I suggest to those of us in our twenties who were too young to understand the first Clinton reign, it's imperative that you watch Hillary: The Movie.

It's not a joke. And you all know I'm not one for drowning you in political diatribe.

You also know I'm lazy. So I'm going to point you to the blog I found this on. Take a GOOD CHUNK out of your day and watch it.

Please.

Ready?

Click here
http://kevinnumerick.com/blog/?p=132

The last three segments have been removed, but the first six are ten minutes long each and worth watching.

Digg that.

My daughter rarely does anything simple. Simplicity is, I'm sure, beneath those belonging to the 'tween set. I'm sure many parents of 'tweens have experienced this, right? Surely, I can't be the only one! (You are the only one, and don't call me Shirley)

Take, for example, what happened this morning. It was bemusing, to say the least.

~ ~ ~
(from the kitchen)

cough, cough, cough

haaaaack

Me: "Cover your mouth!"

(muffled) cough, hack, wheeeeeze

She walks into the living room, where I am piddle-farting around on the computer, looks at the wall (the WALL, people) and says, exasperatedly,

"I wish I had some cough syrup [dramatic pause as she glances towards me for, I don't know, effect]... or something."

She waits two seconds for my response, and when I don't immediately react to her pleas, she throws her hands up in the hair, groans loudly, pivots on her pretty little feet, and stomps out of the room.

Gee, do you think she wanted something? Did you... did you hear something?

I wait for her to come back and ask me nicely, because, well, I'm no big fan of what just transpired, and I'd rather not feel played in this manner. Mom is not a puppet on strings. I prefer direct questions and insults (if any insults are warranted, that is).

She does, eventually, realize I didn't buy it and works up the courage to ask me properly for the cough syrup.

Silly 'tween.

cough, hack, wheeze

I've had so many changes in my life from one year ago.

On Friday I will receive my most recent change... my first SLR. I enter into this field with trepidation. I was originally going to purchase the new Nikon D60, but after careful consideration, I've decided to go with the Nikon D40x. I know it will limit my lens options, but... I just liked it. I got a great deal at Adorama with spare battery, memory card, travel pack (not going to be my normal camera bag) and all of it sold for less than the listed price at Ritz and Circuit City.

Yes, I got the kit lens. I just want something to work with and I do plan on getting more lenses and stuff later. For now, I wanted something simple to help me navigate the wonderful world of SLR.

My beloved Diggie will also continue to be a faithful companion as my compact camera. She's been kind to me.

I'm not a writer, but every now and then I get something in my head that I can't do anything more with. All I have is a snippet.

Jim Jones, the inspirational runner, photographer, and fiction writer, invited me this morning to join him in Flash Fiction Fridays.

The premise is to write a piece of fiction only 55 words long. I'm assuming each week is another 'chapter'.

Chapter 1

Glancing up, she caught his steely gaze.

Flanked by shadows, she sensed him moving fluidly -unnaturally- with the dark. He shifted his weight to one side and took a deep drag off his cigarette.

Her conscience begged for escape, but she was anchored hopelessly.

"It's been a long time," he growled, flicking the expired butt.

Blogging is my hobby. As a hobby, I like blogging to feel fun, light, airy, fru-fru... or, in the very least, as far from 'work' as I can possibly get.

I don't even 'work' at work. It's true. Cleaning is a passion, and except for my lackluster night on Tuesday, I find that work nights can be both meditative and exhilerating. I easily slip into a trance when I am vacuuming; I sing and hum as I dance with my mop; I sway with the motions of wiping the windows. You get the idea.

Although it is considered laborious, tedious, or, simply, 'work' to some, it has become an expression of who I am and a tool with which I can work out any frustration or problem that plagues me. Most of the time, that is. Tuesday I harbored a truckload of emotional pissiness only a woman could understand and it interrupted my night of passionate cleaning. (Ironic and punny how dirty that sounds.)

Not all of my passions are profitable in the financial sense. I love photography, but I have yet to sell a photograph. I am nearly published, but not yet 'bought'. Which is quite alright with me, as the credentials are worth it considering the photos might be used for a church newsletter (a good cause, and of which I'd like a copy). But photography is not my 'job' or career. It does not garner wages of any sort.

I am equally passionate about writing, however little I do of it. Blogging is an outlet, the purge of my mind and the ideas contained therein. It is also a platform for learning and sharing and communicating. What it is not is a money-maker. I tried. I have an account on Pay-Per-Post, but I dislike the idea of sales-pitchin' to my loyal readers. (never made a dime with it) Truthfully, I know you didn't come here to see which advertisement I can cleverly disguise as a blog post. You know that if I like something, I tell you, even if I see no profit in sharing. The closer friends know that I am stubborn and proud and do not like handouts (although in the worst of times it is greatly appreciated, thank you). I do not have ads because after trying that for a few months I grew frustrated in not being allowed to click the links MYSELF, and there were a few good ads I really would have like to have clicked.

I came across a blog today that listed ten reasons why bloggers quit (How to Kill a Blogger, written by fellow buzzard Lunatic Lodge.) It was geared more towards money-bloggers than recreational bloggers such as myself, but I saw a lot of truth in what she wrote. Many bloggers who start out for money just don't realize how much 'work' is involved in lucrative money-blogging.

They have to promote their site, promote their products (most of them are basically selling ad-space), and continually lure in new 'customers'. If you already have a blog, the hope is that people will like what you are writing on it well enough to Digg or Stumble and perhaps lure in a crowd of eager click artists to propel your blog into stardom. The truth is, personal bloggers don't usually make 'that kind' of money.

Instructional bloggers, life coaches, sportscasters, podcasters, people with a defined and exploited niche tend to attract a steady stream of newcomers. This is the kind of traffic a money-blogger craves. (Does this also make a money-blogger an attention whore?)

This is not the kind of traffic -I- want, however. Yeah, sure, I would be lying if I said I didn't want to make money off of my blog, but the truth is, once I pass the threshold from hobby to job, it loses it's luster and I lose interest. I'd much rather blog for a hobby and keep a feeder's handful of regulars than constantly pick apart my stats and sales and pitches.

So, In the grand scheme of things, there are blogging whores (who seek compensation for their service of entertaining you) and blogging sluts (who don't because they enjoy the activity so much they do it for free... or for love).

I guess that makes me a blogging slut.

Meh. I've been called worse.