Fixing a computer

Sometimes the most simple solution is the best, In the case of a hiccuping computer, simply reinstalling the OS works.  It took months of work but my computer now works how it is intended, and is running much more smoothly.  So if you ever have a hiccuping computer, don't bother trying to fix it, just back-up your files and boot to factory settings.  It will save you so much time and frustration.

I also suggest getting an external hard drive, you never know when you might have a problem and won't be able to access your computer's files.

In Class Presentation Reviews

Sarah:
Argument: Singing group that is a lot of fun/ not your typical group
Strengths: Clear/Obvious, Memorable, engaging
Develop: Colors to make more contrast

Charlie:
Argument: Fun theater group.  You should join.
Strengths: Keeps viewer interested.  Easy to view.
Develop: To fast on slides with more text.  Maybe make each transition like that of a film since the club is about films.

Cassandra:
Argument: You should get involved in Greek leadership.
Strengths:  Prezi a good choice for medium, very engaging.  Lots of information.
Develop:  Some of the font choices are difficult to read, try to stick to just one or two types of font and use ones which can be seen and read quickly.

Adobe Illustrator

Without a doubt, if you're working on a project using a program of some kind, something is going to go wrong, or you  won't know how to do something you know can be done.  While working on my latest assignment, I ran into an issue with Adobe illustrator.  It was one that anyone who has used the program would probably find amusing that I couldn't figure it out.  Maybe it was that I was tired, or maybe just distracted, but I was having trouble getting some pie charts to turn out how  I wanted them.  Luckily, the internet came to the rescue.  So for all of you that like to use Illustrator and run into an issue, see if a solution is on this forum anywhere.

Sentinels of the Multiverse - Greater Than Games

Sentinels of the Multiverse is probably one of my favorite games I have come across.  And that says something about it when a there are a lot of games that I have spent too many hours playing.  If you want to know more about it, you should check out the website, I won't do it justice.

The game was developed by the company "Greater Than Games" and is a card game where players are super heroes battling together against a villain.  I'm not a huge fan of comic books, but this game is a lot of fun and is a great way to hang out with some friends.  So if you enjoy card game, hanging out with friends or saving the universe, I would suggest taking a look.

The Customers

This is just a short story in progress I constructed for a creative writing class.

The Customers

            Behind me I hear the unmistakable revving of a golf cart.  An indistinguishable mumbling can be heard coming from the customers inside it.  They drive past the parked golf cart and take a right turn into the parking lot squealing the tires as they do so.  The driver of the cart is a slender man with dark balding hair.  He carries himself with certainty, holding his head high as he pulls up.  The light reflects off his salmon shirt more than his balding head, almost to a blinding degree.  His smile shows off a set of bleach white teeth and his skin is a healthy tan.  This stands as a great juxtaposition to his partner, an obese, elderly man slouched over on the bench.  He has the beard of a homeless man: gray, mangled and uneven with small particles of what I hope are just dirt and food.  He reaches forward to the can of beer in front of him as they pull up to me and lifts it high and starts chugging down the rest of the can.  Drips of the contents fall from the side of his mouth into his beard and onto his shirt.  His shirt, originally comprised of large white and blue horizontal stripes, now houses a multitude of colors.  The red from ketchup and gold from beer, green and brown from grass and dirt stains.  The smell of alcohol overwhelms the fresh pines and breeze.  Salmon shirt sits quietly, adding up his score from the last round as his friend finishes his drink, crushes the can and chucks it into the cubby hole. 

“Watch start nexus?” he nearly falls out of the cart as he slurs his question at me, pulling out the vowels and trailing off as he ended it.

Before I can respond salmon shirt drives them off to the foot path leading to the club house.  As he drives off I hear a dragging sound and look at the back of their cart.  Trailing behind them is a thin twine of green and white rope which I recognize as the rope that our course uses to mark off areas that customers are not allowed to drive the carts.  These ropes are usually supported around greens and tee boxes by small green stakes.  I walk across the parking lot to where they stopped.  As I approach I see that the old man has switched to the driver seat and is downing another beer.  I had not realized that the smell of beer had gone away until I grew closer to them again.  In the basket of the cart are about a dozen empty crushed beer cans.

“Sir, I need to get this rope off your cart. If you could please just not move the cart until I tell you it is clear, thank you.” 

I had gotten a lot of practice over the years on dealing with customers, so I knew I had to sound non-incriminating and act like I was just trying to help.  I can report them later and go replace the ropes.  Apparently I was not very clear however, because as soon as I finish saying that, I kneel down to free the rope and the cart takes off.  There is a loud crunch and then the revving of an engine.  The cart is propped up against the retaining wall for the garden and the front left wheel is lofted into the air.  The old man is still holding down the accelerator, confused as of why he is not moving.  He steps out of the cart and stares at his work, smiling.  It was the smile of a baby who just learned that he can throw his food on the ground and make his parents clean it up.  He stands there chuckling with a large grin on his face.  He takes another sip from his beer while he is laughing and chokes on it, spitting it back up and into his beard.

