Tag Archives: Daily Prompt

Daily Prompt Reply: Google and Rescue Operation

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This is a tricky subject, to be honest. I’m one of those people that clears my search history regularly and freaks out if someone needs to use my laptop before I have. Thankfully, I haven’t been looking at anything below societal standards of “okay” lately. Honestly, I would say that there is a bit of debate as to what I last looked up. I’ll give both examples and let you decide. Either way, I’m giving to answers to this prompt. Hopefully it makes up for my rather long absence recently.

Last night, I had to Google search the MMO RIFT. I was having technical issues, and for some reason I wasn’t sure that their website would simply be rift.com. There are so many games and websites now that aren’t what you would think, and you end up getting sent somewhere that you wouldn’t expect. Sometimes that place is quite counterproductive. I had been coin locked in this game, meaning that I could not buy, sell, destroy items, or in any other way exchange coin. The notification said that I would receive an email with the code to release it. I am still rather new to this game, and seeing as it is much more free to play than other games, seeing as you don’t have to buy access to new areas, so I thought that the fact that I made a second character was what had caused it. Well, I went to my email, and there was nothing. I checked again, nothing. I had it resent, nothing. I waited until the next day, nothing. So, naturally, I followed the next instruction on the notice and tried to contact customer support. That was the most recent Google search. My only issue is that, and I say this with the utmost respect for this game, they didn’t have a way to get live support!!! It was all submitting a ticket!!! I don’t know if you have ever submitted a ticket, but from my experience it usually takes them a few months to get back to you. I’d like to play your game again soon, RIFT developers. Well, I had checked my inbox and my spam folders. I resort to scouring my gmail account to try and find it. I finally find this tab in small print smushed in with a lot of social panels. “All Mail.” I clicked it just as a lark and there it was, plain as day. As well as a few emails that I had been looking for in the past and a few hundred other emails that I didn’t even know that I had gotten. Really Google, please make this crap easier to use. Why do I have two inboxes that are technically designated as the same thing but are somehow different? If you can explain the difference, please do so in the comments of this post.

The other thing that I have recently Google searched but may or may not count in this case was for the picture above. I looked it up while typing up this post. Why? I feel that a little bit of visual enriches my post and helps those that are visual learners to really connect with how I was feeling. At the same time, it keeps people from misunderstanding the tone of my post for the most part. Someone might read a post and think that I am angry or passionate and get a offended, but if they see a picture that would show that I was actually meaning in a lighthearted or goofy way, that helps me convey my message. If you feel like this one was my most recent Google search, alright then. It’s just not quite as interesting as the one above.

 

Daily Prompt: http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/11/06/daily-prompt-searching/

Picture: http://empowerdnetwork.blog.com/2012/02/29/do-you-enjoy-pulling-your-hair-out/

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Daily Prompt Reply: Video Games

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I was never addicted to what got in the way of my goals, though others might tell you otherwise. Thankfully, that is not me in the picture, but I swear that I’ve done similar things in the past. As if the picture didn’t give it away enough, My seeming addiction was video games. While I wasn’t addicted, I did use them as a coping mechanism to the point that I closed out the entire world and hid inside of them.

You get back from a long day’s work at college, school, or work, and what do you do? Some people watch TV, but that always struck me as dull and repetitive. Other people hang out with their friends, but for the past few years, my friends were always across the state line and had to drive 45 minutes or so to see me. Others just get right down to business and do some extra work from what they just got back from, start doing chores, and go to sleep feeling like they haven’t done enough. I feel like we can all agree that we hate being lectured by this last group like they are better than us. I’ve always been a work to play sort, anyway. Or as my father calls it, “Work to live instead of live to work,” the latter being my mother’s choice. I would get home, get any work that I needed to get done, done, and go sit down with my games. In high school, this was after I had gotten back from marching band practice, and in college I would go play backyard sports with my friends, so I didn’t really have the issue of getting fat for lack of physical activity. It didn’t seem that bad to me. The only issue was that, slowly, I started to try to do less and less work to try to get to the games faster. I started to eschew this or that, and it didn’t seem that bad. Things always seemed to work themselves out. That is, until I stopped doing certain pieces of homework altogether. When I didn’t do homework, I would feel guilty the next day and not want to look my teacher in the face. In college, this presented an issue because I could skip without the immediate fear of my mother, who was a holy terror when it came to school. I started to skip classes to finish work, but then I would skip the class intending to finish the work and never pick it up. My life became consumed with them. I even stopped playing sports with my friends because they would ask why they hadn’t seen me in class. They were just worried, but the combination of my guilt and my paranoia made it next to impossible to look at them straight. I would just sit in my dorm room for days on end playing games only coming out to pay the pizza delivery guy.

