Last week, I found a new companion. In the eight or so days since we met, she has helped me study the Bible, kept me in touch with my friends, given me music to drown out the noise around me, and assisted me in reviewing books, among other tasks. Her name? Danielle Harriet Vornholt. What's special about her? Well...she is an iPod Touch!
I'm not making that up; a few posts ago, I mentioned that I had named my flat-screen iMac Victoria Kerrie Reeves-Stevens, so, as soon as I bought Danielle, I had to come up with a similar name for her. Frankly, I haven't known that many people who have named their gadgets; a now-late friend and fellow Apple fan named his computer Mac because it was just that. Within the entertainment world, the only example I can think of--other than the infamous HAL and "his" parodies, such as MAAX in a Bill Nye computer game--is Bill Myers' Wally McDoogle series, where the protagonist carries around a laptop he calls "Ol' Betsy." Still, I have known people who named their cars; my sister's first car, an old Chevy of some sort, was dubbed Skippy, and the Le Baron convertible she got next was named Red. At least one other friend mentioned naming his/her automobile, but I can't remember what the name(s) was/were right now.
I expect you may have some questions, so, I will answer what I think most of you are wondering. First off: What are the meanings of the names you've given your devices? I know the names are long, but giving them full names was the only way I could think of to bring together my broad spectrum of interests. All of the following links are to Wikipedia articles about the person/people named, in case you don't know who they are. My iMac's name, Victoria Kerrie Reeves-Stevens, comes from my favorite actress, Victoria Justice, one of my favorite singers, Kerrie Roberts, and two of my favorite authors, Judith and Garfield Reeves-Stevens. My printer, Jennifer Shannon McKeehan, is named after my second favorite actress, Jennifer Stone, the 80's singer (who sings the awesome "Let the Music Play") Shannon, and, one of my longtime favorite musicians, Toby McKeehan, better known as TobyMac. As for my new iPod touch, she is named after television and film actress Danielle Panabaker, the protagonist of one of my favorite movies, Harriet the Spy: Blog Wars, and, another one of my favorite authors, John Vornholt.
Second off: Why name devices in the first place? Those of you who have used technology for a long time probably have noticed that many mechanical devices--cars, computers, televisions, video game systems, etc.--tend to take on personalities of their own. I've seen it myself. I used to have a purple iMac which suffered from moodiness; seriously, for whatever reason, it had days where it just didn't want to work right. My second iPod nano, which I still have, tended to get addicted to certain songs. As mentioned in a previous post, the device I was assigned in fifth grade, known as a DreamWriter, would become so buggy that it just had to initialize itself every so often to "clear its head". I never officially named any of those devices, so, when I talk about them in retrospect, I just refer to them as "my big purple iMac" or "my iPod nano." However, a name like Danielle rolls off the tongue easier, and it sounds better as well. I was never allowed to name my family's pets--they didn't like the names I picked out--and I've never had a car, so, naming a device is as close as I've come to either.
Third off: What's with the female names? It's obvious that I have a penchant for such monikers; if I didn't, would this blog be called Siobhan Thinks Differently? Not only that, but, as pretty much everyone already knows, I get along better with the girls/women than guys. So, if most of my best friends have female names, why can't my constant companions, even if they happen to be digital? To be honest, my iMac's original name was Clark Kent just because of how strong and powerful "he" was, but I only chose that name because the computer was my parents' at the time, and I wanted a name they could appreciate. When Clark Kent became mine, I changed "him" into a "her," Victoria Kerrie Reeves-Stevens. I'm not planning on buying any new devices of any sort anytime soon, but, if and when I ever do get more, they will likely have full female names inspired by my favorites from the entertainment world as well.
Lastly: Is Danielle a substitute for a significant other? In a word: No. Though she may go with me everywhere and help me out quite a bit, I do not--and could not--have romantic feelings towards a piece of technology. If I ever do have a romantic relationship, I'm sure it'll be much more fulfilling than having an iPod I carry around with me everywhere.
Any comments?
"Enthusiasm is the mother of effort, and without it nothing great was ever achieved." -- Ralph Waldo Emerson
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
Sunday, October 28, 2012
After All These Years, It's Still Just as Amazing
Many of you probably know that I have been a fan of various famous entities--real and fictional, human and non-human--throughout my life. Some came and went rather quickly, such as the three girls from H2O: Just Add Water, or the blue-haired Joe Kido and his "digital monster" Ikkakumon. Others lasted a while, but still largely fizzled out at some point: Anne Hathaway and her various innocent roles, from the obedient Ella of Frell to schoolgirl-turned-princess Mia Thermopolis; Hilary Duff and her best-known, literally animated role of Elizabeth Brooke McGuire; ApologetiX and their spoofs of everything from "The Real Slim Shady" to "Sweet Home Alabama" to "You Oughta Know"; Putt-Putt the anthropomorphic car and his various point-and-click adventures; and countless others, including many of which you've probably never heard. There are only a few famous entities which I can say that I have liked for over a decade, and even many of those became weaker in my eyes after a while. Mork & Mindy's later episodes were disappointing because of all the pop culture references that would easily fly over the heads of viewers born well after the show ended; Home Improvement became old hat because of too many repeats; That's So Raven's inaugural season was easily the best, but that's the only one not available on iTunes; Garfield's earlier strips were hilarious, but, over the past decade or so, Jim Davis seems to be running low on ideas; and, using Mac OS X makes me realize how terrible previous Mac systems were. However, there is one--or there are three, depending on how you look at it--famous entity/entities whose works have easily stood the test of time, and sound just as good--if not better--than they did upon first hearing them many years ago: TobyMac, Kevin Max, and Michael Tait, also known as the band dc Talk.
