A bit about me.

I've not been in many car accidents in my lifetime, no heart-stopping t-bone on the highway. I'm not a fighter, but I fight. I'm not a singer, but I still sing. I can barely play my guitar, but that doesn't stop me from playing. I'm learning all the time, and sometimes I learn that a lesson isn't worth the effort, or maybe that the lesson isn't a priority right now. I've done a lot of learning throughout the last two years in particular; I've lost a friend through murder, lost another through a house fire. I did some regrettable things within the last few years; a couple of which I don't believe should be forgiven. I've lied to people recently, but I've come clean to them all as time went by. One thing I learned about lying is that each and every lie changes something about you. You might not feel it the day of, or even months after, but you'll feel it eventually; they always catch up with you.

On a happier note, I've been practicing to play "Better Version" by Shinedown, I can only claim an amateur grasp of the song, my fingers aren't as quick as they need to be. For players out there, take a look at the tabs, they can be found Here It's a brilliant song, deep lyrics that I wish I'd written. It's only fair to pay credit to where it's owed; my inspirations for ever plucking a string include (but are not limited to) The Doors, The Who, The Beatles, Disturbed, 3 Doors Down and others.

I'm starting my French lessons again, mainly to prove my brother wrong; he seems to think I'm not up to it. French would be my 3rd foreign language of study, preceded by Spanish and German. Music itself can open your ears to a whole variety of worlds as far as language is concerned. Example 1 , Example 2, and Example 3 Each of these examples is in a different language, languages that I have studied in school or on my own.

My hope is that this week you can open your doors to something new, whether it's something small, reading a book to learn something. Taking up an instrument and seeing what it does to you. Or maybe just finding something foreign that you can enjoy and maybe even seek more of.

Honesty Just Doesn't Work For Me

The first lie that I remember telling was horrible in its formation, full of holes it was; I didn't yet know the great art of lying. I stood, shaking in front of my step-father, as he had his belt in hand. He asked me if I had ruined the new garage door by scratching initials into it. These initials just so happened to be the initials of our neighbor Lisa. Well, little me, not knowing any better, I said "no, I don't know her last name, I know her first name and middle name." Now when I think back to the look he gave me, I can recognize it as the look of utter disbelief and a dash of confusion. I can remember him staring at me, and to my mother, and back to me. He walked outside, sanded the initials away and repainted over where they were. My mom had the same look of disbelief on her face, almost as if she had expected that my dad had trained me better. Back then, a bad lie saved me from a spanking, but earned me some stern glances at the dinner table.

Another lie I remember was bringing my first "F" home on a freshly printed report card. The "A"s weren't important, it was that "F" that would get me grounded. I sat at the kitchen table as my dad opened it up and ready my grades aloud to me, "Math, A, Science, A, History, A, Gym, A, Music, F... How can you get an 'F' in Music? How can you do that?" Well, "I stepped on her (the teacher's) foot and she's failing me now." It sounded good at the time, as I hadn't learned to rehearse this sort of thing quite yet. It turns out that that lie was pretty sufficient, or at least it was while dad was still in his barely awake sleepy stupor state. An hour later he saw the report card again and asked me the same question, and I responded the same way as I had before. This time around he wasn't tired any more, and he knew that my tiny foot and unimpressive body-weight could not possibly warrant a failing grade. He called the teacher, and found out that my 'F' was indeed the result of my foot, and her shin. I had kicked the teacher and lied about it. The 'F' was grounds enough for a grounding, but the fact that I had kicked her had landed me a month grounding, without desserts after dinner. My world was crushed.

I started practicing, I started planning, I started lying like a trained amateur, I was no longer a novice to the game of deception. I'll admit, I still wasn't the greatest, not even as good as my brother. I studied the way he lied; I studied the way he talked and stood. I studied the way his voice changed when he wanted emotion. To me, my brother could lie to a police officer, standing next to a burned down house, matches in hand. That boy had skills. My dad was no match for him. Although, for all his lying expertise, he still couldn't dodge the "F" bullet.

High-school, if not anywhere else, is the training grounds of the professional liar. The reason for this is that the student is always being questioned, "Where is your homework?, Why are you late? Why did you skip class yesterday?" The lies themselves range from the simple, "I left it in my dad's car when I got dropped off this morning; I can bring it tomorrow." to the bold " I wasn't here yesterday because my mom is in the hospital again this week." Depending on the gullibility of the teacher, and his/her patience, either of these lies might be passable, or they might get you a hot seat in detention.

Now I've become so good at lying that I can fool myself into thinking it's the truth, or maybe everything I say is true. Maybe I no longer need to lie, because I have nothing to hide. Do you have the nerve to tell the truth?

Did You Say Something?

I was traversing the internet one day and I happened upon one of the best internet quotes I have ever seen. My friend later put it onto a desktop background and it amuses him to no end.

The quote itself can be found on his drafting background here: http://i25.tinypic.com/33c44lw.jpg

This quote got me thinking, what was going through the author's head as he typed it down onto the message board? Maybe English was his second language and it was a simple mistake. Maybe, just maybe, s/he was attempting to say three different things, but was in a hurry so they all got bunched together. I started thinking about language and how many languages are being brutalized on the internet. When I say "brutalized" I mean of course the misspellings, the shortcuts, the LOLs. Many on the internet are thankful for spell-check, or they would be if they used it. Or typing an essay, how many out there take the time to capitalize every "I" instead of letting f7 do all the proper work?

Why has the internet fallen to this, maybe because with each and every typo, we personalize our post. Maybe because the errors we have in ourselves are shown through our carelessness in our speech or text. I'll be the first to admit that I have my faults. I'm unmotivated I have a short attention span, I occasionally succumb to writer's block. I feel as though I could give more of myself to people. I have low pride, I'm a giver, I find it hard to take what I didn't earn or work for. I try to make every post something that I can look back on without cringing. I try not to be the one post or comment that confuses everyone with incorrect wording.

So please, for anyone out there reading this, please put a little more effort into your posts/comments/statuses, your language is counting on you to keep it alive.