? What the hell am I going to do with my life when I have so many different interests and seem to move between them on an annual schedule? Right now, it feels like it's always going to be music, no matter what else I'm doing; I will never let go of music. But at the moment, music is so big to me that there is only room for finishing school and then working a job. Anything else feels as though it will crowd music out of the way.

*head to desk*

They want to hear back from me by the end of the weekend.

Maybe I could do it. It's unpaid, so it's not like they expect my soul.

Or maybe they do. I used to be totally invested in it; all my spare time was about games and game journalism (music was there, but in the backseat), and other people are still like that. Other people have that one, singular interest, and all their spare time is devoted to it, and they don't bounce from one hobby to another.

I get a kick out of these fellas who learn old blues licks (like from the 1920s, or earlier) and then go on YouTube and scream them through a distorted Les Paul or Stratocaster.

I'm sure it's a perfectly valid style, and there certainly have been some incredible electric bluesmen, like the phenomenal B.B. King, and, of course, Eric Clapton (white!!), and of course a ton of folks we don't know about.

But it's that old acoustic blues from the 1890s that really gets me. And when you take the acoustic blues and stick it on a distorted electric guitar... it seems like it loses something.


Skip James, the real thing, from long ago


John Cephas, the real thing from just a short time ago

Why can't I be more like Neil Young?

I myself have never learned how to properly deal with jealousy, nor how to stem it. It's likely my biggest failing, my jealous streak.

As difficult as that is, however, one thing I have an even harder time with is when folks are jealous of me. I find this nearly as uncomfortable as being jealous of someone else, maybe moreso. Jealousy causes all kinds of ugly behavior and vibrations, and as someone who is (over)sensitive to ugly behavior and vibrations, it can be vexing. It's like it clings to my skin.

Last night, it was an annoyed fellow rating all my YouTube videos one-star. I realize I'm not Johnny Rzeznik (I wouldn't want my covers to sound exactly like the originals anyway, so if that's his beef, so be it), there are no orchestras in the YouTube performances of my own songs, no strippers, no pyrotechnics, no cameo appearances by hollywood stars (now that might be nice :); often I do not even wear new clothing (or pants). But I really don't know what he expects. They are my songs; I wrote them, I play them, I sing them. I don't know how much more I can really present in order to win that five-star rating.

I did not take it too hard. It's fine if someone doesn't like my songs, and it's just as acceptable if someone doesn't like my Goo Goo Dolls covers. It's just that when you only get a few ratings, a single one-star rating can drop the whole schebang down to three stars.

I overreact, you know, but still. It's just odd.

And then today, rumors float by on campus that Jesse Dylan does not write his own lyrics. Huh?

I'm not sure why people would even think that. I'm very careful to point out when a song I'm going to sing has been written by someone else. In all other cases, I don't feel as though I need to say, before every ditty, "THIS IS A SONG I WROTE, MUSIC AND LYRICS BY JESSE DYLAN WATSON," and pause to let it sink in before beginning. That would get a little tiresome. I thought if I announced when it was someone else's, and said a few times during the set before mine, "I wrote this song about _____" or etc, people would get the idea, that they're my songs, and when it's a cover, it's my arrangement.

In fact, I fail to see how this concept could escape anyone who has actually taken the time to watch me perform, which leads me to the seemingly logical conclusion that it is, in fact, seditious libel, I suppose due to that ugly jealousy again. (Which still baffles me. Why are you jealous of me? I'm doing what I love. You should be happy for me. When you do what you love, I'm happy for you, too.)

And why do I care? It seems absurd that I should fixate, but when I first heard it, it really hit me kind of hard. "Do you write your own lyrics?" someone asks. "Of course I do--why?" "Well, _____ said you don't write your own lyrics."

Hey, ______, why do you hate my music? I'm supportive of what you do, agree with you when you need it, and encourage you like crazy about everything in your life, even smile, nod and listen when you go on a negativity rant about everything that's wrong with everyone around you and the entire human race. Why would you decide you want to spread rumors about me when I'm nothing but jolly to you?

