Forgive me, folks, for I have sinned. It’s been 50 years since my last confession (I’m 50 years old – get it? Not Catholic). We’ll skip all the other lurid details for now and go right to my latest mea culpa. I have viewed a TV episode on YouTube.com.
I can hear the hysterical laughing from here. This has become so commonplace that it’s viewed as normal, not a problem, and perfectly okay by even the most innocent of internet users. The only ones who sit with annoyed looks on their faces when the topic comes up are the ones effected by the downloads and their attorneys.
And me.
As a semi-creative soul who likes to be occasionally acknowledged for my contributions (compensated would be nice, too), I can see how this action would be considered inappropriate, even illegal. Those in favor of downloads of such material make the argument that once it hits the airwaves, it becomes public domain and free game, and that if it’s recorded intact (no edits) and the person doing to the recording and uploading makes no profit by making it available for others to view, then no harm, no foul.
I want someone to explain to me how something becomes public domain immediately after it’s broadcast. Why does that wonderful free-for-all moment start the second the TV signal starts bouncing off the layers of the Earth’s atmosphere and surrounding electromagnetic fields? Just because it can be picked up on Pluto and beyond (what, you thought all those signals remained here?) does that really mean you have the right to record it and then send it to the internet for all your buddies and others to see even if you’re doing it out of the goodness of your heart?
Never mind the huge corporations that won’t necessarily feel it if they lose out on the opportunity to collect on their intellectual property rights for one story, one song, one book, one movie. Think smaller. Think of the writers who brought you this concept in the first place. You can argue that they get compensated well enough the first time around and don’t need to keep putting their hand out to be paid every single time their work gets appreciated. Writers don’t always make a helluva lot of coins for their endeavors. Some do, of course, but they’re in the minority. Assuming they’re not struggling to make ends meet now, it may come to that later. If you’re still enjoying something they wrote a few years after it got bound in a book or shown on some screen, doesn’t that writer deserve to have a few more coins tossed their way?
Plus, there’s the whole, blood, sweat and tears that went into creating this for you to enjoy argument. Ever had something stolen from you? Ever had something you created stolen from you? The feeling is very different when your hard work, physical and/or intellectual, gets ripped off and then copied and distributed like a flyer for a college beer blast.
But, I digress. I speak of intellectual property rights being violated and yet have viewed a TV episode on a web site that will not be compensating anyone for their troubles. I won’t be doing it again and not just because it’s taken me over 8 hours to the episode on a 56K dialup connection. I have too many strong feelings on the subject to just ignore them for the sake of my own entertainment. Even with a free download, the cost is too high.
Sunday, December 30, 2007
Sunday, December 16, 2007
I Wish I Had a Camera
It' gonna be a long winter. The cold temperatures and snow have already made their presence known and winter starts next Friday. Okay, for upstate New York, this is normal, but I don't have to like it.
For the first time in years, I have a group of cats who are feeling the cabin fever already. In the past, my felines generally didn't start to feel it until sometime in January. The two older ones, 5 and 7 years old, have settled in for the long winter haul. But, the rest of the brood, between ten months and two years, have been showing signs of boredom with the great indoors since around Thanksgiving. For the younger cats, though, there's just so much semi-hibernating that can be done and so, cat playtimes are frequent. There's FWW (Feline World Wrestling), Train (chasing after one another from one side of the house to the other), there's Get Outta There (exploring regions of the house that were ignored all summer until the owner yells), and there's Hide 'N Seek (knock something off somewhere and push to hide where the owner must seek, grumble and retrieve). Every once in a while, there's venturing out into the winter world. I enjoyed watching one cat playing with the snow the other day. But, those moments are few and far between.
Then, there's the activity that I wish I had the camera for. Every year, I put up a feeder at the window near my computer desk. It's convenient to fill and I like watching the birds come to the feeder. I also put seed on the window sill for birds who can't deal with my squirrel-resistant (notice I didn't say squirrel-proof, as there is no such thing) feeder. I start in November and go through March. Just within the last two weeks, the cats have discovered the activity of Watch and Whump (watch the birds and occasionally crash (whump!) into the window trying to get to them). The birds really don't pay much attention anymore. The ones at the feeder barely react and the ones that come to the sill now grab seed and take off instead of staying for the leisurely meal while cat faces are staring at them from the other side of the glass.