You may wonder: What makes their music have such a lasting appeal? Well, to me, it's rather easy to explain: They combined three different styles of musical talent--rap/hip-hop, rock, and soul/gospel--to make wonderful sounds with a timeless message. Some people feel that, after they went solo/disbanded, their music deteriorated in quality, but I disagree; in fact, some of Kevin and Toby's solo works are comparable to their pre-solo tracks in my opinion.
It's obvious that dc Talk's music, both as a group and solo, has a lasting appeal to me; I listened to songs of theirs such as "Say the Words (Now)," "Dead End Moon," and "What's Goin' Down" countless times throughout my middle and high school years, yet they still get played on my iTunes and iPods fairly often. Say what you want about their music, but, I'll tell you one thing: It just never gets old.
You may wonder: What makes their music have such a lasting appeal? Well, to me, it's rather easy to explain: They combined three different styles of musical talent--rap/hip-hop, rock, and soul/gospel--to make wonderful sounds with a timeless message. Some people feel that, after they went solo/disbanded, their music deteriorated in quality, but I disagree; in fact, some of Kevin and Toby's solo works are comparable to their pre-solo tracks in my opinion.
It's obvious that dc Talk's music, both as a group and solo, has a lasting appeal to me; I listened to songs of theirs such as "Say the Words (Now)," "Dead End Moon," and "What's Goin' Down" countless times throughout my middle and high school years, yet they still get played on my iTunes and iPods fairly often. Say what you want about their music, but, I'll tell you one thing: It just never gets old.
Thursday, October 25, 2012
After All These Years, I Wonder...Why Was I Fighting It?
You all know that I am a man of conviction. If I have a long-held belief that's contrary to your views, you'd have a hard time getting me to subscribe to your way, at least without convincing proof. In many ways, that's good; if I let the oft-expressed negative opinions of nearly everything I've ever liked get to me, I'd end up spending my time involved in activities that I never have considered fun. Still, recently, some new personal revelations have come to light about my own long-held beliefs that, in all honesty, were started in my own mind. You may be surprised by this, but I promise you it's all true.
First up is one topic that's been the root of much controversy between me and those I've known: driving. What started the "I can't" feelings? Simply put, my high school Spanish teacher informed me that she had a friend whose son also reportedly had Asperger Syndrome, and that he--the son himself, that is--felt that he would never be able to drive because of the concentration it would require. Just like every other high school freshman, I had expected to be able to get my license in the next year or two...but I had never thought about how concentration was a big part of becoming a licensed driver. When I thought about how easily I got distracted--I once missed part of Star Wars: Episode II: Attack of the Clones--in IMAX!--because my mind wandered elsewhere while it was playing--I realized that I didn't have the concentration, either, and that started a war between my friends, my family, and I. I defended myself out the wazoo, and even went as far as failing my learner's permit test on purpose the first time I took it, just to get out of any lessons.
I later relented, and passed the test the third time I took it--I failed it the second time, but not on purpose--and soon ended up taking behind the wheel sessions with an older friend. He and I did three sessions in a parking lot, and one in his neighborhood, and that was it. The older friend had wanted me to wash my mom's car--which we were using for the lessons--before the next lesson, which I used as a way out; during that last session, I made numerous mistakes that I felt were inappropriate for someone on his/her fourth driving lesson. It was like walking into class the third week of school and not even knowing my teacher's name.
Even after that, numerous people--ranging from Facebook friends of various ages to family members to teachers--repeatedly tried to encourage me to get back on it, but I did nothing but argue with and/or ignore them. My permit even expired, and I ended up getting a non-driver ID. Later on, I learned to walk places and take public transportation, which has helped, but everyone knows it's still not the same as driving.
Now, what I wonder is: Why did I start this whole thing? It's been years since that same Spanish teacher informed me that the fellow A.S. sufferer she knew actually was driving, but I still kept it going nonetheless. There is a possibility that I shouldn't have my driver's license; after all, there are plenty of people--at least, in my area--whose behavior behind the wheel makes you want to shout, "Hey, dummy! Where'd you get your driver's license; Toys 'Я' Us?" It could end up that I was right all along; however, I'm afraid that the only way that could be proven is me being involved in a terrible accident, and I don't think any of you want that.
Even minus what my Spanish teacher said, the case against me driving is still somewhat strong. As mentioned, my concentration stinks--Star Wars in IMAX!--and traumatic experiences with other psychological medications make me quite hesitant to try any that could possibly rectify that matter. Prior to the realization that driving required concentration, I regularly talked about the fact that I was going to have a bright orange car, but that was just as much of a fantasy as when I told my friends I was going to marry Hilary Duff. If I did get a car, it was going to be whatever my mom could afford and was willing to get me, which likely would have been an old, single-seat truck, not a sporty, neon orange, four-door sedan. Even my mom has gotten behind my non-driving conviction at times; during an assessment to see whether or not I would get a disability check, she told the psychiatrist, "He says he shouldn't be behind the wheel, and he probably shouldn't." More to the point, I'm someone who is perpetually preoccupied. You know how some women, the best-known of which is Michelle Duggar of 19 Kids and Counting, end up giving birth to one kid and quickly getting pregnant with another one again and again? Well, that's how I am with my predicaments; as soon as I let go of one, another one starts plaguing me, and it's been quite constant for pretty much my entire life, which makes me largely unable to relax.
