Scale of Change

"Where are you going?" Mom recently asked me when i took a break from my office (which is in the house).

"I'm going to go have a cup of tea and watch my fish change color."

"Oh, okay."

My five goldfish aren't changing so dramatically that you can spot the differnce after one cup of tea, but I still marvel at their changes, nonetheless. That Napoleon, the smallest fish, has actually GROWN let alone change his dorsal fin color, is truly miraculous. Napoleon now has a trnasparant black spoton his dorsal fin. It's not a sickness -- it's just part of the fin is now black.

Twin Comet, once a metallic bronze, now has turned disctinctly silver. He has also grown jowels. That's one reason why I assume he's a he.

Twin Common, also once the exact same shade of mettalic bronze, is going through the most dramamtic transformation. S/he is getting a very dark dorsal stripe with a golden-yellow belly. Every couple of days, the yellow spreads up to the face. The base of the tail is now pinkish.

We humans should go through such changes in our lifetimes -- and not just our hair color. We should be born one color and then, when the mid-life crisis is about to set in, our skins suddenly switch colors overnight. Wouldn't that be fun? One month, you're a card-carrying member of the KKK, next month you are black.

Wouldn't that help us all get to know what our fellow humans have to go through?

Nahh, probably not. We'd just find something else about the neightbors to bitch about.

Well, back to watch the fish change some more.

The Aged of Aquarius

This is Betty from Ontario, who is a heck of a lot cuter than another photo of me. Also, she has more rhythm. This image was nicked from Cute With Chris. I thought a cute kitten shakin' her groove thang would help ease the reader into this particular blog post.

Lots of good stuff and bad stuff have been happening in my life, as perhaps for everyone else in the world. I got dropped by Medicaid due to a paperwork error, but hopefully that can soon be resolved. Although I'd love to be able to vountarily drop Medicaid, I don't make enough money at my freelancing career yet.

Also, this has happened at an incredibly inconvienient time. Two of the very few people I really love in this world have their birthdays in early February. Fortunately for my memory, they have them on consecutive days. My Mom's birthday is today, February 12 and Peter Gabriel's is tomorrow (February 13). That makes them both under the sun sign of Aquarius. And both are sterotypical Aquariuses, too. Trying to get them presents has been horrible.

Last year, I sent Peter a rant, but I've mellowed with age and this year sent him a copy of "Peter & Sid".

Last year, I was able to get Mom her favorite Crabtree & Evelyn soaps -- this year I could in no way manage the soaps. Besides, she would be expecting them. So, I got her a canister of mixed nuts and a donation in her name to help take care of seal lions in California.

I'll probably never know how Peter liked his gift, but Mom's gift went over really well.

But now I can't rest -- I have to get my act in gear to give the IRS their present on April 15.

So Scary It Could Cure Hiccups

Yes, that's actually a photo of me this time around, instead of a cute animal or birdie avatar. It was taken when I was in line for soup and sarnies being given out to the homeless in the Bath Hilton parking lot on Monday nights. Ahh, the memories.

I've decided that both my writing career and my spiritual life would greatly benefit from a catch phrase. I've decided on "So scary, it could cure hiccups", because I came up with it myself (sadly, all of the other clever catch phrases had been taken). I wonder how long this will take before it goes viral. I think it's a much more accurate description of 2007 than "Woot". It's also a frankly accurrate description of my writing career, physical appearance and spiritual life.

As proof that wonders never cease, I have been interviewed for my writing (not for a police interview, thankfully) by Every Day Fiction. It turns out, my flash fiction Peter & Sid was the most read story on the website in the month of December. To reward me, I was interviewed.

Also, I just got notice that one of my wacky articles made it to the home page of Helium for the week of January 21. Hopefully, those hiccups are all gone now.

This Is Pony

Can you resit the cuteness? Bow down before the might of Pony, you mere mortals!

Yes, I have finally been able to get onto the web a photo of my beloved English Mongrel who has saved my life more times than I care to admit. I promise I won't turn this blog which is suppossed to be about my spiritual life into a slide show of my dog. Pony is my guru, so she deserves some space on the blog.

This Christmas, I finally got a scanner. Be prepared for The Many Ears Of Pony (which I might develop into its own blog. Just show Pony with her ears in a different position for each day of the year. Well, if Chris Leavins can do it...)

What Will Happen When The Dalai Lama Dies?

