tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-39368160669577715612024-02-20T20:27:06.882-08:00BreakFreedomMatthiashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14613032902621818576noreply@blogger.comBlogger29125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3936816066957771561.post-51485961369668759692010-03-28T20:08:00.001-07:002010-03-28T20:38:49.539-07:00The Ubiquity of Self<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjonyFyo3zw1IORAR_5RTmHi9UOIC7nAmG-PLKTb3nwOL74iTS14-9dpXtWwZQ8SbKs8nhAB6YV8_mQODrXYlp7x6H8BsPQr1-Nir8bhxyxffl2vlWCCPg8N97SRouUvRurvORhC5Hl8CY/s1600/P3095536.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjonyFyo3zw1IORAR_5RTmHi9UOIC7nAmG-PLKTb3nwOL74iTS14-9dpXtWwZQ8SbKs8nhAB6YV8_mQODrXYlp7x6H8BsPQr1-Nir8bhxyxffl2vlWCCPg8N97SRouUvRurvORhC5Hl8CY/s320/P3095536.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453890402088147570" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Alright, rant time. So, people around the world speak in various languages, but what language does everyone think in? That is the key to stellar knowledge and knowing, because if you can crack the ultimate code on the inner language, you can discern things before they happen, in theory. Now, my theory is that our thoughts transfer in synapses and trades of images which pass at relative light speed or faster. This too must also be taken in consideration that understanding is a transference of material all by itself which is ultimately separate of these synapses. In honesty, I believe all humanity thinks in a hivemind, transferring ideas in a giant peer-to-peer thought tank, capable of housing everything, but also separating everyone's individuality with barriers of the mind.<br /><br />It is my hope that we can puncture this hivemind with a device such that we do not empty the flood gates of our thoughts or shatter the brittle reality of the lesser thinker. I propose something of a vessel which we can build upon the earth, something that can tap into the multitude of sparkling lights known to us as the human ingenuity of the idle mind. It will be in this fantastic world of mode and function that thought can be virtually explored like a current day person on the internet.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">"</span><span style="font-style: italic;" class="body">All this worldly wisdom was once the unamiable heresy of some wise man.</span><span style="font-style: italic;">"</span><br />-Henry David Thoreau<br /></div><br />I suppose even you as a reader are brimming with thoughts capable of shattering walls and destroying nations, but you keep them to yourself until they are so idle and solitary that they become forgotten! Ideas as profound and untainted should not be so hidden, they should be spoken in true light.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFdXIXCyL32RP0IJNYeZNWFo4-HpdBKHauevzqAWPtixkuqXF7w7G9DkdD9gM6Kz4398cTO0SJAn8yJvaRlg_Ucltk-2rjkQ62nAbRJ8NCDCkRLitWf6TrORErAWDYo22ripQ_q0u5BM8/s1600/P3095529.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFdXIXCyL32RP0IJNYeZNWFo4-HpdBKHauevzqAWPtixkuqXF7w7G9DkdD9gM6Kz4398cTO0SJAn8yJvaRlg_Ucltk-2rjkQ62nAbRJ8NCDCkRLitWf6TrORErAWDYo22ripQ_q0u5BM8/s320/P3095529.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453890591352068066" border="0" /></a><br />Our society puts so little focus on the individual (so it is in America), taking into light the whole of a denomination. And it's a right shame that people think this way. Individualism is the key to a growing mind and a growing populace. The stark laziness of our over 300,000,000 residents in America comes from the obvious idea that many need not work! Why? Because the government is supposed to provide <span style="font-weight: bold;">everything</span>. No! This is wrong, we must forge our way forward, but in America this is nigh impossible for the stark and stagnant rulers have grown to powerful.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0-G6y8C76aV9-MJCR8rT61CfsPuLch3tZm74tdmoC3X6Eexp3A22MlKvK4WpzEWaq7aQW_CQ8DEPt0WMy4dxUWYwjiUIN5i3FEQyBBIDXjf9_MpXuuCkCl9P3zrHlCm7LWLhbVvYeXQg/s1600/P3095528.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0-G6y8C76aV9-MJCR8rT61CfsPuLch3tZm74tdmoC3X6Eexp3A22MlKvK4WpzEWaq7aQW_CQ8DEPt0WMy4dxUWYwjiUIN5i3FEQyBBIDXjf9_MpXuuCkCl9P3zrHlCm7LWLhbVvYeXQg/s320/P3095528.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453892757462349394" border="0" /></a><br />We are no longer ruled by our minds or our wills, but by our media and by our wishes. Our lives reflect what we are presented before us, and many/most prefer the simpler side of things, to sit aside and watch without having to become involved. This is itself a fallacy. Observation is the worst form of behavior as you do nothing and have no part quintessential events. Life is best lived on the fringe of raving madness and abrupt calm. If we as a human conglomerate is insufficient in supporting our own weight, how can we even hope to indulge in the thoughts of the greater humanities ubiquitous knowledge?<br /><br />On a different, less profound note, my comment system is wrecked, I'll figure the error out somehow, till then, please feel free to email me: matt_tricks@rocketmail.com<br /><br />Always, Matthias.Matthiashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14613032902621818576noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3936816066957771561.post-89940973854528831412010-02-27T08:18:00.000-08:002010-02-27T08:29:12.099-08:00lonely god.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzVT3YlojJ042gckouE0fKveKgoaLOopDUgIhZNew1bNwgR1tscS-eJi1z4DceZ5dVk7fS6uh8Clw0L-VevcMQMxFkAfxVdQ863R1DW6N09JySL69e-Wac003aHucqMqJbAVXw9gEnjkM/s1600-h/Jan+-+2.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzVT3YlojJ042gckouE0fKveKgoaLOopDUgIhZNew1bNwgR1tscS-eJi1z4DceZ5dVk7fS6uh8Clw0L-VevcMQMxFkAfxVdQ863R1DW6N09JySL69e-Wac003aHucqMqJbAVXw9gEnjkM/s320/Jan+-+2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442960152218423906" border="0" /></a><br /><br /> I became one of them. I just wanted to fit in. I became one of the beasts slithering and swirling, twirling around the abyss. The abyss was full of them and yet, they still clambered to the top, always to the top, standing on one another and falling back down, time and time again. Did they not realize how much it would hurt to escape?<br /><br /> On the outside, I had been, looking in, but never being within. A lonely man with a brooding past, how much had I to offer at last? Was it my fault that I couldn’t speak the same, or laugh, or play or obey the same? Is it my fault that my voice was stronger than the others, that my mind was firmer than those around me? Did it hurt you to know that I could achieve? I just wanted to fit in, once more.<br /><br /> But like a god, I slew you with my words, my booming voice. I did not plan to this, nor did I ever have want of such a thing, but why did you still reject me? You all ran away from me, or you shunned me in my actions. I only ever walked toward; I only ever tried to embrace. Yet, with hammer and fist had I been met, time and time again. Threatened me away, showed me out and out I went, away in company. A star brighter than those around it is easier to alienate.<br /><br /> So, I became a god and a god I did walk, until I was toppled. Upon my knees, which bled, I watched and then crawled and then I was slain.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">The lonely god.<br /></div><br /> Among the scurf of realization, lay me among the low green seas. Relapse and continue, thought process brimming with the flow of decades. Knowledge belittled to just a small wonder as emotion heightens and explodes within me. The perception of perception is the aimless unknowing. What we deny as real can become real and objects are only thought driven. The image of an image is a fallacy and the justified is never rectified.Matthiashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14613032902621818576noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3936816066957771561.post-48199776499163075762010-02-19T21:11:00.000-08:002010-02-19T22:43:54.861-08:00the waking<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR2EtUKTd9lbFejw3O7KrzEehG3WFwMVYXehe5XzRQFshZG77YW9n34bvxTe2kM4VTkpYQbJFp685IUbU8qY9WnkGhEWW-UTGcz5peG3EX_onpW1idM3KdH-NuyITP9u_IJTJkFpBfFCo/s1600-h/P8143594.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR2EtUKTd9lbFejw3O7KrzEehG3WFwMVYXehe5XzRQFshZG77YW9n34bvxTe2kM4VTkpYQbJFp685IUbU8qY9WnkGhEWW-UTGcz5peG3EX_onpW1idM3KdH-NuyITP9u_IJTJkFpBfFCo/s320/P8143594.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440212178126738226" border="0" /></a><br />The world is quiet, it has always been quiet. Since the end of the beginning, there was only noise; Terrible, terrible noise, ringing in my ear. It never stops, never stopped. Did it just stop? No, it never stops. The colors flash so quickly, creating thousands of new spectrums, burning themselves into my non-existent corneas. Feelings and emotions blow through my mind, like a tidal wave. I’ve experienced more joy, grief, happiness in this moment than could ever be possible. A poetic death is useless when the world has ended within and without. <br /><br />It happened in a flash, or was it the longest second in history? It was an eternity of bloodshed, contained within the single, decisive event. It was a decade of tears and sobbing fear, compacted within a strand of hair. It was the crunching bones and wounding blows of a million wars in the press of a button. It was the world and it ended. It never happened, not until it did. <br /><br />Tomorrow I will wake up and I’ll get dressed, go to the store and find that I’ll have wasted myself upon the minutes of passerby’s. I will think on petty things like the weather or how I’ll make it to a job I hate or how I’ll have my bland pseudo-European style lunch served, with or without the basil. Thoughts of what I’ll wear when I get out of my dead end job and go to a dead end ritual of self-loathing and peeking observance of other’s happy lives. I’ll drown myself in the pith of my yearning persona, which strangely tastes like cheap lager. <br /><br />I’ll sling myself home, swaggering down the street to my dead end neighborhood, to my dead end apartment, which is just filled with nihilist possession, meaning nothing at all. A four room, high end living space which anyone would love to have at the price I rent, but there’s nothing. These walls do not define me, for these walls are bare. They may not define me, but I do feel so bare. I’ll spend time leafing through a catalogue of fine living, making me wonder what color drapes define me as an individual, or what sort of coffee table makes me look like a minimalist, but also a confident. For a time, I’ll do this and then walk away; as if the time spent committing to the want of purchase only behooved I cease my temperament. <br /><br />I’ll crawl into my king size bed, staring at the empty ceiling, fantasizing about the wondrous dreams and possibilities that I could have in this magical world of fluid creation and destruction. A world in which I could be anything I wanted and everything I ever could have hoped to be. I hope for a horizon and a crested being standing at the edge, resplendent in the light backlighting him or her, a figure of a savior, an amazing being who descends in rays of holy precipice and divine power; Someone to cling to, hold to, never leave. <br /><br />It is then I realize my alarm is ringing, a buzzing noise, destroying my concentration and obliterating my hopeful dream, my reach for a pleasant life. It is then I realize it is half past four in the morning, so I resume my day, as if it never had ended, nor ever begun. In fact, it never did, I had no closure to my morning within and without. Desperation has parched my tongue and I feel dry and cracked, like man mummified before his due period. Out of bed would I crawl and don my working armor, but not today. Today the world ends, with fire and brimstone. The haunting voice of a wailing banshee does not account for the destruction before me. Today I close my eyes. And the universe explodes.<br /><br />Good death, there’s morning all around.Matthiashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14613032902621818576noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3936816066957771561.post-74212338703644269222010-01-18T23:02:00.000-08:002010-01-18T23:30:47.628-08:00Relationship and youth<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh26g8rQBor5t34U4hyphenhyphenBTXJZTu4uxpDwvUx5gBZ7pj_tN-tBm_SaCzofONQNmH_x5JTA8jPzDaKhcBus4kXcg8mMNgi2N0eyyxlYW0NKqXrAKDmJ-3runYxwjejXPj4DV7NprBu8nJObF4/s1600-h/P7083343.