None of the events or beliefs described above matter as much as one I haven't mentioned yet. Even thinking about it recently has made me wonder whether it was God's divine hindrance or Satan's discouragement. Here's what happened: In late 2006, an adult friend--not the one mentioned above--started doing driving sessions with me. He and his wife both felt that I did great, but it all got stopped because that friend got injured. No, I didn't have anything to do with his injury; not only was I not around when it happened, but everyone who knows me knows that I'm not one to resort to violence, especially towards a long-time friend. It took my friend a few weeks to recover, and that ended up making my driving sessions go by the wayside.
The question is: Why did that happen? I know some of you might say that it's just coincidence, but I'm a strong believer that everything happens for a reason. So, when circumstances led to my behind-the-wheel sessions ending, was God trying to say, "Despite the fact that you're doing well so far, and that everyone thinks you should do this, I know this is not for you"? Or, was it Satan trying to say, "Of course you can't drive! You can't do anything! You're as worthless as those middle school bullies said you were, and should stick to sitting around moping and researching all those actresses!"? Frankly, I'm afraid to even make the call on that one; if I decide it was Satan instead of God, and I end up being wrong, my life will probably end up being over.
As long and "epic" as that just was, there's a completely different issue that I'm having similar feelings about: theme parks. I think pretty much everyone reading this knows that, despite the fact that I have at least one amusement park practically in my own backyard, I haven't set foot in one since 1999. Since then, people have been trying to get me to give them another go; even a teacher at my high school was very insistent that I'd like it if I went. She and I argued back and forth about it, but it pretty much ended in a stalemate: I wasn't convinced I would like going, and she wasn't convinced that I wouldn't. Others probably felt--and still do feel--the same way she did.
However, I'm currently wondering why I began fighting against them in the first place. In fact, there was a time in which I couldn't shut up about going there. I know I said that I wasn't allowed to go when I was younger, but that was an oversimplification; the actual truth was, I was only allowed to go with certain people because my mom was afraid that I would throw a temper tantrum otherwise. Looking back, I completely understand how she felt; I was quite prone to those back then. Still, when I did go, I did have fun, and the only reason I refused to go after that was: "My tastes have changed. I'm not as naive nor as adventurous as I was back then. I don't think I would enjoy it now." Still, without actual experience at that age, how could I be so sure that I vehemently argued against those who believed otherwise?
I don't want you to get the wrong idea here. I'm not giving up on my Christian faith, nor am I wavering about my dislike of sports or anything related to large bodies of water. Still, after all these years of arguing with others and defending my beliefs and opinions on the matters in the previous paragraphs, I wonder: Why was I fighting it? Was it even worth fighting? Have I been wrong this whole time? I, frankly, have no idea; do any of you?
First up is one topic that's been the root of much controversy between me and those I've known: driving. What started the "I can't" feelings? Simply put, my high school Spanish teacher informed me that she had a friend whose son also reportedly had Asperger Syndrome, and that he--the son himself, that is--felt that he would never be able to drive because of the concentration it would require. Just like every other high school freshman, I had expected to be able to get my license in the next year or two...but I had never thought about how concentration was a big part of becoming a licensed driver. When I thought about how easily I got distracted--I once missed part of Star Wars: Episode II: Attack of the Clones--in IMAX!--because my mind wandered elsewhere while it was playing--I realized that I didn't have the concentration, either, and that started a war between my friends, my family, and I. I defended myself out the wazoo, and even went as far as failing my learner's permit test on purpose the first time I took it, just to get out of any lessons.
I later relented, and passed the test the third time I took it--I failed it the second time, but not on purpose--and soon ended up taking behind the wheel sessions with an older friend. He and I did three sessions in a parking lot, and one in his neighborhood, and that was it. The older friend had wanted me to wash my mom's car--which we were using for the lessons--before the next lesson, which I used as a way out; during that last session, I made numerous mistakes that I felt were inappropriate for someone on his/her fourth driving lesson. It was like walking into class the third week of school and not even knowing my teacher's name.
Even after that, numerous people--ranging from Facebook friends of various ages to family members to teachers--repeatedly tried to encourage me to get back on it, but I did nothing but argue with and/or ignore them. My permit even expired, and I ended up getting a non-driver ID. Later on, I learned to walk places and take public transportation, which has helped, but everyone knows it's still not the same as driving.
Now, what I wonder is: Why did I start this whole thing? It's been years since that same Spanish teacher informed me that the fellow A.S. sufferer she knew actually was driving, but I still kept it going nonetheless. There is a possibility that I shouldn't have my driver's license; after all, there are plenty of people--at least, in my area--whose behavior behind the wheel makes you want to shout, "Hey, dummy! Where'd you get your driver's license; Toys 'Я' Us?" It could end up that I was right all along; however, I'm afraid that the only way that could be proven is me being involved in a terrible accident, and I don't think any of you want that.
Even minus what my Spanish teacher said, the case against me driving is still somewhat strong. As mentioned, my concentration stinks--Star Wars in IMAX!--and traumatic experiences with other psychological medications make me quite hesitant to try any that could possibly rectify that matter. Prior to the realization that driving required concentration, I regularly talked about the fact that I was going to have a bright orange car, but that was just as much of a fantasy as when I told my friends I was going to marry Hilary Duff. If I did get a car, it was going to be whatever my mom could afford and was willing to get me, which likely would have been an old, single-seat truck, not a sporty, neon orange, four-door sedan. Even my mom has gotten behind my non-driving conviction at times; during an assessment to see whether or not I would get a disability check, she told the psychiatrist, "He says he shouldn't be behind the wheel, and he probably shouldn't." More to the point, I'm someone who is perpetually preoccupied. You know how some women, the best-known of which is Michelle Duggar of 19 Kids and Counting, end up giving birth to one kid and quickly getting pregnant with another one again and again? Well, that's how I am with my predicaments; as soon as I let go of one, another one starts plaguing me, and it's been quite constant for pretty much my entire life, which makes me largely unable to relax.
