So what’s the deal with Pandora? People keep talking about how awesome it is…but it seems like the same concept as my Yahoo radio. I have over 6,000 things rated, which makes it both personalized and still broad enough to satisfy my need for radio karma. Out of the 4,472 songs I have rated, how does it know when I am in an Elvis mood, or need a little Indiana Jones themesong pick-me-up, or can’t go another minute without a showtune? It also has a wicked sense of humor, choosing to play the most embarassing, stupid-girly music whenever I want to seem my least girly (which only happens whenever I am feeling the most girly, which is another one of life’s cruel games), or playing Ozzy or the like whenever my boss comes into the room. And it still has its kinks, like playing Sinead O’Connor because “it is reccommended by fans of Pat Benatar,” which seems wrong and unnatural.
Anyway, this is a song I learned about because of my radio, and I dig it. Maybe I should plug it into Pandora and see what else comes up…or maybe I won’t totally change personalities and become someone who adapts to new technology, and will just stick with what I got.
Today’s otherblog is about being fearless, which is something I’m not, but I need to be. The end of my job is fast approaching, and I need to find a Next Step. I’m open to anything except staying here. It’s time to move on…I can do it. At a slower pace than others, true; but I can still do it. I just don’t want to end up like Jon in ‘Garfield Minus Garfield’…although this had a familiar ring to it.
The poodleface and I are still getting along, now that I’ve moved my hamper to the top of my dresser. Rest in pieces, three pairs of underwear and two socks (two different pairs but both with cats on them, which is clever of Cyb and a bit worrisome for me; surely I am on my way to Crazy Cat Lady-hood as that wasn’t even half of my total cat-sock collection). I’ve learned her shaky legs can be attributed to surviving a bad car crash rather than just being a really old dog. She also has poor vision and hearing, but deaf, enthusiastic dogs are nothing new to me. I have become a one-woman poodle cheerleader. There’s applause for finding her water dish, for climbing down the stairs, for barking at cars (this has happened once; not a lot of traffic in the woods), and, of course, for pooping. In return, she quietly whimpers when I leave, or close a door, or move two feet away from her. Ours is a loving relationship.
In the other part of my Animal Kingdom, the bunnies haven’t bitten me and the turtle isn’t dead. So good news all around.