EDIT:  If you want to see a better-written, more thought out version of this article, please check out my Yahoo! Voices version.  Thanks!

Yeah, I'm opening the new year with a heavy thought. This was originally a blog about my spiritual journey. and I've strayed from that a wee bit. In the last few years, my spiritual journey has been heavily influenced by the teachings and the life of the Dalai Lama, one of my personal heroes.

The Dalai Lama is considered the soul of Tibet. The Statue of Liberty has nothing on the Dalai Lama as being the major symbol of a nation. However, Tibet as a country really no longer exists since the Chinese did whatever they are calling their forcefully taking over of a country now. However, being a Tibetan is more than just living in Tibet. The Dalai Lama is perhaps the most quintessential Tibetan and he hasn't set foot inside Tibet since 1959. It is theorised that when he dies (and he is currently 72), that with him will die any hope of a free Tibet.

The current Dalia Lama is considered the fourteenth incarnation of the God of Compassion. Wouldn't the Dalai Lama just come back in another life? Possibly, but the odds are this Dalai Lama would be killed by the Chinese if discovered. Also, since the troublesome Tibetans revere the Dalai Lama so, the Chinese are sure to present a new and Chinese-friendly 15th Dalai Lama.

However, we've seen this before haven't we? We have with the nation of Israel. Perhaps today's Tibetans are the new Jews...I guess that didn't sound right. But the Jewish people lost their homeland and were persecuted for thousands of years (still are, arguably) but finally got their own nation back.

How did the Jews survive for thousands of years? Tradition and a unique spiritual life.
Perhaps this can serve as inspiration for those displaced and exiled Tibetans living today. We can also extrapolate this into other areas of our lives, even if we are not Tibetan, Chinese, Jewish or Buddhist.

Right. Back to the usual silliness next time.

We're Number 4!

Santa has given a little prezzie to me early this year. As a freelance writer, one of the things I have to deal with that's even more mind-boggling than English grammar is Search Engine Optimization (SEO). This is the fine art of word manipulation mated with algorithyms in order to make your website high up on the rankings of places like Google, Ask.com or Yahoo. One of my blog posts for Where We Relax has shown up at Number 4 out of about 4 million for the keywords "how to be liked". WOOT!

And, also, my flash fiction piece "Peter & Sid" was published by Every Day Fiction. No prizes for guessing who the "Peter" character is based on.

Speaking of Peter, isn't this a festive image? This image was created by Mrs. RatBag on the Solsbury Hill Forums. It was so good I had to steal it. As Peter once said:

"Historically, all great art is based on theft."

Off to collapse. See you next year.

Response to Peter Gabriel's 24 Nov. Video Post

Since I mention Peter Gabriel so frequently in this blog, you probably have gathered that I keep an eye on his official web site. Once a month, Peter posts a video blog complete with backing soundtrack about why he still doesn't have another album out. Well, he yet again forgot my birthday, but I don't mind. Yesterday, he asked his fans for responses to his delectable little video blog in a video format. Well, since I don't have a video anything, this'll have to do.

That was the introduction. My letter to Peter is the rest of the post. If you're a little uncomfortable about eavesdropping, just go talk to each other and I'll see you next month.

Dear Peter

You asked for responses -- you got it. As you've probably noticed by now, this isn't in the requested video format. Trust me, darling, my words are far more attractive than either my face or my voice. You could always print this out and put it behind a lava lamp for any needed special effects.

Anyway, I'm quite pleased that you are so busy not working on I/O. This gives me something to tease you about. God/dess knows, you give me precious little opportunites to do that.

You mention that there are those fans who do not like it when you talk about anything other than your music or lack thereof. I am not one of those. I'm glad to hear about your humanitarian activities. I marvel at it.

I do admire that you see the human race as something worth saving, which is a point of view I wish I could share. I would add points about my point of view, but I honestly do not wish to damper your enthusiasm. Some day, I hope to share it. Right now, I concentrate my efforts on animal rights and hope to expand someday.

And the quality of your music is still as high as ever, probably because of the extracirricular activities. I have a feeling that you'd get bored very quickly if you just sat in a studio all day, and that would definately show in the music.

So, keep on talking about Witness, The Elders and anything that excites and inspires you. It all sounds good.

Sweet dreams,

rraven (Rena Sherwood)

God, I'm 38. What Happened?