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh26g8rQBor5t34U4hyphenhyphenBTXJZTu4uxpDwvUx5gBZ7pj_tN-tBm_SaCzofONQNmH_x5JTA8jPzDaKhcBus4kXcg8mMNgi2N0eyyxlYW0NKqXrAKDmJ-3runYxwjejXPj4DV7NprBu8nJObF4/s320/P7083343.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428339264959562434" border="0" /></a><br /><br />"Love is the state in which man sees things; most widely different from what they are." -Frederich Nietzsche<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNdJymCROjFszQrOhPvMTjiXpDftX2_XG3HT2vUrmaXobxXRPDzbvWEY__iWj3XoR0qaIkUQylVPldipa_9Gzyej3H-iPb6beO2flGAqFxzSUSDdxbzIS-94-AHB5Exmag4i_J_UGirRE/s1600-h/P8143597.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNdJymCROjFszQrOhPvMTjiXpDftX2_XG3HT2vUrmaXobxXRPDzbvWEY__iWj3XoR0qaIkUQylVPldipa_9Gzyej3H-iPb6beO2flGAqFxzSUSDdxbzIS-94-AHB5Exmag4i_J_UGirRE/s320/P8143597.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428342882138292114" border="0" /></a>Maybe you wonder why I'm linking both relationship and youth together, maybe you're just looking for a quick read, but still, I'd hope this retains some pertinence within your thoughts. First love, as to be acquitted with young love, is the bane of our youth, in all countries. Our schools and our halls are filled with the traces and the affection shown by what is popularly known as the tender trap, or simply, love at first sight. One of the most powerful emotions a human mind has to offer, Love is a great collection of every whisper, every though, we ever wanted, crystallized into human contact and emotion. Love is a four letter word describing strong affection. What meaning may make, we all know love as it is, but the love of a youthful soul does naught to find words.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXOylwGF0VQQmMYKXe4Vc8Oo8cTOqS7WlmbP4I5LplnUCHD770mduuPJ_wgZPr-mSZhjXYwffjU1C3MhCobzbF2yXRk6phPHkwxsyY9uQwZPMOSAUlfykB7UUweDH7nJnNnslnCJDXuxQ/s1600-h/april30+%285%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXOylwGF0VQQmMYKXe4Vc8Oo8cTOqS7WlmbP4I5LplnUCHD770mduuPJ_wgZPr-mSZhjXYwffjU1C3MhCobzbF2yXRk6phPHkwxsyY9uQwZPMOSAUlfykB7UUweDH7nJnNnslnCJDXuxQ/s320/april30+%285%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428346403457678130" border="0" /></a>Struggle as one may, it's very hard to describe the first time you actually fell in love, or thought you did. It could have been somewhere you never would have expected, like at a gallery for bad fractal art, or an exhibition for toaster strudels. I think people find they forget where they meet the first one, but they remember where they were when they leave the first one. Nowhere near where they started. My extended leave from our societal indoctrination destination, dubbed school, has been enlightening, to the very epitome of the word. The youth thrive on three things: Food for the body, food for the eyes and food for the heart. Food for the body, as to say regular consuming of nutrient and cooked morsels. Food for the eyes to mean things seen, which confirm ideas or enlighten dark ones. Food for the heart to mean a type of sustenance that only intimacy or relationship can bring. Or so they believe.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmcImBEiSs0NGfhGGhLICFhMtgcNg1exhUKVrVjaLuiD82_EHhS1bGPHe3T0-mkAQ-Brs2eU6OOEzM1AjFBP5ybj-hbRnUzWTRUC54xoCJsNH8Iwu3iXn6evG9hqEbdVSWxmCNaPaKbvg/s1600-h/P7053150.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmcImBEiSs0NGfhGGhLICFhMtgcNg1exhUKVrVjaLuiD82_EHhS1bGPHe3T0-mkAQ-Brs2eU6OOEzM1AjFBP5ybj-hbRnUzWTRUC54xoCJsNH8Iwu3iXn6evG9hqEbdVSWxmCNaPaKbvg/s320/P7053150.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428348893885966514" border="0" /></a><br />Today's modern youth like to think of love as something that is always sought for. the most important thing in the world. In fact, their world revolves around the estranged idea that all you need is love. No, love cannot provide everything you need. It cannot give you what you want out of life. It can't even get you three square meals a day (unless you forcibly "love" someone). Our youth idolizes love, fueled by an even more supporting media. Buy this and she'll love you, instantly rectifying you of the money you wasted on something so material, so false. Love today is an object, gift wrapped, shoe-shined, spruce pined, dusted and then shipped all over the world. The thought of love remains free, but the action, the very execution of love costs! If not money, then mind, if not mind then body, if not body then soul! Love stopped being what it was and should have been a very long time ago. Around the time people started making money and exploiting other people.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Why can't every thing stop being complicated?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl9tkiNV9cwJ4vXZMXix7E_NuggH9-Y3LPzmqH67aWUcD8erTrHF8Q46iCva0U9s7nW5670C4acVRXwpVePS6mzzQDr7MtNj8olpF6cSJDrf5H75jQf_Pk2zWZfLhW9Y7lPXXkdvmyPP4/s1600-h/P8143619.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 174px; height: 143px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl9tkiNV9cwJ4vXZMXix7E_NuggH9-Y3LPzmqH67aWUcD8erTrHF8Q46iCva0U9s7nW5670C4acVRXwpVePS6mzzQDr7MtNj8olpF6cSJDrf5H75jQf_Pk2zWZfLhW9Y7lPXXkdvmyPP4/s320/P8143619.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428349646558770290" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Call me a cynic, but I'm an escapist.<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">- Matthias; no heart for you<br /></div></div>Matthiashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14613032902621818576noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3936816066957771561.post-89572635061153685382010-01-05T12:26:00.000-08:002010-01-05T13:08:43.745-08:00The Happiness Thermostat<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlSycCKrt9yHL74FSqX3qM0B_octMUjECX5jRC7ygCEIX87SCVkEpWtHNQuF9LMzOVlKbQtl2pFFQmXzh59IkZafSNwvjEUBusYyoZoqpBIFFHtPXwRBDTD84OADPVqwtAPziPAXK2asM/s1600-h/P1025170.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlSycCKrt9yHL74FSqX3qM0B_octMUjECX5jRC7ygCEIX87SCVkEpWtHNQuF9LMzOVlKbQtl2pFFQmXzh59IkZafSNwvjEUBusYyoZoqpBIFFHtPXwRBDTD84OADPVqwtAPziPAXK2asM/s320/P1025170.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423355271516217842" /></a><br /><br />In all life and all situations, it has been said there is a set level of happiness, what Dr. Csikszentmihalyi called a “set thermostat.” A set level of happiness is false, I think, for it affords a view that we can never be any happier despite what may happen to us. Considerable, yes, there is a mellow mean to which we can average our days’ stress, but joy can be boosted, can be increased. To continue the original topic, I believe my core happiness “temperature,” if you will, lies within a malleable range, capable of being changed and set. I can become irritable or joyous by the simple flick of a switch, the press of a button and the decompression of a valve. What I would call happy, others may very well call melancholy, but I like to think on it in a different light. <br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjryVWIBDo2D2MlFb9NP_LrPhIWcKrvwMySLSdJ2vLrdy-monXshgDg9waA503IxWdPd3a7slBiF83daJIjAx5xknaAXSXnpXr14gdvO-wcnljCr4jUY1vMaAiGAH98qg2eNyDfLuu2P0s/s1600-h/PC265022.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjryVWIBDo2D2MlFb9NP_LrPhIWcKrvwMySLSdJ2vLrdy-monXshgDg9waA503IxWdPd3a7slBiF83daJIjAx5xknaAXSXnpXr14gdvO-wcnljCr4jUY1vMaAiGAH98qg2eNyDfLuu2P0s/s320/PC265022.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423362208784918194" /></a><br />If I could literally set my mood instantly, it could offer enjoyable opportunities. Maybe I needn’t worry about so many things if I could immediately find everything around me appropriate. Maybe, in a grander scheme and an even grander scope, I could teach others to do this. we could all live in even harmony, manipulating only our own emotions, like drugs, but without the side effects and without the addiction or cost. It would simply be our bodies and our minds. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlgtydRy6TM2sFXqd0HX7-ZyQn-mjYkUTxss7qIf4eOhcs5cqBXoCHrzSSsB81SSv10BQnp2DZ5AQj4RwL-lbuFQmRCYsFIfimjp-6H4UMFgGPikD4JakjiTlN_GTT6P_ophO51HTdyq0/s1600-h/P7053145.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlgtydRy6TM2sFXqd0HX7-ZyQn-mjYkUTxss7qIf4eOhcs5cqBXoCHrzSSsB81SSv10BQnp2DZ5AQj4RwL-lbuFQmRCYsFIfimjp-6H4UMFgGPikD4JakjiTlN_GTT6P_ophO51HTdyq0/s320/P7053145.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423362906983156450" /></a><br />We would not hate, we would not loathe, we would find adequacy and tranquility. Material things would seem pointless, unneeded. At least wars would not be about money, or "need." They would be about true conflict, a real difference and a real hate, which is from within us all. Maybe there wouldn't be wars because we'd realize its' folly. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQMpFG6dVzWbJ2gbmktMyFcBKRP_64r8dRQkK6BcXjNfUsVG-hFJ4gyZuvmwJ-eCQfcUtx0eik0ncuXB2Dx_B75EcfDbySMGy2JE5njGPbRP8NAjVBgS-ReNsDTDOyJ16PiHO3esItqHo/s1600-h/PA184375.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQMpFG6dVzWbJ2gbmktMyFcBKRP_64r8dRQkK6BcXjNfUsVG-hFJ4gyZuvmwJ-eCQfcUtx0eik0ncuXB2Dx_B75EcfDbySMGy2JE5njGPbRP8NAjVBgS-ReNsDTDOyJ16PiHO3esItqHo/s320/PA184375.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423365530575360194" /></a><br />These wars, these past mistakes, they are becoming our bane. The bane of humanity and its' own self preservation. Tossing bombs and nukes at each other like a child would throw a ball. If they only had a child's volition and thought. A child does not want to destroy, or at least it does not destroy willingly. A child creates and as it was created. It is only as we grow out of childhood that we find the want to destroy something beautiful, to destroy what was and has been built. A child is its' mood. What it is, is what its' mood reflects. If a child is sad, it acts in manners of being sad. If a child is happy, it acts in a fashion that is happy. Growing older, rarely anyone does that. Only a child feels safe enough to do so, but an adult, will hide it, will mask it, destroying the point, the reason behind it. Why? It is of no knowledge, but if you find out, come tell me. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh-i8QwTVv0AV8r1KroHL6x0iQkVFNftp6iXVoSeqchNBvrx1E8YrEjQPUvj6I2NDrMtxnUvB4PHwuyRBazJaOa53ErnMRY6S7eerw1G0VYIc0GBtoXG2Wv3fxw3fLTuFmF1dqqfISEq8/s1600-h/Rain.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 226px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh-i8QwTVv0AV8r1KroHL6x0iQkVFNftp6iXVoSeqchNBvrx1E8YrEjQPUvj6I2NDrMtxnUvB4PHwuyRBazJaOa53ErnMRY6S7eerw1G0VYIc0GBtoXG2Wv3fxw3fLTuFmF1dqqfISEq8/s320/Rain.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423365079727440626" /></a><br />God knows your lonely souls,<br />MatthiasMatthiashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14613032902621818576noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3936816066957771561.post-63053627042284071022009-12-14T12:55:00.000-08:002010-01-05T12:51:25.734-08:00Birthdays and Due datesWell! Well, well, well! I survived another year in my life, as me! It's sort of strange, actually, thinki8ng all the way back, even to the beginning of this blog in January. Maybe I sound all conceited and such, but I feel rather accomplished. So much in this whole year has happened and it;s shaped my life for the next year to come, you know, brothers and sisters?<br /><br />I'm a whole new person, but the exact same person, at the same time. It just happens to be the same body, but a new spirit? Yea, that's it. Well, happy birthday to me, I s'pose.Matthiashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14613032902621818576noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3936816066957771561.post-21318790496332528372009-11-02T18:40:00.000-08:002009-11-02T18:47:25.765-08:00Locales of the Photogenic Kind - Photography<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVqTC-PjRurKUBmBZ6XUu3bGQtR4_9u8-L1wNFFZrTW18g3ZjQuG6n3rsYDMYPCbkJ5HnU6P47ZTETh7eeXjXkVO7Ic6JSV6AevFFhvOiJQkCAF810RMuVC7pPLUfxLzhtMCXETfjLQU8/s1600-h/P7043040.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVqTC-PjRurKUBmBZ6XUu3bGQtR4_9u8-L1wNFFZrTW18g3ZjQuG6n3rsYDMYPCbkJ5HnU6P47ZTETh7eeXjXkVO7Ic6JSV6AevFFhvOiJQkCAF810RMuVC7pPLUfxLzhtMCXETfjLQU8/s400/P7043040.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399702394335867074" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi70Me1V4HbPcasRwlo8SDIfgMix2j4a0l1I5xbA_xgTh37olB6ksriIt7jykPUdddcXSsi2Y5dZPjKnSNkseUrB7nvPcGGZGw898DVGZPQT0jLWlpaISSBXNHypeM_JE_s1SMVIFSXiIY/s1600-h/P7043041.