Here's the simplicity of the photo: a rear shot of three cats (sometimes four) sitting absolutely side-by-side, staring out the window toward the ice and snow, watching birds take off and land from feeder and sill, occasionally semi-crouched, waiting in frustrated delight for their "prey" to linger just a little too long. Shot would be taken just before the crash into the window occurred yet again.
Okay, I'm composing shots of bored cats watching birds. Is the cabin fever starting to get to me, too? Time to go do something productive, like shovel snow and sleet.
Okay, maybe not.
For the first time in years, I have a group of cats who are feeling the cabin fever already. In the past, my felines generally didn't start to feel it until sometime in January. The two older ones, 5 and 7 years old, have settled in for the long winter haul. But, the rest of the brood, between ten months and two years, have been showing signs of boredom with the great indoors since around Thanksgiving. For the younger cats, though, there's just so much semi-hibernating that can be done and so, cat playtimes are frequent. There's FWW (Feline World Wrestling), Train (chasing after one another from one side of the house to the other), there's Get Outta There (exploring regions of the house that were ignored all summer until the owner yells), and there's Hide 'N Seek (knock something off somewhere and push to hide where the owner must seek, grumble and retrieve). Every once in a while, there's venturing out into the winter world. I enjoyed watching one cat playing with the snow the other day. But, those moments are few and far between.
Then, there's the activity that I wish I had the camera for. Every year, I put up a feeder at the window near my computer desk. It's convenient to fill and I like watching the birds come to the feeder. I also put seed on the window sill for birds who can't deal with my squirrel-resistant (notice I didn't say squirrel-proof, as there is no such thing) feeder. I start in November and go through March. Just within the last two weeks, the cats have discovered the activity of Watch and Whump (watch the birds and occasionally crash (whump!) into the window trying to get to them). The birds really don't pay much attention anymore. The ones at the feeder barely react and the ones that come to the sill now grab seed and take off instead of staying for the leisurely meal while cat faces are staring at them from the other side of the glass.
Here's the simplicity of the photo: a rear shot of three cats (sometimes four) sitting absolutely side-by-side, staring out the window toward the ice and snow, watching birds take off and land from feeder and sill, occasionally semi-crouched, waiting in frustrated delight for their "prey" to linger just a little too long. Shot would be taken just before the crash into the window occurred yet again.
Okay, I'm composing shots of bored cats watching birds. Is the cabin fever starting to get to me, too? Time to go do something productive, like shovel snow and sleet.
Okay, maybe not.
Sunday, November 04, 2007
Daylight Saving Time 2007 Over at Last
Well, I got my hour back with the return to my beloved Eastern Standard Time. Not that it made a difference, as I was still awake when my brain said it was 4:30 AM, now 3:30 AM. I'm one of those disgusting morning people -- I don't need an alarm clock. I did manage to get back to sleep, but it was just on principle. Being able to lazily ignore the call to rise and shine for another hour or so is nice, but in terms of quality sleep, nope, doesn't qualify.
Daylight Saving Time is a wonderful concept. One of the people I admire most, the late and great Benjamin Franklin, proposed it way back when and during the months when it actually benefits folks, I have no issue with it. But someone is going to have to explain to me how it saves energy to have it around for an extra week in the fall. Is there that much of an energy saving to be had in seven more days of the sun really making its appearance at 7 AM and darkness falling at 7 PM? Most of us are up and functioning before 7 AM, anyway. The lights, toaster, coffeemaker, etc. are going to be on, anyway. Businesses that are starting their day earlier than sunrise will be using the same amount of energy, anyway. The lights are on during the day, you just don't see them until the sun goes down. Yes, you can see the shift of when the peak energy is used, you can see conservation at certain hours when there would be none if DST were not around. But come this time of year, when night is slightly longer than day already, is it really conserving enough to warrant Daylight Saving Time being around longer?
Perhaps because this is the first year of prolonging the twice yearly screw-up of our circadian rhythms , the statistics on how much energy is being saved can only be estimated based on historical patterns of energy use. However, I sincerely hope they're wrong with this newest attempt to save fuel in the long run. I love being able to wake in the morning and watch the transition from a starlit sky to dawn to sun rising over the horizon, but not everyone does.
