Gmail now has Exchange integration.

Not that this matters directly to my life, but it got me thinkin':

I use GMail for my personal email and my Hot Breakfast email. My Hot Breakfast email is provided by GoDaddy, but instead of reading it separately via GoDaddy's webmail, I just pull it into GMail and have it labeled "Hot Breakfast!" so I can see it easier and also filter for it.

My work (knapp-it.com) email is also hosted by GoDaddy, but the only way I read my KnappIT email is either by firing up a browser and using GoDaddy's interface, or by using a totally separate email app (K-9 Mail) on my phone. KnappIT and Gmail never touch. 

But now I'm wondering if I should re-examine that.

So... people who have both a personal email address and a work email address... what are some pros and cons to keeping them separate, or reading them all through Gmail?

One pro I can see is that Gmail lets me use a rich text editor on my phone that would come in handy for work-- right now if I need rich text for work I have to be sitting at a PC.  But a con would be that I wouldn't be able to easily say "I will not be at work after hours" if I have work emails coming into gmail after my US business hours. (I have lots of overseas students who use my videos. I don't always want to answer them at 9:30PM.) 

Thoughts?

Copied from FB, because I want to save this for myself.  Writing this made me so happy.

 I'm not asleep. I like Hillary Clinton and I am thrilled that she got the nomination. I voted for her and I will be proud to vote for her again. I'm watching the DNC and I am moved by all of the speakers and their genuine regard for her - not only politicians and stars, but also Americans who she has helped over her many years of public service. I realize that I am opening myself up to bashing because I stated my opinion here, and I expect it, but I am not going to ruin my evening fending off personal attacks. I read news, I listen to political podcasts (all liberal, but not all pro-Hillary Clinton), I dig in and find out facts. I am not uninformed or foolish, and I am not looking for a debate or an argument. When Bernie Sanders emerged as a candidate, I read about him exhaustively, and when the accusations of corruption emerged, I researched them, using multiple sources, and I don't deny that the DNC did some shady shit, though I question whether it is new or same shit as always, just exposed. I am not insulting Bernie Sanders supporters, though I am sad that some progressives are so angry at Hillary Clinton that they will not even read her true, provable progressive record or her positions on the issues before voting against her in protest. I am a progressive liberal with an independent mind, and I'm with Her.

Right now is a reasonable time to have Fear of Missing Out. 

I'm in the city where the Democratic Party just appointed its first female presidential candidate. Today hundreds of people turned away representatives of the Westboro Baptist Church from an LGBT clinic with music and colors and love, and turned the protest into a block party.  There is a ton of dissent, and that's the magic of democracy.  

Last night I stayed up till midnight, glued to a screen, watching the DNC speeches.   Today I regretted not getting enough sleep. I spent the day shackled to a screen, watching training videos for work. I was shoving the pointy ends of paper clips into my fingers to keep from falling asleep. There are so many better, more beautiful things I could have done with my day. At least I'm (technically) helping people. 

Screens aren't helping me. 

When I got home, I decided that 92 degrees was as reasonable as the weather would get before dark, and took Squeaky for a short walk (about a mile).  We outran a door to door salesgirl who was working the block (I'm perfectly happy with my energy supplier, thanks!) and went once around the local park.  The playground has a baby elephant fountain, that blasts water into the air from its trunk on hot days. Squeaky and I went over to cool off. She didn't like the shower itself, but liked being cooler, and chased the droplets splashing in the puddles. 

An African-American toddler boy was playing in the shower. The evening sun silhouetted him and turned the droplets gold. I wanted to take a picture, but I don't think it's right to take pictures of people without their permission.  He loved Squeaky. She looked at him and sniffed, and he held out his hands to her and laughed. But, he was a little shy, and Squeaky was tired.  The boy's dad and I smiled at each other. It was hot and time to go home. 

So, maybe I'm not missing out, I just need to minimize screen time. 