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi70Me1V4HbPcasRwlo8SDIfgMix2j4a0l1I5xbA_xgTh37olB6ksriIt7jykPUdddcXSsi2Y5dZPjKnSNkseUrB7nvPcGGZGw898DVGZPQT0jLWlpaISSBXNHypeM_JE_s1SMVIFSXiIY/s400/P7043041.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399702388879824482" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgryRhO_ahe5xGBKw5-VU2h-tEHfcmd30J0dstBzqZM9FryiBMZuL8INo0ujAVgr5C2-1cP6dz-IwaAB2z72-nUEtcVAyqa1yPw6-J8hys0_NUPUenrz9cvxEfYNA_xmZ6k96RLmo2qN-s/s1600-h/P7043050.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgryRhO_ahe5xGBKw5-VU2h-tEHfcmd30J0dstBzqZM9FryiBMZuL8INo0ujAVgr5C2-1cP6dz-IwaAB2z72-nUEtcVAyqa1yPw6-J8hys0_NUPUenrz9cvxEfYNA_xmZ6k96RLmo2qN-s/s400/P7043050.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399702383979513170" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI1rt_5od9xlvR1COEXScjyNA6lUgHpFK9jTtmWF9l1FU65b4vrdEo5i6LbM9HCZv_pf3dnLmxqOVaKUNJNYzgBicFfCr9A-9G9pmLSGY-a_8_8xLE3L8wyP-vn9Wbz3zCwMc_zYOihaY/s1600-h/P7043039.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI1rt_5od9xlvR1COEXScjyNA6lUgHpFK9jTtmWF9l1FU65b4vrdEo5i6LbM9HCZv_pf3dnLmxqOVaKUNJNYzgBicFfCr9A-9G9pmLSGY-a_8_8xLE3L8wyP-vn9Wbz3zCwMc_zYOihaY/s400/P7043039.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399702380300855602" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://matthiasbrokefree.deviantart.com/">Never, Never Land</a> <br />My art site, come follow me.Matthiashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14613032902621818576noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3936816066957771561.post-66905950435197726462009-11-02T17:29:00.000-08:002009-11-02T18:39:52.455-08:00Knowledge is Sour<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVcrsUl22gYIQqum4hSpswOTKs7B4wpMjogCaA6DELPioDZE1tjvWnfUk9sAMNDHY5j66zRPAW9opGX7nQstR2N0XwUZ3fyD9WjdNjU4KbxysQn2WFB6InvTve9OAePnM1wuiqZnvZwp0/s1600-h/P4040105.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVcrsUl22gYIQqum4hSpswOTKs7B4wpMjogCaA6DELPioDZE1tjvWnfUk9sAMNDHY5j66zRPAW9opGX7nQstR2N0XwUZ3fyD9WjdNjU4KbxysQn2WFB6InvTve9OAePnM1wuiqZnvZwp0/s400/P4040105.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399689357479866034" /></a>I'm writing this because I'm angry, quite angry. I hate my generation. In essence I hate myself. It's not the kind of hate that fuels wars, nor the sort of hate that drives to kill. I hate with a slow and burning ember, one which roasts over time, broils the skin from muscle and chars the flesh from bone. All that follows is not the rage of a warrior, but the rage of a writer, a man who, through giving up weaponry finds sterner ways of assault. <span style="font-weight:bold;">Through relinquishing cold steel may we find that which feeds the forge that created it, bitter, bitter strength through intelligence.<br /></span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF89hnj963qbNoGjrJEG5_yrdOkIq5ejzWGJaNMhvcFcc0M4Cw7DmrCkpNXYrXzp-AT4BxqUXTm823DprDBAuF-yNR6ssOR4XFP5gOiilqWCrOaYtesMaSU6SnCJFKqMPLWsGNBcV8PIM/s1600-h/P7083269.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF89hnj963qbNoGjrJEG5_yrdOkIq5ejzWGJaNMhvcFcc0M4Cw7DmrCkpNXYrXzp-AT4BxqUXTm823DprDBAuF-yNR6ssOR4XFP5gOiilqWCrOaYtesMaSU6SnCJFKqMPLWsGNBcV8PIM/s400/P7083269.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399692679907011506" /></a>Ever recall times which you found those around you incompetent? If not, I suggest you walk away. For those who have, know you are plentiful. To realize that you are involved with those of little expressed intelligence, is to find yourself to be almost among animals. It's a truly sad thought to wake up and find that you can't handle being with those you have deemed unworthy by sudden realization. In that way knowledge is burdening, for to know such things is to be alone with only your own thoughts. <span style="font-weight:bold;">Knowledge is sour.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsfSfX4udnt-Y6v3gaH1s_SplFIXj21r3l1Pmyf0WEIhrwG7tq6PDwgB-Czu0qEkBFOH9HmxeSHNMWYxEoVxCdgmOUH4CXEkRDoHgoA-pxJj73o6Gzd16xaD1U1NPWO2Flc7lBgFOwoQQ/s1600-h/P7073205.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsfSfX4udnt-Y6v3gaH1s_SplFIXj21r3l1Pmyf0WEIhrwG7tq6PDwgB-Czu0qEkBFOH9HmxeSHNMWYxEoVxCdgmOUH4CXEkRDoHgoA-pxJj73o6Gzd16xaD1U1NPWO2Flc7lBgFOwoQQ/s400/P7073205.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399697250766004322" /></a>In the height of knowledge, we can only ever realize that those around us are lacking, but even in the discovery of someone alike in us serves only to create friction, not bond. With friction there will come action and with threat will come reaction, only to be expected with other people. Even after knowledge, there is still only human emotion and human limit. With humanity comes fealty, which is perceived as weakness. Weakness of heart and mind, such things are of concern, for with knowledge you must have the ability to protect it and the ability to refuse fealty. In doing so you must refuse emotion, to be stoic against the tides. With stoicism comes freedom. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1jF1QDEQKDc1fzIQ9NKyzGPeR9siU_ePAd8kMgf2B2EpvwSK3TKufn2EpxrLiXM6dV3hM68zwKpeBuJfSkb3lQZmAAO3C8jn8zWew0Sw4QRFoih4gyCbowjyegf3fSxqJE24IciVdrFQ/s1600-h/P7043008.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1jF1QDEQKDc1fzIQ9NKyzGPeR9siU_ePAd8kMgf2B2EpvwSK3TKufn2EpxrLiXM6dV3hM68zwKpeBuJfSkb3lQZmAAO3C8jn8zWew0Sw4QRFoih4gyCbowjyegf3fSxqJE24IciVdrFQ/s400/P7043008.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399700654869175458" /></a><br />To hell with togetherness, individualism is what America should have in ideal.<br /><br />Matthias, out.Matthiashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14613032902621818576noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3936816066957771561.post-60968586973684841882009-11-01T18:05:00.000-08:002009-11-01T19:08:02.467-08:00To Be Good - 1 of 3<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr0tLwsu8MIM6MdWvuzxJwJU9cPY9iCeIEeAZvUtkO6ld7gS6-O5VuBi-aPNVhrt0lEjj5fL-b15NPtWVeUvvVI_Y2FSb7QA-L0D2z_ZQxhPyHp9gpO6q4L9s2SzdeybXWic8UQYI5noM/s1600-h/P7053144.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr0tLwsu8MIM6MdWvuzxJwJU9cPY9iCeIEeAZvUtkO6ld7gS6-O5VuBi-aPNVhrt0lEjj5fL-b15NPtWVeUvvVI_Y2FSb7QA-L0D2z_ZQxhPyHp9gpO6q4L9s2SzdeybXWic8UQYI5noM/s400/P7053144.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399324565308312690" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Being Good</span>. At one time or another in our lives we've all had that promise that we'd "be good." We'd be watchful, at attention, at present. What truly makes something good? Is it the acknowledging of "Right" done by the general populace, or is it the gut instinct that calls for sudden action? What discerns right from wrong other than our own discerning. When we know in our minds that good is done, it is always so sure, it's always so honest. Can we really tell what good is? It can never be placed what true good is. I barely ever know if what I do is right, if what I do is humanly sound. Every breath we take is never even ours, we steal our air, we steal out glances, we steal our kisses, our hugs, our words. In every action we take something and we never give it back. But why do we need to apologize? We don't. Simply put, apologies are only excuses, excuses to hide our intentions. I'm sorry I did this, I'm sorry about that, but what really matters? Nothing. None of that, because they're spoken with stolen words and with stolen lips created by stolen genetics. <br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP0DmGrWo6VsQwgIB3t_-ksReN5rfku9Vw6nbxnuIonQFwiicsmTbS695O7yiQ3EHQALkeBjjO5ndbt8uZfuPFeghyphenhyphen8_wYjRwsOpWw2BNzPbPU1TWGR4FKkL0z6mB6xRGaQMtD7Bm_jFU/s1600-h/P7063202.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 303px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP0DmGrWo6VsQwgIB3t_-ksReN5rfku9Vw6nbxnuIonQFwiicsmTbS695O7yiQ3EHQALkeBjjO5ndbt8uZfuPFeghyphenhyphen8_wYjRwsOpWw2BNzPbPU1TWGR4FKkL0z6mB6xRGaQMtD7Bm_jFU/s400/P7063202.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399329571285718994" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Like broken keys, we're all out of tune.</span> No matter the weight we bear, no matter the size of the chip on your shoulder, we all play out the same way. A predictable pattern, shaped by society, which dances like another less complicated pattern. Good can be discerned so obviously by the ignorant or the pious because they have been contoured to a certain view. Evil is shown, is spat at, but the accusations and demonizing only go so deep as to fabricate the truth. Digging deeply enough would reveal choice. In a storm of differing opinions and view points, therein lies you with the choice to be with one or the other. But that ever remains choice, not option. Choice differs option because options are set in stone, choices are as changeable as winds at sea. Only when we see both sides do we know full truth and are able to embrace choice. <span style="font-weight:bold;">Really, good is only skin deep.</span> Good, in stark reality, isn't a choice of who holds the most money, who has the better religion, it's a system of morals, even feelings should be null. Feelings disrupt morals, disrupt everything. The twitches in the back of your head, they only serve to cloud judgment.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv9dPzz-7wKF_JWxYg-QlFzAdRn3AaPzbL_h9O3LQHIpIoO-Xt5IcKiTFpiuv9tFnpwVkdwgU5f3Nkwi1mpnjLJKjwWF5DXqhyphenhyphenEDwVBtInhftcwNY9z_Lv40I5w19TG16oRz1CS5DR-lg/s1600-h/P7043009.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv9dPzz-7wKF_JWxYg-QlFzAdRn3AaPzbL_h9O3LQHIpIoO-Xt5IcKiTFpiuv9tFnpwVkdwgU5f3Nkwi1mpnjLJKjwWF5DXqhyphenhyphenEDwVBtInhftcwNY9z_Lv40I5w19TG16oRz1CS5DR-lg/s400/P7043009.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399335351727805858" /></a>In the end we must be like mountains in a storm, in a tempest, immovable. We don't need to be heralded as good, or as evil, we must know choice and know the power of words. We need to know what, by the power of observation, is the lesser of the two evil presented. Yet, evil things, by far always engulf you, even behind your lines of morality, you are assaulted. You can look to your friends, to your family, but they don't help you make the choice, they don't give more reason to choose one side or another. Their opinions should never matter, in the end the only opinion that matters to you, should only ever be your own, because you can only ever trust yourself, even if that is still a long shot. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh46N6NBpuHzfb0-S6zgPYQIARY2LuYP7kpiNvFv8subyD7An_qFSkR5S_5ZH91YfCRTyvGA9XReJno084nqGtKPMjoi9CUhPoqeBnmqMdfYC0VPzFUaG05ADU4RKEtAkTrSwoGbT9jHtk/s1600-h/P7083370.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh46N6NBpuHzfb0-S6zgPYQIARY2LuYP7kpiNvFv8subyD7An_qFSkR5S_5ZH91YfCRTyvGA9XReJno084nqGtKPMjoi9CUhPoqeBnmqMdfYC0VPzFUaG05ADU4RKEtAkTrSwoGbT9jHtk/s400/P7083370.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399337574018220162" /></a><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">I stand on the precipice, looking down into a gaping maw, but I don't have to be alone, I choose to be.</span><br /><br />Musing forever, <br />MatthiasMatthiashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14613032902621818576noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3936816066957771561.post-25550044706865787822009-10-20T14:27:00.000-07:002009-10-20T14:44:07.631-07:00Why do these trees need to be taken down?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg1DUuYGlGWBnP4Aro8QIZll7cwR6zjwjtABq7BfDD7vZrGIJUnz-FqMzz-BgJs1Oh5HwFkOy-qEh-LNUmWW9DK7QUu6OzqdUHKxV4CLLwfvdlauuH0plf6yfSvGCz1eZz8gKMjbARJTw/s1600-h/PA184388.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg1DUuYGlGWBnP4Aro8QIZll7cwR6zjwjtABq7BfDD7vZrGIJUnz-FqMzz-BgJs1Oh5HwFkOy-qEh-LNUmWW9DK7QUu6OzqdUHKxV4CLLwfvdlauuH0plf6yfSvGCz1eZz8gKMjbARJTw/s400/PA184388.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394800623292491746" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdPhOm7tL9Uqjfco5TXR0nZUEzVNbRqySCsvCMEMBxXBnXNuf_fCApgHC_x4mFuSITcJdVozqbiHrOjbePjhI9o95qUR1P-Q3YyaoqZpZ6Im29eQo1EJyGgKhOqaC-C6KwwmS_lTQzBSw/s1600-h/PA184401.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdPhOm7tL9Uqjfco5TXR0nZUEzVNbRqySCsvCMEMBxXBnXNuf_fCApgHC_x4mFuSITcJdVozqbiHrOjbePjhI9o95qUR1P-Q3YyaoqZpZ6Im29eQo1EJyGgKhOqaC-C6KwwmS_lTQzBSw/s400/PA184401.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394800614758279874" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpaC7_zVeUKzefJygBDzFihf7l6bchXYKXzwQXAV1Ld9n9MITqLSbwQREj0O18Tas8LTKgVzPxxyhG_McMk5TWY131uKGcLXcFLns4kYhFYz66Q06lbfiSgettkkCLxBFsFGF5vxxPJ5Q/s1600-h/PA184385.