Daylight Saving Time is a wonderful concept. One of the people I admire most, the late and great Benjamin Franklin, proposed it way back when and during the months when it actually benefits folks, I have no issue with it. But someone is going to have to explain to me how it saves energy to have it around for an extra week in the fall. Is there that much of an energy saving to be had in seven more days of the sun really making its appearance at 7 AM and darkness falling at 7 PM? Most of us are up and functioning before 7 AM, anyway. The lights, toaster, coffeemaker, etc. are going to be on, anyway. Businesses that are starting their day earlier than sunrise will be using the same amount of energy, anyway. The lights are on during the day, you just don't see them until the sun goes down. Yes, you can see the shift of when the peak energy is used, you can see conservation at certain hours when there would be none if DST were not around. But come this time of year, when night is slightly longer than day already, is it really conserving enough to warrant Daylight Saving Time being around longer?
Perhaps because this is the first year of prolonging the twice yearly screw-up of our circadian rhythms , the statistics on how much energy is being saved can only be estimated based on historical patterns of energy use. However, I sincerely hope they're wrong with this newest attempt to save fuel in the long run. I love being able to wake in the morning and watch the transition from a starlit sky to dawn to sun rising over the horizon, but not everyone does.
Sunday, October 07, 2007
Oh, and in case you thought I was making my story up ...
Here's my 2001 raccoon in all its plastic jar wearing "glory". This had a happy ending, but it took six calls (local police, the DEC, my vet, the local DOH, and two wildlife rescue folks calls) to get assistance for this silly looking animal.
Many thanks to Tina, the former wildlife rescuer who was still listed with the DOH, for her help in freeing this raccoon six years ago.
Critter Assistance is Critter Assistance
For reasons detailed below, I couldn't help but be attracted to this story: Skunk freed from jar
I read the one comment from an irate reader saying that the police officer who chose to free this skunk whose head was trapped inside a glass container was being cruel with his chosen method. He opted to break the glass by shooting some BB pellets at the empty section of the bottle, breaking it and leaving the skunk alive, well, able to breathe and eat, and sporting a glass collar. The argument made by the dissatisfied reader was that the officer, chosing to maintain a safe distance, was potentially condemning the animal to having the glass collar embed itself in the skunk's neck should the animal gain weight and leaving it to a slow death by starvation. My reaction? Gimme a break!
My existence is constantly invaded by critters. Every year, I have an invasion of raccoons, opossums, and yes, even the occasional skunk into my house in the fall as they look to fatten up for the winter season. Yes, I said into my house. I have cat doors and if I forget to block them at night, I have unwelcomed company. I hold no ill will toward any of them and will only chase them back outside. Okay, the skunks (two on two separate occasions) got to finish their meal of strewn kitchen garbage unchallenged, but for the most part, yelling, floor stomping, and the occasional broom swish come into play.
My appreciation and understanding of creatures great and small now demonstrated, let me take you a step further. In 2001, I had a similar episode with a raccoon, only mine showed up on my porch with his head stuck in a plastic peanut butter jar. While apparently still able to breathe, although it had to be stuffy in that jar, the raccoon would have eventually died of starvation. After unsuccessfully trying to pull the jar off myself, I made six calls and was finally able to find someone willing to help. It was a former wildlife rescue person, sidelined by health issues, who came out and freed the animal by pouring mineral oil on the jar mouth and neck of the raccoon and giving one pull while the raccoon pulled in the opposite direction. Simple answer, happy ending. Thing is, it took six calls to get there.
Despite my semi-tolerance for wildlife in my home and my willingness to go the extra mile for them, even I consider them a nuisance. More importantly, I consider them a health risk. Rabies is a big concern; it is a vicious and almost always fatal disease to contract. Then, there's the simple and painful reality of the animal bite itself. If they feel threatened and cannot escape, animals will bite and I don't want to deal with the infection that the teeth from one of these garbage-loving animals would give me. Not a problem while the animal's head is stuck in a jar, but what happens after the jar gets pulled off? Finally, there is the skunk-specific issue of being sprayed that the above-mentioned reader felt was the officer's main concern. If you've ever been sprayed by a skunk or had a pet sprayed by one, it gives reason to maintain a respectful distance. I haven't and hope to maintain that lack of smelly thiol contact. Oh, in case you're curious, not an odor was left by the kitchen raiding skunk pair.
