One Paradise View

Makes One Wonder

2007-02-26T18:26:00.000-08:00

Sunset

2007-02-26T01:16:00.000-08:00

HELLO. Well I have a new look coming out soon. My Blog, ONE PARADISE VIEW has been redesigned and its mission has changed. Tell Me what you think!!! Thanks!

A Passenger View of their City

2007-02-24T21:25:00.000-08:00

HELLO, speaking of driving by! Well I have a new look coming out soon. My Blog, ONE PARADISE VIEW has been redesigned and its mission has changed. Tell Me what you think!!! Thanks!

Perspective

2007-02-23T11:32:00.000-08:00

HELLO, speaking of perspective! Well I have a new look coming out soon. My Blog, ONE PARADISE VIEW has been redesigned and its mission has changed. Tell Me what you think!!! Thanks!

A WANDERER

2007-02-21T19:01:00.000-08:00

HELLO, speaking of wandering! Well I have a new look coming out soon. My Blog, ONE PARADISE VIEW has been redesigned and its mission has changed. Tell Me what you think!!! Thanks!

Bingo Hall

2007-02-19T05:02:00.000-08:00

Journey's First Step

2007-02-16T14:32:00.000-08:00

A Future to Come

2007-02-15T02:54:00.000-08:00

Tracks Part2

2007-02-14T11:15:00.000-08:00

Tracks

2007-02-13T14:27:00.000-08:00

Crosses

2007-02-12T12:58:00.000-08:00

Lonely Streets

2007-02-11T10:39:00.000-08:00

This was taken, while I was riding in my friends car, with the "action-sport" feature on the camera. It was 4 pm when I took this shot. Denver, at times, can be like a ghost town.

The Sunset to Come

2007-02-10T21:17:00.000-08:00

Consideration

2007-02-09T15:12:00.000-08:00

Melting Pot

2007-02-09T13:11:00.000-08:00

The End

2007-02-08T20:33:00.000-08:00

The Middle

2007-02-08T20:32:00.000-08:00

The Beginning

2007-02-08T19:51:00.000-08:00

Images of the Night II

2007-02-08T09:06:00.000-08:00

Images of the Night

2007-02-06T19:42:00.000-08:00

Slip into the night. Slip into the darkness. See the images of the night.

~gks

The Capital

2007-02-06T15:26:00.000-08:00

I sometimes wonder about the state of our government, but then I look back upon my home town capital building; and, feel the wonder of pride and patriotism and know deep within my heart that the sacrifices that have been made for our liberties and freedoms have been worth it.

~gks

Snowy Mtns From Afar

2007-02-06T09:34:00.000-08:00

This is simple, I want to be up there skiing or snowboarding instead of studying and working. Ahh well, here is to wishful thinking.

~gks

Impressions

2007-01-28T18:12:00.000-08:00

"nothing impresses you?" said I,

"For it is yoursimple respect I do want.

You put on your image...And I put on mine!

For this is the ultimate sin." said I

"Be who you are! Let the diamond show:

If you are romantic--be it! Like the 'witty' and 'charming'

is

sometimes me.

But I notice how many times we put on the fakery...

To give the impression of who we aren't!

I am the romantic in my heart,

and I let it flow through this art."

"On your honesty I will depend, and we will ride

your strength into the wind until we see the

light of destiny.

One Step

2007-01-28T04:24:00.000-08:00

I look into your eyes and I feel great dread.

For I am attracted to you to no end,

and I know not what to say.

For your eyes do weaken me,

and I feel like the stumbling fool.

So, I take one step at a time before I ask you to bed.

For I am a person of commitment, befor I shed.

I ask not of marriage, but the simplicity of comapionship,

for this is my commitment before I wed

~gks

Look Into My Heart

2007-01-23T13:32:00.000-08:00

A message sent,

From whom I do not know,

And it was loud and clear.

“Live your Life! Shares your hopes! Be one with

commitment!

For tomorrow may not come.” The message may

seem

Somber,

But only joy can be felt. It was a wakeup call. I had been

Living in a daze.

Not facing reality, failing to see my own

mortality.

It does not matter what trivial concerns had faced me previously.

Only that life cane experienced moment to moment.

And with that, I looked into my heart,

And notice it grown cold and distant form being broken

With disappointment.

My hopes, desires crushed, as I had wallowed in my fears.

But I looked into my heart, and saw a rebirth beginning

For a new was awaiting for me to grab hold and experience

Life.

~gks

Silent Night in Heaven

2007-01-22T15:57:00.000-08:00

My fellow brother brought me hope and joy in my life.

My fellow brother brought me love and serenity to my world.

My fellow brother inspired others and a sense of well being to all he knew.

Now he is gone and I sit here with a lump in my throat and an ache in my

heart.

I sit here in the dark with the kitchen light illuminating through window wondering

where the time has gone.

I allow myself to seep into depression that envelopes my being.

I feel lost,

Searching for answers that only the universe can bring in time.

So, this silent night, my world and heaven lies heavy on my heart.

I ponder, wonder, where this silent in heaven is going to end….

~gks

ICKIV IV

2007-01-18T19:00:00.000-08:00

One night starring

At the starry eye sky
I realized,

My dream for the future would come if
I allow,

Myself to view the truth

That I am worth all the passion that is in my heart and

My soul,

For the answer I have been

Seeking has always been with me and

My ‘God.’

photo credits by 3dfiction.com

Ickiv V

2007-01-08T13:03:00.000-08:00

Transition

can only happen in the midst of risk,

anticipation,

power,

and motion.

Transition emotes

and cannot be seen in the

moment.

Transition -- is the everlasting eternal.
~gks

Photo credits by 3dfiction.com

Ickiv III

2007-01-08T12:46:00.000-08:00

A sereis of thoughts occur to me,

being myself,

I see much beauty and despair,

viewing what is,

what might be,

can only be viewed of what 'I' perceive

as my reality

Knowing this--I ask myself--and

rightly so, "How do 'I' touch thee,

as a friend

or acquaintance?"

I would prefer the former.
~gks

Ickiv II

2007-01-08T12:16:00.000-08:00

Looking past Tomorrow,

one cannot see ones shadows

Looking past Today,

one cannot see ones fates

Looking the in the past,

one cannot see the present

Looking in the moment,

one can see desire,

beauty and love ---

Looking in the now

one's future is surley bright
~gks

The Embers of Light in Darkest Moments

2007-01-02T07:38:00.000-08:00

In the Darkest of Times,

life seems to clamors for the horror,

the bitterness, and the tragedy.

In the Darkest of Times,

life seems to rally for death,

seek apathy of the Host, deny the will of the

“other,” and deny the harmony of love.

In the Darkest of Times,

the dawning of the day never

comes, the hopeful seem to surrender,

and apathy sends the death nail of Liberty, of

happiness, and of freedom.

In the Darkest of times, the blackest of hearts seem to

rule, and the faithful fall away form the

center, and extremism becomes the rule, instead of

the exception.

In the Darkest of times, the birth of dissent

simmers, embers of rebellion begin to

glow, and the light of hope is revealed.

~ gks

2007-01-01T08:18:00.000-08:00

In a dark foreboding place

Held deep within

A place I dare not look

Fearing it may reflect

A stillness,

An emotion,

A truth to harsh for me to

Realize.

So avoidance is my key

I run,

Shrink away

Not understanding…

But it persists,

Challenging and

Stalking me;

And, in the end the comes

Only what I feared the most

Was myself and the quest for life.

~ gks

Wildfire Partt III

2006-12-29T07:23:00.000-08:00

Lightning strikes!
Thunder clamors in the wind;
The smell of sulfur is in the air,
ashes smoldering--Oh be glorius a wildfire is borne;
the snapping, the cracking, burning embers of wood conform
soon conforms.

For in the Valley of the Shadow there is no life.
All the animals have dispatched to the west.

The Lake of Moments properly awaits for the wildfire
come to rest.

The wildfire has many strengths;
men fight vailiantly to tame the balze.

The wildfire is subtlety at its best

For the Kingdom of Ardor brings new life to the
Valley of the Silhouettes.
~gks

Wildfire Part II

2006-12-27T09:05:00.000-08:00

Walking gracefylly like a deer,
Her legs have entranced me
Her eyes have overpowered me;
Her inner strength, her beauty
Have me bursting inside.
This is more than a craving;
her independence has captured my heart.
Be still my heart,
Be still; or, I might lose all my will
I ask myself, "Can this be it? Or is it an
affect of a course, a leftover buzz, from the Spring of my Life?"
~gks

Halena

2006-12-22T08:07:00.000-08:00

The Goddess of Laughter,
Her warming smile brings joy to those all around
Seek her comfort,
Seek her love for the Goddess Halena
brings forth the chivalry of men.
~gks

Wildfire

2006-12-21T07:32:00.000-08:00

Her beauty is everlasting,
Her beauty evergiving,
Her strenght, her independence,
and passion run deep into the night
For those are the powers of the wildfire,
ever encompassing the passion of the light
~gks

Wildflower

2006-12-20T21:16:00.000-08:00

Your eyes are beaming
Your smile is shining
For it is hard for me to pretened
I smell the essence of wildflower in the wind
Like the wildflower your presence is strong
Your aroma encompasses me 'til my end
Oh, such beauty in the light of the day
your eyes are passionate, I feel the moment
Our timing is right
Like t he wildflower it blows in the wind
For I am feeling more than a kindred friendship
in the essence of the wildflower that is blowing in the wind.
~gks

A Friend

2006-12-19T13:59:00.000-08:00

A friend once said to me, "Be cautious for you do not know where it will end, be cautious for you might get what you want."

Noting to myself that life can be joyous if taken with a spoonful of vinegar at the
bend,

I heeded his advices, and what did I find?

Nothing but truth, my friend, nothing but the truth!
~gks

image by 3dfiction.com

Death Plague

2006-12-18T01:45:00.000-08:00

Come closer my friend, for the darkness prepares. The Dark One approaches. You can feel the eerie darkness stretching outwardly. Falling into the Pit of Sorrow, draining energy from your soul; feel his evil, feel his death.

The Plague is coming. It speaks “Come forth, Death.” The Evil One speaks and his language to those will understand.

He controls those who give their will. The Plague is tragedy, a demon all its own. His Fallacy is in incompleteness, his daring forbidding, the weak cannot resist.

Coming forth Death Plague consumes all. The Darkness engulfs. No light can escape; pressure of the Darkness crushing; the Darkness is complete.

Come forth Death Plague let the jealousy flow throughout you. Come forth Death Plague let the evil run its course.

For the Other comes….

~gks

The Change

2006-12-17T03:06:00.000-08:00

Stepping forward,
Looking outwardly from within,
I see many opportunities to be gain
Patiently, stalkingly, ever so deligent
The many aspiration I seek are at hand--
Not unlike the caterpillar the transformation
into the butterfly is the signal of a new
beginning,
The change of life,
complete and fresh.
~gks

Wildfire VII

2006-12-15T12:48:00.000-08:00

A story told long ago by natives unseen, handed down to each following generation, by blood and flame is the light of history and power of knowledge. Proclaiming an unearthly aire; they form a powerful combination, shaping what will be and what is—History and knowledge are uncommon companions.

-gks

Dreams of Today

2006-12-04T08:20:00.000-08:00

If one dreams,
they may have visions,
If one laughs,
they may have passions,
and if one cries,
They may have compassion
But with all of those
they may have the essence of life
~gks

Today
like all days
I learned something new
It wasnt large and awe inspiring
but small and revealing
For today I found myself
looking for the truth
And truth to be told
I found a friend in you
~gks

Today
of all days
I celebrate
For me it is a time
of relfection
a time for introspection,
but none the less,
a time for me
~gks

My Dream
If it takes an eternity
I will have
My Dreams
For all my wishes to come true
I will move the
heavens and moon
My dream
for all my my love
and passion,
deep within me,
I will have my dreams
come true.
~gks

Series---ickiv

2006-12-03T18:24:00.000-08:00

Passion-
can be met,
be seen,
be felt,
spirited,
concealed,
and abandoned.
In the eye of the beholder,
it can be dreamt,
tasted,
loved,
and wanton.
In the soul of a woman,
can be sensous,
stunning,
chaotic,
furstrating,
a contained fury with ambition
and desire.
Passionis the being of everything
yet nothng all at once.
Passion (is) the morning of a new friendship.
~gks

To Be Kissed

2006-12-02T02:42:00.000-08:00

image by Istockphoto
by Gregory Kirk Stewart

There are many ways to be greeted, a nod, a handshake, a wave, a wink, or a kiss; nonetheless, numerous. In my Introduction to Sociology class, I am supposed to greet a stranger or whomever with a greeting kiss. For Americans, this is out of the social normative, meaning it is not what “we” do normally in everyday action. More precisely, by the textbook definition, “norms,” “normative/s,” “social norms,” are the established standards of behavior maintained a society. In this case, I am referring to my immediate surrounding community of Denver, and my co-workers, schoolmates, family, and friends.