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpaC7_zVeUKzefJygBDzFihf7l6bchXYKXzwQXAV1Ld9n9MITqLSbwQREj0O18Tas8LTKgVzPxxyhG_McMk5TWY131uKGcLXcFLns4kYhFYz66Q06lbfiSgettkkCLxBFsFGF5vxxPJ5Q/s400/PA184385.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394800601571767410" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMGRfataF7sohnZPlf2OTCSdo7s-ER33YcUQ4fwhjFCtnwQoOkfIv2hvr3pR1PY9eE0nsGtxmcGvDOyg2L3OWaXk9J58cmTW0igXddXZ3Jyqnt_lsHF9-52Lpa34FyGPPR_PLE74AC3Qo/s1600-h/PA184398.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMGRfataF7sohnZPlf2OTCSdo7s-ER33YcUQ4fwhjFCtnwQoOkfIv2hvr3pR1PY9eE0nsGtxmcGvDOyg2L3OWaXk9J58cmTW0igXddXZ3Jyqnt_lsHF9-52Lpa34FyGPPR_PLE74AC3Qo/s400/PA184398.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394800593194346786" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW1wpgTgJRLe7nClHB_-_HlGyU5Jv-ZHrFRY7hZAG4dpkdcohbDmYHvkqVpMCFTdwUM-9cdazcbN8lBc3gEGwxLsP3BFOow1RrQM_X4bptvkXFVnPVjU3feteE_2yTaSg_9_dSiJfskq4/s1600-h/PA184396.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW1wpgTgJRLe7nClHB_-_HlGyU5Jv-ZHrFRY7hZAG4dpkdcohbDmYHvkqVpMCFTdwUM-9cdazcbN8lBc3gEGwxLsP3BFOow1RrQM_X4bptvkXFVnPVjU3feteE_2yTaSg_9_dSiJfskq4/s400/PA184396.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394799188956949682" /></a>Matthiashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14613032902621818576noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3936816066957771561.post-47830176185049486412009-10-20T12:06:00.000-07:002009-10-20T14:27:34.451-07:00Who Watches the Watchmen - Post-hiatus Recovery<span style="font-weight: bold;">[warning: Not safe for patriots, zealots, common people. You have been warned]</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV7YkLH4Z866Gi5XSAnYfywwYyNjuRJ3alcjVgoZ7NSgygkk5j53Pb_xd6tu4B1bjK98YaKLVo4UZJ3ZhOWASZUj1_1gC4ktg8eq_0RC6f7N6oKBlbb3WA9bPhcScNDLI8zhaNy02BnzY/s1600-h/P9274045.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 294px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV7YkLH4Z866Gi5XSAnYfywwYyNjuRJ3alcjVgoZ7NSgygkk5j53Pb_xd6tu4B1bjK98YaKLVo4UZJ3ZhOWASZUj1_1gC4ktg8eq_0RC6f7N6oKBlbb3WA9bPhcScNDLI8zhaNy02BnzY/s320/P9274045.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394764606981616642" border="0" /></a><br /><br />May I first begin, that I express pride for my country, but I also express shame and regret for what my country has become. In the beginning of America’s tale, it was a simple and righteous collection, but through years it has expanded to become an almost imperialistic might. America, which was once a land of gentle people who wanted to choose who led their command, became something which is now held in <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">unspeakable horror in my eyes, a world superpower, and a nuclear power</span></span>. Much as in the ways of Rome, America has followed, which I predict could lead to its downfall, if we are not careful.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh3NNnHOuF1b-OgHLaBlSKbNMJJ1nSPBByczORbojKzWpBGST5HACinf-hGeg4WmH7OlBnfXlX9agMwCGf-4d3w0RlHLHVf5IZbdRWD4pM3GnjlmSQ9th5Yx8QNl3caSNyQMNo3dnq-gw/s1600-h/PA184474.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh3NNnHOuF1b-OgHLaBlSKbNMJJ1nSPBByczORbojKzWpBGST5HACinf-hGeg4WmH7OlBnfXlX9agMwCGf-4d3w0RlHLHVf5IZbdRWD4pM3GnjlmSQ9th5Yx8QNl3caSNyQMNo3dnq-gw/s320/PA184474.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394766445773109154" border="0" /></a>My first point brings me to our military, whereas in Rome, it was an honor to serve, as well as a privilege, which is the same for America, but Rome eventually lost interest in the military it needed. Rome became complacent with something that made it what was. <span style="font-weight: bold;">People were losing interest in wars. Why?<span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span> Because wars were not more interesting than plays and philosophers. Wars were not something that could be indulged in, especially to the rich, who preferred to keep to themselves, though the military needed funding for its armies. Eventually, Rome’s military deteriorated, people left because they could not be paid, or could not handle the lifestyle any longer, mercenaries were soon to be hired in place of those lost and Rome’s most powerful military became divided up in command and strength. In America, we see this same trend in military forces, since Vietnam and the following wars; Americans have harbored hate for war and a will for it to stop. The military loses funding due to this, but it isn’t they’re fault, it isn’t the commanders in the army to be blamed, it would be the senators, the congressmen, those who send the military to battle, much like in Rome.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzMqqMFB8CBndNm3wytHnw0-bguYr17FyvMxj-5dZQJRcUV7NQWslxPIJQSfDy1ZGU96r-JYU3dMEop4OCSBHqAOrwJR_grF0V8MrA4Stm-Up1JNlFCCzm8nuxduU0W388O_n-K8gaiGs/s1600-h/PA194477.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzMqqMFB8CBndNm3wytHnw0-bguYr17FyvMxj-5dZQJRcUV7NQWslxPIJQSfDy1ZGU96r-JYU3dMEop4OCSBHqAOrwJR_grF0V8MrA4Stm-Up1JNlFCCzm8nuxduU0W388O_n-K8gaiGs/s320/PA194477.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394767079506961298" border="0" /></a>Along with the military aspect, we also are similar in the aspect of learning and education. Arguably, America is one of the best places to go to school, because there is more opportunity and there are more ready teachers and open classes to allow them that opportunity. Rome, in its time, was a center for knowledge around the other nations, it welcomed those who wanted to learn and let them learn gladly, but with increasing amounts of slaves being brought in to work, Rome’s populace steadily began to take learning for granted. Some citizens of Rome would ignore education entirely, relying only on self comforts and the labor of slaves, which in turn led to more acting in the same way, causing the idea that education was not important to spread. In America, with what media attention we have and the relative comfort that we are given, many of the youth are taking the same ideas into mind. <span style="font-weight: bold;">America’s youth can be found ignoring school, education and even completely going against it, in, albeit, fits of young angst.<span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span> Yet, it still school, it's education and its needed. How else will we know our pasts and our legacies?<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP2QObmuj0SYpfsxbRwU2Pk3QSGTk50cnAdxkl9wkZhhbjDmJYoCpS-XTOz6OesowXe4gopC9ScQdu5-fcLokEnwaafaVQUn0ASo9FApxHjTpME7G5d3OX0Y5DKkF9RXBxGacDUmpAxvo/s1600-h/P9133803.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP2QObmuj0SYpfsxbRwU2Pk3QSGTk50cnAdxkl9wkZhhbjDmJYoCpS-XTOz6OesowXe4gopC9ScQdu5-fcLokEnwaafaVQUn0ASo9FApxHjTpME7G5d3OX0Y5DKkF9RXBxGacDUmpAxvo/s320/P9133803.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394763284943643682" border="0" /></a>With the failing strength of military and the growing unimportance of learning, we also have the ideals of our nations, which were not far off at some times, but they immediately began to take turns. It was first Constantine who brought Christianity to Rome, letting the religion be free and for the empire to take part in its practices. As changes with Emperor had happened, so did the ideal of religious freedom. Religion was picked apart and left for the buzzards, which eventually led to religious persecution in Rome. People who were Christian in Rome would be made example of. In America, we see the same, but with people of all religious denominations. <span style="font-weight: bold;">It isn’t just Christianity, but it’s also Judaism, Islam, and other religions among those lines. <span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span>In America, we daily see every religion tortured and beaten by the media as well as the people, who take their ideas from the media. Every day the theoretical buzzards pick at the carcasses of long tormented religious beliefs, but there is no reason for it. America was born as a place to practice religious freedom, not push religion around, or expand religion like an empire.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM65jRtHJMCCAbRSy5E-TVFFIJ5n7g0QQBWvaOddcK3p4XY-KDgD1JKTWeDmoGPa3MAV0QV92RD8wLaiW6Rrzo_tuvKOVzfCfk9r4TYQiQbk8CYL1cOm4vTBb7ixYxIfrQyd8nE_9b6Uo/s1600-h/P7043013.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM65jRtHJMCCAbRSy5E-TVFFIJ5n7g0QQBWvaOddcK3p4XY-KDgD1JKTWeDmoGPa3MAV0QV92RD8wLaiW6Rrzo_tuvKOVzfCfk9r4TYQiQbk8CYL1cOm4vTBb7ixYxIfrQyd8nE_9b6Uo/s320/P7043013.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394769067856477474" border="0" /></a>In conclusion, America follows in Rome’s footsteps, slowly, but surely, following the same path to destruction, the same path to downfall, which will soon encompass, I predict, all of America. With the growing lack of military support, the increasing numbers of uneducated and the originally allowed religions being pressed into corners, America is set for what could be a powerful coup d’état, which in turn will follow another coup d’état, and in quick succession we will have a civil war to balance the fate of America on its people.<br /><br />Yours truly, against the people, against the government, and against common sense,<br /><br /><br /><br />MatthiasMatthiashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14613032902621818576noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3936816066957771561.post-68114660942688777042009-08-07T10:45:00.000-07:002009-08-07T11:01:25.661-07:00My story writingI write stories, if you didn't know from my other blogs, but that's not the point. The thing is, it's hard to find inspiration, to find what tugs me in that direction and what appeases to the audience. It pisses me off that things like this are changed so much... <br /><br />Well, lets get on with this. My first story, that i've been trying to write for <span style="font-weight:bold;">so long!</span> is hatchet deep in the stump of writer's block and I stopped at Chapter 5. Now my second story, hopefully will not suffer the same consequences, considering that it's off to a very good start, but its been an increasingly hard uphill struggle. At times I forget to meet my personally set quota and I miss writing a chapter on some days. I'm getting flooded by thought and it's tough to keep writing with no thoughts and opinions, no reason for it, no inspiration except from whats around me (which is usually enough). Besides that, I still think its going to be a compelling story, for a lot of people, but I need to finish it first, before anything...<br /><br />Here's my first chapter in Deliverance.<br /><br /> <span style="font-weight:bold;">Chapter 1</span><br /> <span style="font-style:italic;">Our fair city…</span><br /> <br /> Hookers. God damn dirty hookers. I know it’s definitely not a good opening line to my life, but damn is it one that really sums up what I think of the group. I mean, what the hell sort of right do they have to walk up to someone and offer sex? Even someone as young as me! What the hell is wrong with our city. Ha! Our city. That’s a train of thought that hasn’t been acknowledged for a while.<br /> This city, this dump of a God damned hole of complete disregard for life. Filth is what this city has become. Become? Or has it always been this way? I don’t even care anymore, I don’t want some historical bullshit dollop on my lap for my to just bask in the smell. School around here shut down anyway, since they started bombing them. <br /> Schools were okay, but the teachers had no real eagerness to teach us. There wasn’t, I think, a single person who really wanted to handle the sadistic generation we were. I pitied them. They had to deal with us while we were in school, they didn’t have much of a choice. Our lot was a lot of the worst society shat out on a silver platter. Who could deal with us? Aetus Damnare, is what they called our generation in Latin terms. In layman’s terms it means Generation of the Damned. How’s that for dark and bleak? We can’t help it, I suppose, we’re only products of what our parents were, Generation X. When the internet came to be, I’m not sure if that was good or bad, really, but a lot of things seemed to have happened since then, like a big explosion. Hell, there’ve been a lot of explosions since then.