I motion for him to step back and then go to get into the cart.  As I put weight onto the part of the cart that is elevated it sinks down.  I feel the weight of the cart go into the roof as the center of mass starts to roll over.  I step off and brace myself to try and keep the cart upright.  With both feet firmly on the ground I lean into the cart and push with all my strength.  The cart continues to push back on me, slowly pushing me to the ground.

 If I try to just get out of the way this cart will tip over and take a lot of damage, or I can sit here until either the drunken old man helps, or a co-worker come along.

 I decide to try to do one final push and jump inside and shift the weight to the other side.  I get a solid footing and push as hard as I can, I feel my feet slide a little underneath me and I realize how horrible of an idea this was.  If I mess this us up now, the cart will fall onto me, with the roof bisecting my torso right across my kidneys.

A gentle breeze comes in from the west, waving the tall northern pines back and forth in the clear summer sky.  They are all planted in rows, waving in unison like a crowd of giants at a music concert worshiping the sun. A few smaller pines stand between the taller ones, barely moving a needle.  The parking lot itself is a home to nature, with each row isolated from the others by the tall pines and a light bed of mulch.  Shiny Corvettes and Cadillacs take cover from the harsh sun underneath the trees. 

A group of balding middle aged men are discussing numbers and dollar amounts as they walk into the clubhouse, a white building, reminiscent of a southern plantation with a sloped roof that is only interrupted by a second floor balcony.  The ground floor has eight foot high windows stretching from floor to ceiling.  If you were to walk along the porch along the edges of the building the old floor boards creek as your weight shifts from one to another.  A loud hollow thud accompanies your every step.  From here you can view the gardens full of yellows, reds and greens that separate the building from the parking lot.  A ramp leads from the parking lot to underneath this porch to the basement of the clubhouse.  A cinderblock wall holds the gardens back and keeps them from caving in on the car wide pathway to the basement.  Where this ramp ends in the parking lot, a small concrete path starts leading to the front of the clubhouse.  Part of the parking lot forms a big opening here.

On the other side of this opening, stands a small plastic cart that is supposed to be used by a cleaning crew to store tools like bottles of cleaners and a mop.  Instead, on top rests a stack of scorecards made from a heavy stock paper.  The pound of paper forms a novel of numbers and empty boxes, to be authored by thousands of customers over the next couple days.  The tools, the small green pencils, sit in a purple box, each one etched with the words “Shallow Woods Golf Course”.

A cars length away, a small asphalt path leads into the woods and splits to the left and right, guiding the players to the starting holes.  A metallic green sign with gold etching labels the paths at the fork.  Behind the sign, a black golf cart sits, looking like a miniaturized jeep with a plastic roof and no doors.  A tan leather bench provides the only seating and tiny black handles keep you from sliding off the end.  On the back, a black wire basket provides a space to place personal items too large for the cubby holes located in front of the bench, and behind that, two cloth straps can be fastened to hold golf bags steady during transport.

 As I put my weight onto the cart it starts to tip forward even more and I feel myself falling.  I tug on the steering wheel to pull myself to the other side, latching onto the far handle.  I pull as hard as I can and can finally feel the cart stop tipping.  Just a little further. Then it should fall back to the proper position.  In the background I can hear the old man laughing hysterically.  A quiet hiccup breaks the laughter every few seconds.  I keep pulling, this would be so much easier if I were in shape, although I might not have the weight to make it work if I was.  At last, the cart starts to fall back to the ground.  I feel the thud reverberate through the entire cart and I as it comes crashing back down with the front right tire in the garden.  I carefully sit up and look down at the tire to make sure it is actually touching the ground.  I’m applying enough weight to the passenger side that the tire is firmly set.  As I shift the cart into reverse I catch a glimpse of the old man leaning over, looking like he’s either incredibly ill or incredibly amused.

Once the cart is back onto solid ground I put it in park and turn it off.  Once again I kneel down to untie the rope from the bottom of the cart.  I spend the next minute untying the rope from around the drive shaft. 

“You should make sure not to drive over these ropes.  They can get caught and cause problems with the carts”

“We don’t drive ‘em over.”

I realize the futility of discussing anything with a man as inebriated as he is, and walk away so I can call my boss on the radio.  I am responsible for helping make sure that these two do not drive anymore.

As I am walking back over to the other side of the lot I hear the door of the clubhouse swing open.  The unmistakable sound of golf cleats on hollow wood.  The periodic “thud” and “clink”.  I turn around and see salmon shirt running down the pathway holding out a white ticket and a bag of ice.

“They didn’t…” I thought to myself. 

Inside the small clear bag, the chunks of ice cubes concealed another dozen beers.  A cocktail of dangerous fluids for the already drunk golfers sealed with a cobalt blue twist tie on top. 