Yes, it's time for the annual posting of the Solsbury Hill Commitee's picture of a partying Peter. That means my mortality clock has ticked on one click. Translation: Yesterday was my birthday.

Now, I'm coming down from a major sugar and Breyer model horse buzz, so I can't really make a big post, as my eyes are still not back into focus. That and a killer sinus headache this morning didn't help things. However, yesterday my Mom and Dad got together to have me have one of the best birthdays of my entire life. For a few hours, I was a little horse-mad girl again! Mom found about a "Breyer Fun Day" held locally and had my Dad drive me to it (my folks are divorced).

I used to have about 1,000 model horses of various sizes and Breyer was and is my favorite brand. At this Breyer Fun Day, I got to eat free cupcakes, shop for boku Breyers, play a Breyer game, talk to other collectors, enter (and loose) at free to enter raffles and got a free poster, stickers, dealer's catalogue and a free Breyer -- well, I had to paint the little Breyer pony in order to get him for free, but I'm not quibbling.

Now, it's back to work (which I love, incidently.) Showcasing some of my recent work on HubPages, you can read such diverse topics as:

*Practical Crystal Healing
*What To Feed Your Ferret
*How To Set Up A Goldfish Tank
*The Medicinal Properties of Clove Oil

Fish Acting Fishy

Now that my five goldfish have gifted my home with their presense for about a month, I'm noticing something peculiar. All of them are growing -- except for the smallest one, Napoleon. The other four also hang out together more -- even sleep at the same time -- while Napoleon is on the other side of the tank, doing his fishy thing.

It is possible that Napoleon is just a genetically small Comet goldfish, as there are small members in the Plecostomus family that can stay one inch all of their lives or suddenly shoot to a foot and a half in length. But Napoleon isn't a Pleco -- he's a baby goldfish living with four other baby goldfish. The other four are growing -- why not him?

I'm doing the right things -- not overfeeding, doing weekly partial water changes, keeping the cat away, keeping the light on to mimic the sun -- and this guy isn't growing while the other four are.

I've got a bad feeling that one day I'll look in the tank and see only Napoleon swimming through a floating cloud of shredded fins and decapitated heads. And he still won't have grown any. In that case, he can have the tank to himself. I'll have a hell of a job explaining the situation to any onlookers, though. I never had this problem with guinea pigs, at least, although I did have it with hamsters.

In other news, I guess you've noticed all of the links to my HubPages articles. It's not a way to brainwash, you, I assure you -- just a requirement from the HubPages maestros.

And the writing career stumbles onward...

Happy Halloween!

I love Halloween. I always have. That's probably one reason why I became a Witch. I love dressing up (even when it's not Halloween) but I haven't got to the point of dressing up my dog. I think she's just rip the costume off. But if I did, I'd probably get something like the costume pictured.

I used to love getting the candy during trick or treat. Now, I'm on the other side of the door and I think I get more of a kick out of that. Tonight, I'm dressing up as a Witch (what else) and handing the candy out. Pony will be The Hound of the Baskervilles, running up and down her new yard to scare the crap out of all the trick or treaters. I have this really grisly looking bone for her to chew on. Should be a blast.

And as a treat for you, Gentle Readers, I'll cut off this blog post early.

FEESH!

Yes, the fish have finally arrived and life as I know it has ended. Anyway, the Fab Five are doing great and have been helping me get my head together and learn some valuable life lessons.

The fishy five were from the local PETCO. We usually don't go to PETCO, but it is the closest pet shop to us and a shorter trip is less stressful to the fish than a long one. I barely slept the night before Mom drove me to the stire to get the fish. She even greeted me with "Happy Fishy Day!"

I decided to save five feeders' lives (SAVE THE FEEDERS) rather than splurge on pedigreed goldfish. You don't get to choose your fish if you want any from the feeder tank, so I let fate and the nice (and cute) PETCO employee dude choose. And he chose well. There are two Comets, two Common goldfish and one undecided. I have no idea what sex any of them are, so I just assign them personal adjectives at random.

They are:

• Napoleon, the smallest and the leader of the group. About a half inch long, the usual goldfish gold, a Comet and first to figure out everything.


• Redcap, a pinto colored fish with a bright oprange cap (hense the incredibly original name), a Comet baby about an inch long.