<br /> <br /> I’m exiting Fall Out, the local safe house for people of my ilk, which is what people call “useless.” I suppose we don’t have much use, but who makes the signs, who sprays the tags, who makes the murals that inspire, who displays who’s block is who’s so that people know what to expect? <br /> I’m walking on Madison Street, going to the Millennium Neutralities. That’s a joke. Neutralities? Millennium is a war zone, most of the artwork there has been pillaged, scrapped, destroyed for money that everyone so desperately needs. Most of the works have been salvaged, except The Bean. Nobody goes near The Bean. A group of doomsayers housed up there, they stole the guns from Manny’s Sport Shop and they attack anyone stupid enough to travel up the steps.<br /> The only really peaceful section of Millennium is the Promenade and the Faces. I know the girl who runs the Promenade area now, she’s got a nice business with her café there, it’s pretty nice. It’s where I’m headed now. The Faces on the other hand are neutral because it’s a general agreement, on all turf, that that’s where the lead thug headers meet and it’s where the kids all come to play.<br /> I’m not one for caring where or how the kids play, but at least there’s one specific area for them to be cared for. The Faces have pretty much turned into an outdoor community center. This cities play areas are pretty limited nowadays, I suppose. Ever since the Rebel Reclamation, Chicago really has changed. It’s surviving pretty much on its own and doing a damn good job of it to be honest. <br /> All over what was America, cities and towns were being ground down into cesspools, but Chicago, has stayed as pure as can be with grime swishing around its’ ankles. I guess that’s why they call this place Deliverance. That’s always what it’s known for, Deliverance, for any refugee that’s recovering from post-reclamation shellshock. It’s made this city overpopulated and with too many people in one place at one time, something was bound to happen.<br /> What happened was that in one week, every gang that could, grabbed turf. Fights started happening, people started dying, everybody who wasn’t part of a gang stayed inside their homes. The refugee population was halved, since they didn’t quite have homes. It’s famously known around here as the Uprising. Everything changed that week. Deliverance was split into war on all fronts and within itself. <br /> After that week, it was done, people went outside, but all the rival forces were at a standstill, so they drew ceasefires. I was there when they all shook hands in solemn silence at the Faces. Everywhere was hit hard, but Millennium Park was the bloodbath. It was where we all knew just how bad it got. Bodies all over and still twitching people lay in pain and agony, all of them refugees, who set up there to use the water that the Faces spat. It was at the very moment that ever rival gang shook hands that the Faces sprayed water onto the surfaces, like a pitiful washing the city clean of filth. <br /> No matter what, it still resolved so many problems, it made everything peaceful ground, everything was fine. Then the American Government came back. It’s been open hostilities in certain places for months now, but I’m still not used to the gunfire. I always hated guns, always did, since I watched the Uprising from my room, since I saw the shot which killed my mother, since I watched the peace treatise in Millennium. <br /> So many things that are against so many other things. That’s all it looks like to me, I feel grief or sorrow for what has happened lately, for what has happened in the past, but I can’t do anything can I? It’s all so complicated. Nothing makes sense anymore, especially since the Seraphim came. It feels like a fairy tale. <br /> <br /> I’m between the faces, I stand there for a moment, taking in the still operating faces of the two towers which trickle water every few minutes. I look at both of them and then I look in the water at the ground, looking at my reflection. I smile and shrug, going on to the Promenade, life doesn’t have to be so gloomy, at least I’ve got a good haircut.<br /><br /><br />Hope it sounds good.Matthiashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14613032902621818576noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3936816066957771561.post-30692049027865235072009-07-28T17:30:00.000-07:002009-07-28T17:58:21.143-07:00The Filth and other comics<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v476/JScottCampbell/JSCComicsPile.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 967px; height: 617px;" src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v476/JScottCampbell/JSCComicsPile.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />I've lately been reading lots of comics, I mean lots. Each otf them has some serious story to it, making it all the better read for me, because I don;t really like the kind of story that just lays it all out on a table. It's gotta be jumpy or extremely in depth, like the oh so classic Watchmen. <br /><br />But I've taken to reading lesser known comics and some very good classics, I'll give the rundown and my reviews.<br /><br />First up,<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">The Filth</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.bookcoverarchive.com/images/books/the_filth.large.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 340px; height: 463px;" src="http://www.bookcoverarchive.com/images/books/the_filth.large.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />The Filth is a rather expansive story about a man who had left a group of people known as The Hand because of what he had to do. Now his duties were often to be the "clean up crew" for the world. He was part of a special team, in which he was then pitted against various adversaries to deal with, though not just your average run-of-the-mill villain, but he would go against these sick deviants with horrid intentions. It was really weird, seeing how graphic and blatant that The Filth could become in certain parts, but it really set the expansive mood, showing that what people might do in there spare time, might be a bit more than just speculation.<br /><br />Total A+ read for me, it had me at hello, when he went on his first trip to his last one. Wonderful writing and a good graphic storyline.<br /><br />Next is...<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Hellblazer</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.andydiggle.com/assets/hellblazer234.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 615px;" src="http://www.andydiggle.com/assets/hellblazer234.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />Now, who doesn;t know the story of John Constantine these days? Very few don;t know who he is, but that's only because of the film <span style="font-style:italic;">Constantine</span> in which John Constantine was portrayed by the famous Keanu Reeves. This wasn;t the best choice admittedly, since Mr. Reeves is a terrible actor, and quite unfit for the part, but the movie was alright, despite. The real story of John Constantine is many times better, with much more depth and feeling to it. Hellblazer is still continuing, and is very popular among nerds like me.<br /><br />I love Constantine, he is one of my favorite comic book characters as of reading the comics.<br /><br />Last one for now, <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Y: The Last Man</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.dynamicforces.com/images/last-man.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 457px;" src="http://www.dynamicforces.com/images/last-man.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />An interesting take of the "last man on Earth" situation, since in this comic, the protaganist really <span style="font-style:italic;">is</span> the last man on Earth, literally. Among the worlds female population, the last man on earth, Yorick Brown, emerges onto the hell which has become the world. And all he wants is to find his girlfriend. Yorick gets roped up into actiuons that move to fast for him and he is sent all across the world to try and save humanity. No, not by fornication, but by clones. <br /><br />A great take on one of my favorite questions (what it would be like to be the only man on earth) and it really delivers in material. Brian K. Vaughn is a genius in telling this story. <br /><br />I'm eager to get my hands on more good material, preferably Vertigo comics, so I can get some cool mind expanding ideas. Or melt my brain in the process.<br /><br />This is Matthias, rollin' out.Matthiashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14613032902621818576noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3936816066957771561.post-55541943916300103292009-07-24T15:16:00.000-07:002009-07-24T15:30:44.307-07:00Inspiration?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgndMVtiezd-HfZ7sI6H4AhV6_r0ZgLHnA0j_DOPM_n9Aoi5Xe3abiwDglhCocUV_84X0U_uhZP1LJAZi_hT6QZ47ghtBXGERW0grCNw0OoBdSezJ5gypkA4xDKtEQOQ2P4cAfDqyaeAV0/s1600-h/P7103403.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgndMVtiezd-HfZ7sI6H4AhV6_r0ZgLHnA0j_DOPM_n9Aoi5Xe3abiwDglhCocUV_84X0U_uhZP1LJAZi_hT6QZ47ghtBXGERW0grCNw0OoBdSezJ5gypkA4xDKtEQOQ2P4cAfDqyaeAV0/s320/P7103403.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362157518388968658" /></a><br /><br /><br />I think its because I just always have this little spark to keep hauling on, nothing real special, but it makes me want to persevere. I continue this blog because I keep thinking, maybe someone will read it and agree with me, maybe someone will find it interesting, maybe someone will actually like it, but reality begs to differ.<br /><br />I have been on this site for close to three months and I have three followers. Maybe its my lack spreading the word, but it's hard to do when you can't drive or go places. So, I suppose when I actually start back into school, maybe I can post things up, get hype for my blog so I can get followers, but even then, I keep wondering, what keeps me going?<br /><br />I have been asked where my inspiration comes from and what first comes to mind for me is, I have inspiration? When I'm writing this I don;t know how I feel, I don;t know what I feel, I just feel. Is that inspiration? Because otherwise I'd have to chock up stupid and ironic quotes, but that's not really what I try to capture when I write this. <br /><br />I don't know what fuels me, but emotions have something to do with it.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEDll2NaWq8T0LD27HkwdlQ0j4axRCRoyrougfxOzeczzY2IjsOyLn4B8_9xyqw8BgyGxBi5pDrPFJaWWrNGalREV7ZHg8dM0XnwBjmt-ybJc1tPIcFwk5ty9a5KT6bua17deXZcYgewY/s1600-h/P7103391.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEDll2NaWq8T0LD27HkwdlQ0j4axRCRoyrougfxOzeczzY2IjsOyLn4B8_9xyqw8BgyGxBi5pDrPFJaWWrNGalREV7ZHg8dM0XnwBjmt-ybJc1tPIcFwk5ty9a5KT6bua17deXZcYgewY/s320/P7103391.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362157514668638930" /></a><br />I got a friend who checks out my blogs occaisionally, tells me about how he likes them and criticism and that jazz, but he also asks, "Why do you even try?" Probably because I have so few actual readers...<br /><br />This is Matthias, back in a few more.Matthiashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14613032902621818576noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3936816066957771561.post-87404587104394196382009-07-19T21:58:00.000-07:002009-07-19T23:02:06.115-07:00Love, Matthias.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSCnql_yIRsYvAySBMWOWTNbgbdW1NtRv2Kqauf7LSiceP5y1geHxghLcM8xTvs23O1f8L4VrxpaBI3nUcNed91QJxhofEjaT2ajRdPRLuEP40zk4gCzOB-WEoBo7S1YTr1U5-1ODReqQ/s1600-h/P6072648.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSCnql_yIRsYvAySBMWOWTNbgbdW1NtRv2Kqauf7LSiceP5y1geHxghLcM8xTvs23O1f8L4VrxpaBI3nUcNed91QJxhofEjaT2ajRdPRLuEP40zk4gCzOB-WEoBo7S1YTr1U5-1ODReqQ/s320/P6072648.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360418058642574050" /></a><br /><br /><br />It may be a litle to early to for Valentine's day. but I just want to think about, well, love. Such a basic and powerful emotion of the human mind, this love. Love which shakes walls down to their cornerstones.<br /><br />We have all tried and tested the thought and existence of love, no doubt, with varying results. We have all tried to fill that strange ache we have in our chests, to cope with the solitude that is thrust unto us all. Many antidotes and anecdotes have been used, Religion, Science, Work, but have any of them really made you feel whole? I mean truly, did they make you complete, make you feel lke you were something to behold? Surely it will be argued, but you know, oh you know that nothing else matters until you fill that deep void, that deep longing within you.