Let me start again, I decided initially to do this, by this I mean the experiment for my sociology class, but later thought better of it. The experiment became to stressful, distracting, and overwhelming scenarios spun within my head of “how should I do this?” “Under what conditions should it is approached?” Or was it simply an “out of the norm” experiment, where my own my bias—and my own hang ups were getting in the way?

The experiment was about stepping out, outside the social norms, see what reactions occurred, and then—explain, if need be, the over the line experiment. I could not do it—say for one exception.

Let me explain, the “greeting kiss” oft reflected as an European and Latin gestures in foreign films—and in reality—are not part of the United States “normative” culture, with a couple of caveats. This considered “out of the norm behavior” can be tolerated at bars, faux party, and or after intimate relations upon departure. Such greetings are often fad like, here in the US, and must be establish within an “in-group” (those like us) scenario “clickish” behavior.

As seen from an “insider” perspective must lay the foundation for outrageous behavior that such it considered the “norm.” However, viewed from the outside of the “in-group”[1] the behavior will appear deviant. I, nonetheless, am not with such a group—not now anyway. Nor am I in a setting where reality can be pushed to the sidelines, such as science fiction convention, where such behavior may not be considered outside the “normative.”

So this was my dilemma, my life consisted of work, school, sci-fi Friday, work, school, sci-fi Friday, friend with benefits, work, school, sci-fi Friday—so on and so forth. I do not associate at bars, I have not been at science fiction convention in more than a year, and to be truthful, the novelty of school has seen better days. For a number of reasons, on the average, I am twice the age of the average college bound student. Second, as such the priorities have shifted from youthful fancies. Third, behavior like “hanging out” with students, who are considerably younger than me, would not be considered part of the “norm,” unless of course, I share similar interests, which for the most part I do not.

Oh, I may like some of the new generation’s music; I may even enjoy it. A good song is good song, but the convention of the “greeting kiss,” to return to the subject, here within US is not part of the social norm. And yes, I understand that this was a sociology experiment; nonetheless, stretching outside of the “norm” within the realm I wished to endeavor, at the least, for the moment, or for that matter, willing to risk my own personal comfort.

With that said, there are times, when exceeding outside of the “norm” is wanted, necessary, or desired such things for me, as an older student, understood the premise of the exercise (this is the benefit of being older).

I am wrapped in my own comfortableness of knowing what my boundaries are, and knowing when to violate them.

This “violating” as defined by sociology—is simply, the going beyond, or outside, or disruptive, or out of the ordinary behavior of what is considered normalcy of a culture or a society. This “greeting kiss” is such an item. For instance, the “greeting kiss,” if you will, was a form of identifying other Christians, being part of the body, and later became transformed. “ritual kissing” as identified by Michael Penn, in his article “Ritual Kissing, Heresy and the Emergence of Early Christian Orthodoxy,” was a standard part of greeting, prayers, euchorist, baptisms, and ordinations” (Penn, p 625).[2]

In the fourth and fifth century, the “ritual kiss” became something more, it morphed into something more of apolitical naturel. According to Penn, a division within Christian orthodoxy used “ritual kissing” as a tool for heresy (Penn, p 627). How this “ritual kissing” and “greeting kissing” in some European countries became the social norm has not been sufficiently researched by this author—but I will contend that it was born from early Christian identification.

As put forth by Penn, the “ritual kiss” was part of their “norms” for Christians. He asserts, “Apostle Paul and most authoritative patristic […] supported its [ritual kissing] practice” (Penn p 626). He further accounts for Mary Douglas, an anthropologist, of the “correlations” of the “physical” and the “permeability” of the “social body” (Penn p 627). In other words, the symbols, and physical acts are represented—and attributed to the rituals of the society.

This is true of “ritual kissing,” or the “social greeting kiss,” or even proclamation of knighthood by the Queen are inevitably are transmitted into the cultural mores. How the “social greeting kiss” became unacceptable within the US culture and separate from our European ancestry may be interesting point of order for another paper. Nonetheless, the “greeting kiss” is not part of the norm of American culture—say for one—the elite. Or more appropriately the “faux royalty” of American society, identified as celebrity, which comes in the forms of movie and television stars, politician, and old money jetsetters display “their” groups social norms for each other in “faux air kissing” or the “greeting kiss” (one on the right cheek).

However, my lack of participation in such an experiment for sociology was more of the reflection status of where my time is being spent than a social corrections or preconceived “social perceptions” of such displays. My current group set, if you will, was not predisposed for experimentation. Nevertheless, if my family lived in town (they are in California), the “greeting kiss” may have been appropriate.

I can see it now, with my three sisters and mom, as I greet each with a greeting kiss, in the tradition of Netherlands, right-left-right. At first, they would find it curious—but later go with it. I think may be suspicious of me (my motives)—pondering, “What does big bro want?” Of course, I will not explain my gesture unless asked, and even I will deflect—and state “just because I love you,” which is not a lie—and is a true sentiment.

I love them all dearly. I will, at the least, get a pity look—from them. And then it will begin, the onslaught of questions: how am I , how is work, school, and who is current love interest is—and that soulful disappointment look that I am getting married anytime soon. And I, of course, will sit there absorbing their pity and their unconditional love that is family—and unbridled with sisterly and motherly affections—will accept their attention. It will be tough task take—but I am after all—big bro.

The other possible scenario was not out of form of the box was after intimate relations. To show one’s mate the tenderness and kindness—not immediately after coitus, but in its “after glow”; the situational relaxation and affection of intimacy. To give the “greeting kiss” as a “departure kiss” may be considered as “the norm”—and outside of the normative.

I recently did this with my friends with benefits, she reciprocated in kind. Her reaction, in fact, seemed to become even more warming and affectionate. A week later, I greeted her with the “greeting kiss.” There was no peculiar look, no suspicious eye—just a warm feeling of familiarity. We sat and talked for quite a while, the usual “stuff” that brought us together had shifted from the foreground to the background. The status of our relationship had been transformed; not because of a “kiss” but maybe because of a shifting of “our” attitudes, and maybe because of the “season” ; we both had family members die during the “holiday season.” This is as an aspect for consideration.

We both know that, neither of us will be extending the relationship beyond its “practical” function, but we as individual share, for the moment, a closer heart beat, to fill the void of despair. Nonetheless, it shall not be more than that—school and careers are too important to us. Hence, the reason for the discussion, she and I felt a different sense of urgency the last time together, and from time to time we re-evaluate our status of our beneficial relationship. In many ways, it is very clinical at times. It is what happens, when you are dealing with anthropology major, and a medical student. We both get lost in our fields of study—and worlds of academia.

As for looking upon “the greeting kiss,” the timing of it as such was merely coincidental. After a fashion, most of life’s experiences are a series of coincidences. The “greeting kiss” is another aspect of this, whether accepted or viewed as a taboo, the “greeting kiss” reveals that the layers of social instruction of a society is dependent upon its willingness to adjust to what is consider its “norms”—and how long it will be considered deviant.

This is what I mean, the longer deviancy is sustained, the easier the absorption of the behavior into culture normalcy. At one point of time, Christianity, Hindu, and Catholicism were considered out of the norms—but now have been co-opted from within society. The lack of co-option of the “greeting kiss” within American culture may be due to several possible explanations. Too many to elaborate on in this paper, nevertheless the “greeting kiss” has its own cultural rules within American society. For me this experiment relied on many subjective “social controls.” As defined by Richard T. Schaefer book “Sociology 10^th Edition”, “the techniques and strategies for preventing deviant human behavior in any society” (p 179). And for me, these particular controls “conditioned” my own muted response. Now, I feel, I have left the experiment unresolved, and untested—but my own realization of this maybe a tribute to the experiment itself. The true experiment is how one place values, ideals, and behavior, in and out of society’s view and its purview enabling the enaction of the outside the group societal behavior. So, I leave with departing “greeting kiss” of the Netherlands—right, left, right. Good day.

Bibliography

McElhinny, Bonnie. “’Kissing a Baby Is Not at All Good for Him’: Infant Mortality, Medicine, and Colonial Modernity, in the U.S.-Occupied Philippines” American Anthropologist, Vol. 107, Issue 2, pp 183-194.

Penn, Michael, “Ritual Kissing, Heresy and the Emergence of Earthly Christian Orthodoxy” Journal of Ecclesiastical History, Vol. 54 No. 4: October 2005.

Schaefer, Richard T., “Sociology 10^th Edition,” McGraw-Hill Co. (2006).

[1] This termed is defined in Richard T. Schaefer book, Sociology 10^th Edition, as “any group or category to which people feel they belong” (p 133).

[2] I found this bit of research fascinating. I had not thought of kissing may have been transformed from a religious perspective. I found this bit of information online via the EBSCO database. Journal of Ecclesiastical History, Vol. 54 No. 4 October 2005.

Hope

2006-11-25T02:16:00.000-08:00

Hope is never seen,
but often heard--
yet sooner or later I will realize that
there is no hope
but the result of what is
at least I hope so.
~gks

Renter-Lurv u Luv

2006-11-25T01:25:00.000-08:00

This is a brief annoucement of my renter in my sidebar. Everybody give it up for lovely young lady named Mollie as she is just coming out of those teenage angst years and moving into the realm and the angst of adulthood. Her blog is from a young Christrian perspective--but is not preaching. Her blog is simply the adventures of young woman as she goes through life. Her point of views are irrevant, refreshing, and has a good heart to them, when not trying to extend beyond her experience. So, please click on my renter, Mollie, and enjoy her stylings.

A Review of Matrix Revolution

2006-11-23T18:50:00.000-08:00

image by Warner Bros
by Greg Stewart

Editor’s Note: I originally wrote this review for my Anthropology of Popular Culture class in the December of 2003. At the time, I was at different mindset. Some of this will come across as agenda ridden from a liberal left perspective. Guess what? It was and is, but the cultural perspective from some will find it valid and a bit understated. So, I ask you for moment and step outside the box of rigidity and look beyond the obvious and view from “The Others” perspective.

I wanted to see the ultimate movie experience in special effects, martial arts, and conclude a storyline cliffhanger from the second movie, Matrix Reloaded; however, the epoch Matrix Revolutions was to be the definitive conclusion of the series, but left me confused. Why?

For the most part, the third Matrix movie wraps up the trilogy with very few open-ended questions. Yet, I am plagued with a sing question about the series: the casting of the characters both— primary and secondary. It is subtle. I would like to think that it is unintentional, but my suspicions are that it may not be. What am I referring to? Even though the movie purports diversity, the hegemonic themes of Christianity are riddled throughout the movie (and the trilogy—to be honest).

Let me explain, in general, the cast of the characters in the film are minorities with a few minor exceptions, such as the main hero—Neo. Although liberating, the minority cast selection represents another level within the tale that is not immediately obvious because of the overlaying story. The basic premise of the movie was this: it takes place some time in the distant future when computers (and machines) have taken over the world and humanity is relegated as being batteries. The machines use humanity as Eveready batteries; they have to create a virtual world for the humans, a simulacrum, so that the human brain is engaged in choosing its own reality (Baudrillard).

Another within the story is the crew of the Nebakanezzer searching for the “One,” a.k.a. “Neo,” to save humanity; and the representation thereof—minorities (both ethnic and racial). Neo (played by Keanu Reeeves, who is white) was found in the virtual world of the machines (in the first movie), and for the most living his bland, vanilla existence one day at a time. When he wakes up (reborn), the world is dark and foreboding. The world is in the belly of the Earth awaiting for the city of Zion to reclaim and restore humanity from darkness.

In the second movie, citizens of Zion are a mullato racial culture, and interestingly enough are I n the minority. This is strikingly subtle message to the audience. Why?

Because Neo realizes and represents how sheltered he has been (in the world) not seeing the oppression of others (remember the first Matrix moving was in 1999 2 years before September 11^th). In essence, actuality of acknowledging the outside world parallels –United States’ wake up call to terrorism; as Neo sees the wrongs from the perspective of being a white male. Thus, the audience should connect that the United States has become more racially diverse and the institutions of the Caucasian retaining power, to some, are outmoded. Does this movie depict the United States institutions as machines?

Maybe, if one is inclined to think that the United States has and is subjecting its citizenry to a finite conclusion. Morpheus (played by Laurence Fishburne, who is black), in the second movie, answers the oppression of the machines through terror and death have brought. He says, “For one hundred years they have fought the machines.” They, the machines, have tried to kill them, squelch their spirit, and take their nature; he concludes dramatically, “that they, [human city of Zion], are still here!”

