Spam, Phishing and other Email Pitfalls

Ever have one of those days, that everything just IRKS you? I'm in the midst of one. Nothing horrible or dramatic just - arghhhhhhhhhhh. First, I recieved not 1 but 4 phishing scams in my email. The first came from the "IRS" claiming they needed info to speed delivery of the stimulation check we're all to recieve. Something about it, just didn't seem right, so I contacted the IRS, they confirmed what I suspected - spoofed email addy. I was also told, that someone is making phone calls, claiming to be the IRS and gathering info in that way.
The second was supposedly from 'PayPal', saying that my account had been suspended because they had noticed some unusual spending . Again they too wanted all my banking info. The fake site looked almost identical to the real Paypal site - except the url read wrong. Unsure, I called Paypal - sure enough another spoof.
The other two were the usual, I've won some lottery ( one was supposedly Microsoft) that uses email addresses, and for my $70gadzillion dollars I just need to give them my banking info. Uh-huh. Ok, the intention of being ripped-off, seems obvious to me - but it must be working as they just don't stop. Are there still folks naive enough to just hand over their info? Worse, those poor souls, probably aren't 'greedy', but just that desperate for money.
Another email that just angers me, is the one with a sad story from some parent with a sick child and AOL, (or some other large company) will pay them 5 cents everytime it's forwarded. (There's one with a newborn's pic attatched, that I KNOW has been circulating since 2000 at least.) Obviously, no one is making money off this hoax - but what about the desperate parent, whose child IS dieing? Imagine the false hope they might feel, only to be informed by these corporations that they just don't do that. I don't know the statistics, but I'd wager tracking certain emails beinging forwarded could be pricey and time consuming. Face it, this kind of hoax is just plain mean.
There's several things we can all do to protect ourselves and eachother. First, stop forwarding emails that prey on emotions or ask you to 'send to all' so that Johnny can get his operation. Secondly, research any that are 'reporting' vicious viruses before forwarding.
Phishing scams should be duly reported. Most email services have a button you can click to report . If you believe it's from a spoofed address, call the company involved ( look the number up, don't use the one on the fake site if it's there) Most companies, like PayPal, will address you by your first and last name in their emails. It's no biggie if you're wrong, legitamit companies would rather you play it safe. Odds are if you recieved that email, a few hundred others did too. You just may be saving Great-Auntie Em's farm from foreclosure because some louse emptied her account. Once it has been confirmed it was indeed a 'spoofed' address - warn everyone you know.
Email can be alot of fun, it's a great way to share info, and laughs. Together we can also make it safer for all. Forward responsibly and help get rid of Spam and phishing.

Here we go again

I've started another blog over at MySpace - check it out, if you're curious. Why, have I started another blog? No real reason, except I found out , I've been a member there for the past 3 years, and didn't know. Be interesting to see, if I get more readers there then here. Although, I've got to say, Blogger is much, much easier to customize, and offers way more options. More interesting will be to see, if I can keep up posting very different posts, in each place.
I think most of my depression has finally lifted. Not that things have changed radically or anything. In fact, today is very overcast, and we're having thunder storms. Lousy weather, even if you're a duck. I'm just hoping it slacks off or even stops completely before I have to leave for work. It wouldn't be too bad, except we keep having gusts of wind, that make umbrellas more struggle then help.
I am toying with the idea of stepping up my show on Caravan Radio. Several folks have mentioned, I should talk more. Ye gads - are they all tone deaf? I think I sound like Minnie Mouse on helium, but am assured it is quite the opposite. Interesting to note, these are mostly males making the request, although my friend, Rosa tells me, I have a 'very cute accident'... I don't think I'm the one with the accent, Rosa....
Sherry, president of Caravan Radio, thinks I should do more talking because 'I'm funny.' Hmmmm...I am? Is that funny ha-ha? Or funny - weird ? Oh , well I can give it a shot. Just have to work up my nerve.
What many don't know is I had speech therapy for five years. I suffer from letter transference ( on double letters one wants to be a 'd', like budton for 'button' or budter for 'butter'. And 'ch' wants to be 'sh'.) as well as a stuttering problem. Although, I seldom stutter now. Still, I am aware, and sometimes only speak well with extreme concentration. Fortunately, for me, most people are lazy listeners, and thanks to that therapy, it goes mostly unnoticed. Or perhaps, my speech is not as bad as I think. Who knows? The important thing is for folks to have fun while listening to my show. From their reactions, I can only assume that they do, though not as much as with Nomad. That man is hysterical. How he can be in at least 3 chatrooms, taking requests and dedications, filling the que, downloading new material, on IM, and talking all at once, is a study in multi-tasking. Personally, I have my hands full with hosting, djing , and requests, without being in multiple rooms. Although I am still waiting to break the double digit listener mark. Tune in, darn it! lol
I am watching Caravan Radio grow. We are bigger, stronger, and I think better, then ever before. Sure, we still have our eyes (and ears) open to new talent, in either dj or artist form, but we're a solid group. We know we have each others backs, and none of us suffer the 'diva' syndrom. It's even more like a family, then ever before. Why? I'm not sure, perhaps it is because we're all sharing in the growth. We've shared in the pitfalls, weathered technical difficulties, and learned together what works and what doesn't. One day, in the not too distant future, we may rank as the number one internet radio station in the world!!!