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihehgRuEDaYMNVNBIVYlRCTA8viha4eYqgMB8dtMlduDrwtoMWVANRXT03JCUoZnoDCdaho5wlfTThJUgee-6tUCj-3eb4L_plhC9XEd1_JLaHhW9X_ERdnCnyf8PONptahV8p_M4f07k/s1600-h/P5011849.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihehgRuEDaYMNVNBIVYlRCTA8viha4eYqgMB8dtMlduDrwtoMWVANRXT03JCUoZnoDCdaho5wlfTThJUgee-6tUCj-3eb4L_plhC9XEd1_JLaHhW9X_ERdnCnyf8PONptahV8p_M4f07k/s320/P5011849.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360416859096132562" /></a><br /><br />Love has been described as many things. As a burning ember within the soul, as a embrace of fuzzy feeling, even as described as panes of glass. But embers can die and feelings can cease and glass is fragile, but love is like the purest of matter, the truest of unbreakable bondage, which can never be severed or broken. Do you ever stop loving someone? Do you ever truly loathe the person whom you once shared intimacies with? No, life does not work in such a manner that can allow this. It is almost inhuman to truly do so, resulting in the loss of your soul, for turning all hate and letting thr deep darkness flood you wil destroy the very fathoms of your soul. Yet, maybe that's what you want?<br /><br />Love is a destroyer and a creator. Well, self-explanatory, without being explicit. We all know that love has properties which truly can make ones life whole, ones life comeplete, but there is also the menacing falacies of love. Love, when buried hatchet deep into a tree trunk, seems to turn on you, seems to become your enemy. You hate the one(s) you love and isolate yourself, from where you can become something you never wanted to be in the first place <span style="font-style:italic;">alone.</span> Such things will happen and you could survive, you could continue, but what if you can't, you will bear that open wound all your life, letting more lifeblood fall everytime it is touched upon. Yes, it will happen as such. Love is forever, but so are the deep scars it leaves.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNOvjK8F1eO_Mq9haxdWjJXqXCDRBvZefLZUhruu-vswoSAC51ggX1QGg-NpgHf6YVE2a8tSUM3ygkNkOEyL9r7TgvZeJjL2k-hVXR1TQ3eVbgLwWN3Y6WHcwRlBMYlpO2iN72_IEgjCk/s1600-h/Faceless.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNOvjK8F1eO_Mq9haxdWjJXqXCDRBvZefLZUhruu-vswoSAC51ggX1QGg-NpgHf6YVE2a8tSUM3ygkNkOEyL9r7TgvZeJjL2k-hVXR1TQ3eVbgLwWN3Y6WHcwRlBMYlpO2iN72_IEgjCk/s320/Faceless.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360416858899229074" /></a><br /><br />I find myself glad, almost, that i stare up at my ceiling every night at 1 AM, thinking, "Why? Why am I the one alone? Why is there no one?" Truth is, I'm content with not being with anyone, I may be bitter for my age, I may be an extremely blunt unfunny asss who shoves his foot so far down his throat that it tickles my kideys, but hell, I'm not the one who is stuck in the rut.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGVrJIGjJD83aoCkQsJfGI2rl8SuP6SAMf3ZkKDCzbINT35ZmZs9ptZWZgWa8AAxmNlUQeITSav92AzNP1eEUb5Sd3-AUTcLIriPV-fpXvTGnmn7Nu86hIv1RxNSHeUI3WvkstWiiKkvo/s1600-h/april30+(6).JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGVrJIGjJD83aoCkQsJfGI2rl8SuP6SAMf3ZkKDCzbINT35ZmZs9ptZWZgWa8AAxmNlUQeITSav92AzNP1eEUb5Sd3-AUTcLIriPV-fpXvTGnmn7Nu86hIv1RxNSHeUI3WvkstWiiKkvo/s320/april30+(6).JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360416845105481026" /></a><br /><br />I've met so many people, so many who wish they could have just not done it, but you know, I hate that. When I truly feel that I should not and believe that I cannot have such feeling, my friends are forsaking what chances they should take. My friends are taking the fact that they have true chances, that they can be more than just the person next to them, they can be the person with them, the person close to them.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivUqnLkQbjK7JfKzUhqCa72vqNHYw5k03MlpJtRfoxA7TLFSGShPh-VBzEdB77d-aWeaih0Oz1Hm2D2nFUk4RTkOcj0VAjIfwRuRP61k6TRqPNi8sxYcvmgCLErpvicV_PmUGJBq_dSmY/s1600-h/000_0033.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivUqnLkQbjK7JfKzUhqCa72vqNHYw5k03MlpJtRfoxA7TLFSGShPh-VBzEdB77d-aWeaih0Oz1Hm2D2nFUk4RTkOcj0VAjIfwRuRP61k6TRqPNi8sxYcvmgCLErpvicV_PmUGJBq_dSmY/s320/000_0033.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360416848525972546" /></a><br /><br />And when my friends stop taking in the damned puppy love of children, of people my age, maybe they can realise that life has so few chances, life has so few times that you can make real differences. I'm going to help them as much as I truly can, counseling them to my best abilities, but I can't change them, they must be changed, maybe they might see it like me, maybe not. Life goes on.<br /><br />You know, though this is already so drawn out, I read a quote a while back by a famous man whose name was Boethius. He said, "A man content to go to heaven alone will never go to heaven." I agree 100% for you can't be alone, you can't, but allow me a fantasy, that some people, some very few, don't need someone.<br /><br />This is Matthias, signing off.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhodiQKoCSwkzswaq7StR_66JqURSiL_8iPO9A1ZsVtr7zHzMzjgckAXkD4TmNY-1iVB_Kb4yMLPQKW0fSK92Ii6jH91Uet7YJXNehyphenhyphenRvMzQA6gKnlcSZ7fbi9ds_clwoVxuaBvupAK_Pk/s1600-h/artistvisage+(14).JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhodiQKoCSwkzswaq7StR_66JqURSiL_8iPO9A1ZsVtr7zHzMzjgckAXkD4TmNY-1iVB_Kb4yMLPQKW0fSK92Ii6jH91Uet7YJXNehyphenhyphenRvMzQA6gKnlcSZ7fbi9ds_clwoVxuaBvupAK_Pk/s320/artistvisage+(14).JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360416867710458450" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Matthias feels 30, but is only half of that.</span><br /><br />DeviantArt: http://matthiasbrokefree.deviantart.com/Matthiashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14613032902621818576noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3936816066957771561.post-77579371578398974212009-07-06T07:41:00.000-07:002009-07-06T08:50:39.032-07:00Patriotism: needed? overpowering? war?Hey reader,<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCT4JtIdm8m2VN_ehyZ2CEXTvAJozNZdDfU-L_sQkU6yZQIf1sHU3gle2xMqSqEi4TL34ESA8CyLrz5LvI_JYT4Onm6BuneRKFHiVzSboA3P45zWYj6Iw5cPC7aTCS-OAPsRr2jh8e3vE/s1600-h/Guyfawkesfedora-2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 211px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCT4JtIdm8m2VN_ehyZ2CEXTvAJozNZdDfU-L_sQkU6yZQIf1sHU3gle2xMqSqEi4TL34ESA8CyLrz5LvI_JYT4Onm6BuneRKFHiVzSboA3P45zWYj6Iw5cPC7aTCS-OAPsRr2jh8e3vE/s320/Guyfawkesfedora-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355371850002387602" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I know its only been, whhat, two days since I last posted? Helll, it's <span style="font-style: italic;">the</span> American weekend, so I thought I'd entreat my self to a bit more talk time.<br /><br />Now, let me open by saying, I do <span style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</span> have anything against America. You can call me un-patriotic (etc, etc.), but you may <span style="font-style: italic;">not</span> call me a terrorist. Simply because my voice is different and may contain a bit more of an unruly state, maybe sometimes prone to violence, does not mean that I believe in the ideals of using terror as a means for promotion. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKWiKCDG1e9L0e9ueJxjASW_yhULKhyphenhyphenIl01Ulbmgqhyphenhyphenn0QmIdrYgxquO6TEW83cpcJOpTyoCY6W4TAcqfUH2BupXc4zcYVcb4EmeQg3fAMK0d_Kaad3A6bN4NUdqNMREmNBk0o0lr1Pp0/s1600-h/P7053073.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKWiKCDG1e9L0e9ueJxjASW_yhULKhyphenhyphenIl01Ulbmgqhyphenhyphenn0QmIdrYgxquO6TEW83cpcJOpTyoCY6W4TAcqfUH2BupXc4zcYVcb4EmeQg3fAMK0d_Kaad3A6bN4NUdqNMREmNBk0o0lr1Pp0/s320/P7053073.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355371851270550194" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Thinking on it, America does that alot and announces it as patriotism!<br /><br />Alright, let me turn up System of a Down and begin my rant/rave/rant-rant.<br /><br />Maybe its just my inability to settle in with any society, but in my opinion, America won't shut its big fat gob. Everyone in America, can't seem to get the fact that--<span style="font-weight: bold;">NO GODDAMMIT NOBODY GIVES TWO FLYING SHITS ABOUT HOW GREAT YOUR COUNTRY IS</span>. Maybe its because I'm not white, but I don;t seem to give a sod about how great America is. Sure, they've done a great many things, many of which are truly exceptional, but we all can't fall back on the past to show what we are now. I mean, by choice America has decided it is now completely different from what it once was. Well, Obama at least grasps some sort of idea of change, but I don;t think he looks to the outcome.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmf8FBz9Fu8t6Rt9n34sxvG73TVs52j-NHmJsog4T9evoVNVI7I-OsEh5VvWagCGqg15iSlc1xq7Ux_kFynrm7CTDrcyk9oeYj1J4WPMFlvElkIoEa6JX0rAmddhwNQ0Gl9QYZej7XCjE/s1600-h/P7053101.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmf8FBz9Fu8t6Rt9n34sxvG73TVs52j-NHmJsog4T9evoVNVI7I-OsEh5VvWagCGqg15iSlc1xq7Ux_kFynrm7CTDrcyk9oeYj1J4WPMFlvElkIoEa6JX0rAmddhwNQ0Gl9QYZej7XCjE/s320/P7053101.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355371855362030706" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I think we've all heard how Obama announced that America was no longer a Judeo-Christian country. There was a lot of butthurt about that, especially from Christians, Catholics, (etc. etc.). It now causes me to take in how much more idiotics and talk of politics are now included into sermons! I mean, me! The average Churchgoer, the average believer, to know and pay attention to society. Should it not be that both thhe House of God and the House of the Senate live in two existences? We cannot combine two things which contradict and prove only the will to disrupt each other. What do we see now, though? As I stated, politics is heavily weighted in the religious houses, and religion is largely found annoying by politics.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPL0sNvBiHWwF67oE8RYVLyy0AobiYGR8dcJyvA96IrQW7LWViWjBBIOu62SW22BzIc4WD7zkH70SCZC4vwZ5mn5aQMv9KUEUjqVFh09oypCS0w-dqVvj5qiXvChyphenhyphenaWlvLwy3UDjMHHwM/s1600-h/P7053100.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPL0sNvBiHWwF67oE8RYVLyy0AobiYGR8dcJyvA96IrQW7LWViWjBBIOu62SW22BzIc4WD7zkH70SCZC4vwZ5mn5aQMv9KUEUjqVFh09oypCS0w-dqVvj5qiXvChyphenhyphenaWlvLwy3UDjMHHwM/s320/P7053100.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355371867481780850" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Should either of them just done away with, we could then live a more peaceful existence. Is it too much to ask for an anti-depressant to remedy this? Before we need to to group therapy and weight loss counseling?<br />Great figures fought for our right to these things, fought for the things we now cast down and ignore. Take a look at the Constitution some times and all of the amendments. Read all of them. How many do you actually take advantage of? Of all the freedoms, of all the things we were given, what have you done to take advantage of this freedom? Have you spoken openly, knowing you had an opinion and that it would be important? Have you criticized the Government lately? Have you voted before? Of course, there are things you may have done, but only by taking advantage of all these things may you become true American. A true American should not be too fooled by politics, nor too aptly fooled by relgion, he/she should be able to have an even consistency of both. A true American should hate its government for its flaws but love it for what it has succeeded in. A true American should see that everyone is the same, everyone is equal and all that has happened is a system of balance. Kept in check by what we do and what we don;t do. Every American should strive to break that balance, let the everyday become an item of the past.<br /><br />Too many people do not strive for these things, the people known as the <span style="font-weight: bold;">mainstream media</span>, but what can we do to let this stop? Nothing. I may be just ranting for nothing, but we truly can do nothing save for destroy our government, topple and reform every religion and then project mass amounts of genocide and gratuitous lack of action. Oh. Wait. This <span style="font-style: italic;">is</span> happening.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8zIf8BaZ-K_eQjq-kgA4TWUvpu9KaDE6_QNZxtCvwR8h6tcCsAAsH0KpJIeLUV57y7KbTmPjvZREp7lfsDFWhp0S3xRWT0zpHxOT7wH_1PkY-TNmaaFjAPnmITUPc3XRg0oBcSynpXGQ/s1600-h/P7053103.