Friday, May 30, 2014

Enter: Tinkerbell

"Chihuahua" by Anthony Kelly on Flickr,
Creative Commons License
My downstairs neighbors have several dogs. The rules prohibit more than one? Don't worry your pretty head: they certainly haven't. For the winter months, all I knew was that they barked a lot while people were gone, that they barked when I slammed open garlic bulbs (which must have sounded kind of like knocking), and that the owners occasionally yelled at them in unintelligible words.

This spring, with the windows open, I found that one of them was called "Tinkerbell." That's an unfortunate name for a dog, but I assume the dog does their best to move past that and continue living its life of quiet desperation. Living as a purse-dog.

Wednesday, May 21, 2014

My Secret's Secret

Today I downloaded the newly-available Secret app for my phone. It's been in the tech news for months after its release on the Apple platform, and the Android version launched this week.

If you don't know what Secret is, let me give you a quick explanation. When you download the app, it takes a look at the contact information you have. It then anonymously places you in a circle with people you know, based on the information. You can then read and/or post things that people have posted anonymously. Some of them come from the network at large (I saw posts from Uganda and Belgium - certainly no friends of mine!), but a certain percentage of tiles you see come from your "acquaintances" that make up the people you know.

Wednesday, May 14, 2014

Letter to Myself

People write very infrequently these days.

And by that, I mean that they seldom take ink to paper - there’s still a fair amount of digital writing going on. <cough> On...err… other people’s blogs. Or so I hear.

On the recent brass band trip, I brought along a journal. I have many notebooks that I collectively refer to as my journals, but the organization is lacking. That is to say: I don’t really have a system of organization. I usually grab whichever one I lay hands on first, regardless of when the previous entry happens to be dated.

And by a fun coincidence, the notebook I grabbed for this trip happened to have a first entry dated almost a exactly a year previous. I started writing just after I purchased the volume from the hotel sundry shop. I sat on an incredibly ostentatious couch in the historic lobby in Cincinnati and started writing.

And a year later, I sat in the not-at-all ostentatious lobby of the Holiday Inn in Grand Rapids and started writing.