Before I can run back and say anything to the two of them, salmon shirt jumps into the cart and the old man punch the accelerator.  It takes them a moment to realize that they never started moving.  I never turned the cart back on after the whole incident.  I stand there watching the two men struggle with the cart.  Underneath the seat is a small switch that allows you to switch between forward and reverse.  The old man starts to flick this switch back and forth vigorously.  The machine gun tapping stops after twenty seconds when he takes a break to grab a fresh beer.  Salmon shirt gets out of the passenger seat to see if anything is blocking the way of the cart.  Seeing nothing, he scratches his head, looking back and forth between the switch, the accelerator pedal, and the front of the cart.  The old man gets out and goes back to his clubs.  Defeated, salmon shirt goes back to his clubs as well.

They stand there putting their gloves and supplies away back into their bags.  I stand on the other side of the parking lot waiting.  I just need to grab their cart once they go inside.  It is like the addiction of a druggie, or the performance of a child in grade school.  I have the one task, as long as they don’t try to drive away in a car.  If they walk inside, they will walk out of my life forever.  For being in a customer service position, I really hate talking to people.  Every second passes in a minute.  As they finish packing their stuff they stand next to their bags talking.  I don’t even hear them anymore.  I just want to be done with them, and that happens when they give me their cart.

At last, they meander up the path to the clubhouse.  I make a beeline for the cart.  As I slip into the driver seat, the smell of beer returns.  A dozen cans litter the cubby holes, the golden liquid flooding the containers and the floor.  Crumbs sprinkle the bench next to me, and a recently extinguished cigarette still glows in the ash tray.  Splotches of solidified ketchup mark where the driver’s hands rested.  A half eaten bag of potato chips has a damp tissue stuffed inside it like a toy inside a cereal box.  At last it will be over soon.  

 

One more task complete, one more set of drunks dealt with.  Sometimes I wonder why I am here, why I continue to work in a job where I am constantly in connection with people unable to stand up straight.  A job where those people are given heavy machines to control and they constantly come close to serious injury every day.  A job where a customer will ask for a difficult favor, and spit in your face as a reward, and for the entire time, I must wear a smile and be courteous. 

            About the only thing that can be pulled from this job, is that people need to know to keep in mind, how their actions can affect the people around them.  Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should.

           

 

Assignment #3

The topic I will be creating a digital media artifact for is piracy, and how it affects producers ,performers, and the pirates. This will mostly focus on the financial cost but will mention the penalties for the act.

The piece will consist of an infographic with statistical information on it.  The main audience was originally going to be those planning on pirating material, however with the amount of material on the internet already that is targeted to that group, the target audience is going to be students who may not know what piracy is, or what is considered piracy.  Specifically those who are involved in digital media productions.  This artifact should also display information on how to prevent piracy and stop it.  The artifact should be attracting to the eye avoiding the use of too many words.  Most of the audience will probably be high school and college students and be seeing this piece in passing.  This also means it should be memorable and have a strong message that is right to the point.

Wysocki and Lynch - Designing Compositions Rhetorically

How many times a day do you form an argument?  Once? Twice? Probably a lot more than you think.  Our lives are filled with opportunities to share our opinions.  Everything from who you think should hold office, to where you and your friends go for lunch.  As Wysocki and Lynch put it, arguments exist whenever there is a difference in opinion between people, and you try to express your views to each other.  This post can serve as an argument.  The argument, I am trying to explain what makes an argument an argument to you.

Now, it is easy to say something is an argument. but it is important that arguments are looked at properly.  There are several steps that Wysocki and Lynch suggest in order to properly form an argument.  Asking yourself some key questions to determine the root of the argument.

1. What is the motivation for the argument?
2. What does the audience expect?
3. How will the place and time affect the argument?
4. What are some strategies to achieve the goal?
5. What do audiences expect from the chosen medium?
6. How will the order of the argument affect its reception?
7. Test the argument.
8. What could be the resulting relationship between you and the audience?

Designing an argument properly is so important.  If you use the wrong medium for example, it can say more than what your argument is.  For example, I once saw a large pick-up truck with a bumper sticker about how the driver cared for the environment.  I was able to read this just before the truck pulled away and a cloud of dirty exhaust covered it.  Was the driver legitimately concerned for the environment? Maybe. Did it look like it? No.  That same bumper sticker on an electric vehicle however, would make the argument very strongly.

When making an argument, it is important to look at all the characteristics of your argument, and if possible get some assistance.  You need to choose the context of your argument, determine who your audience is and who they are as people.  The purpose of your argument (if you have no purpose what are you even trying to say?). What strategies you can use.  What is the best medium for the message. And how to best arrange the argument.  Doing all this will make a base for your argument to be built off.  Missing one of these can put a hole in it and make your argument weak.

Wysocki and Lynch - Designing Compositions Rhetorically