The image the came to mind to my mind when hearing the oration of Morpheus was the “I Have a Dream” speech by Martin Luther King Jr., speech in 1963, of the Emancipation of the slaves. Morpheus’ role is liken to John the Baptist despite embodying leadership, however, he is still subordinate to the One, but his resolve to is founded in his belief of a single savior—Neo; and, that he is messiah for humanity.

Ultimately, the multi-layered movie plot reveals itself through Christian symbolism. In the final edition of Matrix Revolution, Neo has to choose his path knowing that he may have to sacrifice his life along with Trinity’s (played by Carrie Ann Moss, who is white), the love of his life. As he tells her, “You are a part of me.” (Neo—“He” gives his life to save His people’s lives’ in order to make peace with the Father—called the Architect in the movie).

The Christian symbols within the movie are almost operatic and virtually predictable. The machines attack Zion as Neo (the Messiah) and (the) Trinity go to the Machine City to confront the Architect. However, Neo has a final destination; he first must face himself before he can face the waves of Sentinels (flying mechanized soldier machines), dark angels, if you will, to secure his destiny of himself, Trinity, and the last refuge of mankind. The “Messiah” and Trinity pay the price for Zion’s salvation. They fought the noble battle to save the worthy savage—humanity.

One final thought, it could be interpreted from a radical point of view that, the casting of Neo, being white, the true message here is: “I, the white man, am and always the savior of the masses, especially to the minorities.” Nonetheless, from a popular culture perspective, this movie is another reinforcement of traditional and popular ideals.

Editor’s Post Note: The issue of race has been forefront in recent weeks, with OJ Simpson coming to mind specifically. However, I would like to point out the treatment of Ed Bradley on CBS and other MSM outlets. The care and respect they showed Bradley was rather profound. For 60 minutes to do 6o minutes was a bit of a surprise, especially during the coveted sweeps period, but it is also illustrated the respect he commanded for his body of work. Like him or hate him, the quality of Ed Bradley work was of good measure. So do I think race relations have been forwarded and improving—emphatically yes! Nonetheless, the Matrix series of movie reflected the globalization to come and the realization that America’s ethnocentrism will be confronting more of the “Others” than “US” and for the majority we will not be dealing with “White Anglo-Saxon Protestant.”

Tribute to 9/11 -- Soichi Numata

2006-09-11T01:02:00.000-07:00

Quotes of the Week: September 7-10, 2006 provided by Center For Individual Freedom (CFIF)

"Today, our nation saw evil, the very worst of human nature. And we responded with the best of America -- with the daring of our rescue workers, with the caring for strangers and neighbors who came to give blood and help in any way they could...
"This is a day when all Americans from every walk of life unite in our resolve for justice and peace. America has stood down enemies before and we will do so this time. None of us will ever forget this day. Yet, we go forward to defend freedom and all that is good and just in our world.”-- President George W. Bush, In a televisedAddress To The Nation on September 11, 2001
Below Pete Hamill, Former New York Daily News Columnist and Editor, Likening Visitors Who Come to New York, Pause at Ground Zero and Then Move On, to New Yorkers Today:

"... they resemble New York itself. For those of us who were here that morning, the horror can rise again at odd moments: at the sound of a police siren, a low-flying airliner, a fire truck screaming to someplace unseen. The heart skips. We pause, look anxiously skyward, and then the moment passes.”
Below Cal Thomas, Syndicated Columnist, on the Five-Year Anniversary of the 9/11 Terrorist Attacks:

"'Remember the Alamo' 'Remember the Maine' and 'Remember Pearl Harbor' were rallying cries from past wars. Why do Americans have to be reminded to remember?
We had better not forget 9/11 and the signal it sent. The enemy won't forget. For him, 9/11 was a continuation in a long war against America. He thinks he can wait us out. He thinks we're weak and will wilt before his demands in order to save our lives. He is betting everything he is right. Is he? Ask me on the 10th anniversary of 9/11.”

Soichi Numata --- edit --- father, in Tokyo said, ''I can't do anything...it is a shocking incident no one can comprehend.''
(Source Look Smart)

These are some the quotes I have seen on the net this past week, with the exception of the Soichi Numata father’s quote from 2001. I have been trying to write this tribute the past few days, as the event of September 11th has once again intruded on space-time. I have felt inadequate. Unable to speak to the tragedy that befell the United States in 2001, the never forget sentiment runs long and deep and true for me. Not just as a US citizen, but as a citizen of the planet.

To summarize a person’s life, in a few words felt empty, barren, and cold. It felt meaningless. As if a person’s life, we pay tribute to this day, was nothing more than a rolled up newspaper article.
How do we show honor and distinction to a person whose life as a deputy general manager of Fuji Bank was lost in the sea of names that was missing that fateful day in September?

How do we show honor and distinction to a person whose life as father of a fourteen year old daughter (now possibly nineteen years old), who was away at camp, at the time of his death?

How do we show honor and distinction to person that was husband to Noriko, who spent time together playing golf on the weekend?

How do we show honor and distinction to a person who worked diligently by getting up early and getting home late, but made time for his family at home in Irvington, New York?

How do we illustrate that that he was New York Yankee fan—until his fellow countryman Ichiro Suzuki had just started to play for the Seattle Mariners?

How do we show honor and distinction to a person diligently day-in and day-out inspired those around him on the 82nd floor of 2 World Trade Center, and aspired to do the best for his family, his country—Japan?

How do we show honor and distinction to a 45 year old man, who will no longer be among us, his family, this planet?

SImple, although, he may have been a Japanese citizen—and a father and a husband, he is a member of the world community. But on this day, days of days, the day that earth was rocked, Soichi Numata, is America’s citizen and we will do our best---I will do my best to remember Soichi Numata. To never forget him, his family, the victims of 9/11.

We Will Never forget!

Question of the Week #3 for 250 BE Credits

2006-08-18T09:50:00.000-07:00

So, as many of you may be aware--this week the killer, or admitted killer of JonBenet Ramsey has been found. My first reaction was--really? Patsy Ramsey must have given up the killer of her daughter on her death bed. A death bed confession of sorts. However, as the news began to filter out, the details did not match my 'gut' reaction. John Ramsey rather measured manner of the news seemed distant--and frighteningly joyless. Yes, one can understand his grief, after losing his wife less than 50 days ago, but his reaction seem to be an indicator that he himself may not believe that this John Mark Karr was the assailant who killed his daughter.

The following day, the Boulder DA seemed to be backpeddling, but still was having Mr. Karr, 41 old 2nd grade teacher, and most likely pedophile, transported back to Denver. Boulder DA Mary Lacey gave the impression to the media that the real work was about to begin. No one knows for sure what this means. Does this mean that they have no DNA samples on file from him? Did they check with his immediate famliy members where he was the night of the murder? His work file indicates otherwise. How did know the Ramsey's? He stated that he picked JonBenet up from school-buzzzz! She was on Christmas break. He stated that he had drugged her--buzzz! According to the public coroner's , JonBenet had no drug in her. He said this was an 'accident'---buzzz! The ligature and the bashing of her skull proves otherwise. He said he loved JonBenet---buzzz! See previous.

Then, there is the ransom note, handwriting, and the amount of the stated in the note and the "perceived cultural" behavior of the Ramsey's or lack thereof. My series questions are this? Do you believe that this guy, John Mark Karr, is the killer of JonBenet? Do you think there was a rush to juddgment regarding Mr. Karr? On the Ramsey's? Do you think that JonBenet was mistreated by her parents? Do you think that JonBenet murder will ever be solved? Do you think the parents know who killed JonBenet?

In last week question, I had several people contribute, unfortunately not everybody can win. I like to thank you all for participating. The rules are the same as last week, best commentary will be awarded Blogexplosion credits. For those with BE, I will reward 250 credits for 1st place best comment, for 2nd place 150 credits, and for 3rd place 100 credits. Contest ends August 25 at 8 am MDT.

Question of Day #2 for 250 BE credits

2006-08-10T13:21:00.000-07:00

Today, we have been on a higher terror alert at the nation's airport. Once again, terrorist have attempted to hijack and blow up flights to the US in mid-flight. My series of question are this, were you feeling safer about flying before this incident? Do you feel safer today knowing what "just about" happen versus not knowing? Do tyou feel any safer today than you did 6 years ago? 4 years ago? 3 years ago? 2 years ago? 1 year ago? Do you feel the government is using the terror alert system to create a culture of fear?

The last question is my cynical side contemplating the timing of alerts. I often wonder, what motivates the release of information. Is it to demonstrate that they doing their job protecting the public? Or, is it for something more nefarious, sinister, or for political manipulation of its citizenry? Or, am being too cynical? What do you think?

In the last question of the day, I received three comments I decided to reward all with 75 Blogexplosion credits. It was a tough decision, so I decided to reward everyone with credits. This time I will set a 1st, 2nd, 3rd place entry for the best commentary. For those with BE, I will reward 250 credits for 1st place best comment, for 2nd place 150 credits, and for 3rd place 100 credits. Contest ends August 18 at 8 am MDT.

America Bless God

2006-08-03T20:03:00.000-07:00

by Irena the Croatian

I hear a man's voice. It's only about midnight. He's screaming 'wake up' and 'I...." something. He's screaming really loud, kind of desperate. Sad. I don't know... I hope that something didn't happen. Makes you think twice. You know, about the people you love and care for. My cigarette lighter echoes out here.

It's really quiet, aside from the man's voice. Even he is quiet now. My lego blocks. Urban lego blocks. I hate living here. I absolutely hate it. All in all, I almost sort of hate life in itself at this point. I don't know why, seems that things are getting to me a lot more now. I keep looking at other people's windows. I don't feel like getting up. Half the week when the night falls, all that life turns into is solitaire. And cigarettes. I'm a bad citizen. Wait a minute... I'm not a citizen. I'm just a bad human being. And sometimes people think that admitting their own mistakes automatically raises the green flag and that they're forgiven for whatever wrong they've done. But you admit to so many mistakes you become numb to them yourself. Green flag, white flag... it's all the same. Whatever.

This city is far too quiet. I miss Chicago. For some odd reason, I miss it. I miss hearing ambulance sirens at odd hours of the night. Street life at 3 a.m. outside our windows... just life. Everyone minds their own and they're too busy to pay attention to anything else. Denver is a big little town. I've kept on saying that for the last 4 years that I've lived here, and it's settling in more then ever. It's only midnight and I live right by a large hospital. I don't hear sirens... ever. It's 12:12 AM now. I've played a few games of solitaire while writing this blog. There are ambulance’s lights flashing around the corner... something must have happened to that man.

People are fucking dirty, everyone is so fucking dirty. Me, you, everyone. Once you hit the golden age of 18, your white flag becomes gray and you can't be forgiven. Nobody cares to forgive. I think I'm bitter. I've had some wine. Wine is good for your blood. I'm finally tired, finally tired. But as God would have it, insomnia has become the name of the game - again.

I sit here and make plans on how I will better myself as a human being. Then I turn them into cards, each and every one. I like to make a pretty little tower of those cards, and blow them down as soon as something else distracts me. I mis-prioritize. I mis-categorize. I procrastinate, I'm kind of self-indulgent. I hate money and therefore spend it unwisely. Or not... maybe I just don't make enough. Whatever. I break uncanny petty laws every day. Laws such as tying a giraffe to a tree. The other night I broke into the Denver zoo and tied one of the giraffes to the tree. I had a really hard time doing it, the tree was so tall. But it was cool. And then I gave the lions a piggyback ride. Then I woke up. And then a few nights after that I was digging a tunnel out of a prison.

I'm more fucked up then you are. And I don't want to have coffee with you. I'm self-indulgent, I'm self-sufficient. I mis-prioritize and mis-categorize. And my white flag has become black a long fucking time ago, and not from overuse. More from abuse. I try to clean up after myself. And I've had a lot to clean. But it's so fucking black that now it just smears shit all over the place.

I like chocolate. My mom has that dry, sarcastic Yugoslavian humor. She once said that I'd eat shit if it was covered in chocolate. Mom, I love you. But I beg to differ. Because I ate some shit over the last few years. And I even tried to cover it with chocolate to make it go down a bit smoother. And it still tasted like shit.

Tomorrow, today. I will be a better citizen. Maybe I'll finally fill out my FAFSA app. Maybe I'll wake up Elaina on time. Maybe I'll be the stern strict schedule-regulating parent that I should be. Maybe I'll throw the trash away in the morning instead of in the evening. I might even remember to close the window to prevent Denver's greater society of wildlife from finding refuge in my apartment. I could even possibly snap my bras before I put them in the washing machine. Maybe I'll even apply for a part time job. Who knows, perhaps I could charge my phone and throw my trash out of the car right away. I've been trying to do that. Wait a minute... I think my phone will be disconnected by the time I wake up. There goes my card tower.

