The Printer Conspiracy, Part One of Many (I'm sure)

I've had trouble with printers before, but this morning was singularly frustrating. By some weird twist of fate, I did not smash it to bits. I wanted to. Oh, did I want to. But it's a nice printer with a nice scanner and copier and I'd rather like to not have to shell out money for a new one.

That does not change the fact that this printer is evil. EVIL.

So, I've needed to print out blank sheet music for the piano for quite awhile now. I've been putting it off, mostly because other people were using the Printer of Doom or because I knew I could do it later.

Well, yesterday I finally got around to it, and...it didn't work. I click the stupid "Print" button on BlankSheetMusic.net (which has worked just fine for me in the past) many, many times before I finally realized that the printer just wasn't listening to me. So I went out looking for another good blank sheet music site. I tried with two others. No dice. I called a friend of mine who's very music-oriented. She didn't have any suggestions either. So I dropped it, hoping the site or my printer would decide to cooperate in the morning.

Nope. Again, clicked the "Print" button far too many times. Nothing. Nada. I tried from a different computer. Nope. I tried turning on the third computer (the one that, we think, is most directly hooked up to the printer) and printing from each of the others. (I don't dare print from that third computer. It doesn't like me.)

I've still got nothing.

After slapping the printer on the side a few times (not hard) and yelling at it a little bit, I turned off the other two computers and stomped downstairs. I went to the piano, probably to play something dark and militant, and what do I see on top but a sheet of blank sheet music?

At this point I could tear my hair out. I rummage over the top of the piano, but there's only the one sheet, and there's no way I can fit what I need to on sheet.

So, in a fit of total desperation, I went back upstairs, put the music on the copier glass, prayed, considered offering a sacrifice to the printer, decided that would be overkill, and hit "Start Copy."

One sheet of perfect blank sheet music came out of the printer with no trouble at all.

I set it for three more copies and hit "Start Copy" again. One after another, the printer spit them out at me, no questions asked.

And, just as I was going to wrap up this post, it made one of those random noises that printers will make after doing a job, only this one sounded kind of like a laugh.

My printer is laughing at me.

Bring on the sledgehammer.

Anons Get On My Nerves

Well, I was responding to a comment a few minutes ago (hi, Patrick) and I suddenly realized that, and I quote,

This blog does not allow anonymous comments.

And I kinda went, "Huh. Don't remember setting that."

But did I change it? Nope.

Know why? Because anonymous commentors tend to get on my nerves.

I mean, granted, not all anons are bad. Many on other blogs have had nice and/or useful things to say. But all too often, people use that nice bit of anonymity to bash, flame, troll, and otherwise pointlessly insult people without even wondering if they should because hey, they're anonymous.

Am I cutting down on the comments I'm likely to recieve? Yeah, probably. I'm really okay with that.

And to anyone who's reading this and has commented anonymously, that's really okay. Unless you're a nasty anon, like some of the ones I've seen at Pub Rants. Then it's not.

Two in one day. Has it gotten this bad already?

I guess it has.

I've been reading Kristin Nelson's archives in lieu of her return to work (and blogging). She's a sharp, lovely lady and you should check out her blog. Really.

Well, I was reading this post and one person posted in the comment trail that agents should always take a different approach to teenagers. Because we're so immature and easily traumatized and could be scarred for life, I guess.

As a young person myself (okay, I admit it. I've been lying to you all. I'm not youngish, I'm flat-out young.), I'm offended.

Someone saying "good for your age" is just a way to get out of hurting my poor, delicate, teenaged feelings, and it offends me. I don't want to be told I'm good for my age; I want to be told the truth. If it's that I'm good, I want to hear it. If it's that I'm bad, I want to improve. Just because there are so many people in my age group who would yell and scream and Tell Their Mommies if they got harshly critiqued, rejected, or made to see life without the rose-colored glasses, doesn't mean we all are.

So keep that in mind the next time you open your mouth or sit at your keyboard to say, "Well, it's good for your age...", because all you're doing is hurting them. Any writer needs to develop a thick skin, even the adults. We live in an age where kids are taught to expect everything (with the grape-and-parsley garnish if you please) and throw tantrums if they don't get it , and it makes me sick that those kinds of kids are out there ruining my reputation just by association.

Give us a little credit. Give us the truth. Nothing gets me angrier than someone who sugarcoats things just because "Ohmigosh, I might scar them for life!! And then they'll Tell Their Mommies!!"

Please.