While the angry reader made a valid point about the welfare of the skunk, I do not and would not fault the officer for his choice. He gave the animal its freedom and a chance to continue, which is more than it would have had had it wandered off into the woods or if simply left alone. It's wonderful to think that a wildlife rescue person is going to be available to help, but the reality is that there isn't always one around. Most people would not care what happened to one stupid skunk who got just a little too greedy in his quest for food. This police officer cared enough to do something other than kill it outright. My guess it that folks will be watching for this skunk and that someone may make a point to capture it and odorlessly relieve it of the remnants of its food-seeking folly. The officer did something in the immediate to help without risking harm to himself or others. At the risk of a barrage of complaints for taking the side of the police on this issue, I say kudos. Dare to care without fouling the air.
See my next post for a picture of the peanut butter pursuing raccoon from September 2001.
I read the one comment from an irate reader saying that the police officer who chose to free this skunk whose head was trapped inside a glass container was being cruel with his chosen method. He opted to break the glass by shooting some BB pellets at the empty section of the bottle, breaking it and leaving the skunk alive, well, able to breathe and eat, and sporting a glass collar. The argument made by the dissatisfied reader was that the officer, chosing to maintain a safe distance, was potentially condemning the animal to having the glass collar embed itself in the skunk's neck should the animal gain weight and leaving it to a slow death by starvation. My reaction? Gimme a break!
My existence is constantly invaded by critters. Every year, I have an invasion of raccoons, opossums, and yes, even the occasional skunk into my house in the fall as they look to fatten up for the winter season. Yes, I said into my house. I have cat doors and if I forget to block them at night, I have unwelcomed company. I hold no ill will toward any of them and will only chase them back outside. Okay, the skunks (two on two separate occasions) got to finish their meal of strewn kitchen garbage unchallenged, but for the most part, yelling, floor stomping, and the occasional broom swish come into play.
My appreciation and understanding of creatures great and small now demonstrated, let me take you a step further. In 2001, I had a similar episode with a raccoon, only mine showed up on my porch with his head stuck in a plastic peanut butter jar. While apparently still able to breathe, although it had to be stuffy in that jar, the raccoon would have eventually died of starvation. After unsuccessfully trying to pull the jar off myself, I made six calls and was finally able to find someone willing to help. It was a former wildlife rescue person, sidelined by health issues, who came out and freed the animal by pouring mineral oil on the jar mouth and neck of the raccoon and giving one pull while the raccoon pulled in the opposite direction. Simple answer, happy ending. Thing is, it took six calls to get there.
Despite my semi-tolerance for wildlife in my home and my willingness to go the extra mile for them, even I consider them a nuisance. More importantly, I consider them a health risk. Rabies is a big concern; it is a vicious and almost always fatal disease to contract. Then, there's the simple and painful reality of the animal bite itself. If they feel threatened and cannot escape, animals will bite and I don't want to deal with the infection that the teeth from one of these garbage-loving animals would give me. Not a problem while the animal's head is stuck in a jar, but what happens after the jar gets pulled off? Finally, there is the skunk-specific issue of being sprayed that the above-mentioned reader felt was the officer's main concern. If you've ever been sprayed by a skunk or had a pet sprayed by one, it gives reason to maintain a respectful distance. I haven't and hope to maintain that lack of smelly thiol contact. Oh, in case you're curious, not an odor was left by the kitchen raiding skunk pair.
While the angry reader made a valid point about the welfare of the skunk, I do not and would not fault the officer for his choice. He gave the animal its freedom and a chance to continue, which is more than it would have had had it wandered off into the woods or if simply left alone. It's wonderful to think that a wildlife rescue person is going to be available to help, but the reality is that there isn't always one around. Most people would not care what happened to one stupid skunk who got just a little too greedy in his quest for food. This police officer cared enough to do something other than kill it outright. My guess it that folks will be watching for this skunk and that someone may make a point to capture it and odorlessly relieve it of the remnants of its food-seeking folly. The officer did something in the immediate to help without risking harm to himself or others. At the risk of a barrage of complaints for taking the side of the police on this issue, I say kudos. Dare to care without fouling the air.
See my next post for a picture of the peanut butter pursuing raccoon from September 2001.
Saturday, May 19, 2007
Be Afraid (Not)
I am a nerd. I have known this for some time and have never tried to deny it. I'm not a candidate for Mensa; IQ's somewhere above average and below genius and the test to enter the organization is more of a challenge than my middle-aged brain can handle. But, the online test for nerd status has proven what I've always believed, that I'm a smart-aleck and I know how it use it.
