Synesthesia or Superpower?

 I have this power, it's kind of peculiar. Some would say  that it's downright weird,  but I think we've all got weird powers. Only a certain few, like myself, figure out their power within their lifetime.Even less share their's with others. So here's my rare power share.

 I can taste medications and food placed in mypalm. The bitterness of my first aspirin at school still makes me salivate to this day. When the nurse placed it in my hand, I puckered up like I had just french-kissed a lemon.

 Since that time, I could take any taste-filled object and pick out the various flavours and notes within. Whether it be a delectable fruit-filled scone, a scrumptious savory biscuit, or a super-sweet finagrin pill, I can determine the ingredients and the effects that it will have on my taste buds.

 I only use my powers for good, so I tend to wear gloves at times others would not. As I type to you, I am wearing the most supple of lambskin gloves.  Mmmmmmm,  lambskin tastes  good!

                                               What's  your power?

My cat's power keeps me laughing!

Karmic Dust In Your Face

 While visiting a local literary genius at his apartment complex, we heard an annoying noise.

 The backpack  blower.

These things spin audible noise so hard that it protrudes sound out at over one-hundred decibels.

We were having one of those deep philosophical discussions about useless people. Both of us interjected the somber conversation with lightning quick, light-hearted wit, and a sense of hope for the future.

 It had to become tainted with the loud 'WHOOOOOSHHHHSOOOOSHH" of the anti-vacuum.

 We took the pause as opportunity to laugh a bit. When the skew-skulled individual that wielded the bellowing blowhose came near the door, he decidedly pointed the stream of dust, dirt, and leaves into the gap between the threshold and the door.

 What a douche. Worse than that, at least a douche leaves you clean. This cat was going to litter us with his leavings and skit-addle without even scratching sand at the waste.

 We wouldn't have it! With our wits about us, we dampened two towels and shoveled them under the floor. Wait, maybe we just shoved them, but either way, that guy saw a flapping surrender sign.

 Genius as he is, my literary acquaintance took it upon himself to brace the door even further. The sight of him reaching for each side of the frame was too hilarious not to start laughing uproariously. The bedlam inside must have scared the poor dolt outside, we heard less and less of the noise.

 We had won. Or so, we thought. The calls started pouring in. Every door had the same thing happen. The guy is a sadist punk, messing with people's airways for fun. Many people are upset. I was asked by a disabled man to "teach that sucker a lesson", but I do not use violence to enforce what I may think is 'right'. I could have easily just opened the door while he was across from it, and crushed him a bit, but I knew that the negative action would only stick with me.

 His will stay on him for quite some time. The baby, the elderly woman, and the disabled will be revenged by sweet, sweet karma.

Some work for free has bloomed into paid work. Thanks, That Bastard!

May the next few bits of your day be a little less sucky. I know mine will!

See A Void, Fill It

At least that's what I thought I was doing this morning when I set the attributes to an image today. Let me give you a little background info.

 I like flying things. I have long since given up the thought of piloting my own craft, (my vision is too terrible to pass for a pilot's license) but I do keep up with a few of the technological advancements in the area.


 Which brings me to quadcopters. These things are amazing! I'm sure Da Vinci probably had a super-secret folio of designs that included this four-propellered dream, but no one has yet to come forth with the sketches. His art on the subject is not on google. Tons of others are, though. 335,000 to be more exact.

335,000 images of quadcopters not labeled for reuse

 So many images that are unusable here. I was just looking for one or two for an example. I usually forget to restrict my search by license, so I get a huge amount to begin with. That's fine. Let's see what happened when I pared down the search.

Yellow boxes added to show emphasis on search terms and license

 And this is what I got:

One image, and it's not even of a quadcopter. Just a list of  bugfixers.

So, Google advanced image search has failed me. I know there are other tools, but I am very stubborn. So stubborn, in fact, that I created my own quadcopter image and set the license to 'Free to Use, Even Commercially", so it can be found instead of the list of bugfixers.

 Here's my quadcopter image:

It qualifies as a quadcopter, but it's got my 'signature style' as well. I'm 99.9% sure it would fly as well.

 Organic and machine have melded together to fill a void in the much needed area of useable graphics.

As of the finish of this blogpost, the image is not yet showing up in the search. Maybe it'll take a little while, but I already feel the satisfaction of filling a void with my art.

Have a great day!

Doomcast 3: Doomed To Not Be Heard.

This is a great day! I am hoping you've had one or are currently making yours great. This opportunity I had was  utilized to the utmost. Please forgive my  morning voice, for I'd only had one cup of the java when I recorded.

Thanks goes out to all of you for the inspiration you provide me. It's a great thing to have a piece of my heart grow with your continued advancement in the blogosphere.