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8zIf8BaZ-K_eQjq-kgA4TWUvpu9KaDE6_QNZxtCvwR8h6tcCsAAsH0KpJIeLUV57y7KbTmPjvZREp7lfsDFWhp0S3xRWT0zpHxOT7wH_1PkY-TNmaaFjAPnmITUPc3XRg0oBcSynpXGQ/s320/P7053103.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355371861283654322" border="0" /></a><br /><br />God help us, World War 3, here we come,<br /><br />Matthias out.Matthiashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14613032902621818576noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3936816066957771561.post-70981968290702616522009-07-04T20:32:00.000-07:002009-07-04T21:37:12.902-07:00Freedom, again?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZLqkAgWuRLZ0oZVVtVqu_YEEG_SbCMxdBcZdiAuqJ8de4Nog0TdNYD2ythnX1sxXBW5RNmPfoBrK6zKtvNYmJITcs3ncvag0ENikadUkdk_cQsygqjqVUKEIemp1acza1iZi-Fiy0dNY/s1600-h/P7042994.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZLqkAgWuRLZ0oZVVtVqu_YEEG_SbCMxdBcZdiAuqJ8de4Nog0TdNYD2ythnX1sxXBW5RNmPfoBrK6zKtvNYmJITcs3ncvag0ENikadUkdk_cQsygqjqVUKEIemp1acza1iZi-Fiy0dNY/s320/P7042994.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354829700956674658" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />Today, which is also my first post for July, also considering it's the 4th, I'm gonna make a lengthy one, heh.<br /><br />So, back to my point; Freedom is a gift, but gifts are given only to leave expectation. To get the 'gift' of freedom, you have to live your life completely free. Know that if you're free, then you must acknowledge that you cannot be tied down. Freedom is a gift, but it is also a curse. With freedom comes the price you must pay, the people who must suffer, the things you must go through to acquire. This may seem a cliche, but <span style="font-style: italic;">"Freedom isn't free."</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja9meJ8NQwVIVukY5lhlDqgAyanW4xyGwJFUNETe32jfb_nGel9L85Y5jV0XOxfeSKOM81EA7qEFbXdlFkZ8zssyARUM9qFR-GgK7qBJMIVhsMVBKqN01q1zMWVaZU8Pdy7u0dTyMQEZc/s1600-h/P7042984.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja9meJ8NQwVIVukY5lhlDqgAyanW4xyGwJFUNETe32jfb_nGel9L85Y5jV0XOxfeSKOM81EA7qEFbXdlFkZ8zssyARUM9qFR-GgK7qBJMIVhsMVBKqN01q1zMWVaZU8Pdy7u0dTyMQEZc/s320/P7042984.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354829706969324002" border="0" /></a><br /><br />The gift of freedom, isn't given of whim, or because you deserve it, it is given expectantly. Often it will be given with several items, several (un-needed and idiotic) requirements, or even guilt trippage. The worst things. It's what I affectionately call, "Catch 22." Mhm, you may know it. The Catch 22 situation is when you are left with one situation that is both good and bad and one situation that is bad and good. Honestly, it's like burning children to save the earth or burning the earth to save children. Which one is better? It's different, but hell, its free.<br /><br />The curse of freedom descends to every generation, struggling teens desperate to make an image usually try to find freedom the most. To my belief, the leading cultures of every decade are always the ones trying to establish themselves, but only fell to the mainstream, so it became unoriginal, tied down. Think of the Flappers of the Roarin' 20's, it was first a few girls who decided it was cool, then it turns to be a nation-sweeping frenzy. the 30's and 40's lacked all originality and the 50's had more iconic music. 60's speak for itself, and 70's shouldn't be revisited. 80's was alright and the 90's had grunge, but that's not my point. My point is, that everything had something special and it all was exploited, like it always always is.<br /><br />There always was some sort of price, but you know it's sometimes alright, it's sometimes worth it. It's always worth something.<br /><br />Oh, well, I rambled far too long...<br /><br /><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVH0b7HvclOyFbE9Q-4orRtfcyrXQeX8xmg6BFBZLRHgKPsmSWYYpMuvHDnP0Sp3HHvNNWiNp00lItXoCnhskYsust7OAlNYtycgMeDbTv6b4n9eIv264kVAehg5buo8L87sTA8hIez-Q/s320/P7042980.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354829695409870914" border="0" /><br />You never know the real freedom of living until come three inches from giving up living.<br /><br />Well, let me update people who may be reading on my whereabouts,<br /><br />I'm in South Dakota right now and am currently being a tourist. It's quite nice here and there are some great places to visit. Today, I was at the bad lands, I'll upload some. The Badlands also was responsible for my opening statement, haha, I nearly fell off the cliffs!<br /><br />Well, Mattthias out, hugs and kisses, and all that cal.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiap3kfL_dNN3Lt6b0nmVUITAEb87-ExaJijaZ43-R7pACQjPf0R3cz6ijMf3PnZGFY7kJbHQMoE9wqAdRgYK1RBa-HphWAeB_BqadzSXfbYkuic_d1FIBUJKNhpWYPP-q4LUaPWEExfZI/s1600-h/P7043030.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiap3kfL_dNN3Lt6b0nmVUITAEb87-ExaJijaZ43-R7pACQjPf0R3cz6ijMf3PnZGFY7kJbHQMoE9wqAdRgYK1RBa-HphWAeB_BqadzSXfbYkuic_d1FIBUJKNhpWYPP-q4LUaPWEExfZI/s320/P7043030.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354829704173599554" border="0" /></a>Matthiashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14613032902621818576noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3936816066957771561.post-54020080365930640422009-06-16T12:05:00.001-07:002009-06-16T12:39:15.855-07:00Quote Play: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://filipspagnoli.files.wordpress.com/2008/06/henry-wadsworth-longfellow.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 239px; height: 300px;" src="http://filipspagnoli.files.wordpress.com/2008/06/henry-wadsworth-longfellow.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br /><br />"The best thing one can do when it's raining is to let it rain." <span style="font-weight:bold;">Henry Wadsworth Longfellow</span><br /><br />I love this quote (I say that about a lot of my quotes), but this one includes some in depth thought, or some simple pondering. Also, it's simple for me to explain, even with my current sickness. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://shapeshed.com/images/uploads/after_the_rain.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 500px; height: 334px;" src="http://shapeshed.com/images/uploads/after_the_rain.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />Like it says, just let it rain. Let everything continue on its way as it should, as natures takes its course. Why interfere with the natural lay of the land? <br /><br />That's one way to explain it, simply letting life live. The other way is a more optimistic view. <br /><br />You know the rains coming down, so you gotta realize that the rain isn't going to stop just because you want it to. Just endure it and sit it out, because there's gonna be sun shining right after. Live and let live.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.freefoto.com/images/15/78/15_78_6---Rays-of-Sunshine-against-a-dramatic-black-sky_web.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 600px; height: 400px;" src="http://www.freefoto.com/images/15/78/15_78_6---Rays-of-Sunshine-against-a-dramatic-black-sky_web.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br /><br />Short simple to the point, more than usual, heh. <br /><br />Over and out, more out than over, see ya.<br /><br />MatthiasMatthiashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14613032902621818576noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3936816066957771561.post-55542353820309940852009-06-16T12:05:00.000-07:002009-06-16T12:06:11.450-07:00QuoteMatthiashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14613032902621818576noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3936816066957771561.post-39020420016792444902009-06-13T19:05:00.000-07:002009-06-13T19:52:49.629-07:00School's out. for. summer.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq_Fh6myEZno3-RKXXohC0zYb6ioNbsJKio91N_idCf-BZiPv9oZ3a8YXM7XWl8XkSylmODfs9VWMvmQhG5gePcITAygfwCx2duCB8QK7ex1jODuDQItpk-y34aQmBpopcdsn8GKxGCNQ/s1600-h/april-29-09+%2859%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq_Fh6myEZno3-RKXXohC0zYb6ioNbsJKio91N_idCf-BZiPv9oZ3a8YXM7XWl8XkSylmODfs9VWMvmQhG5gePcITAygfwCx2duCB8QK7ex1jODuDQItpk-y34aQmBpopcdsn8GKxGCNQ/s320/april-29-09+%2859%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347008362605042930" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />I just got out of school.<br /><br /><br />I guess it's just a feeling of disbelief, ya know? Just the thought that everything like that was done, just in a blink. No big bang, no big "Suprise! You're out for three months!" No, none of that. I just thought. All the past year. The entire school year which just flew by.<br /><br />Like I was on a train to nowhere and I was passing by some odd buildings in the distance. Looking back, I wasted some real big mistakes, some real big misses. I really somewhat think I should've thought it out more.<br /><br /><br />I should have done all my work, done all my assignments on time.<br /><br />I probably also shouldn't have gone for anyone. I know it seems stupid, but I really shouldn't have looked for relationship, but it's all in the past. What hope does someone who thinks to be able to get someone. There never was a chance, so that's all aside now. I still hope whomever I once was fond for, can find solace and calm and love. Always.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_pAyrQYHNAGF8gJpzdAUMokZ4-wCMY-Ayg2OQCj5PrFeXt9W-Rv5cZkxBosQCRvO65We9BNGK8PCSUJNVlmWwXUH-vMC1WQDJ8aP93R-CIBL44nJvezKKTc4dT_ooUH3pExDZgacKPuA/s1600-h/may-27-09+%288%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_pAyrQYHNAGF8gJpzdAUMokZ4-wCMY-Ayg2OQCj5PrFeXt9W-Rv5cZkxBosQCRvO65We9BNGK8PCSUJNVlmWwXUH-vMC1WQDJ8aP93R-CIBL44nJvezKKTc4dT_ooUH3pExDZgacKPuA/s320/may-27-09+%288%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347008375937595298" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj291Ynyzoi0f27ruHqL-FQsWhxpG1H7tHGGbrsHI29oWX4aWLLeah1vDT4swWdK-hkI2-3_R0vUHrLAKHL3GOGjzusVctrUf6OaQrFcDfQPP2MJlluJV9nmXiasuKimaut8ZaC7IQlWb8/s1600-h/P6092681.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj291Ynyzoi0f27ruHqL-FQsWhxpG1H7tHGGbrsHI29oWX4aWLLeah1vDT4swWdK-hkI2-3_R0vUHrLAKHL3GOGjzusVctrUf6OaQrFcDfQPP2MJlluJV9nmXiasuKimaut8ZaC7IQlWb8/s320/P6092681.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347008371005874290" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg47QboNnV4S3oKB9eT4GW0Soo_dyNpT8MhVSZ08_di_wOAUhA4FeMn7vF4rpAriFylKsk3AVgsCDC_joDwwDKybZRTaSfYHKeZjh2hCx_eIfLprntiJ97BOsPcs0X4EAk-GI61DekdnXU/s1600-h/may-27-09+%2818%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg47QboNnV4S3oKB9eT4GW0Soo_dyNpT8MhVSZ08_di_wOAUhA4FeMn7vF4rpAriFylKsk3AVgsCDC_joDwwDKybZRTaSfYHKeZjh2hCx_eIfLprntiJ97BOsPcs0X4EAk-GI61DekdnXU/s320/may-27-09+%2818%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347008377259235890" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlOeQ6adkH9UQP-4LeInD3rH44NdGLbFaUtQM9Xch-DmcjYIAdTHzVi4SLRxhq-WNfpFzyvYka3tlOraXjlSj22FjC21qNjENMl2FTW7oVuRcL-y6ykAuttEFZ2vEEa4y96kUReLPet18/s1600-h/P5042090.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlOeQ6adkH9UQP-4LeInD3rH44NdGLbFaUtQM9Xch-DmcjYIAdTHzVi4SLRxhq-WNfpFzyvYka3tlOraXjlSj22FjC21qNjENMl2FTW7oVuRcL-y6ykAuttEFZ2vEEa4y96kUReLPet18/s320/P5042090.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347009863376111970" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKeu2pVBtxAUHcOfosRNef8iDdO-KaF79BE4OIP53yLn9FkhUCTPXiJtluXsBCQiHAFHbzXZnKpGl39Pas4czskQCg-wWUHlGfH0G3himY09LEXld7q5OS637TPngZGkwUa9hI5WOA83w/s1600-h/P5042074.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKeu2pVBtxAUHcOfosRNef8iDdO-KaF79BE4OIP53yLn9FkhUCTPXiJtluXsBCQiHAFHbzXZnKpGl39Pas4czskQCg-wWUHlGfH0G3himY09LEXld7q5OS637TPngZGkwUa9hI5WOA83w/s320/P5042074.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347009859611311602" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJMdDaaHISMI3EmPy62x5CKYQZwHwM4Ft4PEHSdFfVP2tKt-xy_xUpGGP84aYyLj1m1fIwJ6UcyS6oCWtY4849HMD1g1_l4WnZ4Zg1ARA6JmKJjXou5W3OTXmWz8ahExHiXzahlcdjtNk/s1600-h/may-27-09+(3).JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJMdDaaHISMI3EmPy62x5CKYQZwHwM4Ft4PEHSdFfVP2tKt-xy_xUpGGP84aYyLj1m1fIwJ6UcyS6oCWtY4849HMD1g1_l4WnZ4Zg1ARA6JmKJjXou5W3OTXmWz8ahExHiXzahlcdjtNk/s320/may-27-09+(3).JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347009859797135394" /></a><br /><br />I could not feel any better.<br /><br />I've been described strangely, ya know. I changed myself this year, established myself completely differently from how I once was.<br /><br />It's so easy when no one knows you at first, then you can establish self so much easier. Now look at me. Well, some thing don't change, oh well.