Welcome to my message board.
New member registration has been disabled due to heavy spammer activity. If you'd like to join the board, please email me at MaxDevore at hotmail dot com.
New member registration has been disabled due to heavy spammer activity. If you'd like to join the board, please email me at MaxDevore at hotmail dot com.
Comments
I watch it on youtube because most of the fun of Graham is his facial reactions. He makes me laugh and Maria, who I don’t know anything about, is pretty funny too.
I completed the Duolingo Spanish course. It took me 657 days. The first two weeks, I was on the free plan to see if I could commit. After being generously added to my son’s family plan, I had a 643 day streak. Every day for 643 days, I practiced Spanish.
Can I speak Spanish? Not really.
Can I understand when Spanish is spoken? Depends. A slow clear speaker? — yes. I am confident I would get the gist (jist?) of what is being talked about.
Can I read Spanish? Yes. This is my strongest area. I studied roughly 6343 words. I do not remember all of them, but again, context clues of what I’m reading, I would do okay.
Can I write Spanish? I’ll let you decide: te ti lo perro gato comer estas leche baño tengo? (for those not wanting to bother, that’s a pretty definitive fuck no.)
Was it worth it? Absolutely. If interested, pay for it. The free plan sucks. It’s frustrating and discouraging.
The last 7 years, I needed many creative outlets to survive. Duolingo was one of those things that kept one foot moving in front of the other. As has the Keenedom been for me, along with Bev Vincent Messageboard, these patient pieces of real estate. Thank you.
Sometimes people don’t realize the good they do for a total stranger or a loved one.
Ultimately, there was no fanfare for crossing the finish line. Nobody shouting or waving banners acknowledging my achievement. Duolingo did not pat me on the back in front of the thousands of language learners so I could wave and blow kisses.
I will continue daily practice and as God is my witness, I will keep getting way too close to native speakers so I can eavesdrop on every Spanish speaking conversation in my vicinity.
That’s right. I’ll know everything about your rash when you seek guidance from the pharmacist.
Gaming came into my life when my sons were kids. We bought them the latest, greatest systems as they evolved. But, they weren’t purchased as babysitters, although they were, at times, I admit, great for when I needed to get some chores done around the house.
But, playing always took place on the big TV in the main living space where I could stay vigilant. Okay, sometimes I didn’t realize what was happening to those poor hookers in Vice City — but I quickly put a kabosh on that shit. One more working girl run down, and I confiscate the game. Rest in peace you street walkers I couldn’t save.
Gaming honestly does have benefits. Hand/eye coordination, problem solving, split second decision making, patience, puzzle solving and so much more. I will defend them.
And while I tried to play, I was really hopeless. I don’t think I made it past 5 minutes in any game without dying. It would have helped if my kids would have given me a tutorial on the buttons, but they thought it was hilarious when I walked myself into a corner and just stuck there. Hitting every damn button trying to back out.
We also watched top gamers on Youtube together. No matter what I was doing, if my kids wanted me to sit and watch a game with them, I did.
Which brings me to now. My youngest son, to this day, asks me to watch games with him. He’s married, in his 30s, has his own place and a full-time job, but he still comes over so we can watch the newest launches.
As I watch, I’m a back seat gamer, exasperated with these players as they make mistakes (says the person who can’t do it). I’m talking to the gamer, usually sayings things like, “you dumbass” or “look behind you!” “Look up!” “Get in there, get under his balls!” They need me to show them gaps in their battle play against those big bosses. Just sayin’. They never pay attention what’s coming from behind. And god almighty, they just don’t want to pan up!
My son will casually say, “ this is recorded mom, they can’t hear you.” And I say, “I know, but let me enjoy the game my way.”
Here is my biggest pet peeve with games: Fights aren’t fair. Some giant, dragon/sea captain/hound-wolf mutated hybrid hell boss is spitting poisonous vomit, shooting lightening bolts from it’s eyes, swinging some very sharp long-range kill-kill weapon that covers a football field while shitting lava — and the gamer’s protagonist has a steak knife. Wth.
And boy, I’m just incensed about it. My son says, “It’s a video game, mom” and I say, “I realize it’s a video game smart ass, but it isn’t fair!” (Okay. So I get a little more invested than i should).
I know gamers can set levels, easy to you-enjoy-hours-of-dying-to-prove-you-can-defeat-it settings. And I need to accept how they enjoy playing, just like I want to enjoy watching the way I do.
So, you keep dying gamers, and I’ll keep screaming instructions at you, and at the end of the day, we all get what we need sometimes. Good memories.
Gaming came into my life when my sons were kids. We bought them the latest greatest systems as they evolved. But, they weren’t purchased as babysitters, although they were, at times, I admit, great for when I needed to get some chores done around the house.
But, playing always took place on the big TV in the main living space where I could stay vigilant. Okay, sometimes I didn’t realize what was happening to those poor hookers in Vice City — but I quickly put a kabosh on that shit. One more working girl run down, and I confiscate the game. Rest in peace you street walkers I couldn’t save.
While I don’t condone hooker killing or pimpin’, Gaming honestly does have benefits. Hand/eye coordination, problem solving, split second decision making, patience, puzzle solving and so much more. I will defend them.
And while I tried to play, I was really hopeless. I don’t think I made it past 5 minutes in any game without dying over and over… and over again. I swear, the water fowl in Duck Shoot were shooting me and the dog gnawed on my leg bone.
It would have helped if my kids would have given me a tutorial on the controller, but they thought it was hilarious when I walked myself into a corner and just stuck there. Hitting every damn button trying to back out.
We also watched top gamers on Youtube together when that came along. No matter what I was doing, if my kids wanted me to sit and watch a game with them, I did.
Which brings me to now. My youngest son, to this day, asks me to watch games with him. He’s married, in his 30s, has his own place and a full-time job, but he still comes over so we can enjoy the newest launches.
As I watch, I’m a back-seat gamer, exasperated with these players as they make mistakes (says the person who can’t do it).
I’m talking to the gamer, usually saying things like, “you dumbass” or “look behind you!” “Look up!” “Get in there, get under his balls!”
They need me to show them gaps in their battle play against those big bosses. Just sayin’. They never pay attention what’s coming from behind. And god almighty, they just don’t want to pan up!
My son will casually say, “This is recorded mom, they can’t hear you.” And I say, “I know, but let me enjoy the game my way.”
Here is my biggest pet peeve with games: Fights aren’t fair.
Some giant, dragon/sea captain/hound-wolf mutated hybrid hell boss is spitting poisonous vomit, shooting lightening bolts from it’s eyeballs, swinging some very sharp long-range kill-kill weapon that covers a football field while shitting lava — and the gamer’s protagonist has a steak knife. Wth.
And boy, I’m just incensed about it. My son says, “It’s a video game, mom” and I say, “I realize it’s a video game smart ass, but it isn’t fair!” (Okay. So I get a little more invested than I should).
I know gamers can set levels, easy to you-enjoy-hours-of-dying-to-prove-you-can-defeat-it settings. And I need to accept how they enjoy playing, just like I want to enjoy watching the way I do.
So, you keep dying gamers, and I’ll keep screaming instructions at you, and at the end of the day, we all get what we need sometimes.