The benefits of eBorrowing from your local library

As some of you might know I’m a bibliophile who is addicted to both print and ebooks. I’m also a tech geek so I have an Amazon Kindle, an Asus Netbook, an Apple iPad, and a Sony Pocket eReader. Though I love the smell, feel and look of real books, I am quite fond of the portability of electronic books. The best part of having a Sony eReader is the fact that I can electronically check out a book from my local library. Right now the selection is a bit limited, but I’m hoping as more and more people get eReaders, electronic borrowing from libraries will become more popular. I particularly like the fact that with eborrowing I don’t have to get a library book that somebody abused. I don’t know how many library books I have checked out that were stained, reeked of cigarette smoke, were falling apart, missing pages or were just plain nasty. No such thing with eborrowing.

Another great thing about eborrowing is that you can get some of the latest bestsellers without having to pay for them, just like you would checking out the latest paperback from your local library (free is not exactly true because your taxes are paying for it, but you get what I’m trying to say, right?). My local library, the Decatur Public Library, is part of the LibraryOnTheGo system. This system allows library patrons to use their library card to check out ebooks for one or two weeks. After that the books are no longer viewable on your electronic reader. You can “check out” up to three books at a time, and just like a regular library book, you have the option of returning the books before your due date. Returning ebooks electronically is a really neat feature because then you’re not stuck with having to wait to borrow a new book.

Eborrowing is very convenient. If it’s pouring down rain outside and you don’t feel like trekking down to the library, it’s comforting to know that you can just borrow the latest bestseller from the confines of your own home and curl up on your sofa. This is also very useful for people with mobility problems. The LibraryOnTheGo also allows library patrons to download audiobooks and other media with their library card. Pretty neat if you ask me.

If you don’t have a library card you can always find free ebooks online. I visit the MobileRead Forums every day for book tips, news about electronic readers, and for suggestions of where to find free ebooks. I suggest you check them out. Happy reading!

WOTD: hair

Continuing with our hair theme, and with thanks to CC Champagne for the idea…

Hair is very important to us humans. So too is the lack of hair. It’s so important we even named a Tribal Love-Rock musical after it. I haven’t actually seen it, but I probably should because I love musicals, being a total dork in that respect. The themes explored in the the musical Hair include the hippy counter-culture movement and sexual revolution of the late 1960s. This was when love (and STDs) was free and growing out one’s hair was considered a rebellious act, especially if you were a man…

Typical hippies at a typical hippy music festival

In the 1970s and 80s, growing out your hair if you were a man meant that you were into certain types of hard rock music. You might have even been a member of a Hair Metal (sometimes called Glam Metal) band, so called because it was required that each member of the band have a long and big and heavily hair-sprayed style…

The "biggest" hair metal band of them all: Nitro.

Big hair was popular in general in the 80s for men and women alike. I can still recall the smell of Aqua Net hairspray in the girl’s locker room, and how we would tease out our hair and spray it until it was almost bullet proof. We were totally insane. Little white beads of Aqua Net would drip off our over-sprayed hair and onto the floor. Oh the memories come flooding back…

Janet Gardner of the all girl hair metal band Vixen.

Nowadays, when it comes to hair for both men and women less is generally considered more. Body hair of any kind has become a big no-no for women and most of us shave or pluck every bit of it off. The only hair we want is the hair on our heads and a couple of carefully plucked or waxed eyebrows. Additionally, an increasing number of men are now engaging in “manscaping” which is the colloquial term for the removal of superfluous body hair on a man, including back, chest, and genital hair.

As for my feelings on this, well… I like my man have some hair on him. It makes him more manly, and it provides valuable traction.

Until next time…

Shaved

You know that hair,
Down you know where?
There must be a reason,
Why it’s there.
Perhaps to keep,
Your naughty bits warm?
Protect them from
An insect swarm?
Your muff, your bush,
Whatever it’s called,
It’s expected now
To be quite bald.
Way back in,
Previous centuries,
Up till the 1970s,
A natural bush was
Oft desired, loved,
Admired and required.
But alas, the times,
And look have changed.
Pubes styled and dyed,
And rearranged.
A prepubescent look is craved.
And thus our beavers
Are now shaved.

