Wiggins’ Words’ Potential (YouTube Channel)?

MyYTChannel2

“GIMP is a free image manipulation software and this is the product of that.”

Emphasis on “potential.” Yes, I also find this incredible, because it probably is. I noticed that YouTube is a popular means of visual aid and as far as a blog can take its readers, a more eyes-on experience sounds not so impersonal. As hard as I try to share pieces of me, I think it would be nice to match the words to a face, that’s not still, even though you’ve seen how handsome I can be. There’s not a high chance of it from what I’m getting at here and the list of reasons trail behind me, but allow me to explain.

For starters, I made a YouTube channel with the purpose to well, make videos which isn’t far from true. There’s this Sony Bloggie I bought from years back but have only used for Kodak moments (gaming related of course). Also there was the time I used it for a video contest that I was too camera shy to enter, so I had my dad be my voice… and face. To tell you the truth, that’s how I’m typing this sentence right now; you see, my dad won the computer I use to this day, but it was the power of my words that brought that video submission home! So is the life of a smitten Cyrano de Bergerac. It’s not like I’m unsociable, I do however find myself putting people at ease in social situations rather than myself, it’s just I’m not very good at presentation on the spot.

The possibility of me making a pinpoint rundown on what to say and when to say them has me second-guessing. I can write an essay about how I feel sometimes more so than I can tell you in the passing minutes we have between each other. When there’s wandering eyes following me and expectant ears listening, in that moment, I’m nervous but still, at least it’s not being recorded for all the eyes I can fathom not currently present. I will say I do better in an interview scenario where I can react naturally to questions in relation to me, and even if those questions could be far from relatable, I find something of reference to build up towards a breaching construct on the subject asked. Thinking fast is the dependent variable, while the independent variable is strictly the content I could produce despite the lack of green screen, special effects and cutting and editing capabilities. I could keep things simple. A white wall, a bright enough lamp, a chair, preferably comfortable, maybe a nightstand and me at the center of it all. *Gulp*

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“Believe me, if I had looks like this, I’d have no trouble – what’s this lightbulb doing on my head?”

Another worry is ceremoniously staying on track with updates. That reminds me, about my blog. My goal is to post an article monthly. No specific number but when it comes to me, you’ll see what I can pull out. I like to see content as fast as the next guy but, if that risks the quality of each post and you start to see a pattern that’s predictable and moreover filler for times long gone, no one’s missing out. As of this Fall, my college experience begins (rain check on that statement; somehow my account decided to show I’ve dropped classes in place of enrolled ones. The “school” will be hearing about this. Yeah, I’m so mad, the school in question gets air quotes!) which could mean less posts or more, whether on this blog or the possible vlog, we’ll see. Instead, I’ll share what I will when I can. Fair enough? Cool. *Heart sign*

My GIMP image up at the top of the page was impractical as it is. I used less than four tools I knew how to use because of a digital design class in high school I remember. Minor difference though, we were using Photoshop and Adobe Illustrator at the time. It’s not so different but these are pictures we’re editing here. When those pictures start moving, we have a problem. Videos seem like a tangible medium to get a handle on for some and far trickier by many. I understand Sony has software adapted for the Bloggie device, which I never bothered with. Then there’s video editors like Ezvid for free that I haven’t really seen, let alone heard, as a use being made for. You know the tutorials for the product on the product’s website that have the robotic narrator or a scripted phone prompter’s voice? Yeah, I’m not all about them either. Sometimes, just out of pure stumble, the Tube will grant that needle in a haystack we all so long for; a search well worth embarking on!

The good thing about ideas are that they start out small from humble beginnings. The other good thing about ideas are their growth from theory into a practiced law everyone can take up and pass on as their own personal admiration or agenda. The last good thing about ideas, they take a long time to cradle over as they should, so give those thoughts time to spur even more branches for that tree of a mind and in the mean time, keep watering those roots. I’m still an acorn a lone squirrel forgot existed but that’s existentialism for you.

Jehovah’s Witness Protection Program

JWs

 “Somebody’s knocking at your door!”