• Belly, another itty-bitty baby goldie that's just a wee bit bigger than Napoleon, named after the bright silver and usually fatter belly than Napoleon. Since Belly is so small and active, I can't see her tail shape well enough to determine what breed she is (hey, maybe she's a mongrel! So am I!)


• Twin Comet, the biggest fish, with a honkin' big tail. He is a metallic gold and looks almost identical to


• Twin Common, who has a smaller tail but othersise looks identical to the other Twin.

I promise not to turn this blog into a repetative journal about my brilliant fish, but I just needed to get all this news out of my system. Back to the usual prattle next week.

Why Atlantis Sank

I have solved the mystery of why Atlantis, the mysterious island that knew everything about everything except that it was going to sink, sunk. I actually have some scientific facts to back me up. In 2000, in Venezula, a multi-national team of scientists discovered the remains of the world's biggest guinea pig. How big? 1500 pounds big. My God, even a Thoroughbred stallion weighs less than that! This guinea pig has been officially christened Phoberomys pattersoni but is known among the scientific community as "Guineazilla".

Guineazilla lived eight million years ago, when Atlantis was most likely not only high and dry, but a lot closer to what is now South America. Atlanteans, with nothing better to do, wandered over to South America, where they find cute little baby Guineazillas who have somehow wandered from Mommyzilla and Daddyzilla. The Atlanteans take them home.

Then the babyzillas grew up.
Under their combined weight, the mighty island sank like, approprately enough, a stone. The grown up Guineazillas, bouyed by their fat, floated leisurely back home to South America.

I'm sure it happened.
But I'd need federal grant money in order to pursue this theory further.

The Bristol Shubunkin

I collect neat sayings that would make either dynamite book titles or names for show horses. Hopefully, this post will live up to the tilte of "The Bristol Shubunkin", but I kinda doubt it. And what is a Bristol Shubinkin? It's a kind of goldfish developed in Bristol, England (duh) which is hopefully pictured above. Perhaps one day this will be the title of a book of my poems ... if it's not used by Robert Ludlum first.

With the coming of fall, a girl's thoughts naturally turn to ... that's right...

Goldfish.

In my last post, I was working on a way to let my Mom allow my Dad to give me his twenty gallon aquarium and stand. (Mom and Dad do not live together anymore -- partially due to aquatic issues just like this). Well, Mom said yes and mentioned something about "keeping me too busy to keep playing those damn Peter Gabriel CDs." Ah, Peter comes through for me again!

So now I have an almost fully equipped aquarium with rocks and plastic plants and a really hyperactive heater (uh-oh) all bubbling away a few feet from my bed. the theory is that not only will I get to relax by watching the fish, I will be able to write articles about my fish keeping experiences and make a little money so I can support this new hobby.

But, as any fish keeper knows, you just can't start an aquarium and plunk the fish in. Oh no. There isn't any benficial bacteria built up yet to support life. It's very much like your intestines -- if there aren't any beneficial bacteria in your guts, then the food can't digest. So, my goldfish tank is kinda like a rectangular water filled gut.

Eeewww.

Anyway, the earliest any goldfish can move in is October 15th. This is as bad as waiting for Christmas when I was a kid. In order to keep me from annoying my Mom and to keep out of trouble, I've been a very busy freelance writer. Here are some of the places I contribute regularly to:

* Where We Relax (a blog about relaxing, believe it or not)
* Dealing With Headaches
* My articles on Helium (as soon as I figure out what Helium is, I'll let you know).
* Ghostritten articles galore gathered together in one place in rraven's ghostwritten whispers.

If Wishes Were Fishes

I want a fish tank. Preferably with fish in it. I have had tanks before and so I have a taste of what I'm up against. I'm always sad when a pet dies, even a wet pet, and fish are the most mortal of the bunch. But this time I am determined that it will work out. Mainly, becuase I don't have to pay for a tank, a stand and a light. I discovered my Dad wants to get rid of his empty 20 gallon tank. Currently, it is home to two wooden sculptures of tropical fish and some gravel.

Besides, I have this pet advice column on Hub Pages. This could be great research for future articles. Perhaps I could even write the fish off as a business expense? And watching fish is supposed to lower stress. I could write about that in my new professional blog for We-Relax.com.

Well, I talked to Dad just a few minutes ago and he is all for giving me the tank, stand and light and even helping me set the tank up. He has even offered to buy me a pump for an early birthday present.