Good night, America. And bless God. He needs it.

Question of the Day

2006-08-03T17:50:00.000-07:00

(the dream toilet)

by Hari Seldon

Who are the better cleaners? Men or Women? Oh, I know the answer may seem obvious to everyone out there in the blogging world, but when it comes to cooking, cleaning, and doing the housework it may be a female dominated world. However, I asked this question because, it all started yesterday as I was putting together two new bookcases. I realized that my once a week dusting was not getting the job as I shifted furniture around to make room for my new acquisitions.

I am not the type who deep cleans--you know what I mean, yes? For instance you take all the items from a top of ones entertainment center, shelves, move it, and clean the debris from behind it. The only exception, of course, for me, is the bathroom, it must be deep clean twice a week. It is the only thing I am compulsive about, and I deep clean it on a regular basis. Me not like a dirty bathroom.

So, the question remains who are the better cleaners--men or women? Please feel free to comment, but to make it fun for you, at least some of you at Blog Explosion, I am giving away 75 BE credits for the best response. The contest ends August 7th, 2006. I will have panelists of my friends, bloggers, to help decide who response was the best...

Let's have some fun with this, eh?

This one time in band camp

2006-07-29T07:00:00.000-07:00

Editors Note: This is a reposting of Irena's Myspace Blog from Monday...

by Irena the Croatian

Blah.

Happy Monday morning! I'm happy it's Monday, really truly am. Happy happy joy joy. If I was any happier (you guessed it) I'd have flowers catapulting out of a certain body cavity.

Bulletins finally work. I swear it's taken me the last 45 minutes to post one bulletin. Go read it, print your tickets that show is finally coming up.

It's gloomy out today. Laney's here... Boo is still broken, the carpet is still a canvas, and I'm just moody enough not to be amused by any of it. She decided to throw her little lion toy off the balcony this morning. Then she stood here for 30 minutes crying about it. I managed to save Woody from taking a nose dive, but now I have to go downstairs and bring Simba back home. When she's sleeping... because I'm certain that during the two seconds that I'm turned around and picking the lion up off the ground, she will launch herself into the swimming pool - clothes and all.

Anyway... yeah... so I'm on the phone listening to this junk yard guy give me the ten thousand reasons why he can't meet me at the price for the part that I'm looking for and that he told me we could work with on Friday. Mister Cool, mister Cool. Works fine for me, really - thank you Chris. :) I didn't want to have a reason to stick to my word and owe this guy 30 minutes of my life for 'cutting his own throat and selling me this part at 50 detail".

With that being said, I think it's time to go wash pineapple juice out of my hair and make another attempt at cleaning up after my toddler. I already made aancakes and I think it's time for oatmeal now. And I'm not offering to feed my favorite society of MySpace degenerits today. But you are still my favorite society in all the land - virtual and as unrealistic as possibly can be. Even though there are those of you that pollute and consume and abuse my feeble internet connection with all the glittery shit on your page, I forgive you. I've finally come to terms with the ever-so-great importance of image and its deceit.

I think I'm going crazy. And lying to yourself is the hardest thing to do. I'm getting better at it by day.

And all this bullshit in the Middle East is driving me nuts. I imagine that one day, soon, I won't have an internet connection or the electricity to power my laptop up and post up mindless ramblings. I caught myself thinking that it's almost what this country needs or at least what its people need. Carefree as can be. But there's always that point when you've chewed the last of the flavor and popped the last bubble. It's America, who am I kidding? Everything is sold in multi-packs, especially carefree gum.

Editors note: Dont forget the Earn Free Credits to Read Day contest! Contest

Thank you j0hnny

2006-07-28T02:14:00.000-07:00

by Irena the Croatian

This is an official thank you... you reminded me of the most important moment in my whole day today, and thank you so much. That moment was worth remembering, so here is a daily blog... yes - daily. I write a lot of blogs. But it's late, I'm home from work, I've done my fair share of good and bad for today, and it's time to write a blog. Yes, I do still have a life. Wanna hear about the drama? No, you don't. I edited it out.

OK... so... after a little bit of drama (and then some), I had to go to court. I had to go to traffic court. Easy, very easy breezy. DA was a young guy, I had a pink dress on, Kathryn went with for added appeal KATENATION! (and because I was there for driving on a restricted license - unsatisfied judgement - insurance companies SUCK).

Nah, it was a simple case, I've never really been in trouble for anything before. And they're dropping my 10-19mph over the limit speeding ticket when I go to the DMV and pay $60 to get a new license. On my birthday, mind you. My court date is on my birthday. Great, I promised to bring back cake. How about some fruit? The clerk looked like she had frosting pouring out of her ears.

After court, Kathryn drove me up to Broomfield to get 12 Cents their extra tickets and some more of the burlesque/tattoo/circus posters that I carefully crafted. And that drive made my whole day, and j0hnny, you reminded me of it.

We took 93 up to 182 from Jefferson City. I saw live animals. And the mountains were so blue, they were as blue as blue can be and in clear sight. For the first time ever, I fully realized the power they bear and encompassed, I never felt it so strong before. There didn't seem to be a cloud in the sky, and the sun shone with all its might. I saw live animals... did I mention that? Real live animals. And the only concrete for miles was the road we were on. We came upon a dive bar. Then a quarter mile later, there was a house. And behind them and around them there was just grass; rolling hills, and a few trees here and there. We saw the most beautiful butterfly... bold bright yellow with black lines. It flew directly at us and I ducked... I don't know why I ducked. The grass looked so soft. I asked Kathryn if she'd make grass angels with me :). But her white pants ruled out the possibility. And it almost made me sad. For the first time in what seems like forever, I felt like a child.

We drove back to the concrete jungle, and discussed the wrongs of our society, the lack of spirit and life and passion that it carries. We talked about people we knew, about life in itself. And I held sunshine in my hand. And Kathryn, you promised you'd do the same. So, I hope that on your short drive back, I really hope that you held it in your hand, and that you released it when you went into a shadow. Because doing that made me happier then I've been in so long. I forgot what it's like to hold sunshine in your hand... and I'm glad I found the time to remind myself today. I needed it. Really truly needed it.

So... there is a ten page long blog about my day. I talked to my mom today. I miss her, I miss her so much. I'm coming home. I hear Chicago playing. Da-da-dadadada La-da-dadadada. La-da-dadadadadadadadadada. Going home. It's only in my head.

Good night to my favorite society of MySpace degenerits. If you read this far, and I don't think you did, because I probably wouldn't have…

Editors note: Dont forget the Earn Free Credits to Read Day contest! Contest

Earn Free Credits to Read Day

2006-07-27T20:50:00.000-07:00

Okay, people this is rather simple, for BlogExplosion bloggers, who can answer the four following quesstions will earn 25 BlogExplosion credits. You will have to search the archives as well:

I have posted two chapters of my yet to be published novel.

1.) What is the character's name sitting in the young woman's lap?
2.) What happens to the Lear Jet?

Now,

3.) Who is the guest blogger on this site?
4.) Who is the template designer?

All answers must be submitted to me at my email gksden@gmail.com and leave a comment on my site. Thanks have fun....! Contest closes at Midnite August 05, 2006.

Anti-Emo Alliance

2006-07-27T06:29:00.000-07:00

by Irena the Croatian

I saw an emo skateboarder last night—seriously with the hair, undersized clothes, and all—and a skateboard. What the fuck is wrong with this fucking world?? Why is an emo kid skateboarding?? I took it as an insult - personal insult. He insulted my intelligence in the comprehension of the society of this ever-growing culture that I've just so happened to be exposed to for the last 8 years. It's an ever-learning process, and just when I think I've figured it all out I see a fucking emo kid with a skateboard. The first thing that I noticed was the skateboard. So my first instinct was to pull over and hand him a P-Nuckle flyer. Even if he's underage and can't come to the show... he can check them out and show up for the next all-ages. And they usually do, and they usually love it. But then I noticed the hair—and then the clothes. WHAT THE HELL!?!??! I wonder if we have emos in any part of ex-Yugoslavia.

On that note, I've decided to start a Denver chapter of the Anti-Emo alliance. I need to have a chat with the P-Nuckle guys about it. AAE. I'm reserving it.

Off to Texas

MySpace Couples

2006-07-26T06:00:00.000-07:00

by Irena the Croatian

It makes me sick to my stomach. Maybe it's PDA in general... who knows. I've been single for a year now - officially. Recently, passed the one year mark from the magic divorce date--no offense, Mark... Anyway, I'm still gloating in the glory of singledom. I spent the last 45 minutes of my precious life watching couples on Myspace. Yes, I am MySpace people watching again. It really is my favorite way to pass time. And yes, it reminded me of all the reasons that I like this fortress of solitude. Pffft. Haha.

But really, 'what are you doing tonight' ' what did you do yesterday' 'what time did you wake up' 'what did you eat for breakfast' 'why didn't you call me back right away' 'what color was your pee' 'you broke my heart into a thousand pieces rip rip rippity stab stab rip' 'oh my god you talked to another guy' 'oooh look at my boyfriend' 'ooooh look at my girlfriend' ooohh we're so happy in love love love and we're never gonna break up and we're gonna drive each other insane and into the ground and our graves will be dug with heart-shaped shovels' and 'look, world... here we come to our white picket-fence and the Sunday morning paper and Wal-mart brand groceries and the same fucking tv show every fucking night and the casserole dinners and paper plates'. Microwave me, save your time.

I like my Sunday morning Onion, my white metal fence on the balcony of the condo I rent. I like watching Finding Nemo, doing yesterday's dishes today, chasing my daughter while she's wearing a pillow. I like leaving when I want, coming back when I want, even if all I do is drive around and put up posters that a petty asshole with an ego problem will tear down. I like going to bed wearing what I was wearing when I came home, I like keeping my toilet seat down and not washing anyone's boxers. I like my time with my daughter, I like that time for me. I don't need the pedestal, the re-assurance, the dependence, the forced co-dependence. Hearing "I love you" until my ears are numb to it, until it becomes nothing but water that I rinsed last night's dishes with. Into the drain... used for its purpose. I probably didn't need to rinse the dishes I could have just put them into the dishwasher. And you feel forced to say it back. You can't not say it back.

I like my solitude. I like my fortress. I like to skip the dishwasher and wash my dishes by hand. I like my balcony, my fence, scratching my daughter's back until she falls asleep, because she wouldn't otherwise—and I like it that way. But the days when she's not here I hate it. I hate the fortress and I hate the solitude. But, thank God for P-Nuckle, Photoshop, and 11x17s that some petty asshole with an ego problem will tear down.

Tuesday Morning Digest - and a moral

2006-07-25T20:45:00.000-07:00

by Irena the Croatian

I am divorced for a reason. And I pleasantly remind myself of it every day.

Dear Mr. West and Inc.

Maybe I should title this blog to my ex-husband. Ha Ha. OK... no. I've been writing too many blogs. But nobody understands me better then myself. Another reason why I'm single – and happily so.

The point of this blog... I don't know how many of you MySpace degenerates read this. Really, for all I care - nobody has to. I write these for me, for me to amuse myself with... well... myself. It's almost another form of masochism. Or is it a psychological masturbation... who knows. Too bad I don't ever find the time to re-read my own blogs. But I will... one of these days. Another reason I write these and leave them public is to remind you - my favorite society of the aforementioned MySpace degenerates that I still exist. And that I'm still as fucked up as you are. If not even more. Actually, scratch that. I'm more fucked up then you are. And if I don't respond to your MySpace message that says "oh my god you're so pretty and your profile is so interesting and you're so awesome" it's probably because I don't think you're fucked up enough for me. And I'm more then probably right.

In any case... today's moral is to be nice to your parents. Seriously. Every time you've ever fucked up, every time they've ever called you on it - they were right. And if you're lucky enough to have them within a driving distance away, I hope that you're taking that drive as often as you can. My family is in Chicago. I would sell my soul to the fucking devil right now to see my mother. I would do it in a heartbeat. For you, Mister Mark West and for your incorporated family. If I had any soul left, which I'm sure I don't - I would sell it to see my mother. Because it would be worth it. Even if it's for five minutes, because maybe during those five minutes I'll feel like collapsing, laying my head in her lap and crying. Or maybe I'll just keep up on what she taught me to do.

So fuck you, Mark Jason West, and fuck you with all the strength of this world combined.