Before you consider this a slapdash complaint, let me clarify. I’m not one to harp on anyone’s beliefs or herald my own in replacement of them. What we believe in one way or another fulfills us with a purpose to live meaningful lives. The way I see it, and collectively speaking, I believe each religion while varied or not in practice, shares the same God you or I call God. The word’s of an omnist would agree that all religions are acceptable, but a human being would furthermore be just plain accepting. How the Qur’an has Muhammed and the Holy Bible has Jesus Christ, for example, as the people’s disciples in their respective faiths, shows different texts but similar rituals. Whoever you follow and which ever doctrines you take up, I’m not against. To continue, I’ve had a history with the Jehovah’s Witnesses. While not a bad history or any means of civil rivalry, (which is an awful oxymoron; since when is rivalry used in a civil manner?), there remains a line between us that I personally wouldn’t want to crossover.

From middle school as early as I can recall, Jehovah’s Witnesses caught us at the lull of morning. It began usually at nine or ten o’clock, when the neighborhood is either fast asleep or vacant. In our case, we’d been used to eating breakfast at that time and paying a visit every Sunday. My father would be at the ready to relay his message, of course providing them that they share their’s first. After a ten minute or so chat, we got on with our weekend. Then they would send a roulette of Witnesses to our door, sometimes on Saturday instead and sometimes back-to-back. Now as open-minded as my family is, we’re not casting away Jehovah’s Witnesses and disregarding who they are. We know they are a people with good intentions and that’s how they proclaim and show their faith. However, the only stipulation is that Jesus is not considered the Messiah in their eyes. For them, they still lie in wake for God’s merciful return to save the earth’s believers or those who serve Him, an event addressed as Armageddon.

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 “The pamphlets used by Jehovah’s Witnesses for discussion.”

Jehovah’s Witnesses don’t count out Jesus entirely though. He’s still the Son of God, but is treated as a disciple for God’s plan overall. For us, what Jesus did was proclaim the Gospel through the Lord our God. Without Jesus’ life and death, we wouldn’t be washed away of our sins or the original sin from the beginning. This is the Catholic faith, and as Christians we believe Jesus is the Messiah because of this. Coming from my perspective, you can’t afford to miss this, regardless of the minor accepted differences between us. That’s just my faith. Jehovah’s Witnesses continue this proclamation with their own translations (literal at times) and publications from which Jesus carried out alongside his disciples and followers, but don’t accredit him as much as they do God. It’s understandable; God created everything after all, but with His Creation came an important part of it which I can’t help but feel Jesus is responsible for because of Him and through Him.

This confuses me for two reasons. Jesus was a devout Jew and preached the Christian practices found in Catholicism. If anything, was it not Jesus that brought all varying people, Gentile, Jew, Christian, or what have you, together to share in a bonding faith involving God? Again from my perspective, that sounds a great deal paramount for the basis of unity. Also, if Jesus was Jewish, how come he isn’t considered the Messiah for Jehovah’s Witness? It seems to me because Jesus brought other believers under one faith, and Jehovah’s Witnesses are doing the same, they argue it was God and God alone for Jesus’ doing as well as their own, again. It makes sense that Jesus would be the Savior for Jehovah’s Witnesses, because He’s Jewish and He came from God. Unless they see Jesus’ practice in two faiths a religious anomaly, then there’s a rough patch. Other than that, I can’t find another reason why.

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 “Siddhartha is a portmanteau for ‘one who has found meaning of existence.'”

More than recently, my mother has befriended a couple of ladies from Jehovah’s Witnesses. She’s been visited by the same two women ever since I got out of high school, every Wednesday afternoon now. Every week brings a new topic and I will say, jokes aside, I admire their persistence. They’re disappointed when she’s not home as they come prepared just for her since she’s the only one they’ll talk to. If I answer the door, they say, “No problem, next time.” When it’s my mother, the Spanish knot has been tied. Once they find relatable ground, there’s a cushion to fall on before and after they speak their subjects for the day’s hour (or longer depending on how sociable they are). They’ve grown attached and my father knows it the most; he still tries to convince her to kill them with kindness. She can’t bring herself to do it despite her leniency and on top of that, we don’t want to discount their beliefs as lesser to our own.