None of the events or beliefs described above matter as much as one I haven't mentioned yet. Even thinking about it recently has made me wonder whether it was God's divine hindrance or Satan's discouragement. Here's what happened: In late 2006, an adult friend--not the one mentioned above--started doing driving sessions with me. He and his wife both felt that I did great, but it all got stopped because that friend got injured. No, I didn't have anything to do with his injury; not only was I not around when it happened, but everyone who knows me knows that I'm not one to resort to violence, especially towards a long-time friend. It took my friend a few weeks to recover, and that ended up making my driving sessions go by the wayside.
The question is: Why did that happen? I know some of you might say that it's just coincidence, but I'm a strong believer that everything happens for a reason. So, when circumstances led to my behind-the-wheel sessions ending, was God trying to say, "Despite the fact that you're doing well so far, and that everyone thinks you should do this, I know this is not for you"? Or, was it Satan trying to say, "Of course you can't drive! You can't do anything! You're as worthless as those middle school bullies said you were, and should stick to sitting around moping and researching all those actresses!"? Frankly, I'm afraid to even make the call on that one; if I decide it was Satan instead of God, and I end up being wrong, my life will probably end up being over.
As long and "epic" as that just was, there's a completely different issue that I'm having similar feelings about: theme parks. I think pretty much everyone reading this knows that, despite the fact that I have at least one amusement park practically in my own backyard, I haven't set foot in one since 1999. Since then, people have been trying to get me to give them another go; even a teacher at my high school was very insistent that I'd like it if I went. She and I argued back and forth about it, but it pretty much ended in a stalemate: I wasn't convinced I would like going, and she wasn't convinced that I wouldn't. Others probably felt--and still do feel--the same way she did.
However, I'm currently wondering why I began fighting against them in the first place. In fact, there was a time in which I couldn't shut up about going there. I know I said that I wasn't allowed to go when I was younger, but that was an oversimplification; the actual truth was, I was only allowed to go with certain people because my mom was afraid that I would throw a temper tantrum otherwise. Looking back, I completely understand how she felt; I was quite prone to those back then. Still, when I did go, I did have fun, and the only reason I refused to go after that was: "My tastes have changed. I'm not as naive nor as adventurous as I was back then. I don't think I would enjoy it now." Still, without actual experience at that age, how could I be so sure that I vehemently argued against those who believed otherwise?
I don't want you to get the wrong idea here. I'm not giving up on my Christian faith, nor am I wavering about my dislike of sports or anything related to large bodies of water. Still, after all these years of arguing with others and defending my beliefs and opinions on the matters in the previous paragraphs, I wonder: Why was I fighting it? Was it even worth fighting? Have I been wrong this whole time? I, frankly, have no idea; do any of you?
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
Penmanship and Me: The REAL Story
Despite my disability, I did pretty much the same assignments all of the other students did: tests, quizzes, homework, projects, etc. From fifth grade onward, though, there was one major difference in how I did it versus how the rest of my class did: Whereas they wrote everything unless specified, I typed everything. Yes, I was given a device by the school system, because handwriting has never really been my strong suit. I used to say, "I can't write!", but I've realized recently that's incorrect. A more accurate statement is: In some cases, it's a better idea if I refrain from writing. Of course, as usual, I'll delve into my history to discuss how the situation came to be what it is today.
In kindergarten, my handwriting was as bad as everyone else's; no joke. Even though I could read like nobody's business from day one, I still had the typical backwards N's and general illegibility that most early-graders' writing had. The problem became noticeable when my classmates' handwriting improved in ways that mine didn't. I even noticed it; in first grade, I probably mortified my teacher by telling her that I couldn't do an assignment because I couldn't write...right in front of a tech person from the school system's administration. I didn't mean to embarrass her; I just realized that my penmanship paled in comparison to the other kids', which meant that I had a problem, and therefore should refrain from writing. It didn't get me out of anything, though, and I continued to do the same as the other kids for the next few years.
Though my poor handwriting caused problems in pretty much every grade, second grade was the absolute worst. That year was bad for other reasons as well, such as my quack psychiatrist trying me on the absolute worst medication ever, but the handwriting was the main issue. Why was it? At the start of that year, I was tried on a medication--not that aforementioned worst one ever--that, for some unknown reason, made my penmanship better than usual. However, it also caused an adverse reaction--I think either stomachaches or headaches--and I was quickly taken off of it, which made my handwriting go back to where it had been before. You'd think a second grade teacher would be understanding about such a situation, right? Well, mine was the exact opposite. For some reason, this lady put zero stock in medication and medical professionals, and refused to believe the true cause; instead, she felt that I just wasn't trying, which made me really upset. Shockingly enough, she got "Teacher of the Year" the next year, and went on to become a principal; I've always wondered how she managed to do that.
I started at a new elementary school in third grade, and, as soon as I did, there was talk of giving me a device to type my work on. I didn't actually get one until fifth grade, but I'm glad I wasn't given one when they first began talking about it. I say that because of something that almost happened later on: On the first day of eighth grade English class, the teacher went over elements of good handwriting, and, at first, I didn't take any note of it; a classmate said to me, "Aren't you going to write this down?" I ended up deciding that, even though such information was largely useless to me, it was best to do it just to avoid an altercation with the teacher; however, I wouldn't have had such a realization in third grade, where handwriting practice was part of the curriculum for everyone.
Still, I do think I could have used one in fourth grade; that year, my teacher forced me to do my work on the System 7 Mac in the classroom multiple times. He later said that they "went back and forth about" getting me a device to do my work on, but I didn't actually get one until I started fifth grade. That DreamWriter--that was the model name--had some nice features, but it tended to be buggy; it even had to initialize itself every so often to clear out all its issues. (Did it take after the student to which it was assigned? One wonders.) Still, it served me relatively faithfully for most of the year.