Here it is...the day of the big 5-0... half a century - is that possible? Of course it causes me to reflect upon my life, and wonder what the heck I've done with it. Sure not where I thought I'd be by now,or if I would even get here. It's been a long and rocky road, but being honest, I'd have to say...not been all bad. Sometimes, in order to go forwards, we have to look back. We can't choose our memories, but we can pick our focus. The last 10 years have been something else. If there are such things as 'dues' in life, then I have certainly paid them. During those years, I bore the worst of pains - physically, and mentally. The first being, catching an air borne virus that shot me down like MS, attacking the muscles and nerves in the left side of my body. It would feel like a giant charlie horse claiming that side, then explode in my head as I hit the ground, unable to move, or to speak coherently. Then would come the feeling of ants crawling all over that side... the tests to determine exactly what was wrong, were nearly as painful. Nerotin and Zanflex became my best friends. My left side weakened, and began refusing commands from my brain. Being left handed, this was very obvious. I would go to pick up my coffee and would have to concentrate on every movement - reach, curl the fingers, lift...and often, not have the strength to pick up the item no matter how small. It was a dark and scary time. My children staunchly refused to leave me. I remember how, the first time I managed to dress myself and walk across the floor without 'lurching', how they cheered. Mom was making a come-back. It took almost 3 months of intense PT to help me relearn even simple things ( buttoning, tieing my shoes, walking, etc. with effort) and almost another two years to be released from doctors care, and be weaned from the meds. On the up-side, I became almost ambidextrous, I taught myself to even write with my right. Now, I'm at about 98% of my original mobility.
Life took an upswing - I landed a good paying job as an office manager for a communications firm. For once bills were being paid on time, and I had the money for us to do things as a family. Nothing grand, but definatley a step up from camping in the back yard. Then 9/ll happened, crippling the company I worked for. By Christmas of that year, I was out of work. January, the following year, I was dealt the cruelest blow of all - my son lay dead, his life taken by his own hand.. (NO! I am NOT going there, today... not, today...) I couldn't find work, and I'm not real sure what I did in the following months. I know I went on a creating binge. I wrote alot, painted pictures and murals in almost every room. Using my daughter's keyboard, I even wrote some songs. I scrounged money where I could, mostly cleaning for other people... and applying for 'real work'... that same year, I lost the house. A last minute sale allowed my daughter and I to walk away with $2000 dollars...for our home of 17 years. The house she'd been born in, and known her entire life. The house, I had remodled with my own hands. I remember standing out on the back deck, that I had built with my ex-husband, and looking out across our 3/4 of an acre lawn, at the garden, and the trees I had planted. I remember, walking through the rooms, and lightly tracing the trees I had painted on my son's walls - he had so loved the woods... I remember saying 'good-bye'.
They say, when God closes a door, He opens a window...I felt that in my case, He slammed the door and nailed the windows shut. I did not know, at the time, He would place me in the hands of an angel, my new landlord. I've been here for 5 years now. As long as I am up front with him, he is more than fair in his dealings with me. No matter what else I trip over, Peter always finds a way to cut me some slack.
I am still looking for a decent paying job...I have to laugh that the Government is finally admitting we're in a recession - where have they been? Folks out here with PHDs are lucky to get work flipping burgers. But, at least I have work, even if right now the hours are minimal, just like the wages. I also have a car waiting for me, as soon as I can scrape up the money. With a car, I can broaden my scope for work, and perhaps find at least full time. And, I have my faith... the good Lord hasn't allowed me to tumble down farther then I can climb back up, why would He start now?
Mary, my roommate moves out soon. Supposedly this week, or as soon as she gets the keys to her new place. I'm sorry to see her go, but I've done what was intended - perhaps come August, she'll have her boys back with her. First , according to the judge, she has to 'establish' herself...and this is that step. ( My apartment is way too small, and wouldn't meet with approval of four people living here, by DCFS and firelaw standards.) In many ways, Mary has always been one of my 'other' children. Kids, I've known since they were little, who see me as extended family. Kids that, I hope, I had a positive influence over, and do well in life. Even her boys see me as 'family'. Her youngest tells me when he's grown and a zillionaire ( doesn't aim very high, does he?) he's going to buy me my own house, with a maid and everything. My, my, my...
I've watched my daughter mature into a fine young woman. She'll be graduating college next year, and move on to a life of teaching. ( To me this is more awesome then when I watched man first walk on the moon.)
Yes, the past 50 years, have not been too bad - I wonder what's in store?