Submitted for Funny Bunny Fridays Week 2

The Little Guy

The Little Guy he doesn’t win
He has a kind heart but that won’t swim
Swim in this World full of hatred and folly
Gee golly I wish he would win.
Fate and despair conspire against him,
World events spiral out of control,
Yet he longingly hopes for a better
Place where his pace sets the tone.
Tone, like an iPhone, where his life is an app,
Apt to take him places to change: a winning place.
No, he is the Little Guy, he won’t win.
The Little Guy is you, through and through.

WOTD: grace

Here’s a little blast from the past. Well, from 2009 anyway. This was my first original Project Mayhem post ever. And what do you know? It’s a word of the day post. Enjoy!

Elusive Grace

When the word Grace was revealed to me after I lifted up my finger from the dictionary page, my first impulse was to choose a different word. This word is too complicated, I thought. It has several meanings and uses, not to mention religious connotations.

Then I thought, why not? Grace is a very positive attribute. It is defined as: “seemingly effortless beauty or charm of movement, form, or proportion.” Among other things, grace implies elegance, beauty, and refinement. It is a quality that enables one to maintain composure even in the face of inevitable defeat. Grace is dignity personified: stable and calm under pressure.

Grace used to be an extremely popular A-list celebrity who regularly accompanied Audrey Hepburn on shopping trips and could often be seen holding onto Cary Grant’s arm at parties. She used to be an essential guest at every Tinsel Town function, but these days Grace is increasingly hard to find in Hollywood. However, there still remains a whole new generation of starlets and “pop tarts” in desperate need of some guidance.

Therefore, with Grace becoming more and more of a recluse, her twin sister Disgrace has taken over the majority of Grace’s duties. Being much more visible than her introverted sister, Disgrace can hardly keep up with the demand for her services. Among many other things, Disgrace works as a fashion consultant, and it was she who suggested to Amy Winehouse that pink ballet slippers really do go with everything. And indeed, it was Disgrace who advised Britney Spears to wear short skirts with no panties because the resulting pictures would be a tremendous boost to Spears’ career.

Disgrace is also in high demand as a life coach. Included on the list of her exclusive clientele is none other than Paris Hilton. It was Disgrace who encouraged Miss Hilton to go ahead and record that pop album and to appear in the movie, “The Hottie and the Nottie.” In fact, Miss Hilton relies on Disgrace’s invaluable relationship and career advice so much that she keeps her on a retainer. She also insists on Disgrace accompanying her wherever she goes. Whenever Paris Hilton arrives at a party or a club, Disgrace is right beside her in the limo and never leaves her side the whole night.

As for Grace, she was last known to be sharing a house with her close friends Decency and Tastefulness. No one seems to know for sure where this house is located, and as a result all three of them have become virtually inaccessible. Grace is still alive, but it is widely believed that Decency is in fact, dead. However, we have no way of confirming or denying the death of Decency at this time.

On a final note, Grace finds the song, “Amazing Grace,” to be quite embarrassing and thinks it makes her sound like some kind of magician: “Call me anything but amazing, please.”

WOTD: rapture

With thanks to Cissi for the idea…

Apparently, the world is supposed to end tomorrow so I thought this might be a good time to discuss our two options leading up to the pending apocalypse.

1. The rapture option.

This entails being physically removed from the earth in the midst of the turmoil of Judgement Day and sort of beamed up to heaven. Recommended for those most eager to meet Jesus in person. This would mean repenting our sins or something.

2. The “completely over-the-top, extravagant orgy of total hedonistic abandon” option.

No further explanation needed. This was Mark Base’s idea and that’s good enough for me.

Until next time. If there is a next time.

Not everyone is a winner, you know…

Author’s Note: This is something I wrote a little under a year ago. It was originally posted as a note on Facebook and then as a post on my personal blog.