Also around that same time was the "Magic School Bus writing" incident. Long story short, I discovered that, if I tried to imitate the font used on MSB media, I could write legibly, even though it took longer. My fourth grade teachers were fine with this; one of them even gave me a shorter assignment because of it. However, it ended up getting cut short in fifth grade, when my math teacher told the student who was grading my timed math test--which I couldn't type--to mark a correct answer wrong; his reasoning was something to the effect of, "That's not the way you write a one." I even had to write the problem and answer five times, even though I had the right answer to begin with; after that, I never used such writing on an assignment again.
Now, let me get into a story that illustrates why I needed such a device: It was obvious early on that my penmanship was poor, so, in a effort to improve it, my mom required me to practice it at least four days a week every week for at least two summers. Sounds like it would help matters, right? Well, it didn't; at the start of every year after those summers, I got the same complaints: "I can't read this." "Please slow down." "This isn't legible." It was like I hadn't even practiced at all. So, those of you who think I didn't need such a device: If practicing like I did didn't change anything, can you honestly think of anything that would? Didn't think so.
In sixth grade, I got my first AlphaSmart, which I used at the start of the year; however, something strange happened around the spring that I still can't explain. Out of boredom, I was drawing a comic in the style of Pokémon Red, which was one of my favorite games at the time, and attempted to emulate the monospace font used within the game. When I tried it, I was shocked at how good it looked, and even the AVID tutors were remarking at how much my handwriting had improved...but, as usual, it proceeded to go back to its usual poorness by the start of seventh grade year.
I used an AlphaSmart in seventh grade as well, and started out with one in eighth grade, but later got a CalcuScribe, though that thing was defective and caused me to lose quite a bit of my work. It wasn't until tenth grade that I got a Dana. No, despite my penchant for female names, I didn't give it that name; if I'd named it, it most likely would have been called Hilary, Lizzie, or Christy. That femininely-named device was actually the best one I ever had; it combined the functionality of the DreamWriter and CalcuScribe with the reliability of the AlphaSmarts. In fact, it ran on a Palm engine, though I never had the heart to try installing any apps on it. Along with my Dana came my own personal printer, which meant I no longer had to leave class to print out my work, though I became known for having a rather large backpack. My Dana was my schoolwork companion from the start of tenth grade until the end of high school; in fact, I literally kissed it goodbye on the last day of my senior year. (Why did I do that? Simply because the pulchritudinous lady from the assistive tech center asked me to, and I couldn't refuse her request in front of a bunch of infatuated high school guys. If you were in my shoes, you'd understand.)
After high school, I went to a technical college, were writing was largely not needed. However, I did apply for plenty of jobs. Did my poor penmanship cause problems then? To a degree, yes; still, it wasn't as bad as you might think. At least half of the jobs, including all of the ones at libraries and most of the ones at bookstores, as well as right many others, required little, if any, writing to actually apply. Most of them had an application that was entirely online, and some of the ones that didn't had a PDF application with blanks that you could fill out via Adobe Reader; after that, all you had to do was print it, sign it, and then deliver it in whatever method: fax, mail, by hand, scan and e-mail, etc. In some ways, it was actually better that I had gotten used to typing instead of writing; as our world continues to go digital, that will likely be the case even more in the years to come.
Recently, some situations have required me to write by hand, but they've usually ended up working out for the better. When I used to be a library volunteer, I was required to "double check" certain items, and to affix a sticky note with any messages that came up when I scanned them. I wasn't sure if the librarian who asked me to do it could read my writing, but she actually could; it probably helped that I wrote in all caps, which I have found easier, despite what some of my critics say. Even submitting written prayer requests during church services has turned out okay. Though no one has asked me to write an entire paragraph by hand in quite a while, I've still had to write by hand at times, and people can usually get the meaning, even if they can't read every single word.
Frankly, I don't know what the future of my handwriting holds. It may turn out that, at some point, I'll be able to write better; then again, there are plenty of people out there, especially guys, who have poor penmanship without any sort of disability. With my condition, it seems that progression is something that literally just happens. The celebrity obsession thing is perfect proof; I never took any steps to try to stop it, but it seems to have come to an end recently. Could that happen with my handwriting? Maybe.
I will end by saying this: Most Christians have certain people in the Bible--other than Jesus, of course--who are their favorites for one reason or another. Usually, when asked which Biblical individual is their favorite, people will say Old Testament characters such as Joseph, Moses, Elijah, or Samson. My favorite, however, has always been the Apostle Paul. Why? Well, he was a prolific writer--hey, he wrote over half of the New Testament!--and, from what I can tell, he didn't let poor penmanship stop him. It has been supposed that his "thorn in the flesh" (2 Corinthians 12:7) was some sort of visual impairment, which is based on Galatians 6:11 ("See what large letters I use as I write to you with my own hand!") and Romans 16:22 ("I, Tertius, who wrote down this letter, greet you in the Lord.") However, I've always wondered if Paul's "thorn in the flesh" was actually some sort of hand-eye coordination problem, which would have made it quite difficult to write as prolifically as he did. I've had people be my scribes, and I have always tended to write rather largely, so I share the same affliction as Paul. While he had Tertius to help him make his thoughts known, I have Victoria Kerrie Reeves-Stevens, aka my flat-screen iMac, to do the same thing. Is it any wonder that I look up to the Apostle Paul?
Any comments?