Now that I'm still pissed off about this, here are a few post comments... if I could go to work - I probably wouldn't be posting ten thousand fucking blogs during the middle of the day. And I very well could go to work if I would alter my life to fit Mr. West and Family, Inc's specifications. I'm sorry I don't conform to Texas' ideas of what a parent should be. My toddler likes Wallace and Gromit. And she prefers the 'hippy' diapers. And fruit peel is good for her. And so is chocolate. And yes, potty training on a toilet versus a plastic potty is better. And no, my tattoos aren't washing off, and yes - my daughter will speak whatever language I teach her to speak.

I do too have a life

2006-07-25T14:27:00.000-07:00

by Irena the Croatian

And a very interesting one at that, thank you very much.

A friend of mine pointed out a few things today... the fact that I fucked up a flyer (all 4000 of them - actually), and the fact that I write so many blogs that people might think I don't have a life.

I do have a life, thank you very much. I do... look - for God's sake. There's always something going on, always some kind of an uncanny problem or a drama or something of such kind. And it's always related to the wonderful world of the music industry. I don't spend my days putting up posters around the town for some petty asshole to take down. I spend my days making them. And running the camp, talking to musicians with ego problems, or lack of thereof. A happy median is hard to come by. I spend my days screening my phone calls and coming up with excuses as to why I didn't answer the phone. For instance just now, I answered the phone. And the phone call interrupted my thought process.

I do too have a life; a very busy one, while at it.

I just happen to be insane. And you all get to read it.

I gotta take care of the problem that came up with the phone call.

Thank you very much.

Confession of a Site Administrator: The View of Charity-Part II

2006-07-15T13:59:00.000-07:00

The third blogger I am sponsoring this year is known as Bozette in BE. Boze was one of the first bloggers to openly welcome me to BE, and in my humble opinion, one of the best photo bloggers in BE. She like all of us has been met with challenges of late, but our common link is our love of sunsets and wildlife. As a native Coloradan, I appreciate her love for nature, wildlife, and family.

Sunset by Bozette

She is one of nine children, Bozette’s talents stands out. I have been wondering when she will put together a book and publish, but it is understandable she is a diary farmer by day in “Wis’cow’son” as she puts it, and blogger by night. I say however, do a book now—life is too short. She has two blogs Pictures From My World and Life My Way.

She is sponsoring the World Wildlife Fund (WWF) during the Blogathon 2006. My memory of this organization is the “Smackdown” it gave the World Wrestling Federation (now the WWE) over the initials of their name, WWF, nevertheless, this organization does good work.

In closing, I will leave you with this thought that our own view of paradise comes through the actions of participation. “Corporate Responsibility” as business owners, as individuals, as the popular mass is beholden to us—and unto the government (as well in order to facilitate leadership from the citizenry and is not to become arbiter of expansionism, and or intrusion), but to aspire, inspire, and conspire the forward and evolving motion of humanity. Simply, we need to be more kind to one another, and to follow the examples of Gandhi, Christ, Mohamed, Martin Luther King, Jr., and Confucius. And, furthermore to understand that, sometimes as a nation of individuals we will revert at times. Knowing this, will lead to shorter conflicts in the future as a nation—as a planet. As for individuals, more tenderizing of the hearts will come in time—and being charitable to our fellow citizens is the seasoning we need to do so.

Confession of a Site Administrator: The View of Charity

2006-07-14T21:57:00.000-07:00

Editors: I have decided to break this confession into two parts in the interest of brevity.

This site administrator has a confession: I am a Libertarian. Fiscally conservative and for the most part, socially liberal on the left—I am a middle of the road type person. I am a pragmatist. This drives my friends and colleagues to explode in anger at me often.

Well, not necessarily explode, but we have very heated debates. I don’t be believe, I know anybody who is an IED (Intermittent Explosive Disorder).

I am believer in self-promotion, and personal responsibility with the “corporate entity” of society, of the people, to sustain the rule of law. In essence, that we, as a culture, define our character, as a civilization, by the deeds we do as a people in terms of the social contract by the treatment of each other, well or poorly. We, (the collective), as individuals, as groups, as “corporate interests” ought to try to aspire, and inspire to be better than the “we” both the group and the individual aspect of the word.

This is not always possible. I certainly can attest to that, however—and what is important—is that we try. Sometimes a person’s may be hurt by a simple misunderstanding. We, they, or I may feel bad –but in the moment of controversy-we find the generosity of the heart. For me, this year it is the Blogathon 2006 on July 29^th twenty-four hours of blogging for charity.

To give to a charity is one of the most socially responsible acts one can do for their community. I do believe the government, at time, ought to lead the way to aspire, to inspire the citizenry to recognize and embrace the differences of individuality, expression, and the promotion of free liberty of “consenting adults.”

This means for me that, government’s role is limited to support its citizenry, to provide defense, and to impart and apply the laws put forth by its citizenry—and to know that it is tempered by the people who entrusted it with the power to enforce those laws. This temperament is not to be found by the Executive, or the US Congress—but the Courts.

Needless to say, and to return to my point, charity is best expressed through the individual. Recently, Warren Buffett, American investor, stock speculator, and entrepreneur will donate the bulk of his wealth nearly 85 percent of it to the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation (that dedicates itself with the disenfranchised and providing educational opportunities to all).

In my case, I am not a billionaire, not yet anyway. Not a millionaire, or a thousandaire, on a good month yes, but I feel compelled like Buffett to contribute toward my community en masse.

So, I return to Blogathon 2006 to illustrate the part of this participation with my community. At present, I have been part of the world of online blogging. I am addicted, may be compulsive, a traffic exchange site that I spend most of time with BlogExplosion (BE). This is a place where one is suppose to be able to view other blogs.

Although, at times, I haven’t always agreed with my fellow BE’ers or adjoin their perspectives, I do believe in their organizations they are representing and that trumps associations. In essence, to aspire and to inspire for a better world even if I do not agree with their politics or world view, what matters are those ideas, ideals, and beliefs that can move a community forward together despite polarizing differences. I have chosen the Maryland branch of SPCA (Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals), WWF (World Wildlife Fund), WHSA (television station) Crusade for Children.

First up, referred to as B, by most, and Ano by others. She has two blogs one of them as a personal journal, All-Nite.org and the other, a expose of serial killers, Dead Silence. She is also NASCAR fanatic—and she is an animal lover.

This is our common ground—the animals—not the NASCAR. A few years back, I had to give away my cats due to change of a living situation (too long to recount). Anyway, it is our love for animals that we share, she has expressed on a number of occasions, both public and privately, that if she had the money she would start a pet sitting service or an animal shelter. Recently, I found out the she is a bit of a crime buff. As I mentioned before, her blog Dead Silence, she does a very good job relaying the aspects of the crime stories of serial killers.

Needless to say, B’s passion for animals endears one’s heart, these are the words she uses to describe why her charity is the Maryland SPCA:

“Their slogan is “We are their voice” and I couldn’t agree more. Animals depend on us. They can’t tell us “hey, my owner beats me” or “I’m not feeling too well.” They depend on us to keep an eye out for them, to watch out for their welfare. I don’t see pets as just another animal. To me, they are furry little people and it breaks my heart to hear about abuse and neglect. The ASPCA website features many ways to help raise awareness about the abuse that goes on in this country. On their website, they list ways to help fight and prevent cruelty. The first thing is just to be aware of what’s going on around you. Does your neighbors dog look a little too thin? Is he/she outside 24-7 with no shelter, food or water? Have you actually seen someone hit or abuse an animal? Remember, if no one reports it, is it happening? No. If it goes unreported it will continue to happen. Step up and report it!

They also list ways to help teach your children about animals. Remember, kids are the future and they need to learn to respect everyone, including animals. It’s well known that most serial killers started out by abusing and killing animals. Don’t take things like that lightly. Talk to your kids, teach them that animal’s breath and live just like we do. They need to be treated with kindness and a soft touch.”

I met this next blogger, in the BE shout box and she is one of the nicest persons thus far in the blogosphere. There are those who claim to be sweet as peaches, but are pitted people throughout even holding grudges from a third grade rival. Ahem, sorry I digress. She, however, is not as far one can tell these things over a cyberlink. Her passion is for children, our interest to help kids physically and mentally challenged, therein lays our common ground.

She is another blogger of the personal journal type, known as the Long, Slow, Beautiful Dance, has her, Laci, also known as ProducerChic, aesthetic design blog illustrates one of the childhood transition from the world of wonder to the world of change. The feel of blog is if one is pondering to go through the “looking glass,” but is waiting for Alice in Wonderland returns. Well, this Alice is all grown up. It has a populist Matrix feel. As for Laci, her personality is well communicated throughout her blog. She is an outgoing, no bull type that, encourages, and helps other bloggers when she can. She is a big hearted person.

In that vain, the charity she has chosen reflects that big heart, although it is related to where she works. She is sponsoring WHSA Crusade for Children. It was established by the local television station in 1954 that she works at, and has raised over $115 million during the years. All the money stays locally, in the state of Kentucky, and 100% of the money is used in giving children in need charitable grants.

As a Libertarian, this is kind of “corporate citizenry" I speak of, in which, the citizenry provides the services needed to the community instead of relying on the expansion of government to do it for the disadvantaged and displaced.

This past year, the station rose over $5 million in its annual weekend of fund raising. So, if you come across her blog send a contribution via her (link), or to the WHSA Crusade for Children directly.

End Part 1.

'aancakes, aaancakes'

2006-07-10T14:52:00.000-07:00

by Irena the Croatian

I think I've lost all faith in humanity. Sometimes I think that if it weren't for my daughter, I wouldn't believe in the sheer notion of 'good' as it exists... or does it? This very moment in time, she just finished eating her 'ancakes'. The movie Cars is playing and she's walking around carrying Lightning McQueen in her hand wearing my pink ballerina shoes, and nothing else but a diaper. Her hair is a blonde mess of curls going in about 30 different directions, she has my sunglasses on and she is perfectly content. :) And I wish, I pray that it will get better... for her. Maybe it will, who knows. She now has a different pair of shoes on and Lightning McQueen has been replaced with Woody from Toy Story.

Anyway... everybody lies. I'm finding that my daughter has more character then some (30 year-old) adults that I happen to have the pleasure of interacting with. And I wish it weren't so. I imagine that at one point, this world was selfless, that people were kind because they meant to be and not because it benefited them to be so in one way or another. Its time to step backwards.

Good morning to my favorite capitalistic society with many a crack in its medium. Does anyone want aancakes? I made extra

56K Beware... Photoshop Overkill

2006-07-10T11:59:00.000-07:00

by Irena the Croatian

Current mood: exhausted

So, I figured I'd look at all the promo that I've done that I don't have printed out. And the growth is kind of odd.... anyway... here is some of it for you to amuse yourself with. Starting with the oldest... I'd rather not even go into the tangent of what inspired me to do this. It would take forever, and I have to go spam the streets with the last 3 JPEGs. If you see them, know that they were put there with love and utmost lack of energy.

Unisom and Vicodin

2006-07-08T09:16:00.000-07:00

by Irena the Croatian

Category: Dreams and the Supernatural

So I keep having the same scenario in all of my dreams (when I'm blessed enough to sleep or I've taken enough Unisom to). And all of them happen to be bad scary dreams. I'd rather not even discuss all of their contents, but there's one thing in particular that kind of bothers me. It's always the same building that I'm in. Sometimes it's different colors, sometimes it's burnt and all that's left are the walls and black smoke marks on them, and a lot of the time it's blood-colored. But it's always a labyrinth, a maze of a sort. Tonight it was black. Pitch black with black trim and it had a thousand elevators. There were red elevators with shiny steel doors. One of the elevators went right into this grand ballroom where there was a party of a sort. I say 'of a sort' because it really wasn't a party. It was a funeral and everyone was dressed as if for a wedding. Everyone was very young, very young. I don't know whose funeral it was, but I know that the ballroom was underground.

I ran out of there and back into the elevator. I found myself wandering through the building talking to VERY old people now. We talked without exchanging words. They all lived in different rooms, and all of them had such a wide range of decor... one had no walls to the outside. It was gray and it had trees growing out of the ceiling. And spiders, spiders were everywhere. It was a thousand shades of gray. One was bright and pretty and it had an old keyhole. I looked inside and talked to her through the keyhole.

All night, and in all my dreams this labyrinth of a building hides something. And I'm always looking for it in the midst of the bloody walls, black walls, inside a thousand different decors, wandering in and out of the thousand shiny elevators, running up and down the hundreds of flights of shaky stairs. I never find it... I don't know what it is, I don't know who it is and I wish I knew... Not that it would make anything any easier, but isn't that the key? To know what we want in life... everything is symbolic to one another. I wish I could see the outside of the building, I'm always trapped inside. Not really trapped... it's by my own will. "Every drama is controllable and self-inflicted." I said that yesterday, not fully realizing how true it was. Not even analytical enough was that statement, or a quote - rather, it really hit home when I woke up from this dream... this nightmare.