The only snag is that I live in my Mom's basement. So I have to convince Mom that a 20 gallon fishtank is a good thing. I have no idea what my dog Pony is going to think (probably "Blah, blah, blah Pony blah blah blah" as suggested by a Far Side cartoon). Cross your fingers that I swim and don't sink!

Speaking about luck, I have recently had another website pay me for one of my original poems about a strange bit of luck called, "How To Determine There's A God When You Are On The Return Flight To Philadelphia From Orlando". Enjoy.

New Moon

A new moon is an omen of a new direction or start in life, fortunes or projects. A new moon is the most auspiscious time to start working on life goals. Today is the new moon. It also happens to be the sixth anniversary of Sept 11. I hope that America will get a new attitude and get on with life from this new moon onwards.

After six years, what have we learned, folks? That's it's probably not the best of ideas to swat a mosquito with a bazooka. Honestly, if the Bad Guys were supposed to be so evil, I think we would've all been toast long before now. So let's get things in perspective and start tackling the REAL issues that need money and manpower, like world peace, fixing the enviornment, reducing the human overpopulation, feeding those who are already here, lowering the cost of things and shifting our worship of Money to a worship of Let's Get Our Shit Sorted Out.

Sorry, not feeling funny today. But I don't want to end on such a bummer of a note. Here's a video of a duet between Bono and the late, great Luciano Pavarotti. One of the highlights of my tumultous five years in England was getting to see The Three Tenors performance in Bath. I always thought Pavarotti would outlive me. Perhaps he will, after all. That's a fair trade-off.

God & The Lottery

Last week a Wiccan won The Lottery (and not the Shirley Jackson kind, mind you). Elwood "Bunky" Bartlett won over $30 million after some intense spiritual negotiations:

Bartlett, an accountant from Dundalk, Maryland, said he made a bargain with the multiple gods associated with his Wiccan beliefs: "You let me win the lottery and I'll teach." Both tickets he purchased had numbers chosen randomly from the computer.

I'm a Witch as well and have yet to win the lottery (although once I think I won a copy of short stories with "The Lottery" by Shirley Jackson in it). When you read Wiccan, think "Witch". As far as I'm concerned, "Wiccan" is the wussy name. The thinking behind calling oneself Wiccan rather than Witch is that the name Witch has a whole lotta archetype baggage associated with it. And that's exactly the reason why I call myself a Witch...or at least, a Pagan.

ANYWAY, the media seems quite interested in Bartlett's religion. I hesitate to think that Bartlett is the first Wiccan/Pagan to ever win money, but apparantly he's the first for a major multi-million pot. I hope this does not lead people to look into Wiccan/Pagan spirituality just for the dosh. They will be sadly disappointed, let me tell you.

Oh, you get what you ask for if you really really want it, don't get me wrong. On the day I devoted myself to The Path, I asked for wisdom. Silly me. I had no idea what the consquences of asking for wisdom would be. I thought I would learn how to organize coupons better. No. I wound up falling in love with a homeless alchoholic in England, ran away from home to follow him and lived in poverty for over five years. I had to come back to America after my litte home in the woods was burnt down. But I am a hell of a lot wiser.

Having said that, I suppose I could do a spell to win a lottery. But what would be the point? Would I be truly happy? Well, I'd be a lot more comfortable, but I wouldn't be any happier.

Hopefully, Elwood "Bunky" Bartlett will not have to go through what I had to go through to get what he wanted. Free advice, though, Brother Elwood -- most spirits and elemental forces and the human student body do not obey anyone named "Bunky". "My Goddess! We're in for it now! It's Professor Wizard Bunky!" Heck, even Tim is a scarier name.

And speaking of true magic, one little wish of mine has come true. Peter Gabriel has finally gone and found himself a distributer for his new album, I/O...but whenever that comes out, God only knows.

Gid God

Apparantly God has decided to be a graffitti artist. He doesn't seem to have too much of an original tag (the name graffiti artists go by, such as the immortal Spaz) but at least He is using an extrememly original medium -- eggplants.

I've read about cracking the cosmic egg, but this is ridiculous.

I was born in Delaware County, PA which is a hearty scream outside of South Philadelphia. I always knew Delaware County was going to produce something extraordinary one day. And it did, producing Jim Croce, but he's sadly passed on now so we've been waiting for something else to fill in the gap.

