Is it selling out?

So, apparently you can earn some extra cash by putting ads on your blog.  I don't know how much extra cash, or how it works, because I haven't tried it yet.

However, with tuition coming up, normal bills, a brand new AAA bill I haven't paid yet, and a scammer on Amazon.com that took $80 from me (never fear, Amazon paid it back... in a credit that I can only use on Amazon, and therefore I'm still without $80 or my product), the thought of having a few extra dollars floating around is quite appealing.

But, here's the question.  Is it a bad thing to put ads on a blog when you're not actually interested in advertising anything?  I mean, isn't that like commercialism taking over our lives or something like that?  Is commercialism taking over our lives really a bad thing?  Hmmm...

Ooh!  Or maybe I'll start a new blog where I write fictional stories, and therefore have the right to "sell" my product by putting ads up on the site.

Either way, at least I have Ad Blocker Plus! ^_^

I'm fine, I guess

You know how people always ask how you're doing whenever they see you?  You know how the default reaction is to say, "I'm good, how are you?" whether you really are good or not?  Then they say, "I'm good," and you both go on your merry way, with the customary greeting done and therefore nothing further is to be said.

Well, a while ago I decided this was lying, and I would actually think about how I was doing before I answered.  I could say anything from great to good to fine to alright to "OH MY GOSH I HATE MY LIFE TODAY!  My car broke down, I got in a slap fight with a tree, and I have an ingrown nose hair!"  Then I would be honest.

But, what about those days when you are clearly not great, good, fine or even alright (eg, your throat is so swollen you can't drink any more than a tiny trickle of water at a time, which just happens to be a symptom of RABIES), but you're not really in the mood to explain why you are "not doing so well" when somebody asks.  I mean, when someone asks "how are you," and you say, "bad," they're pretty much obligated to ask why.  Only an absolute jerk would be so insensitive as to simply conclude the conversation there... or someone on conversation autopilot, at which point they'll probably say, "That's good," and go back to listening to their rockin' rendition of the fifth movement of Hector Berlioz' "Fantastic Symphony."

Anyway, since most people are not absolute jerks or on conversation autopilot, if you don't want to explain why you are not okay, you must simply lie.  Or, if that's not an option, you must convince yourself that you are indeed fine, and answer, "Fine."

So, since I have the above mentioned throat condition (which could also be a symptom of mumps, thyroid cancer, Sjogren's syndrome, goiter, epiglottitis, dermatomyositis, bleeding esophageal varices, stroke, panic attack, or a swallowed object) I'm clearly not fine.  However, when asked by a passing person how I was, I really didn't want to tell them I'm a step away from rabies, so I simply decided I was fine.

And here are the reasons why I am fine:

*I can still eek a slow stream of water down my throat.
*I am not bleeding from my ears.
*I don't ACTUALLY have rabies.
*My hair is not on fire.
*All of my limbs are facing the right direction.
*I got a couple thousand words added to my book, and therefore have the ability to be productive when I am sick.
*I have 10 fingers and 10 toes, all of which function as they should.
*I have ice cream in my freezer.
*I do not have to perform the funky chicken to the theme song from Dances with Wolves.
*That one song about "flyyyyyy oh oh here we go" is no longer stuck in my head (Okay, it is now.  Nevermind about that).
*I don't have to drive a lawnmower to work every day.
*I am not a zombie, vampire, werewolf, mermaid or fairy... though the fairy might be cool as long as I was bigger than a Polly Pocket.
*I don't have three broken wrists.
*I don't have three wrists.
*I am not bald.
*I can spend the last of the day curled up in my p.j.'s, caressing a mug of whatever beverage I choose, and watching a cheesy paranormal love story.

So, all in all, I really am fine.

Dear Subconscious, You're a jerk.

So, one guy kissed me, then got distracted by another girl, then turned into my ex boyfriend, right as a chorus of sitcom people in the background yell out, "Ooooh!  Burn!"

Then I woke up and said, "What the heck?"

Sometimes I wonder if my subconscious thinks it's funny.