Until next time, I'll be working on getting work and commenting your lovely pages.

Edit: The first take was deleted because of lack of audio. The second take was to be uploaded and shared, but was also missing from Pod-o-matic right after they send me an e-mail saying that it had been published. I'm not sure who they think they are, messing with my time like that, but heads will roll(or bang, whatever their preference).

 As angry as doing and re-doing this has made me, I'm still hopeful that I can be heard at some point today. It's not a total loss, as I know now to stay far-far away from Pod-O-matic. That, and I did get to comment some of your blogs before getting trapped into this imploding box of soundless-ness.

 If it comes to it, I will transcribe my latest re-do. It has a good story that I don't want you to miss out on. A story about contests, dancing, and pulling the "L" card when it's appropriate.

Thanks again, and thanks for the patience of a rock.

I've Failed, But Had So Much Fun Doing So

So, I've failed. Yes, I can admit it and feel no shame.

 What is it that I failed at, you ask?

 My girlcott of Mal-Wart.

 A certain annual happening has brought gifts my way. One of these was a gift card to none-other than Mal-Wart. Everyone but the gifters know how much I detest the place.

 I know there are places that are supposed to buy cards, but I don't wish to become victim to another online scam.

 Anyway, I decided to utilize the gift and look the horse in the mouth with the most optimistic eye I could.

 This trip had to be special. I took it upon myself to not hitch a ride, but walk the three and a half miles to the store. With each step I would count another positive thing that would happen due to this pilgrimage. I came up with so many that by the time I was at the front door I had a smile in my eyes. I even called Cliff, the greeter, by name. He was so impressed by my proper nature, he thanked me with the most respectful ardor I've ever seen displayed at Mal-Wart. I was feeling like royalty in rags. A ninja king, mixing with the peasants, the jesters, and the mutants. I looked around for those types, but they seemed to have been held up by previous engagements because all I saw around were hot women.

 Hot women at wall market? Yes! I promised myself not to speak at them. I have this wierd block that keeps me from talking to women, just in case they're taken and their boyfriend/husband catches me talking to them. If a woman ever got beat or mistreated because of me, I'd feel so bad.

 Anyway, I still made four women laugh. Without speaking. I felt like the American version of Mr. Bean. One of these women were with her husband and child. I had dodged them once with my cart at the detergent end cap because I tend to travel at a great pace and the kid got in my way. I had to backtrack into them again due to getting turned around in the lawn and garden department. Having nearly bumped into her cart a snails speed, the beautiful woman broke into a raucuous laughter. I ended my vow of silence as I begged for pardons. Her continued giggling set my guilty heart free. I blushed because I was almost certain her husband hadn't had her laugh at his jokes that hard in years by the look he was giving her. Oh well, I found everything I was looking for and headed back to current couch I surf.

 I had about 40 pounds of materials to walk another three and a half miles. I balanced the load by draping the new 100' extention cord over my neck and carrying two sachels in each hand.

 It was heavy. Every time I would get a little sore or need to adjust, I would think of those in third world countries that have to walk over five times my little distance with way more wieght  just to make sure their family has enough water to drink and use everyday. It was very humbling to make the distinction between their rough world and my comfortable existance.

 The cord around my neck started to feel less like a tool and more like a fashion statement. People honked at me, I got recognition in the form of head nods from folks that had never seen me before. I even recieved a few whistles as I lumbered down the thoroughfare with my burdens. My mood must have had me glowing.

 It was a good day, overall. I've got more jobs lined up. Both odd and graphics! I'm getting this hustle thing down, right in the nick of time. Small business is tiny, but powerful!

 I appreciate you guys and gals. Thanks for sticking with me in these different times.

Randoom Encounter: Pinkslipper CheerCougar at the Rx Lot

 The parking lot of the pharmacy was empty, except for me walking my bike and a woman walking to her car. She was in her late thirties, wearing a black and white cheerleader uniform with bright pink slippers. She shuffled along towards her car, carrying her latest refill of medications.

 "I like your slippers.", I said. I didn't want to pass this opportunity up. I liked how curvy her jiggly bits were, plus the uniform did something to my subconscious mind.

 "Thank you. I actually got them from a homeboy that looks like he could be related to you." Her smile was genuine. I swam through her brightened brown eyes for the tiny moment we exchanged these words.

 "Well, the next time you see him, tell him his long-lost cousin says 'hi', I said with a matching grin.

 At that moment the veluptuous vixen attempted to open her car's door only to find out that she had locked her keys in her car.

