Check it out! And if you don't think it is the right service for you, pass it along!
Friday, August 21, 2009
Tymor Technologies: A New Managed Services Solution
There is a new Tech company offering managed services at a great price. It's called Tymor Technologies Inc. Of course I may be biased because I am interning with them, but hey- It's a great service for business owners who just don't have the time to deal with day to day headaches. So why should they? Visit the site, and give it some thought. They currently have a few different programs that you might be interested in.
Check it out! And if you don't think it is the right service for you, pass it along!
Check it out! And if you don't think it is the right service for you, pass it along!
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Introducing...The Google Wave!!!
The Google Wave has to be one of the greatest things to ever happen. Facebook, Myspace, any of the blog sites, and Twitter all rolled into one!!! In the link I have posted, it will give you instructions on how to get a developer's sandbox account-BEFORE it's released to the general public! For more information on how to get an account, please visit my E-How article by clicking on the Title on this blog...
So now you will be able to play in the sandbox and get your hands dirty before anyone else!!
Give it a shot, I know you will love it!
As always...
Keep Dreaming!
Monday, February 23, 2009
"Nirvana" by Bobby Torpey
I see nirvana,
In the angle of white snow of late winter.
I feel nirvana,
In the supernatural warmth of a baby's smile;
In the sponge like curiosity of a child's eyes;
In his free and easy grasp of love.
I sense nirvana;
In a congress of Human souls;
All committed and devoted to each other and their Earth.
I grasp nirvana;
In the three forms of Human love;
Eros, Filia, and Agape;
All of which are essential for Human survival.
I imbibe nirvana;
In the knowledge of mankind;
In all its dimension;
And in all its detail.
And finally,
I am seized by nirvana;
In a death which comes;
In a form of God given;
Peaceful;
Painless;
Slumber...
In the angle of white snow of late winter.
I feel nirvana,
In the supernatural warmth of a baby's smile;
In the sponge like curiosity of a child's eyes;
In his free and easy grasp of love.
I sense nirvana;
In a congress of Human souls;
All committed and devoted to each other and their Earth.
I grasp nirvana;
In the three forms of Human love;
Eros, Filia, and Agape;
All of which are essential for Human survival.
I imbibe nirvana;
In the knowledge of mankind;
In all its dimension;
And in all its detail.
And finally,
I am seized by nirvana;
In a death which comes;
In a form of God given;
Peaceful;
Painless;
Slumber...
"Her Voice" by Bobby Torpey
Her voice was an instrument of cold, hard eloquence.
And every time she sang, the air carried it with the plaintive dirge of unfulfilled promise.
Her lineage was a long and proud one;
Her name had, for many generations, been her symbol of dignity, passion and beauty.
The days of heroic song ended with her.
For though her larynx would make the notes, her soul could not make the music.
She possessed not the gift, but merely the skill.
God never used her as his trumpet.
She couldn't move minds or stir souls.
Therefore she became, through no fault of her own, the object of scorn and derision.
And her name fell into disrepute.
And her large, preordained, audience shrank to nothing, and she lived alone;
And she died alone...
And every time she sang, the air carried it with the plaintive dirge of unfulfilled promise.
Her lineage was a long and proud one;
Her name had, for many generations, been her symbol of dignity, passion and beauty.
The days of heroic song ended with her.
For though her larynx would make the notes, her soul could not make the music.
She possessed not the gift, but merely the skill.
God never used her as his trumpet.
She couldn't move minds or stir souls.
Therefore she became, through no fault of her own, the object of scorn and derision.
And her name fell into disrepute.
And her large, preordained, audience shrank to nothing, and she lived alone;
And she died alone...
"The Parade Of Humanity" by Bobby Torpey
Lately, I've been watching the parade of humanity. The three ring circus of action, behavior, posture, and what a pathetic spectacle it is. I have seen textbook examples of bigotry, arrogance, ignorance and petulance, and I am deeply saddened. I must look upon these poor souls with charity and sympathy, but it is, indeed, painful.
I search deeply in my mind for the right word to describe my ideal for the human race; not innocence but-yes, becoming; it is the state of ever growing, ever learning (both intellectually and emotionally).
Grace is the human being who looks upon him or herself with humility, and others with understanding.
Grace is the human race at it's individual and it's collective best.
I search deeply in my mind for the right word to describe my ideal for the human race; not innocence but-yes, becoming; it is the state of ever growing, ever learning (both intellectually and emotionally).
Grace is the human being who looks upon him or herself with humility, and others with understanding.
Grace is the human race at it's individual and it's collective best.
"The Spirit of Rebirth" by Bobby Torpey
The well is dry temporarily.
The plain is barren, briefly.
Just as the momentary drought
Of imaginative faculty
Has rendered my mind
A desert of ideas.
The blood is spilled, wastefully.
The bodies are strewn, eternally.
For youth is wealth, and wealth is finite.
And vanity remains a brainless creature.
It learns not.
It is spent;
It is here.
Some of tehem bleed more than others,
And the well is not bottomless.
But for the will of Man,
And the spirit of rebirth.
The plain is barren, briefly.
Just as the momentary drought
Of imaginative faculty
Has rendered my mind
A desert of ideas.
The blood is spilled, wastefully.
The bodies are strewn, eternally.
For youth is wealth, and wealth is finite.
And vanity remains a brainless creature.
It learns not.
It is spent;
It is here.
Some of tehem bleed more than others,
And the well is not bottomless.
But for the will of Man,
And the spirit of rebirth.
"The writer" by Bobby Torpey
On a cold, Grey winter's day,
In the middle of a large American city,
In the living room of a large house,
A man sits and waits.
His mind searching for inspiration.
He is a writer, by aspiration, if not achievement.
In his bedroom, pale blue walls and drab old furniture
Assault the eyes.
And a wooden floor streaked with age.
Unpacked boxes line the corner;
Remnants from the last move.
An old Smith Corona typewriter sits proudly on the desk,
right next to the door;
While it's proprietor tries to unblock himself.
"Talk to me about the self" he asks, to o God in particular.
"Talk to me about being and becoming,
"Change and growth.
"And I shall listen with rapt attention...."
In the middle of a large American city,
In the living room of a large house,
A man sits and waits.
His mind searching for inspiration.
He is a writer, by aspiration, if not achievement.
In his bedroom, pale blue walls and drab old furniture
Assault the eyes.
And a wooden floor streaked with age.
Unpacked boxes line the corner;
Remnants from the last move.
An old Smith Corona typewriter sits proudly on the desk,
right next to the door;
While it's proprietor tries to unblock himself.
"Talk to me about the self" he asks, to o God in particular.
"Talk to me about being and becoming,
"Change and growth.
"And I shall listen with rapt attention...."
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