This is a sculpture from Roosevelt Playground in Mayfair. It's about 7 or 8 feet up on a pedestal, and I just found out that it's called The Dove Of Peace. 

A woman can be President of The United States.

Here is a thing. 

I can't be with Ted every night this week. He's on his own, in his apartment. He usually prefers to be with my mom at night. He likes being independent, but in touch with others, like how a family usually rolls, as they wind down for the night. 

When the storm tonight was bad, I called him to check in. He was ok: he had power and cable and snacks, but he sounded a little scared and lonely. We talked about summer rain and barometric pressure. I assured him he would be fine, and I'd call him in an hour to check in. 

I posted on Facebook, an open thread, asking people to send him kind wishes, to help him get through the storm.

The storm of goodness that came through, boy, let me tell you. Big hearts bigger than the Grinch's in Whoville on Christmas Day. 

I called him at the requested check-in time, and told him what happened.

"Oh, good." 

I know that when his phone rings, it drives him crazy, so I don't want to call him again tonight. 

I am so lucky to have a front seat to goodness. 

Writerly Folks:

I was wondering if I could get some thoughts on the following items. I listen to a lot of podcasts about writing/publishing, but those are (in a sense) only one source. So I thought I would turn to youse guyz since I know there are more than a couple writers here.

Publishing

• Is traditional publishing still a thing that is worth pursuing?
  
• If so, how worthy of pursuit is it? Meaning: How much would you give up / fight for that over self publishing / digital publishing?
  
• If so, why? Is there some singular element that just puts it way out in front of self/digital publishing?

Tools / Resources

• Is there a resource you use all the time (podcasts, writing software, website(s)) that you use and couldn't live without?
• What do you most commonly use to do your writing? Pen and paper? Word? Scrivener?

Process

• Do you have a routine for writing? What is it?
• Do you have a production schedule? If so, why?

Why

Just wanted to point out that I wanted to do this post mostly as a discussion starter. I'm curious about the way you fine folks think about writing as work. As such, I'll comment below with my own answers. That way you can reply without being affected by my answers. You can also read them first if you prefer.

Hey oneposteristas,

Apparently posting from Android was jacked up big time.

Sorry.

I am embarrassed to say I post rarely enough from my own Android phone that I didn't experience this for much too long.

But, it's fixed now! I installed a newer version of ckeditor which resolved the underlying issue.

I also added a "+" button for adding the next tag, in case you're on a device that won't let me capture the comma key for that purpose, which has been my own experience on Android.

I devoured this book in two nights.

That link might be showing the wrong cover picture.  Whatever. Jane Steele is an orphan's tale, rags to riches, sexy murderous poignant poetic socio-political mysterious Gothic fun. 

"...we are doers of deeds...and as such lose parts of our flesh along the way, and can only pray to meet friends and lovers who can help to stitch us back again, and that we can make them whole in turn." 

"If a lady ever extends you a privilege — and it IS a privilege — you don't tell anyone. And don't ever think she owes it to you." — My father

Once in high school I was an asshole. OK, one time in particular. I was riding in my dad's car with my brother and a friend, and I recounted a rumor about the sexual activities of a female classmate.

My father pulled over, whipped his head around, and gave me the lecture of my life. Which ended with the paragraph above. I can still hear his voice as I think about it.

I usually think of my mother as the principal reason I have always been a feminist (aka "someone who considers women to be people"), but remembering this, I realize I haven't given my father enough credit.

He started out making a point about her privacy and her reputation, but also said something more important: it was hers to give. Hers alone. No one else's to take, or gossip about, or criticize.

We can go back to arguing about whether we "need feminism" when every father in the United States tees off on his son with this lecture. Well before it's too late. Just in fucking case.

Not "don't get caught." Not "we'll sweep it under the rug so you can keep swimming." Not "next time don't get so drunk, kiddo."

Hers to give. Not yours to take, or talk trash on. Ever.