<br /><br />I've become so many things, a poet, musician, photographer. But, what have I made? What have I helped, who have I helped? I just feel like I'm watching over people, but not really doing a thing to help. Can't be helped, I guess.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8fRkCOXLzgH-ZCM2g8vRWG1tXLm7U8brytlPqeYVbB89bUDzVOoDvYCJqwDCsTh7hUiFxjlHRtO6vTlC6yHi5lEQ8BJHxZb41w_kH8erLpJvB6HAUuyOdDAsqqxOcGksyWnH3UQTuyk4/s1600-h/april-29-09+%2838%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8fRkCOXLzgH-ZCM2g8vRWG1tXLm7U8brytlPqeYVbB89bUDzVOoDvYCJqwDCsTh7hUiFxjlHRtO6vTlC6yHi5lEQ8BJHxZb41w_kH8erLpJvB6HAUuyOdDAsqqxOcGksyWnH3UQTuyk4/s320/april-29-09+%2838%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347008368118200722" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Well, I still got my fingers, my camera, my music, my mind. There'll always be more to come, always be more to read, always more material as long as I breathe, I'll be thinking and I'll do my best to put it here.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGRvSNgBlnKFRYcsgYJrcUGbl1RFK9uIzwZc4vtRyS7H09Nbtb_QjzxDU2XgRmk7aKvNpZTIkWWNbpTFc0J1010A20BGWLEkiX_ifG2h9OncDcTDgpCgWY1iS52RRNrXIcCldFSOPvEYk/s1600-h/P6072663.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGRvSNgBlnKFRYcsgYJrcUGbl1RFK9uIzwZc4vtRyS7H09Nbtb_QjzxDU2XgRmk7aKvNpZTIkWWNbpTFc0J1010A20BGWLEkiX_ifG2h9OncDcTDgpCgWY1iS52RRNrXIcCldFSOPvEYk/s320/P6072663.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347009870727813602" /></a><br /><br /><br />What do <span style="font-style:italic;">we</span> become?<br /><br />Matthias, out.Matthiashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14613032902621818576noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3936816066957771561.post-2919659700376189842009-06-08T18:08:00.000-07:002009-06-08T18:22:57.392-07:00Quote Play: Voltaire<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpiw-yF2zg4Bpg6hfhkJT_1c8mXD_hdKXAjtEOHuakiXNnfMzfyTh4E-qakbegEDKd7iy1H1hX9qUN0c9bZie2RH-sIxP3dzEw0q7lzz4hxXmeN2l-HoxzyIrp4b-KUj_hINGbNPtcBHQ/s1600-h/Voltaire.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 283px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpiw-yF2zg4Bpg6hfhkJT_1c8mXD_hdKXAjtEOHuakiXNnfMzfyTh4E-qakbegEDKd7iy1H1hX9qUN0c9bZie2RH-sIxP3dzEw0q7lzz4hxXmeN2l-HoxzyIrp4b-KUj_hINGbNPtcBHQ/s320/Voltaire.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345131099982372738" /></a><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">"Love is a canvas furnished by nature and embroidered by imagination."</span><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Voltaire</span><br /><br />I'm not gonna go too lengthy, well I'm not gonna use images either, but I'm gonna try my best to keep things simple.<br /><br />I like this quote simply for the fact that it's quaint and it's short. It is silent it is kind. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Also,</span> it is free to explore. <br /><br />Within this quote lies the non-linear concept of love and all of it's facades. Quoted from the New International Version of the Bible:<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Love is always patient and kind; <br />it is never jealous, <br />love is never boastful or conceited; <br />it is never rude or selfish; <br />it does not take offense, and is not resentful. <br />Love takes no pleasure in other people’s sins but delights in the truth; <br />it is always ready to excuse, to trust, to hope, and to endure whatever comes. <br />Love does not come to an end.</span><br /><br />Lovely set of words there (I have a ceramic cross bearing it in one of my bathrooms). We all know what love is, but do we realize what <span style="font-style:italic;">love</span> is? <br /><br />I think you may be thinking me stupid, or you may be checking out. What I mean by <span style="font-style:italic;">love</span> is the truth of heart and mind.<br /><br />Stated by another man; <span style="font-style:italic;">"A man reserves his true and deepest love not for the species of woman in whose company he finds himself electrified and kindled, but for that one in whose company he may feel tenderly drowsy."</span><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">George Jean Nathan</span><br /><br />I speak of the love from which we truly put for whom we truly love. Not just a boy friend or girl friend, but the people who stick with you. The people who bring you up and keep you there. They can be your soulmate, your best friend, your homework buddy, etc. The point is, that love is not just reserved for a few people, love is reserved for everyone, anyone and all the ones who make others smile.<br /><br />I humbly withdraw my name from the list, I simply make people smile as a duty of mine to everyone, so let it be that I'll play the jester while someone else plays the prince or princess.<br /><br />Woah, a bit lengthy this time, despite what I said.<br /><br />Stopping here, just for now. Matthias out.Matthiashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14613032902621818576noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3936816066957771561.post-13785650523492105792009-06-06T19:10:00.000-07:002009-06-06T19:17:13.573-07:00James Lavelle and his GU compilationI'm really into this band called UNKLE. They have some great soundscapes an it's been keeping me going day-to-day.<br /><br />Well, I just got wind of James Lavelle's new compilation mix, coming out July 27th, natch.<br /><br />I'm really excited and can't wait to get my hands on it, so I'm gonna be waiting along till then, still trying to get a hang of the LD End Titles....Stories For a Film Album, but otherwise, it's good.<br /><br />UNKLE blog: http://unkleofficial.blogspot.com/Matthiashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14613032902621818576noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3936816066957771561.post-83018877974186984232009-05-19T14:30:00.000-07:002009-05-19T14:50:02.964-07:00Rest in Peace; Nathaniel Hawthorne; May 19, 1864I truly didn't know this.<br /><br />The famous American writer, Nathaniel Hawthorne, died on this very day. His writing has influenced me greatly, teaching me and molding (as with many thing else). His writings were ever beautiful and I can do no good justice to this famous man.<br /><br />He was born in Salem, Massachusetts, living his life much to the par of a religious, but also conscious man. He went much into the writing business, starting out slowly and learning. When he wrote, he seemed close to an Edgar Allan Poe style of storyline, following him, though retaining his originality in script.<br /><br />He died in his sleep on this day, leaving several stories and romances unfinished.<br /><br />Rest in Peace, Hawthorne.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/3/3b/Nathaniel_Hawthorne.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 358px; height: 463px;" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/3/3b/Nathaniel_Hawthorne.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Matthiashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14613032902621818576noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3936816066957771561.post-86545333984497098502009-05-17T19:37:00.000-07:002009-05-17T19:57:25.326-07:00Free Fallin' Poetic: In Memoriam "L"Be near me when my light is low;<br /> when the blood creeps and the nerves prick<br /> and tingle; and the heart is sick;<br />And all the wheels of Being slow.<br /><br />Be near me when the sensuous frame<br /> Is rack’d with pangs that conquer trust;<br /> And Time, a maniac scattering dust,<br />And Life, a Fury slinging flame.<br /><br />Be near me when my faith is dry,<br /> And men the flies of latter spring,<br /> That lay their eggs, and sting and sing<br />And weave their petty cells and die.<br /><br />Be near me when I fade away,<br /> To point the term of human strife,<br /> And on the low dark verge of life<br />The twilight of eternal day.<br /><br />This poem has touched me and changed me. I am shaped by what I read. These words of a long dead man ring so clearly in my head. I find them leaping from my lips as I wander and walk, journeying.<br />But what do they mean?<br />Surely, they are words of grief, anger, emptiness, happiness and great love<br /><br />"Be near me," I speak softly, watching upon a winter's night, my light so low that a deep breath would snuff it, for I dare not breath, nor do I dare look upon that which I should not. I dare not acknowledge the person, for she enraptures me and I am to blame for what will happen to myself.<br /><br />Do not let yourself fall to feelings that cause distress or grief, much is to the ends and means of love and happiness. To strive to be happy, to make yourself happy, you will only shorten your life and destroy your own beliefs in the process. Instead of being happy and living loud for the next moment. Live softly and be content, in the moment you confide in.<br /><br />Let not the beings sway you, but let yourself choose your path. Do not long for what is good, for life is not all good. Life can be distinguished between memorable acts and follies and destruction and strife, but it can also be marked with beauty and brilliant design from higher beings on softer planes.<br /><br />In the process of attaining happiness for yourself, you destroy the others around you. That is not to say, you should stop your dreams, it is simply to say you should carefully choose your way. Bring good council and be in good company, to never be provoked.<br /><br />Maintain and preserve your life and live for those around you, to make them happier.<br /><br />A smile can live through a million years and still be crisp and curved as the minute that it came and passed. If all the world simply smiled, just once, just for a moment in time, it would be beautiful.<br /><br />This is Matthias, smile.Matthiashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14613032902621818576noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3936816066957771561.post-19545450347858525792009-05-14T14:30:00.000-07:002009-05-14T14:48:32.211-07:00Quote Play: BoethiusFamous men speak many wise things, they really do, I've been looking around quoted works and cited books, just t find what the true original words were. I found a site called BrainyQuote a while back and I've been taking quotes from there daily and applying them to my life, so here is a few broken down quotes I chose.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/e/e1/Boethius_initial_consolation_philosophy.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 1341px; height: 1024px;" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/e/e1/Boethius_initial_consolation_philosophy.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />"A man content to go to heaven alone will never go to heaven."<br />-Anicius Manlius Severinus Boethius<br /><br /><br /><br />Let's analyze Boethius first. His life was interesting and he lived it within the Roman Empire. He was a Christian (or a Pagan) philosopher of the 6th century who had grown within Rome. He led his life as any other, but was soon to be found wise and then elevated into the ranks of Rome hierarchy, achieving the rank of <span style="font-style: italic;">Magister Officiorum</span> (the head of government and court services). His two sons also rose with him, becoming consuls under his wing. Boethius was to be executed in time, having been accused of a plot against the Roman Empire, allegedly working with Justin I of the Byzantine Empire. His remains were entombed in the church of San Pietro in Ciel d'Oro in Pavia. He is recognized as a saint by the Roman Catholic Church. His feast day is October 23. Pope Benedict XVI has insisted on his relevance to modern day Christians.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/8/8e/Tomba_di_Severino_Boezio.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 1170px; height: 789px;" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/8/8e/Tomba_di_Severino_Boezio.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />Boethius, though having been wrongly accused of crime, seem to have been a man of great merit and of remarkable genius. This quote resonates to me. It breathes will to live and to seek that someone. If there really is a someone for everyone. I really haven't been thinking that there would be a someone, but whoever that someone is, I dearly hope that they'll come soon.<br /><br />Stopping for now, Matthias out.Matthiashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14613032902621818576noreply@blogger.com0