Soo . . . yeah.

Yeah . . . so, I've got a new job. I'm working at Starbucks (again) only this time, I'm guaranteed to never be alone, and to never have to deal with irate/abusive customers alone/without support of management/coworkers. Yeah. Big plus. Money coming in. Woohoo.

I've also been thinking pretty seriously about publishing things. I'm a writer - see that poem in the header? Yeah, I wrote that.

I've taken a look at Lulu.com (a popular self-publishing site) and I've started submitting my work to a podcast-in-the-process founded by my addiction hobby site, Gaia Online. Here's the link to the thread in the Writer's Forum that's calling for submissions/explaining the whole deal: Everyday Madness -- Gaia Audio Fiction Podcast

I'm not sure when the podcast goes up, but I will be submitting regularly (my Gaia Username is Isacean) or as often as my work isn't declined for being above the PG-13 rating that the site maintains.

Oh well.

Back to Lulu.

I've been doing a LOT of research - and by a lot, I mean a LOT - about self-publishing. I have to honestly say . . . putting together a book on Lulu doesn't seem like the satanic burnt-offering I always believed it to be. With enough hard work, dedication, and planning . . . I figure I can easily make a nice chunk of pocket change doing it.

My friends are probably going to give me flack for this, but I don't think I care. When I wave my book in their faces, they'll bow down before my awesome talent and skills.

Now . . . what the fuck am I gonna publish?

God help me, I'm going to Hell.

I'm a miserable human being who deserves to be shot. Seriously, I'm a bad person. And I have proof.

I'm a member of an online anime-based forum site called Gaia Online. This forum site has a bunch of cool features, but I've been particularly interested in the Writer's Forum because of the nice big fact that, well, I b writter an all that jazz.

Forgive me, it's 4:30 AM and I am uncaffeinated.

Anyways, back on track: Why I'm going to hell.

Like all properly-run forum sites, there are Report Thread/Report Post/Submit Report buttons that allow the non-moderator members to submit reports to the moderators about threads that are clearly against the rules of the site, or the rules of the specific forum, or have been clearly posted in the wrong place.

How does this make me a person who deserves to go to hell and stay there for a very long time? Well, I'll tell you, Bob! See, this person posted this up:

K LET ME BREAK IT DOWN FO YA....
A BOY NAMED THOMAS AND HIS FREND MERIBELLE GO TO THE NORTH POLE AND THEY BOTH GET HURT THEY BOTH CAN'T MOVE THOMAS SAVES MERIBELLE BUT DIES FROM SAVING HER...OH HE TELLS HER HE L.O.V.E.S HER....
WAT YA THINK I ROTE IT MY SELF? .

I've quoted it directly. It hasn't been altered in any way. The people who don't read the posting guidelines of the Writer's Forum are just this stupid. The worst ones are the ones who post threads in the wrong forum and then claim that they're in the right forum because it's the writer's forum and they're writers.

Let me break down the writer's forum of Gaia for you. There are two commonly-forgotten subforums called the Original Stories/Prose subforum (used for posting original fiction/essays up for critiques) and the Original Poetry/Lyrics subforum (used for posting original poetry and lyrics up for critiques.) Now, why are these subforums forgotten when they permanently float at the top of the page whenever somebody clicks on the Writer's Forum link from the main Forums navigation page?

Because people are retards. They can't take two minutes out of their day to read the posting guidelines, and they can't take two seconds of their precious time looking at the top of the page in order to see if there's a better place to get critiques on their crappy work - and yes, all of the poetry and stories I report as "Misplaced Threads" are pieces of shit that should've never been created - in fact, the people who created them probably should've never been born in the first place - in fact, I should create a time machine, go back three hundred years, kill their ancestors, and rid the world of them altogether!

No, that's not fair. Everybody deserves a chance to improve. It's just that I hate the stupid people who ignore that chance, even when a bunch of people who know what they're talking about are offering it more than once. Thankfully, I've never encountered this type of person outside the n00bs of the Writer's Forum of Gaia Online.

There's another, special kind of person who manages to slip through the infintessimal cracks of when I'm asleep and when I'm awake and hammering out short stories and mini-porn novels and post bullshit in a forum I genuinely care about.

Yes, I care about a message board on teh internetz. Try not to faint.

If you got that reference, you deserve to be my new best friend.