In kindergarten, my handwriting was as bad as everyone else's; no joke. Even though I could read like nobody's business from day one, I still had the typical backwards N's and general illegibility that most early-graders' writing had. The problem became noticeable when my classmates' handwriting improved in ways that mine didn't. I even noticed it; in first grade, I probably mortified my teacher by telling her that I couldn't do an assignment because I couldn't write...right in front of a tech person from the school system's administration. I didn't mean to embarrass her; I just realized that my penmanship paled in comparison to the other kids', which meant that I had a problem, and therefore should refrain from writing. It didn't get me out of anything, though, and I continued to do the same as the other kids for the next few years.
Though my poor handwriting caused problems in pretty much every grade, second grade was the absolute worst. That year was bad for other reasons as well, such as my quack psychiatrist trying me on the absolute worst medication ever, but the handwriting was the main issue. Why was it? At the start of that year, I was tried on a medication--not that aforementioned worst one ever--that, for some unknown reason, made my penmanship better than usual. However, it also caused an adverse reaction--I think either stomachaches or headaches--and I was quickly taken off of it, which made my handwriting go back to where it had been before. You'd think a second grade teacher would be understanding about such a situation, right? Well, mine was the exact opposite. For some reason, this lady put zero stock in medication and medical professionals, and refused to believe the true cause; instead, she felt that I just wasn't trying, which made me really upset. Shockingly enough, she got "Teacher of the Year" the next year, and went on to become a principal; I've always wondered how she managed to do that.
I started at a new elementary school in third grade, and, as soon as I did, there was talk of giving me a device to type my work on. I didn't actually get one until fifth grade, but I'm glad I wasn't given one when they first began talking about it. I say that because of something that almost happened later on: On the first day of eighth grade English class, the teacher went over elements of good handwriting, and, at first, I didn't take any note of it; a classmate said to me, "Aren't you going to write this down?" I ended up deciding that, even though such information was largely useless to me, it was best to do it just to avoid an altercation with the teacher; however, I wouldn't have had such a realization in third grade, where handwriting practice was part of the curriculum for everyone.
Still, I do think I could have used one in fourth grade; that year, my teacher forced me to do my work on the System 7 Mac in the classroom multiple times. He later said that they "went back and forth about" getting me a device to do my work on, but I didn't actually get one until I started fifth grade. That DreamWriter--that was the model name--had some nice features, but it tended to be buggy; it even had to initialize itself every so often to clear out all its issues. (Did it take after the student to which it was assigned? One wonders.) Still, it served me relatively faithfully for most of the year.
Also around that same time was the "Magic School Bus writing" incident. Long story short, I discovered that, if I tried to imitate the font used on MSB media, I could write legibly, even though it took longer. My fourth grade teachers were fine with this; one of them even gave me a shorter assignment because of it. However, it ended up getting cut short in fifth grade, when my math teacher told the student who was grading my timed math test--which I couldn't type--to mark a correct answer wrong; his reasoning was something to the effect of, "That's not the way you write a one." I even had to write the problem and answer five times, even though I had the right answer to begin with; after that, I never used such writing on an assignment again.
Now, let me get into a story that illustrates why I needed such a device: It was obvious early on that my penmanship was poor, so, in a effort to improve it, my mom required me to practice it at least four days a week every week for at least two summers. Sounds like it would help matters, right? Well, it didn't; at the start of every year after those summers, I got the same complaints: "I can't read this." "Please slow down." "This isn't legible." It was like I hadn't even practiced at all. So, those of you who think I didn't need such a device: If practicing like I did didn't change anything, can you honestly think of anything that would? Didn't think so.
In sixth grade, I got my first AlphaSmart, which I used at the start of the year; however, something strange happened around the spring that I still can't explain. Out of boredom, I was drawing a comic in the style of Pokémon Red, which was one of my favorite games at the time, and attempted to emulate the monospace font used within the game. When I tried it, I was shocked at how good it looked, and even the AVID tutors were remarking at how much my handwriting had improved...but, as usual, it proceeded to go back to its usual poorness by the start of seventh grade year.
I used an AlphaSmart in seventh grade as well, and started out with one in eighth grade, but later got a CalcuScribe, though that thing was defective and caused me to lose quite a bit of my work. It wasn't until tenth grade that I got a Dana. No, despite my penchant for female names, I didn't give it that name; if I'd named it, it most likely would have been called Hilary, Lizzie, or Christy. That femininely-named device was actually the best one I ever had; it combined the functionality of the DreamWriter and CalcuScribe with the reliability of the AlphaSmarts. In fact, it ran on a Palm engine, though I never had the heart to try installing any apps on it. Along with my Dana came my own personal printer, which meant I no longer had to leave class to print out my work, though I became known for having a rather large backpack. My Dana was my schoolwork companion from the start of tenth grade until the end of high school; in fact, I literally kissed it goodbye on the last day of my senior year. (Why did I do that? Simply because the pulchritudinous lady from the assistive tech center asked me to, and I couldn't refuse her request in front of a bunch of infatuated high school guys. If you were in my shoes, you'd understand.)
After high school, I went to a technical college, were writing was largely not needed. However, I did apply for plenty of jobs. Did my poor penmanship cause problems then? To a degree, yes; still, it wasn't as bad as you might think. At least half of the jobs, including all of the ones at libraries and most of the ones at bookstores, as well as right many others, required little, if any, writing to actually apply. Most of them had an application that was entirely online, and some of the ones that didn't had a PDF application with blanks that you could fill out via Adobe Reader; after that, all you had to do was print it, sign it, and then deliver it in whatever method: fax, mail, by hand, scan and e-mail, etc. In some ways, it was actually better that I had gotten used to typing instead of writing; as our world continues to go digital, that will likely be the case even more in the years to come.
