Computers Make Life Better... Really

Jasmine had her heart broken yesterday when her Neopets account was frozen. So far, all I've been able to gather in my communication with the folks at Neopets is that she was caught scamming other users. I know there are parents of eleven-year-olds that just let their kids sit unsupervised at the computer but I don't do that. She's the most well supervised kid on the internet and, as far as I can tell, the meanest thing she's ever done on Neopets is start a board discussion about how girls are better than boys because boys are yucky. I'm sure she broke a rule and I'm glad they don't let kids scam each other, but I'd like to know what she did. She's just not a very good writer and she was starting to really use the boards to communicate with other kids. It was a good thing and she's so worried that her neofreinds are going to think she's a bad person. Yesterday was filled with the kind of melodrama that only an eleven-year-old girl can produce.

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My netzero e-mail went haywire and I woke up this morning with over a hundred pages (that's thousands of e-mails) of e-mails in my in-box that are all e-mails that I've sent to the recycling bin in the last year. This can't be a good thing. I've updated my virus protection and as soon as I'm finished typing this, I'm scanning my computer. Meanwhile, if you need to reach me, you can e-mail me at marilynzelha@yahoo.com
I have to keep the netzero e-mail current because there are a lot of homeschooling people and other important folks who have that e-mail... but I'm really fed up with netzero's quirks. I wish I could afford another isp but I'm stuck with this for now. Someday I'm going to have high speed.
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UPDATE: It looks like Jasmine was the one scammed and they are going to give her back her account. The staff at Neopets is a bit overworked but they really do seem to care. I was helped by a woman named Charlotte and she was very professional. Considering that she probably spends 95% of her time dealing with thirteen-year-olds that really were scamming, I'm very impressed. Under those circumstances it would be easy to become bitter. Compare that with Webkinz, who doesn't seem to have any customer service, and I'd have to say Neopets wins hands down. The only downside being that you can't buy a Neopet from Mo at the Wren's Nest.

How to Meditate

I've been having some trouble sleeping lately, which is very unusual for me. It's money. Anyway, once upon a time Andy had the same trouble and we had a conversation that went something like this.

Me: Maybe you should learn to meditate.

Him: Sigh. (I mean he sighed. He didn't say sigh.)

Me: Here's what you do. You picture a lake and all of your thoughts are like ripples on that lake. You just watch them until they calm and the lake gets all smooth. Then you'll be able to sleep.

Things were quiet for a long time and then he sort of jumped a little.

Me: What?

Him: One of the guys in the boat just caught a fish.

Hot Squirrel Love

Proving I can do for fine art what I can do for poetry... I present you with my recreation of the recent squirrel reunion. Click to see it bigger. Right click to make it your desktop wallpaper. Remember though, it's copyrighted and if you want to sell it for profit you have to send me a cut.

Manic Monday: Play

I spent half an hour thumbing through a paperback book tonight, looking for my favorite poem and not finding it because I couldn't remember its name. Funny... there are a lot of poems in this book that I don't like. I guess poetry is like music that way. I bought this whole book for that one poem and it turns out that the one poem is the best one in the book. But then, my opinion isn't all that educated. Anyway, it was by James Tate and it isn't on Poets.org and it must not be my favorite poem anymore. I'll have to read a whole book of poems to find it again and see.

I write poetry. Feel free to run away now. My favorite poem, the one I can't find, is about the courage it takes to write a poem and why it's important to write poems. At least that is what it was about to me when I read it, if I remember it correctly. I was never an English major so you can take my opinions about poetry with a grain of salt.

Poets never tell you what their poems mean. I had a buddy in graduate school that was annoyed about this. He said that poetry seemed to be saying one thing and meaning another and he wanted to know why the poet didn't just cut to the chase and say what he meant in the first place. I guess the reason is probably that the whole point of a poem is to say more than the words mean. What's the point of the subtle ambiguous language of ours if we never get to fool around with that subtlety?

Anyway, writing poems is fun. It's playing with the language in a way I really enjoy,` but blogging is a dangerous occupation for an amateur poet because a poem isn't any good immediately after it is first thought of and written down. Again, this is just me spouting my opinion.

Oh, I feel like every poem I write is the best poem I've ever written when I write it, but I look back on it a month later and I realize that it isn't. I totally understand why Emily Dickinson never shared her work with the world. That takes, not just courage, but an ability to tell the wheat from the chaff. Anyway, in the spirit of play, I offer you the following answer to an age old question. Incidentally, it's also an answer to a writing prompt in a how to write poetry book. I wrote this in 2005 and I don't hate it, so it's probably safe to share.

The Chicken

I wonder if a rooster lives across the way.

What, and leave all this, you ask,
the seeds scratched from the hay,
the warm barn here at night,
the mystical electric light?

I'm weary and lonely and long for the day
when my eggs will be children
and home will be family.
In light of a rooster,
what's hay?

Squirrel Parts

I learned something new today. If you can get a good look between the legs of a squirrel and you see any parts, it's a boy. Otherwise it is female...

Mr. Squirrel was the one I caught today. Obviously, Mrs. Squirrel is the one I relocated before. I hope they reunite and everything works out between them.

Red White and Blue Diamonds are Nice

When Jasmine was little (you know, last year) she would ask me about this time of year when the next holiday was that she would get gifts. She isn't a kid that has a lot of stuff and when there's some kind of thing she wants she has to save up the want for Christmas, or a birthday, or Easter or something. Summer is bad for that kind of thing. If she decides there is some doodad she wants, she has to wait till Christmas and by then she doesn't want it anymore.

I think is would be way easier for her if everybody gave Fourth of July gifts. Why is this holiday so uncommercialized? I mean, I'm glad it is, really, but I don't understand how it escaped.

A Note About Today's Mail

We have mailboxes out by the street. They are the old fashioned country-style kind with the flag. Mine is bright blue with a yellow flag. Jasmine and I painted it as an art project and as a result you can tell somebody painted it... there are drips and things. Also, our address is on there in very big numbers because what's the point of having a sign shop if you can't letter your own mailbox? If you live in my town, you know exactly where I live now, and you could do what some thoughtful person did for me today.

I opened the mailbox today with the pessimistic expectation of receiving a bunch of catalogues I didn't order (the result of a grudge held against me by a woman who ought to be ashamed of herself) and bills (the result of me living here and using water and electricity that run from various spigots... as long as I send checks). What I did not expect was a beer.

We don't live in the best neighborhood in town. I have neighbors I love, but none of us are going to make Better Homes and Gardens any time soon. Still, I don't imagine the three-quarters empty beer can came from a neighbor. At first I was angry and then I got to thinking about the circumstances that would lead a person to slip an almost empty beer can into a mailbox. I mean, he (or she) didn't empty it out onto the mail. It was set in with some care. It was a bit crumpled but it was one of those really big cans and wouldn't have fit in there uncrumpled. Why would a person do this? Normally the beer cans are thrown into the gutter for me to pick up.

Was is too heart breaking to waste those last few drops? Was the person trying to share his or her good fortune with me? Was there an officer driving up the street and a quick hiding place needed to be found? All I can say is, whoever you are, thank you for not dousing my catalogues and bills with beer. Also, if you ever join a twelve step program and feel the need to make restitution, you can leave an unopened can of Diet Pepsi. That would make me happy.