Thankfully, I don’t have this issue anymore. If I did, my father wouldn’t have me living in the same house as him. I’ve grown a lot, and frankly video games a way to hang out with my friends when they can’t drive to me and a form of competitive entertainment.

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Daily Prompt Reply: Exhale

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Today’s prompt hits me very close to home. I’m not going to be one of these bloggers that reminisce and such, so I’ll keep it as subjective as possible. Hey, maybe my experience may even help one of you out there. I can only hope…

I’ve always been a very intelligent person, and proud at that. As if you hadn’t already realized this by reading my other posts. Throughout my entire life in school all the way through high school, I had never even come close to failing a class, much less a grade. Even though I rarely made the honor roll, it was more from a lack of motivation. Whenever I tested, I tested higher than anyone else in the school, even those on the honor roll. During classes, I grasped an entire chapter from the textbook on the first day of a week-long lesson. My teachers actually got angry at me for NOT letting people cheat off of me. This may seem like me just bragging and talking about how great I am, but I’m not. I’m setting the stage for what comes next.

After I finished high school, I went to college, which is the natural course. However, I didn’t feel comfortable about it. This is a normal thing among college students. Most freshly-graduated, high school students see college as a daunting task lined with hurdles to leap over. Why wouldn’t they? All through high school, at least at the schools that I went to, we were told that college was a cut-throat place where if you didn’t flail in an attempt to swim, you would sink like a stone. While I didn’t believe all of that, I saw that I was always having to be pushed to get the small amount of homework that I did get done in the past. As I said, I wasn’t motivated. I could listen in school, never study, and still ace the test. I knew that no matter the work load, without my parents breathing down the back of my neck anymore, I was going to have issues. My father was willing to listen to these worries, but my mother wouldn’t hear it. I wanted to take a year to get my head straight, but I had $13,000 in scholarships. It’s not the most that I could have gotten, but it’s a pretty impressive amount. My mother was sure that if I didn’t take the opportunity right then, the scholarships would go away, and they might have. I couldn’t argue after that. All my life, I was told that my scholarships had to pay for college because my parents wouldn’t. Not that they couldn’t, but they wouldn’t. So I went.

When I got to college, things seemed alright. The classes were fast-paced enough to keep me involved, the people, though new and strange to me, were friendly and fun, and I was experiencing new things. I got lost in this newness partially. When the work started coming, I would do some, but it didn’t seem like a big deal. The first few assignments I didn’t even do because I couldn’t figure out the website that told us what our homework was. Essays were a nightly thing. Each class demanded a 3-page essay every time you went to class on most days. I don’t know if this is different than other college experiences, but that’s what I got. I am a very quick writer. I could write a 3-page paper that I was interested in in 15 minutes. The issue was that they had us write about these things multiple times, or they would have us write on trivial things. I lost interest, didn’t turn in a few, turned in others late. I thought my test scores would lift the slack like they always did. After a few tests, I looked at my grade. The color drained from my face when I saw the 43% on the screen. Apparently the work and the tests were weighted much differently at this college  than they were at my high school. I spoke with my teachers, and they explained that tests were quite inconsequential there. They were only there as a sort of formality or way to see what they needed to teach more of. I began not only trying to finish every project on my plate, but also everything that I had missed. Sadly, I was barely able to keep up with what I had, much less what I had let slip by. I would miss a class here so that I could finish this paper, and miss a class there so that I could finish that diorama. Eventually the teachers started looking at me sideways, as though I was the student that they didn’t want to see. I would miss a class and think, “I can’t face them after that.” A string of absences started to pull together that I could never recover from. Occasionally I would go to class to just do a test when I hadn’t been in for two weeks. I would ace the test, much to the professor’s astonishment. Then I would go back to my dorm room, and no one would see me for days. My mother lost her job. My dad fell on hard times. Now, even if I pulled things together in the second semester, I would lose enough financial aid that I couldn’t afford to stay. I became so guilty that I began to starve myself. I just wasn’t hungry. The pain of guilt that I felt overcame any hunger pain that I might have noticed. Finally, I had to tell my parents what I had been doing for the whole year, and that out of somewhere around 9 or 10 classes, I had passed two of them by the skin of my teeth. My father practically renounced me, and my mother clearly told me that she gave up on me as a person. I had nothing.