Recently, some situations have required me to write by hand, but they've usually ended up working out for the better. When I used to be a library volunteer, I was required to "double check" certain items, and to affix a sticky note with any messages that came up when I scanned them. I wasn't sure if the librarian who asked me to do it could read my writing, but she actually could; it probably helped that I wrote in all caps, which I have found easier, despite what some of my critics say. Even submitting written prayer requests during church services has turned out okay. Though no one has asked me to write an entire paragraph by hand in quite a while, I've still had to write by hand at times, and people can usually get the meaning, even if they can't read every single word.
Frankly, I don't know what the future of my handwriting holds. It may turn out that, at some point, I'll be able to write better; then again, there are plenty of people out there, especially guys, who have poor penmanship without any sort of disability. With my condition, it seems that progression is something that literally just happens. The celebrity obsession thing is perfect proof; I never took any steps to try to stop it, but it seems to have come to an end recently. Could that happen with my handwriting? Maybe.
I will end by saying this: Most Christians have certain people in the Bible--other than Jesus, of course--who are their favorites for one reason or another. Usually, when asked which Biblical individual is their favorite, people will say Old Testament characters such as Joseph, Moses, Elijah, or Samson. My favorite, however, has always been the Apostle Paul. Why? Well, he was a prolific writer--hey, he wrote over half of the New Testament!--and, from what I can tell, he didn't let poor penmanship stop him. It has been supposed that his "thorn in the flesh" (2 Corinthians 12:7) was some sort of visual impairment, which is based on Galatians 6:11 ("See what large letters I use as I write to you with my own hand!") and Romans 16:22 ("I, Tertius, who wrote down this letter, greet you in the Lord.") However, I've always wondered if Paul's "thorn in the flesh" was actually some sort of hand-eye coordination problem, which would have made it quite difficult to write as prolifically as he did. I've had people be my scribes, and I have always tended to write rather largely, so I share the same affliction as Paul. While he had Tertius to help him make his thoughts known, I have Victoria Kerrie Reeves-Stevens, aka my flat-screen iMac, to do the same thing. Is it any wonder that I look up to the Apostle Paul?
Any comments?
Saturday, October 13, 2012
Childlike Tastes? No Problem!
I know it's a bit long, but take a look at this list:
That's still the way I roll; one look at my playlist, latest reads, or video/DVD collection, and you'll find that much of it is quite innocent and inoffensive. True, some of it isn't for young children just because they wouldn't be able to understand it, but I always try to keep it clean. For me, when something has a large amount of sexual content, graphic violence, profanity, or similar content, I usually have a negative opinion of it. There have been some exceptions--for example, the Christian movie To Save a Life deserved its "PG-13" rating, but was still great for vilifying the sinful actions shown for the iniquities that they are--but, usually, I can't get behind a movie with such content. That's a very big reason why I always avoid "R" films; if they didn't have much that I would object to, then they wouldn't have that rating. Even with "PG-13" films, I've almost always found that the only good ones are Christian movies, like the aforementioned To Save a Life, superhero flicks, such as Batman Begins or The Avengers, or science fiction/fantasy films, including Star Wars: Episode III: Revenge of the Sith, Star Trek: Nemesis, or Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. Many films with that rating that don't fall into one or more of those categories--Mean Girls 2, Satisfaction, Passengers, etc.--easily rank among the worst movies I've ever seen, as do the two "R" films, Fahrenheit 9/11 and Vision Quest, both of which I watched against my will. Probably the best higher-rated, non-Christian, non-sci-fi/fantasy, non-superhero flick I've ever seen was the 2008 remake of Get Smart, and I even had a few issues with that one. Just last night, I tried watching Girl in Progress, which the Dove Foundation recommended for those over twelve, and was rather upset by much of its content. Books, music, and television can be just as troublesome at times; I've always said that I'm a sucker for entertainment, but only if it's family-friendly.
What I described above is one of the reasons why I'm a big fan of Nickelodeon and Disney productions; these days, it seems like it's nearly impossible for Tinseltown to make a film for adults and/or teens that lacks loads of salacious content. Even some "kiddie" flicks have such problems; Slate magazine called the Percy Jackson movie "scary" and "oversexed," and that was based on a beloved children's novel. Still, for the most part, entertainment intended for the younger set is largely clean...but it nonetheless seems to be the only kind that currently is, and that's why I'm a fan of it.
Unfortunately, it seems that a common trend is for people to seek out salacious content rather than avoid it. I'm reminded of a discussion between two of my seventh grade classmates, where one guy complained that his father would only allow him to watch Disney movies when he had friends over, and the other guy said, "Well, you can watch The Lion King; that's got violence in it!" Later on, some of my high school classmates claimed they had never watched a "G" film, which, in my opinion, isn't something of which to be proud. That's actually more commonplace than many would believe; most folks, it seems, either enjoy such content or are just indifferent to it. I'm not, and that's why "juvenile" entertainment is my favorite kind; it lacks the stuff that I don't like, while keeping the stuff that I enjoy.
Of course, like with much of what I do, my critics feel that I'm "too old" for such entertainment. My defense? "For the Kingdom of God belongs to those who are like these children. I tell you the truth, anyone who doesn’t receive the Kingdom of God like a child will never enter it." (Luke 18:16-17, NLT) "But among you there must not be even a hint of sexual immorality, or of any kind of impurity, or of greed, because these are improper for God’s holy people. Nor should there be obscenity, foolish talk or coarse joking, which are out of place, but rather thanksgiving." (Ephesians 5:3-4, NIV) "Do not be like children in your thinking, my friends; be children so far as evil is concerned, but be grown up in your thinking." (1 Corinthians 4:20, GNT; emphasis mine) I realize that many Christians watch, read, or listen to whatever, and feel that it isn't wrong; I'm not the judge, so I can't say whether it is or not, but I do know that it isn't right for me to do that, because not only does it bother me, but I'm not one to forget entertainment, so whatever I see, hear, or read is likely to stick with me for quite a while. Philippians 4:8 (NIV) says, "Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things." You may not be a fan of the same entertainment I am, but, if you took a look at it, you'd realize it's much more noble, right, and pure than much of what's popular with the teen and adult crowd these days.
