Maybe it's just me...maybe it is my granny ways...I'm not sure which, but I am really struggling with not only my now...what 4? 5? email accounts and countless other accounts (shutterfly, flicr, the bank...) but now with my various passwords. I thought I would keep it simple and sort of use a similar one for most accounts. No...that would have been too easy. SO some accounts ask you to have at least 6 or 8 letters in your password, others insist on a number, and then there are the ones that just out right judge the strength of your password right in front of you....that's really weak they say, or you're just a bit better than a weakling.
Now that I have spent the last 30 mins trying to hack into my own CBC account to leave a comment on the fact that Obama still has not obtained a puppy for his little girls, I gave up and tried to hack into blogger....this only took me about 5 minutes. Hence this blog post.
I've realized one thing out of all this chaos...and that is that if you use similar passwords, with multiple variations, with multiple email accounts....breaking into your own accounts can at times feel like picking the winning combinations to next weeks lottery.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Pink Wheeled Roller Skates
I grew up during a time when play was something that was done out-doors and your moms were not the ones organizing it. It was definitely a carefree type of existence. I had a pack with another girl, who was also named Alexandra, that we would do everything together. We rode our bikes together, chased boys, and then one day she received a brand new pair of roller skates. I could easily keep up on my bike but, well that just wasn’t the point. There was motivation enough to hassle my own poor mother for my very own pair.
When I laid my eyes in the store on a pink wheeled pair, I knew that was the pair for me. At home I examined the neat bright white leather stitches and how the wheels spun, terrified to actually put them on. I hoped my mother would be content with me playing with the laces. I soon mustered enough courage to put them on and walk across the taupe living room carpet. I knew that once Alexandra no. 2 found out I had skates she would want me to put them on outside; a thought that paralyzed into carpet sliding action.
The next day, Alexandra no. 2 screamed with delight and offered to teach me how to skate which consisted of: get them on, tie the laces and roll. I knew I would have to do the work myself if I wanted to see results. As she had already learned to do some rudimentary spins I began to feel envious of her ability to get move so gracefully on something which caused me so much fear and exhilaration at the same time. I began to skate. The more I tried, the faster I became. Did I fall? Too many times to count but I knew what I wanted, and I was determined to get there on my own. Now as I rollerblade, tuck and fearlessly zip down a hill I sometimes think back to those old skates. They might not be so envious if they could see all the nicks and scars on my knees from my self-directed learning.
When I laid my eyes in the store on a pink wheeled pair, I knew that was the pair for me. At home I examined the neat bright white leather stitches and how the wheels spun, terrified to actually put them on. I hoped my mother would be content with me playing with the laces. I soon mustered enough courage to put them on and walk across the taupe living room carpet. I knew that once Alexandra no. 2 found out I had skates she would want me to put them on outside; a thought that paralyzed into carpet sliding action.
The next day, Alexandra no. 2 screamed with delight and offered to teach me how to skate which consisted of: get them on, tie the laces and roll. I knew I would have to do the work myself if I wanted to see results. As she had already learned to do some rudimentary spins I began to feel envious of her ability to get move so gracefully on something which caused me so much fear and exhilaration at the same time. I began to skate. The more I tried, the faster I became. Did I fall? Too many times to count but I knew what I wanted, and I was determined to get there on my own. Now as I rollerblade, tuck and fearlessly zip down a hill I sometimes think back to those old skates. They might not be so envious if they could see all the nicks and scars on my knees from my self-directed learning.
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