And it's here -- On August 12, 2007 in a humble mostly agnostic home in Boothwyn, Delaware County, Feliecia Teske was carving up an eggplant for, presumably, dinner. When she sliced the plant, out popped the image that is still hopefully at the top of this post. The seeds seem to be spelling out the word "God" (although to me it looks like Gid). She did what any normal person would do -- alterted the media and then put the Holy Eggplant up on eBay.

Incredibly, owners of more Holy Eggplants have come forward. Even more incredibly, they are not getting any bids.

I think Delaware County would've rather had Jim Croce back.

Puppy Mojo

Bless Hecate -- today is Pony's third birthday. Yes, the world has been blessed now with THREE FULL years of my dog, Pony's, presence. Her birthday just happens to coincide with an ancient sacred day for the great pre-Hellenic Goddess Hecate, who just happens to be incredibly fond of dogs. Months before Pony was born, I had chosen Hecate to petition for a new dog (my first dog Rusty dying over a year previously). That Pony was born on a sacred day of the Goddess I asked for help from seemed to be too much of a coincidence.

And Pony is a magickal dog. Her wishes come true much more often than mine do. She has a penetrating stare that wakes me from my sleep. She often stares unblinkingly at you for minutes if she wants something. My Mom calls this her "puppy mojo". Don't laugh -- it works.

Pony was nored living homeless in the English woods, for instance. So our home burnt down and we needed to move. Saint Mom took us in. Now Pony gets to see mots of people, lots of doggies, and sniff new sniffs every day here in America.

Then Pony did not like when I had a job at Macy's. Whenever I got dressed for work, she would cringe and whine. She wanted me to stay with her. So I quit my job, became unemployed for a year and now make enough money to meet Pony's needs (if not my own, but that;s not the point)with telecommuting.

You want to get some magick in your life? Forget the spellbooks and Wiccan workshops -- just get a dog.

Thank God For Atheists!

It is seems atheism is hot again. There are a lot of books being sold written by atheists proving that religion is detremental to life, the universe and everything. And I think the Gods (any and all)are part of the buying public.

I'm not an atheist, but that doesn't mean I'm against atheism. Atheism does not equate with immoratlity. We do seem to be inborn with a set of ethics (except for the mentally ill) that often coincide with religious laws or duties. Although I haven't yet read the book pictured (Xmas gift hint), I have had long, happy discussions with atheists and agnostics. And they all seemed to be responsible, moral people. Although those who I talked to might not hold the views all atheists do, I think I've talked to enough to get the general gist.

The atheists I've talked to aren't aginst God or Goddess. They look at God or Goddess the way non-atheists look at an art form. It's religion that they are so worked up about. And religion is an entirely different animal from God/dess.

So, if your view of God/dess is that they set laws and punish those who break them and demand that all of nature worship them 24/7, then I can't agree with that view of God. God/dess made the damn universe -- what does He or She care a rat's ankle if someone doesn't go to Church? I think They've got more on Their plate than wagging fingers at every little naughty-naughty.

God has gotten a bad rap from organized religion. He or She is probably loving books like those on the left and saying , "Me bless all atheist authors!"

In other news, I've had another story published in the e-zine Susurrus: The Literature of Madness. (Let that be a reminder to you to take this Blog with a spoonful of sugar) It's about the quest to find a personal God, among other things. Hope you like it, especially all you Peter Gabriel fans. The editor went to great lengths to find illustrations for it. It's called Lost & Found.

Resistance Is Useless

What do you think of when you hear the word "teacher?" If you're me, you think of variations of the image on the left. So, whenever anyone said to me, "You look like schoolteacher," (because of my glasses, I guess) I cringed and promptly lived a live as non-schoolteacherish as I could. Being a sterotypical Scorpio, I prided myself on being completely unpredicatble.

And now, so what am I doing to earn a living? I'm writing how to and instructional articles on the web. In other words... I'M TEACHING. There are just times when everyone else except you can see your destiny and you just can't fight Destiny Hall. Fight it, no...compromise greatly, yes. I don't have to wear a dress code, speak in front of a group and can run with scissors and call it "research".

All of this has lead to me finding (at last count) over one hundred of my "teachings" on the web. To try and add links in one post or in the sidebar of this blog would be ridiculous, so I'm proud to announce that The Perfect Blog Title now has a spin off blog rraven's ghostwritten whispers. Now if I could only somehow get tenure...