I am also perimenopausal. The ovaries are slowly running out of things to do. I'm well acquainted with irregular menstrual cycles, hot flashes, mood swings, and sometimes having the attention span and memory of a gnat. It goes with the hormonal territory, but I don't have to like it.
Being a perimenopausal nerd could be a dangerous combination. The potential for calculated revenge for taking my parking space is astounding. The line from Fried Green Tomatoes about being older and having more insurance also comes to mind. Fortunately, my grumbling is worse than my bite and my grumbling dies back fairly quickly. That doesn't mean the world is safe from my research loving, dwindling estrogen influence, however.
Now, shut up and open a window -- it's hot in here, even if it's not.
I am also perimenopausal. The ovaries are slowly running out of things to do. I'm well acquainted with irregular menstrual cycles, hot flashes, mood swings, and sometimes having the attention span and memory of a gnat. It goes with the hormonal territory, but I don't have to like it.
Being a perimenopausal nerd could be a dangerous combination. The potential for calculated revenge for taking my parking space is astounding. The line from Fried Green Tomatoes about being older and having more insurance also comes to mind. Fortunately, my grumbling is worse than my bite and my grumbling dies back fairly quickly. That doesn't mean the world is safe from my research loving, dwindling estrogen influence, however.
Now, shut up and open a window -- it's hot in here, even if it's not.
Thursday, May 03, 2007
I Didn't Get a Pony, But I Didn't Want One, Either
I woke at 11 PM last night. No idea why, but I figured I was close enough to midnight that I might as well see the 18261st day of existence in. 12 AM 5/3/07 came and went without incident, as has the rest of the 50th birthday so far. I don't anticipate that changing between now and 11:59 PM tonight, either.
Mercifully, my coworkers did not call my name into the local radio station for announcement this morning. I'm not into that. Let the 10 year old win the cake from the bakery. They did wish me a happy birthday when I stopped by the place briefly, which I enjoyed and is more my birthday speed. My boss sent me an e-card which was hilarious. Schmaltzy, sentimental cards should be left for those who enjoy them.
My brother and sister called and left singing voicemails. My sister can sing. My brother, well, it's the thought that counts. My friend of 30+ years wished me a happy birthday via instant message and phone. I also received e-mails and IMs from dear friends made on the internet.
One thing I had promised to do for myself today, aside from take the day off and be lazy, was to pay off my car. It had a balance of less than $30. It would have been automatically paid on 5/11 out of my account, but there was something symbolic in essentially getting the "pink slip" for my car on my birthday. Nevermind that they're no longer pink and you don't get them immediately on getting to that $0 balance. That little blue buggy is mine now, starter problems and all.
Gifts were few, but nonetheless appreciated:
A 2007 penny from a stranger, found on the ground during my walk after breakfast along an idyllic stretch of the Hudson River.
A medical scrub top in just the shade of spring yellow I had been looking for. Okay, I paid for it, but it was at a seriously rock-bottom price.
Lastly, one of my internet-borne friends informed me that I've gotten an acknowledgment, a thank you, in a soon to be released anthology for my teeny, tiny contribution to his short story. Now, I recognize there's a certain amount of legal requirement in doing this thank you, but that doesn't negate how flattered and honored I feel by the action. My slowly turning professional writer friend didn't even have to mention my input to his publisher. No one would have been the wiser and I would have simply viewed it as helping out. But, he did mention it. Thank you, Mr. Davies.
Nope, no pony. Although it would help with mowing the lawn, which I'm growing less and less fond of with the accumulating years, I've never wanted a big or little equine friend. I like simple gifts, nothing glitzy or glamorous. Admittedly, I would have liked to have woken up this morning and found that I had won something for my $1 lottery investment, but it didn't happen. But, I got my cash. I found that penny.
It's been a good half-century marker day. There's still another seven hours to go, but as I said, I don't anticipate anything dramatic happening between now and 5/4.
To all those who celebrate their birthday today, all the best. May your wishes come true, and don't forget to make one of those wishes a wish for peace. It's always a great gift that never needs wrapping.
Mercifully, my coworkers did not call my name into the local radio station for announcement this morning. I'm not into that. Let the 10 year old win the cake from the bakery. They did wish me a happy birthday when I stopped by the place briefly, which I enjoyed and is more my birthday speed. My boss sent me an e-card which was hilarious. Schmaltzy, sentimental cards should be left for those who enjoy them.