Dad’s words were always, “We believe Jesus Christ died for our sins,” and he leaves them with that. His candid statement doesn’t spark conflict, just disappointment I can imagine. I imagine that’s the case when two religions meet. You hear about religious wars and I’m sitting here thinking: what religion tolerates war? I’m a peaceable fellow and I’d never tread on others virtues and their sense of it. Nor would I force my beliefs onto others, which isn’t the intent I’m trying to convey of Jehovah’s Witnesses. My father speaks of my family’s faith with the most finality, and I admit he isn’t as open-minded as I am (he wouldn’t let me buy Hermann Hesse’s novel, Siddhartha, even though I’ve read it in school), but I think it’s healthy to know of other religions, even if you don’t take them up as your own. To have that knowledge helps us understand where people come from, not just in religion but in morale and lifestyle choices. Rather than being in opposition, we start to feel an apposition for the good that we all can embody. I thank Jehovah’s Witness for that. Also, my Humanities class. Go humanity!

Wisdom Lossed

Not Feeling Wise

“That was a wink to show I wasn’t loopy; it doesn’t show.”  

For those of you who don’t know or haven’t experienced an amnesia trip before, this should sound interesting. Just around the hour of  8:00 AM today, I had all four Wisdom teeth removed. What a wonderful way to start a rainy, Friday morning, right? Anything beforehand was still remembered, but after the fact and in an instant, nothing matters. I couldn’t believe I retained what I did when I rose from that relaxing, 45° lounge chair. The night prior was torture though.

I kept thinking to myself how they put you under for an hour at the most and assure you of no memory of it all whatsoever. That drove me even further to reassure myself that the year would still be 2014, even if the future people were convincing. I was dying for a midnight drink of water (yet the doctor prescribed no food for twelve hours) and considering how warm I was in bed, no matter how quick a gust of wind could be picked up from the ceiling fan, the night was sleepless for a good two-thirds of it. Just being a bit groggy from sleep had to be the worst sensation. You’re half able when you haven’t had breakfast because you can’t. You’re running on empty knowing you’d be asleep again like you never left your bed. I was hesitant up until the final moment. Mmmm…

Sorry, *smack* *slurp*, I was just taking dollops of a delicious Frosty. Talk about a smooth transition. Now for the twinge talk. Before the appointment, I had an assortment of pills, 3 of a kind. One was a preventative for possible infection during and after the procedure, the others are for pain. Of course the preventative pill was three times the size of its relatives; four of which I had to down with as much as a spoonful of water (too much water would cause an upset stomach afterward).

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“On the left and right, pain pills, and in the center, the Peril Pills.”

An hour goes by, my father drives me to the office’s waiting room and the room holds six people, including us, of a possible fifteen or twenty. Reception was *vanilla’s so good* nice as always and they have to, otherwise who would want to avoid death row? “I bet I’m the first one back there,” I said to my father. One patient, younger than the girl in front of us and I, had been the first and was done within ten minutes of waiting; she had likely been there longer before our arrival. Then the woman sitting adjacently, was next. She and the girl before her were never seen from again, by us anyway. Third times the charm.

I’m guided to the operating chair, and just so you know it’s nothing like the dentist’s, the assistant lady doctor gave me the run-down, very nice and helpful once again, and she began the preparations. Wired tapings on my chest and sides, which I can imagine didn’t feel good coming off, a plastic, pulse pincher for your finger to read your heart rate, which jokingly became a nervous detector, and the stress ball to get your veins pumping and inflated. “Wired,” “pincher,” and “stress” are not words you hope to hear. On the bright side, the doctor was awesome, very subtle and soft-spoken; I could tell he’s been at his practice for a long while. Naturally I trusted him. We get to talking about his daughter, how she’s an English major and how that’s my goal later on in college and thereaft-

That pausing “-” meant a poke and prod of an indistinguishable needle at the top of my hand. I barely felt the sting and it didn’t take me by surprise but he calms me and goes on with the conversation. “What’s your favorite kind of literature?” he asks. “I’ve been leaning towards British Literature,” I reply. I tell him how it’s English yet it sounds like a different language when reading and saying it. I tell him how people quote literature sometimes without having ever read the source it came from. He laughs! I share my favorites like Edgar Allan Poe, describe their works and such. I wanted to mention Sir Arthur Conan Doyle but it didn’t cross my mind. He tells me to keep talking. I get to American Literature from Walt Whitman (which by coincidence happens to be my doctor’s name) and his book, Leaves of Grass, and how he’s a poet in his prose, just a natural speaker with soliloquies and speeches, as it seemed to me. Next thing I know, I’m attached to oxygen nozzles for my nostrils, my glasses are removed, and I draw a blank. Nothingness for forty minutes (according to my Dad) which only felt like five.

