Friday, April 11, 2008
Internet Safety
When listening to Jeff's talk on Internet safety on Monday, I was just wishing that I could have heard some of that same information in highschool. It hit me just one more time how lucky I am not to be one of the girls who were seriously injured or killed by Internet predators. When I was seventeen I met with someone I met online and this situation could have turned disasterous if I hadn't quickly decided it was a bad idea and fled the scene. The video that showed how much a predator can find out about you even when you don't list your name, telephone number, address, or age was very shocking. I hope that highschools are continuing to do more to inform their students about the very REAL dangers of the internet.
Monday, March 17, 2008
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
My Creative-ness
My mind is a fly strip, unrolling sickly sticky 121 miles to the north. Just four and a hald more lonely hours until Moses, Godzilla and I begin our trek home.
Moses will roar the untempered sound of a complacent turquoise honda with no muffler, while Godzilla, my traveling fern breathes in the lyrics of some overplayed song. It's almost as beneficial as watering, but Godzilla hates to be overwatered, he prefers one long drink a week.
Sometimes I catch him at the bar.
"Double shot of whiskey, " my ornery fern demands. An order which some gray and grizzly, disheveled bar tender will comply with. He will tell my now drooping fern that it is the last drink of the night however.
I'll take my slurring plant home and assure him that next week he can have another long drink but that right now we are already late.
And what in god's good name was he thinking anyhow- drinking in the mid-afternoon with the hardened alcoholics and raspy voices of 2:00 PM gambling addictions.
I strap Godzilla into the front seat and begin the trip so familiar that it is a lullaby by now...
Golden stitches on the black ribbon of pavement guide me north to waiting arms and guacamole.
Moses will roar the untempered sound of a complacent turquoise honda with no muffler, while Godzilla, my traveling fern breathes in the lyrics of some overplayed song. It's almost as beneficial as watering, but Godzilla hates to be overwatered, he prefers one long drink a week.
Sometimes I catch him at the bar.
"Double shot of whiskey, " my ornery fern demands. An order which some gray and grizzly, disheveled bar tender will comply with. He will tell my now drooping fern that it is the last drink of the night however.
I'll take my slurring plant home and assure him that next week he can have another long drink but that right now we are already late.
And what in god's good name was he thinking anyhow- drinking in the mid-afternoon with the hardened alcoholics and raspy voices of 2:00 PM gambling addictions.
I strap Godzilla into the front seat and begin the trip so familiar that it is a lullaby by now...
Golden stitches on the black ribbon of pavement guide me north to waiting arms and guacamole.
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