I figured this building and these dreams are my own hell. They say in Islam that when we go to sleep our souls go to God, and that fact scares me now more then ever... I really do need the judgment day on my calendar.

A Moment for a Long, Slow Beautiful Dance

2006-07-04T14:36:00.000-07:00

Image by Angel

An Ode to Producer Chic

Well, some of you may have notice, I have that I have done something different regarding my sidebar. No? Take notice of this week’s tenant.

It is one of those times, meaning rare occasions, that I get sincere. Some of my friends have used called me Mr. Spock, from the Star Trek television show, when they thought I should be in “raw emotional” state. Sometimes, I admit I should be, but I try to remember the calling of my favorite character—don’t sweat the small stuff.

In any event as person who is currently in retail as I march my way through college for my Masters in Anthropology. This, of course, will be training ground for those insincere moments, when I have to look at a fellow interpreter and say, while smiling, “Would like fries with that?”

Now, what does all this have to do with my guest tenant? Everything and nothing—since I joined BlogExplosion to increase my readership, she has been, known to some of you as Laci, gracious and helpful as a fellow online blogger can be. Her wit and warped perspective of life can be thoroughly enjoyed, even in her short “checking in” segments.

When you first click on the Long, Slow, Beautiful Dance, one is greeted by the image iconic Matrix beauty who led Neo down the “rabbit” hole. The feel of the blog is welcoming and sleek. The author, also known as Producer Chic, style is conversational and one has the feeling that you might be viewing her musings through a “matrix” screen. But her surreal metaphor of using also the “Alice in Wonderland” allegory in her sidebar gives the reader a chance to explore different “rabbit holes.” So, go visit my tenant and click on her for a short trippy visit….-à

I love old people

2006-07-04T11:51:00.000-07:00

by Irena the Croation

Monday, July 03, 2006 Part II

Like I needed something else today. Ha-ha! OK... well... at least it's amusing. The fire department calls from the lobby. The new place I moved into has some gray-hairs living in it. And one of them thinks she owns the place. Yes! One of those! So she complained to the office about my car being parked in the garage. I've got a slow gas leak and a nice steady power steering leak. Together with an inoperable rear driver’s side window, a non-working gauge cluster, no 1st and 2nd gear, an open circuit somewhere that provides a nice whine out of my right rear speaker (serves as a vocal tachometer and amusement for my daughter), no antenna and some really trippy door locks.

Anyway... I let the power steering fluid leak out and haven't refilled it in what seems like months. I'm sure it's only been weeks, but I've lost all sense of time that I thought I ever had. But, this lady calls the office and complains about my car CONSTANTLY. I had a chat with the office people about the power steering fluid leak (I had to clean the garage floor) and they told me about the lady and what an anal retentive freak she is. So they were blowing her off. She calls the damn fire department. Ha-ha! Dead serious. So I had to go downstairs and move my car to the street. With the open window. At least it has an alarm. YES! My '89 Nissan Maxima has an alarm. And I set it off. And the fire department people are complaining about the lady. I think she might be angry that I exist.

I think it's time for a new car. Fucking lady. Fucked up my solitaire game. Not even to mention the fact that I had to wake my daughter up from her nap so I can go downstairs and move my car onto the street. It's not a fire hazard there, is it? Of course not.

So, there you have it. Events of my day. I needed this... I really did. It's the one speck of excitement, one thing that took my mind off of everything else.

Solitaire

2006-07-04T11:34:00.000-07:00

by Irena the Croatian

Monday, July 03, 2006

Current mood: Sad Category: Life

In the last four days, I've spent a lot of time playing solitaire. And the more I play, the more I'm starting to see its parallels to life... seriously. Every deck you get is fully solvable. It's all about strategy, taking chances. Which card to move, which chance to take? You let some cards pass you by. And maybe you'll realize how important that card is and if it's early enough, you can go back and take it. Sometimes you skip through everything else to find that card again, and then you wonder if you did the right thing. Sometimes you get distracted by another stack and forget all about the first one. Then the third one appears. Did I do the right thing? Who knows...?

Sometimes it seems like such a perfect game. Your initial hand becomes two piles, you open up two king slots, and you get all four of your aces in the extra pile. But somewhere along the line, you make it dirty. By taking the wrong chances. And you gotta clean up. Take five steps backwards and hope you can make the leap forward when the roadblock is off...

Back to reality.

The Devil Wins Again

2006-07-03T16:57:00.000-07:00

By Irena the Croatian

And MySpace is the devil

I thoroughly enjoy people-watching. It's quite possibly one of my 5 favorite things to do... seriously. I tend to think of it as the best way to spend time educating myself on this wonderful masochist consumer culture that I belong in. Thank God that in every median there are cracks. And I think I've found mine, but I still owe it to myself to poke my head out, rise above and remind myself of the reasons to stay where I am.

So, here's some hypocrisy for you: I'm at work. I've gotten quite a few things done already, and I probably would have gotten them done a lot quicker had I not jumped on the devil's back and clung on like a leech: I started people-watching on MySpace again. And I'd almost say that it's really pointless to do so, but I've argued myself on that very statement for a few minutes. And here's why - people only let so much of themselves out on here. But it's the quality of what they let out that can almost certainly fall into the same pattern that I'd witness if I were standing 10 feet away from them.

Before I go off on another tangent about the medium and its shelters and cracks, I'll try to get to what actually inspired me to write this blog: people-watching on MySpace. You find a lot of bit of everything: underage sexually-oppressed girls, overly-egotistical rock star wannabes, gender-challenged emos, mentally-challenged republicans, no-party belongers, hippies, revolutionary wannabes, vigilantes, fake vigilantes, real people, fake people, fake people that want to be real, real people that are being fake, fake real real fake, more republicans, yup - here's another emo, hippy-wannabe, a 16-year-old Rasta, nobody can spell, sex sells everything, and finally... Tila Tequila.

And that's the part of my people-watching session that cracked the cap on the insanity bottle: Tila Tequila. More precisely, it was a song on her MySpace player ... ready for this?

Madame Tequila decided to cover No Woman, No Cry. ..

Not even joking...

I feel the end nearing.

Bob, I hope that there is enough green wherever your soul may be right now.... really...

I need a cigarette…

Medical Marijuana Vote Tomorrow!

2006-06-27T13:35:00.000-07:00

Please re-post!!!

By Irena the Croatian

This update brought to you by The League of Gonzo Journalists. More updates available on The Gonzo Muckraker.
==========================

Would you please take one minute to call your congressperson and ask him or her to vote for the medical marijuana amendment that the U.S. House of Representatives will be voting on as soon as the evening of Tuesday, June the 27th?

It's easy: Just call the Capitol switchboard operator at (202) 224-3121. Give the operator your zip code and ask to be connected to your U.S. House member; you don't even need to know your U.S. representative's name to do this.

When the receptionist for the congressperson - not the Capitol switchboard operator - answers, say something like: "Hi, this is [name]. I live in [city], and I'm calling to ask that my representative vote for Congressman Maurice Hinchey's (pronounced Hinchee) medical marijuana amendment to the Justice Department's spending bill, which I understand will be considered on the House floor in a few days. The amendment would prohibit the Justice Department from spending taxpayer money to arrest medical marijuana patients in the 11 states where medical marijuana is legal."

Please call now: (202) 224-3121

More Information
Responding to the growing conflict between the states and the federal government over the issue of medical marijuana, Rep. Maurice Hinchey (D-NY) and Rep. Dana Rohrabacher (R-CA) will offer an amendment to the Science-State-Justice-Commerce Appropriations bill that would prohibit the U.S. Justice Department from undermining state efforts to provide terminally ill and chronic pain patients access to doctor-recommended medical marijuana. The amendment would prohibit the Justice Department from spending any money on arresting or prosecuting medical marijuana patients in states where medical marijuana is legal. 161 members of Congress voted for a similar amendment last year.

11 states have enacted effective medical marijuana laws - Alaska, California, Colorado, Hawaii, Maine, Montana, Nevada, Oregon, Rhode Island, Vermont and Washington. The U.S. Justice Department, however, continues to spend millions of dollars arresting medical marijuana patients and their caregivers - even in states where medical marijuana is legal. At a time when violent drug cartels remain at large and threats of terrorism continue to emerge, it is irresponsible for the Justice Department to jeopardize public safety by wasting scarce law enforcement resources conducting raids on hospice centers and medical marijuana patients.

The Hinchey-Rohrabacher medical marijuana amendment would not prevent the Justice Department from arresting people using, growing, or selling marijuana for recreational use. Nor would it prevent the Justice Department from arresting medical marijuana patients in the states that have not approved the drug for this use. It simply prevents the federal government from arresting cancer, AIDS and MS patients that use marijuana for medical reasons in states that have adopted medical marijuana laws.

Substantial majorities of Democrats, Republicans, and Independents support medical marijuana. A 2001 Pew Research Center poll found that 73% of Americans support medical marijuana. A 2002 Time/CNN poll found that 80% of Americans support it. The Institute of Medicine has determined that nausea, appetite loss, pain and anxiety "all can be mitigated by marijuana." Allowing cancer, AIDS, and MS patients legal access to medical marijuana is supported by the American Nurses Association, American Public Health Association, American Bar Association, the Whitman-Walker Clinic, and Kaiser Permanente, among other groups.

Please urge your U.S. Representative to support the Hinchey-Rohrabacher medical marijuana amendment to the Justice Department spending bill by calling the Capitol Switchboard at 202-224-3121.

Thank you,
Noelle Davis
Executive Director
Texans for Medical Marijuana

www.TexansforMedicalMarijuana.org

==========================
Please repost this important public service notice.

Mahalo.

First Hike of the Summer

2006-06-21T14:07:00.000-07:00

It has been a while. Quite awhile, actually, well--since last fall, but before that, it had been awhile. In case you havent guessed, hiking. Last fall, my friend Brian and I set out to reach the summit of Greyrock, not sure of the height, but it sits 20 minutes outside Fort Collins, Colorado in Poudre (Poo der) Valley.

This trip we had planned for more than a week, he had to get permission from the wife. Hmph! Unfortunately, when we set out it was late in the day and we did not get a chance to finish it. Simply, it was late fall and we had failed to anticipate the 6.5 mile round trek to and from the summit might suffer the fate of darkness.

Forward June 18th 2006, my friend Brian and I returned to conquer Greyrock, this time we went earlier, and this time we conquered. Yes! We were men! Arrrrgh! On our way up and on our way down we solved the problems of the planet, including that peace thing that seems to pop up every generation. Heck, we even solved the Middle East quandary.
And, no it was not nuke the place until it glowed. No, we felt that there would be eventual peace, if only we could catch Saddam Hussein. Oh yeah, we did that. There would be eventual peace, if only the Iraqi people would elect a government. Oh yeah, they did that. Yes, we thought that there would be eventual peace, if we dropped a 500 pound on where Al Zagawi lived with his fellow conspirators. Oh yeah, we did that too. Hmm? Well did solve it though. We figured we let the "the undocumented workers," Mexican Nationals, overrun their borders for awhile--certainly that might bring about peace (tongue inserted firmly in cheek here).
However, the political discourse and rancor that resides within the country was a bit more difficult to resolve. We figured that "civil" discourse was no longer viable, in that, it has been transformed, obscured, and blunted into submission. As we hiked, we debated on the civility of Americans on days gone by, we were convinced that every generation felt that morals of the following generation were in decline. We met several people along the trail, some with their dogs, some with their kids. They all outpaced us both up and down the mountain. But we traveled at a leisured pace soaking in the ambience of nature.
The trail ahead may have looked ominous, but not all things appear what they seem. This is a message that has been a theme in my life. I have regretted much, and not always empathized enough. Some of my life's indiscretions and indecisions had not always brought me much joy or happiness, but they had brought perspectives unexpected. The question had always been, what is next?

Forward motion. Each step is placed in front of the other. For me waging that eternal chaos of Eros and Thanatos: the battle of living life and letting life decay by erosion to inevitable death. Yes, my friend and I pondered the mysteries of life.
But the everyday doldrums, the living of life taking the shorter route, the steeper path, the dips and ascension powers our certainty forward. I listened to my friend's angsts, resentments, both professional and personal, and I listened to mine. Our frustrations can be painted in pastels, so they can brightened, and fruitful. Yes, the may seem to multiply, but it is the journey, in which, the travails and experiences shone us a new perception. Yes, each ripple, each step, each moment become more precious than the last. Nature renews. Nature provide the vehicle of transformation and connection. The mountain air soothes the spirit and energizes the heart. Nature brings love and incarnation. Nature brings life....