Poe-Whitman

“Representing those English greats!”

I wake up, sluggish, but sane and the lady takes me outside the exit of the building with my Dad at the ready with his get-away car. We parted ways and we never saw them or that building again. A happy ending? Not in the slightest. The whole ride home I was conscience and lucid, but for some reason the drive away and towards home brings up small images, slow and sudden like the kind in a View-Master. A blink here, a blink there and were home. I feel my face with a taped gauze hand, numb to the texture of rubber and casually I brush an elastic fashioned around me from head to chin. The gauze from the mouth was a bunch of a red blots, the right side of my lower lip went limp, so any chance of me speaking without unintentional flimflam or gushing dribble was not likely. To think something so fast would make you so slow.

Now I’m feeling better and the only drawback is a minor case of the hiccups and the salt water rinses. I took a pain pill midday and the gauze is relieving my bite. My only worry, and what will surely be a detriment soon enough, are the soft foods. I know cavemen used their molars since their diets consisted of hard, tough meats to chew, but I’m a carnivore too! Despite that fact not found in the already informative oral surgery pamphlet, I understand not risking the chance of crooked teeth, so there’s that. I guess it was worth it, but let me tell you something. Do it when you’re younger; the teeth aren’t fully developed then meaning less pain if any. For the next week it’s nothing but oatmeal, scrambled eggs, mashed potatoes, mac n’ cheese, and things of that sort. I had three soft-tissue and one grown Wisdom teeth. Gone. It wasn’t such a bad procedure, but I appreciate the ice cream godsend.

I always thought wisdom was a good thing, but I learned some advice is better than others.

More ice cream? Don’t mind if I do!

Learning Curve

Why did the blogger cross the road?

     To get to the nearest hot spot. I don’t know how to start one of these entries, so here you go. An introduction if any.

Blogs are new to me and it seems like a better opportunity to get the word out on all things I’m devoted to. In a sense I understand blogging is either a formal or informal medium (and just so you know, I plan on practicing in both ways; you saw my joke, didn’t you?) but for the most part I found the need to share my mind.

I’m a writer. I don’t worry about labels like amateur or novice, it’s only when I get to become a professional at it that scares me. The act of someone walking up and saying to me, “You’re a master,” fills me to the brim with anxiety. I’ve been humble in all aspects of my being, I assure you, especially when someone addresses me with appraisal. Anything I hope to write won’t be a commercial success and I don’t expect it to. The writing process for me is open minded and I believe it reflects that. Never will I post something I’m not satisfied with; if I’m not happy with it for myself, who’s going to be?

Trying something new, not to stipulate that you do, can be personally worthwhile or life diluting. Every choice matters. To say that you’ll sit down today and read through someone else’s ramblings is surreal considering that someone has taken the same exact time to sit down and speak (type) to you indirectly, yet on a personal level without being in the same vicinity. Now isn’t that special? Please say yes…

Don’t take this as an irksome piece of rhetoric. If I had the chance to sit down with you, not from a technical standpoint, I’d be the Gadfly of Athens surely in your soup. Again, I’ve an open mind about subject matter of choice and I pick up on topics fairly well. I will say I tend to get more than introverted when it comes to sharing ideas though. I just figure, what good is a thought if it’s not being shared. All-consuming and solipsistic is not my selfish intent. More rather I wish to leave you with the impression that I’m the person you’d want to befriend IRL. Of course, until I have my own book signing sessions, that won’t be a problem. Not that it’s a problem. Currently speaking.

Right now you’re probably thinking, you know what, I won’t say. I’ll leave it up to you to assume instead.

Now to end my first blog… Thanks for fleeting reading!