Any comments?
Mork & Mindy, Super Smash Bros. Melee, Putt-Putt the talking car, Bill Nye the Science Guy, Judy Blume's Fudge series, Complete Savages, Spider-Man 2, Wishbone, Growing Pains, ApologetiX, Garfield, Lizzie McGuire, dc Talk, Weakest Link, Nintendo GameCube, Diff'rent Strokes, Big Fat Liar, The Magic School Bus, iCarly, Yu-Gi-Oh!, Mario Kart 64, VICTORiOUS, Scooby-Doo, Harriet the Spy: Blog Wars, Star Wars, Kevin Max, TobyMac, Leap Year, American Idol, Dinosaur Safari, Pokémon, Dancing With the Stars, Weddings by Bella...Many of you have likely either never heard or know very little about right many of the items listed...but what do they have in common? Well, they're all entertainment-related--television shows, computer/video games, music artists/bands, movies, and books are all on that list; at some point in my life, each one of them was--and, in a few cases, still is--among my favorites in one area or another; and, all of them are relatively family-friendly, or, at the very least, kid-friendly.
That's still the way I roll; one look at my playlist, latest reads, or video/DVD collection, and you'll find that much of it is quite innocent and inoffensive. True, some of it isn't for young children just because they wouldn't be able to understand it, but I always try to keep it clean. For me, when something has a large amount of sexual content, graphic violence, profanity, or similar content, I usually have a negative opinion of it. There have been some exceptions--for example, the Christian movie To Save a Life deserved its "PG-13" rating, but was still great for vilifying the sinful actions shown for the iniquities that they are--but, usually, I can't get behind a movie with such content. That's a very big reason why I always avoid "R" films; if they didn't have much that I would object to, then they wouldn't have that rating. Even with "PG-13" films, I've almost always found that the only good ones are Christian movies, like the aforementioned To Save a Life, superhero flicks, such as Batman Begins or The Avengers, or science fiction/fantasy films, including Star Wars: Episode III: Revenge of the Sith, Star Trek: Nemesis, or Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. Many films with that rating that don't fall into one or more of those categories--Mean Girls 2, Satisfaction, Passengers, etc.--easily rank among the worst movies I've ever seen, as do the two "R" films, Fahrenheit 9/11 and Vision Quest, both of which I watched against my will. Probably the best higher-rated, non-Christian, non-sci-fi/fantasy, non-superhero flick I've ever seen was the 2008 remake of Get Smart, and I even had a few issues with that one. Just last night, I tried watching Girl in Progress, which the Dove Foundation recommended for those over twelve, and was rather upset by much of its content. Books, music, and television can be just as troublesome at times; I've always said that I'm a sucker for entertainment, but only if it's family-friendly.
What I described above is one of the reasons why I'm a big fan of Nickelodeon and Disney productions; these days, it seems like it's nearly impossible for Tinseltown to make a film for adults and/or teens that lacks loads of salacious content. Even some "kiddie" flicks have such problems; Slate magazine called the Percy Jackson movie "scary" and "oversexed," and that was based on a beloved children's novel. Still, for the most part, entertainment intended for the younger set is largely clean...but it nonetheless seems to be the only kind that currently is, and that's why I'm a fan of it.
Unfortunately, it seems that a common trend is for people to seek out salacious content rather than avoid it. I'm reminded of a discussion between two of my seventh grade classmates, where one guy complained that his father would only allow him to watch Disney movies when he had friends over, and the other guy said, "Well, you can watch The Lion King; that's got violence in it!" Later on, some of my high school classmates claimed they had never watched a "G" film, which, in my opinion, isn't something of which to be proud. That's actually more commonplace than many would believe; most folks, it seems, either enjoy such content or are just indifferent to it. I'm not, and that's why "juvenile" entertainment is my favorite kind; it lacks the stuff that I don't like, while keeping the stuff that I enjoy.
Of course, like with much of what I do, my critics feel that I'm "too old" for such entertainment. My defense? "For the Kingdom of God belongs to those who are like these children. I tell you the truth, anyone who doesn’t receive the Kingdom of God like a child will never enter it." (Luke 18:16-17, NLT) "But among you there must not be even a hint of sexual immorality, or of any kind of impurity, or of greed, because these are improper for God’s holy people. Nor should there be obscenity, foolish talk or coarse joking, which are out of place, but rather thanksgiving." (Ephesians 5:3-4, NIV) "Do not be like children in your thinking, my friends; be children so far as evil is concerned, but be grown up in your thinking." (1 Corinthians 4:20, GNT; emphasis mine) I realize that many Christians watch, read, or listen to whatever, and feel that it isn't wrong; I'm not the judge, so I can't say whether it is or not, but I do know that it isn't right for me to do that, because not only does it bother me, but I'm not one to forget entertainment, so whatever I see, hear, or read is likely to stick with me for quite a while. Philippians 4:8 (NIV) says, "Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things." You may not be a fan of the same entertainment I am, but, if you took a look at it, you'd realize it's much more noble, right, and pure than much of what's popular with the teen and adult crowd these days.
Any comments?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)