From down the Rabbit Hole

Yes, I've been missing for sometime now. Depression has an adverse effect that way. I wrestled with scary thoughts for sometime, and have been struggling hard to climb back up. Thing is...
I'm not of a depressed nature, and usually if I am not happy, I can pinpoint the reason. But, how do you locate the reason when it's so very muddled? It isn't ONE thing , but a multitude of tiny insignificants. I'm not even sure if depression aptly describes where I've been. Perhaps a very bad case of Immense Blahness, is a better wording.
Looking for work, that's not to be had. Loosing my room-mate. (Which is actually a good thing - a step towards getting her kids back- our goal.) Finances - well heck you need money to have those...I sorta remember money. There is also that uneasy feeling of trepidation that lines my mouth with a metallic taste. A fine vibration of fear constantly nagging at me. Not exactly Mary Sunshine of late.
Speaking of vibrations, we had an earthquake this morning. About 5 on the rector scale they say. Unusual for the Midwest, and maybe it explains why the cats have been so bonkers lately. I was waken from sleep by the sound of things shaking on their shelves. Initially, I thought some huge truck was going past, followed by the thought of a tornado - hey, I SAID it woke me. First thoughts from sleeping are seldom logical. I glanced out my bedroom window and saw neither semi or signs of storm. By now, my bed was trembling and the noise level was fairly loud. I grabbed my robe, and headed out of my room to check on the roommate- not exactly knowing what was happening - suddenly it stopped. In the silence I could hear the ticking of my clock. It was as if nothing had taken place. If it hadn't been all over the news, I'd have chalked it up to vivid dreaming.
Yeah, perhaps that's the worst thing about my brand of depression - the dreams become so real feeling. Sometimes, they are just reliving the past. Again and again, I have fought the struggle for my son's life...again and again, I've watched him die. Again I face the accusations - I see the looks and hear the cruel remarks - made out of grief directed at me. "What did you do to drive him to it?", "Why didn't you save him?" Time and time again, these memories surface in my sleep. I wake, exhausted. Barely more than a ghost myself. I know I did everything mortally possible. I know he went knowing I loved him. And I know that my love was simply not enough to repair his emotional damage.
Other times - well, the dire side of situations, I'm dealing with surface. Ugly vignettes of what may be. Of course in trying to escape the dreams I somtimes develope insomnia.
Reality isn't much better then those wisps of the night. I just need something positive to hold on to.
I think where I'm working will fold within a year. All the earmarks of bankruptcy are there... they've slashed payroll to the point, I can even call it 'part time'... with Mary gone, I've no idea how any of these bills will get paid. I'm not making enough to meet rent, let alone the utilities.
I look for work, only to hear 'not hiring' time and again. Without a car my options are limited.
I'm keeping to a 10 mile radious. About a 2 hour hike, one way.
IF my amended tax return ever shows up, I have a car lined up. Hopefully that and a full time job before things are too bad.