One of my former English-teaching jobs involved working with small children. They were very little (most under the age of five) so the job primarily consisted of playing games and singing songs in English. Like any job there were good and bad things about it. The kids were mostly very sweet and cute. However, I had a colleague who drove me nuts. We used to play these little games with the kids and naturally there would be one winner, which is the point of playing any game, right?

Despite this universal truth, she would always smile at them and say, “That’s okay. Everyone’s a winner!” This always bothered me because there was in fact only one winner. He won because he was the best. Saying that everyone’s a winner totally diminishes the achievement of the kid who actually won the game. It’s unrealistic, dishonest and unfair, and it sets kids up for disappointment later on in life.

It used to be when a child did poorly in school her parents would go straight to her and say, “These grades are terrible!” Nowadays, when a child does poorly in school her parents go straight to her teacher and say, “These grades are terrible!”

Not that there aren’t any bad teachers. Of course there are, just as there are bad examples from every profession. However, I wonder if it ever occurred to the parents that maybe their kid is just a bad student. I know a thing or two about being a bad student because I used to be one. Then again, I had very low self-esteem, so when I got bad grades I assumed it was because I (and not my teacher) was useless. No amount of attempted bribery or bolstering of my nonexistent self-esteem was going to improve my performance in school.

Then one day I realized that I’d better get off my ass and get some decent grades, so that’s what I did. At first I did it mainly to keep my parents from yelling at me, but after a while I figured out that I was actually a good student and I did it for me.

While I strongly believe in encouraging young people to do the best they can, I also believe that it’s ultimately up to them. They choose whether to do well or bad in school, and while we can encourage or even intimidate, their performance in school is their responsibility. The young people of today aren’t being taught self-reliance and accountability. Many of them are little narcissists who have been led to believe they are “special” and therefore entitled to “the best.”

However, we seem to have forgotten to tell them about having to work really hard in order to get it, about taking charge of their own lives, about having to get it themselves if they really want it, and about them not being entitled to anything.

Remember that if everyone is a winner that means that everyone is also a loser.

…parenting ruins everything

I did make an unrealistic promise to myself when I started writing again. I promised my bad self that I wouldn’t make this a mommy blog. I find myself unable to keep that promise so I can only say that I will limit the mommy jabber as best as possible.

Early this morning, my FecesBook feed was filled with comments about a little girl named Skylar who lives in my old stomping grounds. Within less than a day, the little girl went from playing outside to being abducted and murdered. As a rule, I would find this incredibly upsetting. Being a parent only magnifies the horror and pain.

One of the more peculiar aspects of parenting that I have found is how dramatically your frame of reference is altered and how much more profoundly you feel things. It’s as if the little baby takes all of your ambivalence with him/her when he/she leaves the womb. You’re left with nothing but a bundle of raw nerves and feelings.

I have always been an extreme worrier – so much so that I end up physically ill. It has been said that I’m Worst Case Scenario girl. I will envision the absolute worst outcome of any situation and plan backwards to prevent it from happening. It’s a great talent and wonderful ability, if you’re my employer. It’s tedious and exhausting if you have to live with me.

My propensity for constant worrying has been changed since Milkface was born. There are certain things that I can flippantly dismiss with the wave of a hand – things which I would agonize over before Milky. Then there are new issues which are so considerably troubling that I become paralyzed with fear.

I could very well say the same about sadness. That which would reduce me to tears in my previous life seems mostly irrelevant. Show me a child that has been mistreated, a parent who is grieving or the impact of illness on a family and I’m a blubbering, non-functioning mess. Outside of the terrible two-tantrum, watching my own child cry is something I cannot bear. I consider myself very fortunate that our experiences, thus far, have been easily solved by a snuggle, hug and a kiss. Let’s hope it stays that way.

On the opposite end of the emotional spectrum, parenting has brought me joy unlike anything I have ever experienced. There is no better sound in the world than the genuine belly laugh of a pleased toddler. No psychotropic medication can elevate your spirits quite like the smile of a child. Nothing makes you feel as if your troubles have melted away quite like a hug and drooly kiss.