 "I locked my keys in there. Thank god for sunroofs!". When she said that I heard something totally different. I heard:

 "I locked my son in there", is what I heard. I was about to put down my bike and help the curvaceous cougar rescue her offspring when she boosted herself upon the bumper. The flawless execution of this move told me that she had performed this paticular technique many times in the past.

 I stood in amusement as the pink-footed cheerleader drifted down into the driver's seat from above.

 Some people say that true love comes from above. But does it wear cheerleader uniforms with pink slippers?

Befriending, Betrayals, and Dreams of Flying

 Hey, everybody! I've missed you. I hope April is treating you well. Most Aprils are good to me, but there is the occasional frenemy out of this month. With that in mind, I'll give you this post that has been sitting on my hard drive, waiting for a read or two.

 I make friends very easily.I'm sure that some of it is attributed with my view that we are all made of the same star material. Another part is that I am pretty darn charismatic. I can make people suprise smile. Those are those rare smiles that happen when others aren't expecting to flex those fantastic facial muscles. It gives me a great amount of pride to count another person as someone who likes me. For all of my anti-conformist views, I still feel the need to be liked by others.

 I trust way too much. This is one of my biggest faults. It has taken it's toll on my life. There are situations that I would take back in my life. I thought I'd never have any regrets, but choosing the wrong friends is a lesson that I never wish I'd have had to learn first hand. I've had those I held close to me take my belongings, cheat with my women, and murder a family member. That final straw broke the poverbial camel's back so hard that I ended up going hermit for years. It suddenly became difficult to do anything in public, let alone make new friends. The stagnation eventually got to me, and I've poked my head out more frequently in time, but I still have a huge veil of screening that I hold in view while talking to everyone but my closest family.

 So, lo-and-behold, I came to become a blogger. There's the social interaction that I had been lacking for the longest time. Almost everyone, save for the rare troll and flamer, has been genuinely positive. This outlet gives me opportunity to flex my friending muscle without all of the risks that come with physical befriending. You are my best friend. I do not joke when I say that.

 Speaking of joking, I should include one in this dreary post. The clouds outside threaten rain and I've lost my last ten dollars, so it's going to take all I have to even figure out one joke. Original jokes are the only ones I like to tell. I'm reminded of many a comedian feud due to people creating the same punchlines, or sharing from each other. I think life can be so funny, that sometimes relatable comedy can cross lines of time and space. Really, I should wetten up this dry post. Let me get a wet rag, a bucket of KY jelly, and a stream of gleek, and we'll turn this motha around. Haha, just kidding. I have no jelly.

 I've hit a stalemate with some of my sought assistance. I don't believe that there is as much help for me as I initially believed. I am thankful for what is there, but the system was not designed for people like me. I don't even know anyone else like me, so how would they know to prepare for me?

 Hamster wheels and treadmills. Those come into my mind when I think of the word j-o-b. Before I end up getting hate comments from all of you that hold down a good nine-to-five gig, let me tell you that there are people of all types in this world. That includes the person who detests the ratrace so much that they withdraw from it, only to bring suffering and strife to their lives. That person is me, but it's not all suffering and strife. Every once in a while there are rays of light that come from the darkness to light the path I knew was there all along. We're all different, and not all of us have to have a job, career, or love of money. I have none of those right now, although I do have plans to go to college, it's got more to do with me doing what I love than the financial security that it brings.

 Financial security scares me. With a padded bank account, I wouldn't be as hungry. I wouldn't struggle to think of ways to accept certain aspects of being poor. I would be complacent. I would accept life as it comes, instead of meeting the wind head-on. Leeway is not what I require. I need to be uncomfortable. The fine line between uncomfortable and downright miserable is what drives me to make this seemingly useless statement of individuality.

 I've been keeping some stones in my pocket to help my dreams. I'm one of those that believe that dreams can help understand real life. This is a small portion of my last dream:

 I'm standing in the middle of a yard in the suburbs. The sky is lightly spotted with fluffy clouds. Their wispy whiteness poofing out of the blue background. I feel a warmth come from my chest. This sensation is very familiar, although I don't remember ever having it before. In a few hearbeats, I figure out that this is the secret to flying. The warmth and tingling I feel eminating from within my chest is belief. A belief that encompasses my whole soul to the point of raising me from the earth's crust. As I ascend, I become very excited and tell myself aloud,

 "This is a dream. I am flying in a dream."

 With the utmost certainty, that thought is struck down with a belief that this IS reality, not a dream state. I fly upward, taking in the rushing air to my flared nostrils.


 Was it a dream, or is the dream life a reality that we come back to every night?

 The answer is right, no matter which one it is.

 I'm off to find that ten dollars and hopefully have a night that helps my mood. I hope you all have a great weekend.

 Peace, friends.

Edit: Had to brighten this one up a bit.