ANYWAYS! These people post the single-line topics along the lines of "i m aa ritter!"

I'm not joking. That's the sad part. And, thank God, this is where my "I'm going to Hell" bit comes into play.

For the last three days, I've wanted to do nothing but report these topics a Misplaced Threads instead of Spam just so I can put in the "Additional Information About Reported Topic" box:

User has posted original fiction in the main writer's forum by claiming to be a writer. Thread belongs in the Original Stories/Prose subforum.

Soyah. I'm going to hell.

But first, I'm going to bed

Peace.

Back in the Saddle

Gah, life's been kicking my ASS for the last few months. I'm not used to this yet . . . but I'll get there. University is treating me well, the socials and the alcohol are treating me even better.

I've started smoking seriously now. It takes me a week or so to finish a pack of cigarettes, so I'm not getting into a really bad habit yet, but it just helps me so much - getting out of the dorm room (I lucked out - I dont have a roomie, even though I'm in a double occupancy room) in order to go socialize with the smokers, hear their stories and get inspiration for mine.

My new drink of choice: Rye and coke. Omnomnomnomnom. <3

Going left from the building my dorm is in is the pretty, pretty Starbucks I hope to work at soon. Going directly right is the pretty, pretty, pretty PRETTY coffee shop that it is my dream to work at. Also going right from my dorm room - closer than the coffee shop - is a beautiful little tea store that sells looseleaf tea. It is my new favorite place.



Peace out.

Screwing With Telemarketers

We've all gotten those obnoxious phone calls from men and women asking us to do surveys, or asking us if we're happy with our long distance service - would we like to upgrade to the deluxe package for only double what we're already paying?

Well, I just had a bit of fun with a telemarketer. On a global standard, what I did was like sticking gum underneath your desk so that the next person who sits down gets sticky, gooey stuff on the knees of their pants, but it was still pretty fucking funny to me.

So this 1-866 number pops up. I answer without thinking. There's a man with an East-Indian accent asking me if there's a Mr or Missus Lam-on-tag-nee living available. My reply: No lam-on-tag-nees live in the house, sorry, wrong number.

It pisses me off when these people call our homes and expect us to give them our time (and hopefully our credit card numbers), yet they can't even be bothered to correctly pronounce our names. How stupid is that?

The next telemarketer I get a call from is getting the, I'm sorry, Mr and Mrs Lam-on-tag-nee (because none of them ever pronounce it right) are dead and I'm waiting for their bodies to finish freezing so I can transport them to the dump without arousing suspicion.

Fucking telemarketers.

My coffee cup is a ninja

This morning, I completed the first part of my provincial standards English exam. Basically, I answered a bunch of essay questions about pictures, quotes and various literary pieces on the topic of "Journey to Discovery." And while this was happening, my coffee cup turned into a ninja - or it might have been a ninja before, I just didn't know about it because it was so ninja.

Anyways. Background.

Provincial English Exam = no food or drink on the desk (it might spill and destroy the answer booklet.) So when I walked in with my ceramic Starbucks to-go mug, I had to stay and finish my tea by the door. (It is only my coffee cup in the sense that tea cups conjure an image of a delicate little thing painted with roses or delicate little birds, while coffee cups generate a much more hearty, sturdy, drink-the-bitter-ash image.) Once I was finished, I put the cup on the teacher's desk like a good little girl and then sat down in my assigned seat to listen to the rules.

The first hour passed. I was doing pretty well for myself, so at the beginning of the second hour - around 10:00 in the morning - I decided to have a nice stretch. I moved my chair back so I wouldn't bump my desk and make noise . . . only to see my coffee cup sitting about two inches away from my left foot.

"My coffee cup is a ninja."

I actually said it out loud in the middle of the provincial exam. People giggled, I got a few glares, but I didn't care. I had a ninja for a coffee cup. That was a good enough explanation for me, so I just kept on going with my exam.

Thinking back on it now, the teacher was probably the one who moved it off her desk and put it by my feet in the first place. Logic dictates that somebody had to have moved the cup from one side of the room to the other - I was sitting about four rows of desks over from the teacher's desk, after all - and ninja coffee cups just aren't logical.

But logic is overrated. Ninja coffee cups will rule the world. But nobody will notice because they're all really, really good ninjas.

My ninja coffee cup is probably still in training.