For someone who has spent the past eleven or so years carefully analyzing every emotion, every response – the dramatic shift in outlook is mindboggling. I had long thought that I was hypersensitive. I had long tried to manage that. Now that I’m a parent, I realize it’s all go-with-the-flow. If you’re blessed with a child, the intensity of feelings defies description. You shift from pessimist to optimist at the drop of a hat. You fear things you previously thought impossible. You fall in love a million times a day.

WOTD: balaclava and other confusing words…

For some reason our British cousins have adopted this word, which according to Bill Bryson (author and keen observer of all things British from an American perspective), is a “truly bad word.” The American term is the decidedly less poetic but much clearer ski mask. Its “badness” lies in the fact that it really doesn’t sound like what it is:

“[It] could be almost anything – an obscure root vegetable, a type of geological formation peculiar to the Tibetian steppe, the basic unit of currenty in Albania, the sound of a large load of rocks coming out of the back of a dump truck, almost anything at all. It certainly doesn’t sound like something you would want to put on your head. No, the word you want for a kind of pull-down hat is haggis.”
Excerpt from I’m a Stranger Here Myself

He then goes on to explain that “haggis” has a warm and furry sound to it and that it doesn’t sound at all like a food. Furthermore, anyone who has ever tried it will attest that it doesn’t taste much like a food either.

This got me thinking about how many other words there are in the English language that don’t sound at all like what they are, and how confusing this can be for learners of it as a second language.

For example, why do we drive on the parkway, and park in the driveway?

Why do we say we’re getting ON or OFF the bus/train/plane when we’re really getting IN or OUT of it?

A pineapple is nothing like a pine nor like an apple. It doesn’t even come from a pine tree. How the hell did it get named that? And what about a grapefruit?

I’m sure there are many examples of weird words in Swedish as well, and the one I can think of at the moment is smörgås (sandwich) which translated literally into English means “butter goose.”

Finally, and with apologies for the indelicacy of the following language, why do we say we’re taking a shit when we’re actually LEAVING it?

Feel free to post your own examples of weird or inaccurate words in comments. Until next time…

…one day

I digress.

I had an entire post scribbled about Mother’s Day. When writing about things that hit really close to home for yours truly, I like to have someone edit it to make sure the rambling nonsense is kept to a minimum. Naturally, that didn’t happen. For my mere post was tabled in lieu of guitar forums and Facebook.

I woke up to a nice shower of kisses from my darling Milkfaced boy. We had some quality time in the big bed where I answered a lot of “What’s that?” questions and sneaked in a random snuggle here and there. So far, pretty good.

Then comes chaos.

When you’re married to the least organized man in the universe, things can wear on your nerves pretty quickly. When you’re married to someone who travels for a living, all patience is tested by having to run a household by yourself. I don’t care for Mother’s Day, as a rule, but I certainly welcome one day out of the year where I can let down my guard, not have to think about what to plan for meals, not have to think about a day’s activities and not have to think about the laundry list of shit that never seems to get done.

Alas, my sans souci day lasted all of 2.5 hours. One iPod disappeared and the entire world had to come to a screeching halt. My ever constant coaching, my unending pleas for organization unanswered – I sneaked out to the deck while the house was being upended in pursuit of whatever has gone missing at this particular moment in time.

At the risk of sounding entirely frustrated and ungrateful, can a girl not catch a break? Particularly a working mom who has to go it alone more than she cares. Like many, I feel like I’m juggling way too many balls than I’m qualified to juggle. It wears one down very rapidly and doesn’t do much for the overall carriage and demeanor. Maybe if there was just one day a year that someone could recharge without interruptions, life would be a little more manageable.

As solutions normally lie at my feet, next year I vow to have everything organized and within arm’s reach. I will draw up a list of nifty ideas well in advance. Then I’m going to round up a few of my other mommy friends and run away for the weekend. Kids welcome. Husbands, not so much.