It was at the bottom of this seemingly bottomless pit that I took a breath. What could I do? I couldn’t salvage my classes. I couldn’t go back and changes what I did. I couldn’t talk or reason my way out of it. I couldn’t even manipulate people into it. What was I supposed to do? For once in my entire life, I couldn’t look to the past, and I couldn’t tactically weasel my way out of it. I was forced to look to the future. What could I do? I could move in with my father since my mother wouldn’t speak to me, much less see me or live with me  again. I could get a job to save up for community college, an idea that I loathed during high school. After I completed my required classes, I would have enough savings and aid to transfer to a good university. For once, I felt like I was in control of my own future, and my own decisions. I was calm, and I could see the light at the top of this pit, the echelon that I held myself to before college. I’m still working to get there, but I can see the light.

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Daily Prompt Response: Eye of the Beholder

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This is a rather hard one for me to write on. Throughout my entire life, art hasn’t really affected me. I just can’t connect. The few that I can, I find myself pondering it, which is a good thing, but I don’t see the beauty of the piece. The impact of the piece is more of how difficult it might or might not have been for the artist. I see the days, weeks, and months that the artist took on the piece. I think of the difficulty levels, the brush strokes, the shapes, the inspirations, the emotions, everything that the casual observer might not see. I never see the piece. I see the artist. I guess that’s more of an uplifting way of seeing it, but sometimes I’d just like to look at the piece and say, “Wow, that’s really beautiful.”

There is one form of art that I react to the piece. I have seen those that didn’t see it as art, but I find these people to be very misinformed on this matter. Classical music. However, I can’t listen to it on an iPod or from the internet. Speakers and headphones, no matter the quality, just don’t carry the same weight. To hear a full concert band in person, to be awash in the tender embrace of those warm vibrations, is heavenly. People talk about how they feel their music, but they talk about how they feel it in their hips or their feet. Classical music… I feel it all over. I can pick out the trumpets, the flutes, the clarinets, and even the gut-moving bass of the tuba line. I played tuba in marching band, and hearing the movement of the tuba line can almost bring a tear to my eye. Find me weird or strange if you’d like, but that’s just how I am, and it’s what I enjoy.

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Daily Prompt Reply: On the Road

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It may be a bit selfish, but the family that I would stay with while real life was paused would be one of the families in the Medieval reenactment towns where they live there indefinitely. It would be mainly to serve a purpose, though. I’ve always wanted to be a blacksmith, but lacked any way to pick up the trade. I have watched good smiths at work, and I find the methodical, rhythmic clanging of steel against steel to be therapeutic. The physical activity in itself would be needed, as well. I’ve been a bit of a lump on a log here at home. I would just want to live with the smith’s family in this town and learn as much of the trade as I could.