Probably no one else believes the gib or even cares one whit, but it is just sensitive for me, I guess. To be honest, one of the few things I have going for me *at all* is that I write my own stuff, you know? I'm not an American Idol, can't sing like Pavarotti, I'm not cute like Timberlake or Hannah Montana or Joe Buttsex (okay, there is no Joe Buttsex), but one thing I do is write my own music, my own lyrics, my own melodies and arrangements and play my own stuff. (People used to care about, respect, and give a turd about that kind of thing.) So it felt like people were trying to take my one gold star away by denying it, by saying the opposite.

When I say people, I mean one gal. It's just her. But you know how I blow things out of proportion.

I just don't get it. What a bizarre statement. "He doesn't write his own lyrics." Where the hell else would I get them if I didn't write them? The dictionary? Cosmo? Entertainment Weekly?

Anyway, I'm over it. YEAH, IT REALLY LOOKS LIKE YOU'RE OVER IT, JESSE, SINCE YOU JUST WROTE A BIG, RAMBLY ENTRY ABOUT IT! :)

Oh well.

I need a vacation in Louisiana.

As far as jealousy itself, I think what it stems from is fear (and I am basing this on analyzing my own jealousy). Whenever I've been jealous, it's usually because I'm not doing anything fulfilling in my life, and it causes me to feel I'm lesser and never will feel fulfilled. I see someone else happy, or getting attention for something fulfilling they're doing, and I say to myself, "I'm not doing anything fulfilling; that's not fair that they get credit for their life and expression and I don't," and I feel nasty about it. It's really totally silly, when you think about it. (Other people say, "You're lucky" or something along those lines, and that's certainly a bit better than feeling resentful and miserable about it. I suppose anyone who gets to do something fulfilling is, in fact, lucky, but I also believe it's everyone's right, to do something fulfilling, and that everyone can somehow make it happen. Somehow. We're working at it, anyway, aren't we? I'm as jealous as the next guy, usually moreso.)

I'm actually grateful to the Universe for these lessons. I hope I keep encountering weird challenges like this, because it would be great if it caused me to understand and overcome my own jealousy and neurosis. That would be an incredible load off the shoulders of the life I live, maybe the biggest load possible.

Maybe I should get a book. "How to Deal with Jealousy". I bet that book exists. I'll check. I'm at a library.

I know I've mentioned this before, but you'd think by the time a male (or any other person who decides the "men's room" is the correct door to enter to dispose of body waste) reaches college age, they would possess proper bathroom etiquette. Of chief importance, flush your urine, and do not put any urine on toilet seats, the floor, or the wall. These are simply NOT difficult tasks. I find that if one were to master these two skills, everything else would fall quickly into place.

And if solid waste matter remains after the first flush, please administer a second. It is probably worth the time and strain on the environment.

Here's whom we have to thank for the swine flu.

Just like that sailor who coupled with a gorilla and gave the world AIDS!

Photo credit: ??

Edit: Oops! A good friend of ours already beat me to this joke days ago!

If only my cats liked me as much as Cinder seems to! Of course, Cinder doesn't have to live with me, either... :)

I guess I'm fascinated by this whole posting of videos. And the sound of my own voice and the look of my own face. And annotating.



Anyway, I've decided to keep the Microsoft Lifecam and just record my videos via the on-line "video capture" feature on YouTube. That skips past the whole issue of the software encoding the audio in a way that confuses YouTube and causes sync issues. Unfortunately, YouTube cuts off the last two seconds or so of my videos, but that's fine. I'll just sit and smile afterwards for an extra two seconds.

It's weird that I'm posting these, but people do post even more useless crap than this. Hopefully this will just go to the bottom of my video lists (I don't expect it will have many viewers!) and not cause people to lose focus of the videos I actually care about, which are, surprisingly, getting a few views every day.

Edit--Okay, so this method is not foolproof either. Still ended up with an out-of-sync cover of Acoustic #3. I'll try messing with Virtualdub and other programs to record off-line and post.

I guess I'm fascinated by this whole posting of videos. And the sound of my own voice and the look of my own face. And annotating.



Anyway, I've decided to keep the Microsoft Lifecam and just record my videos via the on-line "video capture" feature on YouTube. That skips past the whole issue of the software encoding the audio in a way that confuses YouTube and causes sync issues. Unfortunately, YouTube cuts off the last two seconds or so of my videos, but that's fine. I'll just sit and smile afterwards for an extra two seconds.