A Post Time Out with the Asgard from YouTube.com

2006-06-19T13:26:00.000-07:00

I thought I needed a funny moment to relax; and since, I have not wrote a post lately, I thought I needed a mental time out. Oh, I wish I could say its writers block, but its posting block. Funny! I have four postings to type up, and yet they sit on my computer desk. (Heavy sigh) Too much brain damage from school this Spring semester. I need to relax. Here is one way, I tried to do this. Now we joinYouTube.com in progress!

Stargate SG-1 originally posted by Julander

Naravno

2006-06-11T17:21:00.000-07:00

by Irena the Croatian

There's a very odd feeling of melancholy that seems to seep in whenever I'm leaving a familiarity behind. Even if I'm leaving for the better... it seeps in. It kind of overtakes me at times, makes me question my decisions, think about them twice.

I'm sitting underneath the crab apple tree, in front of my door. Maybe for the last time, who knows….It's not really my door anymore. There is so much in those walls, so very much. It was the first physical piece of individuality that I snagged. I held it and I ran with it. Sometimes I tripped and fell. Sometimes I didn't feel like getting up. But I held onto it nonetheless, I held onto my box…. It echoes now, every step and every movement it hears it echoes back at me. And as empty as it is, it is ten times as full.

I'm going to click "Post". Then I will click "Post" again. Then I will close my laptop. I'm gonna put it in the case, then I will carry the case, my cigarettes and keys to my car. I have a new box now. But I'm deathly afraid that I won't be able to fill it the way I filled this one.

I'll be back later just to empty the storage. I won't sit underneath the crab apple tree and listen to the echo of the song that the screen door number two and the Pearl Street wind are playing. I really don't think I can. So I will say my goodbyes now: Goodbye Ellie & Fiona, Subaru of America, Christopher Robert Simon Stoop, and Fathers’ Day Catastrophe. Goodbye to tears and laughs. More tears than laughs; until, the next time around.

Death Flight

2006-05-23T19:51:00.000-07:00

Introduction, Part II: Earlier in the week, I posted a chapter of one of my books that I am working on. I had some interesting feed back, however, I thought I should post Chapter One, it is only fair, after all --right? So here it is........Observe

Chapter 1

The smoke billowed like a chimney from each part of the wreckage. A cylinder, gold and silver, streaming midnight black smoke, which soared towards the sky like a running faucet of water on full, defying gravity. Embossed on each side of the cylinders, the jig-sawed fuselages lay scattered on the ground, imprinted black were the words “Phantom Airlines.” The sections laid in three parts each exposed to the elements, shattered and crumbled in-between trees and rocks. Inside of each of those sections also laid debris of suitcases, airline pillows, seats – and bodies. The stench of death – burning flesh and petroleum jet fuel made an unusual perfume. Outside of these lay more disfigured bodies. However, a lone presence sat upright adjacent to the carnage – a woman in business attire.

She wore a dark navy blue pants suit with pinstripes, which accentuated her figure even while she sat. Her legs folded underneath to one-side as she stared off into the distance trying to figure what to do next. Ash from the fires fell throughout the forest, and covered the woman’s clothing. A pungent odor of sulfur assaulted her nose and her taste buds reacted to the foul smell. Meanwhile, lying by her knees a stranger bled out through his ribs not unlike Jesus when speared two millennia ago at his crucifixion. His royal blue shirt immersed in his blood look as if someone had washed it in coffee. His breathing grew shallow, choppy and congested. As she heard the change in his condition, and gurgling from within his lungs, her eyes filled with concern. Each breath became more difficult than the last – laboring, then … silence. A soulful empathy, in her dark primordial green eyes, sparkled from the mist of her tears. Another soul lost. She wept. Her grief ran down her face diluting her makeup, a mixture of salt, ash, and the grease slick mascara flavored her tongue. Trying to wipe the emotions from her face with back of her soft-silk sleeves, a bewildering feeling of comfort appeased her momentarily. The sunset silhouetted the man that had saved her life.

“What was his name?” she thought, but the memory of it escaped her. However, her mind evoked the memory of that morning’s crash – her face battered and bruised, she saw a shadowy figure. She had a translucent gaze of wonderment as the male passenger next to her stood up. He grabbed her, tossing her semi-limp body over his right shoulder, and gathered their personal effects. A metal object stuck out of his side. Her rescuer reached into the overhead cargo compartment. Meanwhile with his other hand, the wounded male passenger grabbed his laptop along with hers and her purse and slid them on his opposite shoulder. Stumbling at first and nearly falling down he walked over the wreckage from the plane and the passengers.

While she limply hung over his shoulder, she saw the bodies – bloodied, burned and melted; then, cool crisp air greeted her face. Her eyes cleared, and her body stiffened as the reality of events became clear. Somehow, the stranger that sat next to her during the flight worked his way through the devastation. His breathing became strained and his walking pace slowed. Finally, he found a spot under an ancient evergreen tree while it stood grandly reaching toward the sky; and, then he laid her on the ground underneath it. She remembered his name – Adam.

A crackling sound stirred her back from her recollection and then an odor of frankincense – then myrrh flared her nostrils. The unusual odors brought confusion to her face as the scents gave hint of a familiar taste. A savory tang grazed her pallet; and, then the smell of burning flesh impregnated the air. She looked down at Adam as his body rose from the ground.

Engulfed in a blue light it began to pulse to and fro, and his body leveled just above her head. The pulsating light intensified nearly blinding her. However, instead of feeling an intense heat on her skin, she felt a steely coolness. The surface of her skin felt like ice as frostbite began to set in. She raised her right arm to shadow her eyes, and when she thought the body might erupt – the light faded. Her cheeks reddened from the coolness of the light. Warmth filled her body as normal light returned to the forested area. Adam once more laid at her knees – then … a slight movement of his chest.

“Did his chest move?” she muttered.

She waited. Again it rose – slowly at first, then, steady and rhythmic as his lungs filled with air. His eyes fluttered open.

A question formed in Adam eyes, then in a raspy voice asked, “What happen?” But before the other could answer him his eyes cleared with recognition; remembering, the last event before he passed out underneath the Evergreen tree. Adam relived the memory of removing the broken piece of metal from his side while falling to the ground – then darkness.

Lifting his head toward the woman, he said, “Oh … Yeah … What a bad day…” and he returned to unconsciousness. His chest rose and fell without laboring and he sank into a restful slumber.

Take Quiz Part III

2006-05-23T06:42:00.000-07:00

You have a sexual IQ of 153

When it comes to sex, you are a super genius. You have had a lot of experience, and sex interests you so you know a lot about it. You pride yourself on being a source of information and guidance to all of your friends.

Take this quiz at QuizUniverse.com

Take A Quiz Part Deux!

2006-05-23T06:39:00.000-07:00

You are 57% kinky

You are kinky. You are always up for trying something new in the bedroom... or wherever else you chose to.

Take this quiz at QuizUniverse.com

Let's Take a Quiz

2006-05-23T06:33:00.000-07:00

Cancer

You are shy and mysterious. Hotties are always trying to unlock your secrets, and figure out what makes you so cool.

You have to have trust in your partner, so you’re not really into randomly hooking up. You really like the intimacy that comes with sex and you won’t take no for an answer when it comes to after sex cuddling.

Sex matches: Taurus, Scorpio, Pisces

Take this quiz at QuizUniverse.com

Death Flight and suggestions....

2006-05-13T03:39:00.000-07:00

Introduction: This is a chapter of one of my books I am working on (currently working on three). I am not sure where I want to take the next segment. So, what do you think? I am willing to take suggestions. Who should the female passenger be? Should they end up as a love interests? What should be done with Tiamet? Ideas people, I need ideas.... So leave a comment of what you thought, or send me a suggestion via email gksden@gmail.com. Thank you for your time.

Death Flight

The Lear jet engines screamed against the storm’s wind. The enraged pilot fought with the cockpit controls to keep the plane on course. Thunder reverberated through the small jet as the lightening stroked the metallic skin. The pilot’s voice screamed at the elements, “To hell with you!” when the lightning struck the crafts port engine engulfing it in flames. A pale hand flicks on the fire suppression system, and depraved eyes turned crimson as the craft lost speed. A feminine voice curled the air with venom as it cried out above the wind, “I did not spend 10,000 years on my belly for you to escape me, Adam Yom!”

* * *

On board Adam’s commercial flight, the passengers and flight attendants had secured themselves into their seats. Most of the commuters prayed in a silent fervor, and yet some were boisterous as the pilots combated the storm. The storm rattled the flying fortress playing the cosmic game of billiards, using the jet as the cue stick. The commercial jet dropped ominously 2,000 feet, and a young child howled for her mother. Adam’s pensive and taut body tensed as he clutched his seat. The woman that sat next to him had her face in her lap and arms around her knees. Every molecule in her being told her that this flight would end in death. A soulful melancholy stirred her soul as the water of life ran down her face foreseeing all the deaths to come. Her compassion even extended to the male passenger next to her – Adam Yom.

Adam’s mind whirled calculating the distance to the coast of Italy. Adam recalled his last tragic flight.

It happened 25 years ago, over Lockerbie, Scotland, the death of 259 passengers of Pan Am 103. He remembers the plane breaking-up around him. The air rushing through his hair and eardrums, and thinking of the old science fiction movie – The Man Who Fell to Earth—as he propelled toward the ocean below. He remembers the impact of the water. The sound of his ribs crunching, lungs deflating, and his heart stopping. Only to find himself waking up – floating face down and realizing that once again he had survived another disaster. Again, he had to change his name.

The fury of the storm had Adam concerned. The storm was unnatural. Adam knew the difference. The intensity of the lightning and the crack of the thunder told him that disaster would come. The elements of nature spoke to Adam – a talent born long ago. He had given them names, the elements, throughout his lifetime; in fact, he named them first. In any case, the elements told Adam, that an old menace of his controlled them – Tiamet. A cold chill ran down his spine, and anger swelled within him. He thought, “What are you up to now, Tiamet? I am not going let you scatter this plane into the ocean! Not today!” Adam willed the commercial jetliner more speed.

* * *

The Learjet engines strained beyond their capacity; the blades of the turbines spun furiously as the taskmaster willed more energy to keep pace with Adam’s flight. However, against the sheering winds of the storm the small jet started to peel apart. So, she transformed the airplane by letting it disintegrate -- trumpeting by decree, “I am Tiamet! Goddess and mistress! Hear my words!” and with that the vehicle morphed into an orb of fire. The flames punctured the night sky turning the darkness into day. The hurling ball of flames and its progenitor sheared off the wing of Adam’s flight plunging it toward the surface below.

* * *
Adam saw the change in the sky, and the sphere of flames cut across the wing of the plane. In that moment, he willed the plane to the coast of Italy. He knew, however, that he could not prevent the destruction, but he could change the nature of it. As the jetliner descended downward, it spun like a top while the plane’s fuselage broke up into three separate pieces. Adam’s mind focused on keeping those separated pieces intact upon impact. The violent decompression shattered windows, decapitated passengers, and metal shards careened throughout the passenger cabin. One such piece came towards Adam and the businesswoman, dividing his concentration. Releasing his seat belt, he stood up amidst the chaos trying to deflect the metal shard coming towards them; instead it penetrated deep into his side.

The impacting metal sent him propelling over his seat. Adam, stunned, recovered quickly as the gale force winds funneled through the cabin. He struggled to return to his feet and could see daylight outside the tumbling fuselage. Mountains and trees grew in dimension as the crippled jetliner continued to plummet towards the earth. And, with one last burst of mental energy, he dampened the collision of his broken passenger cabin – and protected the last surviving passenger. The concussion of the ground cracked throughout the cylindrical tombstone and the dirt temporarily eclipsed the daylight from outside. The debris from the three fuselages erupted fires on the mountainous terrain....

* * *

Adam jolted awake from his slumber and startled the young auburn haired beauty with his sudden movement, but she regained her composure quickly. Realizing that his head lay upon the businesswoman’s lap, he decided to reintroduce himself, “Hi, I am Adam Yom, and you would be?”

The other answered, “The woman whose life you saved…”
To be continued…

When the wise become the ignorant

2006-04-28T06:48:00.000-07:00

Irena the Croatian

Friday, April 28, 2006

I've learned that no matter how long my lashes are, there is no such thing as too much mascara. I've learned that $0.85 can buy me dependability at any point in time - it comes in a brown wrapper with "Hersheys" printed on it, I've learned just how well a good friend can chase a funk away.