Some of you might ask yourselves, “Why not just live with the Amish?” Well, that’s a complicated question. While they are a bit more lenient about modern technology, if only barely, the cons would outweigh the pros. I’m not Christian, which would earn me their distrust and resent, along with the frustration it would cause me. Also, their behavioral code is far more strict than I think I could take. While I am a bit of a discipline freak, I don’t really know their etiquette. I would be in a constant state of paranoia that I might do or say something wrong. Meanwhile, I know much more about ancient history, and I could easily live alongside those in a Medieval reenactment village. It would take me a day or two to learn customs, seeing as I already know most of them. Past that, life is life. It would be nice to learn smithing, even if I only get to do it as a hobby.

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Daily Prompt Reply: Cleaning House

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Reading today’s prompt, I felt like they were talking about more than simple cleaning. “Garbage in your life,” seems more like how you deal with things on a daily basis, so you are going to get an insight into this not-so-humble blogger.

I am much more sensitive to things than I would give myself credit for. In fact, everyone in my life piles garbage onto me daily. It’s not a matter of if someone hurts me or not. It’s a matter of who hurts me less than others. As I think about it, I feel like most people are like this, though I may just be completely wrong. It’s hard to tell with these things. Some people are far more self aware than others. Because of this, even people that do feel the same way that I do might not even know it due to a lack of exploration into their own subconscious. It’s food for thought and fuel for irritation.

Considering my sensitive nature, you would think that I might be completely introverted and a bit of a hermit. While I can be a bit of a hermit due to my borderline obsession with video games once I get into one, I am actually quite an extrovert most of the time. However, I don’t really throw this garbage out on the “cleaning day.” Instead, I take a page out of every child’s book who sweeps their stuff under the bed. I shove everything that I can into the basement, using excuses to myself as the broom. That doesn’t make me bitter, although others might tell you differently. These excuses range from, “They didn’t really mean it. I just took it the wrong way,” to, “I can’t really do anything about it. I just need to not worry about it.”

I will most definitely elaborate on this in future posts under my own topic. If I put it all into one post, this would be long enough to be a college research project.

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Daily Prompt Reply: Standstill

This prompt didn’t define how long time would stand still to allow me to tweak something, so I’ll have to give two answers. My first would be if the case was that time was to stand still indefinitely while I tweaked one thing. This would be what I would prefer, but also the less likely. I would find my way to the Carolina Powerball Lottery building, which would be an impressive task since I don’t even know where that is. Assuming that computers would also be frozen, I hope that my metabolism froze as well. My search would take months of real time, and I would fear that if I ate anything, that would count as my tweak. Once I finally found and reached my destination, I would look at the jackpot numbers and copy them down. That would be assuming that picking up a pencil wouldn’t be a tweak either, that writing wouldn’t be a tweak, and that you could write while time were frozen. After time started again, I would buy the lottery ticket and give the winnings to my father, who is in dire straits at the moment. It’s shocking how one tweak depends on so many smaller things, and how one tweak requires many smaller tweaks. I mean, even if you’re just pulling someone’s pants down in public, you are unbuckling their belt (if they are wearing one), unbuttoning their pants, unzipping their pants, pulling their pants down, and pulling their underwear down. That’s five, less dramatic tweaks that all might count. It’s food for thought. Now, should the standstill only be momentary for a tweak, which may be the case, the options would be far fewer in number. Honestly, at that point you only have time to do one thing without consequence. Of course, if you murdered someone and you were the only one awake at the time, you would still suffer consequences. You couldn’t even steal something. Your fingerprints would still be there, and it might be deduced that it was you. Taking all this into consideration, your options would be very limited. You would barely have time to leave the house, much less go to any length to get somewhere. You would have the time to do something that you could do otherwise without being seen or heard. Anything on a large scale, ranging from theft to murder, that would warrant close attention would still get you caught. With that short amount of time, there would be nothing that I would want to change. Everything that I would want to do would require some amount of time, or leaving no trace. I would probably sit and wait it out. Considering the fact that currently I am sitting at home, the only person awake in a dark room, I probably wouldn’t even be aware that time had stopped. Time feels as though it has stopped to me as it is. Add to that the fact that I have no bearing on the concept of time, and I would completely miss that momentary opportunity. It was an interesting thing to ponder, though.

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