Interludes with Cortana

So, new Dell laptop. Fearlessly and without the aid of any children or grandchildren I switched it on, and at once was assailed by this maiden of loud cheery voice who informed me her name was Cortana and could she assist me. She was astute enough to suggest I might want not to have her talking to me, and that was ok by her, which was fine by me, cheery voices are not required when setting up a new computer, not in this house anyhows.

Now all was well, save for trying convince McAfee I have a two year subscription in force and not their tweedly 28 day free one…I sense phone calls are in order, never much fun when contacting computer helplines, no matter how much info you have prepared for the call someone always manage to find some obscure question to ask you.

Well, truth be known that WAS my only problem. I have a new one; this lady Cortana. She has taken to asking me odd questions. I was about to check something  and Type Search when the following announcement appeared:

Remind me at Saturday 6pm

Convert 172 inches into centimetres.

This troubled me greatly. In the first instance I could not recall having put aside any time at 6pm on the coming Saturday for anything whatsoever, it was a possible blank piece of the day for me to do so as I wished. Then there was this question of converting 172 inches into centimetres. Why should anyone should think I wish to know how many centimetres are equivalent to 14 feet 4 inches was beyond me, there seemed no possible use to the business to my mind. Admittedly if you are one of those people who concern themselves over quantities of the consumption a particular species of edible fish and wished to demonstrate this in terms of length there might be some use. But for myself it was a random subject of no interest.

By good fortune though other domestic matters took my attention, such as trying get my other computer out of its state of complete cantankerous faux-collapse. As the fiendish device had been foiling my attempts at productive work for weeks and I now had a more sober and responsible machine, this task I set about with a cavalier attitude and the craven thing sank into meek submission.

Feeling quite superior, I went to checking with my new model and found Cortana was now advising me

My groceries are arriving

Flight BA 196

At this stage it was obvious the young lady was getting quite giddy in her attempts to be helpful. If she had troubled to consult a Google map or whatever else, she would have noticed the nearest supermarket of note is but three miles from our house and does not have a runway. This however did not occur to her for in her excitement she had now imagined a stalwart pilot had manoeuvred their craft into a 90 degree climb to be over our home, at which point bold members of the crew would be deploying parachuted goods to land all over our street. As I had not been consulted over the order, goodness what Cortana assumed would arrive. Happily the air space above our home was only intruded into by one light aircraft about its own business.

It now remains to be seen just what the lady will have believed to be of import to me, there are obviously a myriad of possibilities, and to suggest one might seem rude and spoil her fun.

Once the initial shock is over, the best strategy is to accept these little eccentricities for what they are.

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They Have Killed My Country and Murdered My God

Just read this, please.

Fade Into Oblivion

They have killed my country and murdered my God
and called it collateral damage.
They have buried my homeland
under their bombs and the cries of its residents.
The women of my country are their playthings
And the men are prisoners of war.
My house has collapsed in on itself
burying its inhabitants under six feet of rubble
like a grave.
Colonisation, The Occupation, Ceasefire.
I can’t hear my own thoughts
Maybe that’s what they want to do
Overwhelm you with external destruction and voice
So you have no idea who you are
They blaspheme my God and place of worship
call Him a liar
spit upon His shrine
challenge His authority
believe they are better off without Him.
My country has become their playground
Paradise on Earth, now even worse than Hell.
I think the dead are luckier
They can’t see their beautiful land littered
with bullet shells, bombs…

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STORY “TIME”: WHAT TIME IS IT?

More powerful words. Visit Ron’s blog for thought-provoking and inspiration

The Time Tunnel

WHAT TIME IS IT?

Little Boy Blue, come blow your horn,

The sheep are in the meadow and the cows are in the corn;

Where is that boy who looks after the sheep?

Under the haystack; fast asleep.

What time is it? The alarm clock of life is ringing! It’s time to wake up!  It’s time to go to work! We’re running late! No time to hit the snooze button and get a few more minutes of sleep.  It’s time to wake up! Let’s go to work!  Let’s work for a better, more compassionate and caring society. Let’s go to work for peace and unity. Let’s go to work for equality and justice. It’s time to go to work!  Time is winding up!

My father wrote this poem dealing with the question:

WHAT TIME IS IT?

Murder and rape have almost become common place.

Drugs and alcohol are no longer…

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New Author Tip: Don’t Just Write More, Improve as You Write

Please these very wise words and take them to heart

The PBS Blog

Indie Author Basics

I’ve heard it over and over again: “The more you write, the better you become at it.” I get it. It’s practice. The more you do something, the better you become at it. When it comes to writing though, I think there is more to it than that. You can write and write and write but if you’re not correcting your mistakes as you write, you are not necessarily going to become a better writer.

My new author tip for you today is this:

Learning and applying what you learn as you write makes you a better writer not just writing for the sake of writing. You don’t have to write every day to become better. Understanding what needs to be improved on and correcting it as you write, makes you better. Otherwise, you’ll keep making the same mistakes and thus, produce the same kind of work. This means that…

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Can we Live?

Feast your mind on this one folks

The PBS Blog

gaelle-marcel-339781-unsplash Photo by Gaelle Marcel on Unsplash

We wake up just enough to stay woke but not enough to live. We live on hours and minutes and second hands, gas, and expressways. Espressos and Starbucks. From the bed to the car to the job, back to the car to the house and to the bed where we will lie down again so that we can wake up and exist again. Begin again. Breathe again. Boldly expecting these bodies to be there to back us up again. Do we ever back up? Can we stop? When was the last time you experienced something beautiful and told no one? Can we be beautiful without filter? Can we examine this breath? This gorgeous breath. This inhale and exhale. This miracle that is in us. Can we examine these lungs? Let the seconds and minutes and hours add up, can we forget about time? Let…

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When the journey seems futile…

Here is a worthy, frank and courageous account of one person’s journey.

the otherhood of one

I know I’m not alone in feeling this way, as though all of my efforts have failed.  As though every single thing I have attempted to accomplish in my life has fallen short; it simply isn’t enough to get the job done.  As though my very tenacity and determination to continue are some sort of cosmic joke being played upon me and my psyche.  Like failure itself was written into my karma and destiny…

And when that feeling overwhelms me, and I am convinced I simply cannot try anymore, when everything within me seeks shelter from the never-ending storm, I crawl into bed and cry myself to sleep.  Hoping, and sometimes praying, that this journey will soon end for me…

But I wake up again.  Always.  Disappointed.  Discouraged.  Angry, even, at why this life won’t let me go!  And then…

Some time during that hopeless day, some thing will happen…

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