Thursday, my pal, Angellesa interviewed me for BlogTalk Radio. Her radio show covers the different aspects of writing and my segment was called, " Good Editing Makes the Manuscript".
Since I am a published author, and have a small editing service, she thought it would make a good show. You can listen to the archieved broadcast over on the right. Just click the little triangle.
It was a lot of fun talking to Lesa on the air, and we are talking of doing more shows in the near future.

The Doll House

I don't know what set me to thinking about it, as I hadn't for quite some time. Yet lately, the memory of a two story Victorian dollhouse I had built for my daughter keeps emerging. Every minute detail just so from the house number (1992 the year it was made) to the twisting grand staircase that led from lower to upper floors, stained and hand-polished to a soft glow. No slap and dash venture, my son and I spent months working in secret on it. In his room on the plastic cloth where normally a model car would be strewn, shingles laid - each being hand-stained for the roof.
In my mind's eye, I can see each room - hear our hushed giggles in memories corridor as we tried our best to 'wallpaper', or create flooring. Funds were limited, and we did our best with found materials. Remnants and such. Josh was around 11 at the time. I can still remember his face beaming at me, when he showed me the treasure trove - a wall paper sampler catalog a local company was going to toss, some out of date floor tiles they no longer wanted. Amazing what determination and an Ex-acto knife can do.
Door knobs were fashioned out of tiny 'pearl' buttons, the glass in the windows, plastic culled off of doughnut boxes and the like. Bit by bit, the rooms took shape. We became experts with the hot-glue gun , tweezers, and swearing.
What I didn't know, at the time, is each new 'challenge' was met with a scavenger hunt by my son and his friends. Odd bags of bits and pieces would just show up at the house. Remnants of a newly laid carpet, bits of wood, dowels, buttons, earrings, beads - anything they thought might be usable.
Of course once the rooms were done, they had to be furnished. The Borrowers would have been very proud of us, I do believe. Of course, sometimes our sense of scale went slightly askew. However, I don't think it really mattered in the end. I remember the quilt, mostly. For some reason, Josh was very adamant that the parents' bedroom had to have a patchwork quilt for the bed. I nearly went blind cutting and sewing those tiny patches together. Of course, that was also the first thing the dog ate....right along with the tiny felt 'family' that lived there.
I wonder what became of that house? I don't believe we threw it out, but I can't find it stored here anywhere. Perhaps she has it over at her Dad's. It doesn't really matter - I know in reality it can't possibly touch the grand status it achieved in my memory. I can still see the gleam of adoration on her face when we gave it to her, and hear the pride in my son's voice as he pointed out what he did on it.

I am sitting here trying not to cry. To push away the thoughts that weave blackened, tentacles into my mind. Panic nibbles at my senses, as a rat nibbles cheese. A sick feeling lays in my stomach like dragon bile. Yet, if I were asked what is wrong, I would have to say 'nothing.'
It isn't anything tangible, or something dramatic. Just a myriad of little things...
and I know, that hundreds of others are also facing those same things. Logically, I know I shouldn't take it personal - but , Lord love a duck, I do.
I also know, that if I just BREATH and take it apart, things wouldn't seem so awful. Just for the moment, I am over whelmed... The thing is, I know these small stumbling blocks are like dominoes and will have adverse effect on my tomorrow. However, a lot can happen between now and then...
Ed McMahon could show up at my door with that BIG check.
I could be a multi million dollar winner in some lottery that I never entered. ( My email says so. I just have to give them all my banking info.)
My dream job could fall in my lap any time.
Aliens could stop by and take me to their home planet.
Yes, I'm being a bit silly, but it helps hold me together.