My brother and sister called and left singing voicemails. My sister can sing. My brother, well, it's the thought that counts. My friend of 30+ years wished me a happy birthday via instant message and phone. I also received e-mails and IMs from dear friends made on the internet.
One thing I had promised to do for myself today, aside from take the day off and be lazy, was to pay off my car. It had a balance of less than $30. It would have been automatically paid on 5/11 out of my account, but there was something symbolic in essentially getting the "pink slip" for my car on my birthday. Nevermind that they're no longer pink and you don't get them immediately on getting to that $0 balance. That little blue buggy is mine now, starter problems and all.
Gifts were few, but nonetheless appreciated:
A 2007 penny from a stranger, found on the ground during my walk after breakfast along an idyllic stretch of the Hudson River.
A medical scrub top in just the shade of spring yellow I had been looking for. Okay, I paid for it, but it was at a seriously rock-bottom price.
Lastly, one of my internet-borne friends informed me that I've gotten an acknowledgment, a thank you, in a soon to be released anthology for my teeny, tiny contribution to his short story. Now, I recognize there's a certain amount of legal requirement in doing this thank you, but that doesn't negate how flattered and honored I feel by the action. My slowly turning professional writer friend didn't even have to mention my input to his publisher. No one would have been the wiser and I would have simply viewed it as helping out. But, he did mention it. Thank you, Mr. Davies.
Nope, no pony. Although it would help with mowing the lawn, which I'm growing less and less fond of with the accumulating years, I've never wanted a big or little equine friend. I like simple gifts, nothing glitzy or glamorous. Admittedly, I would have liked to have woken up this morning and found that I had won something for my $1 lottery investment, but it didn't happen. But, I got my cash. I found that penny.
It's been a good half-century marker day. There's still another seven hours to go, but as I said, I don't anticipate anything dramatic happening between now and 5/4.
To all those who celebrate their birthday today, all the best. May your wishes come true, and don't forget to make one of those wishes a wish for peace. It's always a great gift that never needs wrapping.
Friday, April 13, 2007
Keeping Feet on the Ground
Good grief, Friday the 13th. But more good grief-making, I am 20 days from my half-century birthday. Time to wax philosophically or something. We’ll start with a regret.
Ever seen the movie The Neverending Story? There’s a line in the movie that every time I hear it, a twinge of life choice remorse floats through my brain. When beseeched to help the world of Fantasia by believing he is a part of the story, a part of the creative process, and giving the world’s empress a new name, the main character says, “But, I can’t! I have to keep my feet on the ground!” It seemed expected of me to pursue a solidly helpful education and I got the very distinct impression that a degree in some liberal arts program was not the way to go. With not enough pull in one direction or another that was “solid” and not enough courage to speak up and follow my heart, I floundered. I received my two-year degree from the mishmash of courses I had taken, but not in a specific discipline. But, hey, the program was classified in the liberal arts category, so I sort of won the battle, but not the war. Without the courses specific to the programs I would have preferred to take (English/Journalism), pursuing careers even remotely associated with them became near impossible, and continuing on to get said degree is a luxury I can't afford.
That’s what I got for keeping my feet on the ground. The kid in the movie didn’t and he got to ride a dragon and make his bullying enemies dive for cover. Unrealistic? Perhaps. Still, there’s something to be said for letting go and latching onto a loftier ambition.
Try it.
Ever seen the movie The Neverending Story? There’s a line in the movie that every time I hear it, a twinge of life choice remorse floats through my brain. When beseeched to help the world of Fantasia by believing he is a part of the story, a part of the creative process, and giving the world’s empress a new name, the main character says, “But, I can’t! I have to keep my feet on the ground!” It seemed expected of me to pursue a solidly helpful education and I got the very distinct impression that a degree in some liberal arts program was not the way to go. With not enough pull in one direction or another that was “solid” and not enough courage to speak up and follow my heart, I floundered. I received my two-year degree from the mishmash of courses I had taken, but not in a specific discipline. But, hey, the program was classified in the liberal arts category, so I sort of won the battle, but not the war. Without the courses specific to the programs I would have preferred to take (English/Journalism), pursuing careers even remotely associated with them became near impossible, and continuing on to get said degree is a luxury I can't afford.
That’s what I got for keeping my feet on the ground. The kid in the movie didn’t and he got to ride a dragon and make his bullying enemies dive for cover. Unrealistic? Perhaps. Still, there’s something to be said for letting go and latching onto a loftier ambition.
Try it.
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