I've learned that I'm weaker then I thought, that feeling empty is feeling full, that the shit I'm given isn't free, that nothing in this world is free. Not the air we inhale, not the stones that we toss. Not even the souls kicking inside us, screaming and laughing. Everyone is imprisoned by something, somebody, and there is a dollar figure on every fucking thing that exists, one way or another.

I've learned that $4.18 can buy me a twenty-pack of nerves, a twenty-pack of peace, and twenty-pack of sanity. And then, there are my things to rely on: mascara, a Hershey's bar, a good friend, and a pack of cigarettes. For the sick days, for the mentally drained days, for those days when the wise men lose their wisdom; and, the ignorant bask in their bliss.

For the days when their shadows pay me a visit, they dance before me, to no music, when they kiss, one has no lips. They make love, but one feels nothing. They connect and they unite, and the wise become the ignorant (in the worlds of) yesterday (and) today.

Brief Note #1

2006-04-26T08:19:00.000-07:00

This is a simple annoucement. My side bar now includes rentable space for othe bloggers to advestize their wares and their point of view of the world. My first tenant is "the fire within" give them a click and check out their blog....thank you.

Cut too short

2006-04-22T13:33:00.000-07:00

by Irena the Croatian

Current mood: sad

I've been pretty damn sick this whole week. The Expendables stopped into town, stayed, hung out and played three Colorado shows. Thursday 420 with P-Nuckle @ 3 Kings Tavern - close and convenient. Yesterday - Friday @ Zippers in Pueblo, and they're playing at Sherpa & Yeti's in Breckenridge tonight.

They have to be some of the nicest, coolest guys I've ever met in my life. I spend a lot of time studying them every time they stop in, the way they behave around each other, how organized they are and how much fun they have anyway. They are more like a family then any other band that I've ever met and known. These guys are each others best friends, brothers, fathers, and everything in between. A perfect balance between hard work and hard play - that's my definition of The Expendables. And they're always so goddamn nice to me. Even Ryan when he's drunk, and that's a big deal. Thank you, Expendables. Hats off to you, my dears and dearests.

Well... on with the whole 'cut too short' thing. Were you at the Pueblo show? I went. Kathryn and I drove down there last night. Left Denver at 8pm, made it just when they had started playing. The venue was called Zippers. It's a fairly large bar/grill with a pretty nice stage, two bars, some pool tables and other miscellaneous bar entertainment items. The ceiling on one side was covered in this weird foil-like material. The front of the venue was all glass from floor-to-ceiling, and inside the walls were composed of painted concrete brick. Kevin did sound for them, and did damn well, I was really impressed. They sounded great. The crowd was into it, everyone was grooving; there wasn't a single person in the entire place that wasn't feeling it. It was a great atmosphere, it really truly was.

Cut too short. Horribly while at it. This was just way too close, it really was. You know, I drive past drunk driving victim memorials pretty frequently. I never let the entire heaviness of it hit me. But last night was just too close. Way too close. At about 1am, a drunk driver flew over the curb with his car and landed inside the venue sideways. Moments later the entire street was blocked off, you couldn't count the number of police cars and ambulances, the fire truck, you name it... Blood, body bags, people screaming, crying... The venue was cleared out in a matter of minutes. Kathryn and I stayed a bit after, we sold merchandise last night, so we tore that down, packed up, counted the money and walked out a short while later. Left behind us was the band and the staff.

Nobody smiled. Kathryn and I tried to laugh about things that we'd normally laugh at, but it burned beneath the surface. Way too hard. We were both shaking, the entire way back. Drunk driving... a horribly poor judgement call. I really don't want to say anything more about last night. But I will say one more thing; it etched something I already know even deeper into my brain. About 10,000 times deeper than I had ever thought it could.

Please don't drive drunk. Not only for yourself, but for everyone else too. Because every person in this world means the world to someone else. They may have a 2-year-old child at home, they are somebody's child, somebody's best friend, somebody's everything. And we aren't the ones to take that away.

justincapable

2006-04-22T11:47:00.000-07:00

by Irena the Croatian

Current mood: bitchy Category: Blogging

Yes, it's a Katenacism. Theirs about 4 people in this world who will know what the words "just incapable" mean to Kathryn and I. And oh, they mean ever so much to me. Because every time I'm feeling down, I tend to think about the incapability of the just, and it makes me smile. Hell, it makes me laugh; always, a picker-upper.

I've been in a shitty mood since Sunday morning. Poor Kathryn's been trying to get me out of my funk since then, and she finally succeeded with that phrase... "just incapable". Surprised, that it took us this long to come up with it... :) But was it worth it or what? The mere discovery of it brightened up my entire day. Thank you, Pirate Black Booty, I heart ya!

Now... it's morning. And I'm feeling REALLY pissy. I'm craving chocolate like no other, I feel like chopping everyone's head off and I've just remembered the name for that too - PMS. I'd like to apologize in advance for anyone who happens to feel my wrath today. Or tomorrow, or for the next week - really. So sorry, it's a natural cycle. I'll try my hardest to contain it as best I can, but I am not in a position that would enable me to make any guarantees.

Have a good day; come to 3 Kings on Thursday

A public announcement (or two, or three) and just rambling

2006-04-16T17:51:00.000-07:00

by Irena the Croatian

It's April 16th! Last night at the Gothic was GREAT. Thank you SO MUCH to everyone that came out and had a blast with us. It was a happy show, it was a sad show. Those that were there know. Thank you for taking your time and your money to support some of the best local music in Denver. If you only knew how grateful all of those guys are, you'd never miss another show, and you'd make sure your friends and family didn't either.

It's Sunday. The Expendables are getting into town this week to play the 420 show with P-Nuckle. If you haven't heard of The Expendables yet, go back to my main page and listen to my profile song. Then click on view, add them, and if you're 21, make sure to come to that show. Don't forget, P-Nuckle will also be doing a live in-store performance at Headed West (Broadway & Evans) for their 420 party. Crazy sale specials, free food and drink, sweet sounds of the P-Nuckle... don't miss it. Oh yeah, it's free.

While on the whole 420 flow; I'm proud to say that I've kept my friends count at 420 for over a week now. And I'm even more proud to say that I physically know or MySpace.com know/message/network with about 99.9% of them. So thank you, MySpace.com friends, I love you :).

Dig the flyer for the 420 show; I'm still recuperating from spending the insane amount of hours on it that I did. It's my favorite P-Nuckle flyer yet, and thanks all of you for your nice words about it, I really appreciate it. It's kind of like payoff for staring at my computer for 9 hours and making it with this little teeny tiny button mouse on a Windows 2000 platform.

I've got crazy rambles about this weekend, about past week, about the past 6 months, and as in my previous blogs, I could go on forever. But I won't. I guess I'm kicking the whole 'forget about it' thing. And I like it that way. Just forget about it.

Everyone, have a great week, see you at a P-Nuckle show soon. And that's a threat.

Right!

2006-04-16T08:59:00.000-07:00

Editors note: Irena the Croatian is a guest blogger who musings can be found at Myspace.Com, and with her permission is reposted in One Paradise View…

By Irena the Croation

Wednesday, April 12, 2006

Right! Happy Wednesday! I'm sick as a dog, I can't stop coughing, I've got a raging headache, my body feels like I just went out on a date with the fifth battalion, every time I stand up vertigo kicks my ass, and I managed to break 104 degrees on the thermometer. I didn't go to work today; I stayed home with Elaina all day. Early evening, stalker visits. And what does he leave for me? A f*$%ing dead rat! Yeah. A dead rat; in a Safeway bag. With it's damn tail sticking out of the stupid bag. F&%@er, you have outdone yourself. At first I was laughing. I thought it was funny that he had the nerves to put this dead rat in a grocery bag, put it in his car (I presume he drove here), and leave it at my door. Then I got pissed off. Then I kind of got concerned. But it only lasted for a minute, and during that minute is when my whole night got fucked up.

I had the nerves to tell someone that I was concerned. And I 'misinterpreted' their response. But that person in particular... well... it's a complex situation. Let's just say that I care about that person a lot. And, every little thing that this person happens to do I dissect, study and ponder for hours on end. And tonight, it was the wrong response, and the wrong conversation following the response, and everything was just wrong. In the aftermath, I'm sitting here half asleep, withering somewhere between anger and sadness. I'm confused. I'd like to be angry, but it feels wrong. If it really was the truth, I am sorry. They could have found a better way to tell me so, though. I wonder if he ever even thinks about what it feels like on this end of the table. I know everything and then some about interpretation, perspective, self-control, blah blah blah. And I slipped. I surely did. Thank you, PMS. It must be PMS. Women ARE psychotic.

Happy Almost-Thursday.

Work Vent II

2006-04-16T08:03:00.000-07:00

By Irena the Croatian

Monday, April 10, 2006

So, it's important to me. I posted it as a bulletin, but in case you missed it... Here's what I've had to deal with today. WTF?!?!

OK, just a quick one!

Stupid T1 connection at work today SUCKS!

There's a tax auditor from the state that's cracking me up. He's wearing gym shoes, a pair of dress slacks (dark gray), a blue short-sleeved dress shirt, bowl cut galore, and he won't shut the f%@# up at all; I don't get it! Even if you aren't saying anything back, he keeps on talking and talking and talking. I could go on and repeat (or give an example) of what he says, but it would be much like my last work-related vent. And I don't want to put you guys through that, seriously…. Grrrr!!!

Reveling in the glories of early morning motherhood

2006-04-08T12:00:00.000-07:00

by Irena the Croatian

I came up with that statement a few months ago when a friend of mine called me and asked what I was doing. At the time, my toddler was running around the house naked, screaming, not wanting to get dressed, knocking everything over and throwing fit after fit after fit... I was flustered, frustrated, at the end of my nerves and ready to cry. So I took it out on him... he asked how I was, and I screamed it back at him. It stuck with me and it pops back into my head every so often.

Elaina is two, I've gotten used to this 'parenting' thing by now. This morning she ATE a cube of chicken bouillon. Yeah. She ate one. Not a whole one, obviously. I got to her in time, but she took off quite a bit of it. So she threw a fit when I took it away. I was in the kitchen attempting to make her something else to eat, I walked out in the living room and she had taken all her clothes off and was lying on the floor. I have hardwood floors. She was lying down naked. Disgusting, then she wanted to have a bath. So it's 10am, and I'm giving her a bath. She didn't want to get out until 11 am. By 10am I had already made 3 different things for breakfast. She didn't eat any of them and insisted on having her gummy fruit snacks the entire time. Now it's 12:30pm and I've cooked lunch twice.

The kitchen is a mess, and the living room looks like a tornado came through it. I still have about 3 loads of laundry to do, I need to go to work at some point, I have to re-design the Gothic Flyer for black/white printing, and I have to go stand outside of the Gothic tonight to promote. I turned in my notice at work on Monday so now I need another job. I need to move too, I need more space. I'm just gonna start screaming.

But the good news is Elaina is sitting about 7 feet away from me and eating the 3rd lunch. And her eyes are ever so blue, her hair ever so blonde, and she has the happiest, most content look on her face. And strangely enough, everything seems ok. :) She is the best thing that's ever happened to me, and I am so grateful to have her, because without her, my mornings are boring; and, everything has a different light to it. Absolutely everything does.

Naptime...

Happy Spring!

2006-04-03T08:44:00.000-07:00

by Irena the Croatian

Current mood: happy Category: Blogging

So, I kind of like this whole blogging thing. It's much more convenient then a diary and it's personal in a positive sort of way. I suppose instead of bitching and contemplating life out loud, maybe I'll just blog for once. So here's a blog.

Today is Sunday. Daylight Savings Time, people. I swear to God it's never affected me this much before, it's the oddest thing in the world. Kathryn, you know what I'm talking about. It's not like I'm really old anyway, I haven't lived to see too many of these. Good God, I'll be 24 soon.

Today I thought a lot about my daughter. Soon it will be the first anniversary of my divorce, and today I studied Elaina all day: how she has changed, how life affects her, whether she's truly happy or not. I really want to get her a puppy. I used to have a boxer/pit pup when I lived in Chicago. Her name was Lilo, my ex-boyfriend Mike and I got her from a friend who was moving to Hawaii. Lilo I miss Lilo so much. She was such an amazing puppy; I can't even begin to say. She had so much soul, she was so alive. She slept on my pillow with me every single night, her paws sticking straight into the air. She loved children, she loved other dogs. She loved everything. I remember how sad I was to leave her, it still burns to think about it, and it was well over 3 years ago. God, has it been 4 years now? I stopped counting. She cried with me the day I left, and it was one of the two worst feelings I've ever experienced in my entire life. I wonder how she is, I wonder if she remembers me.

In the few conversations I had with Mike, after the breakup, he would throw in my face the fact that she slept on my pillow every night, and looked for me all day long. Mike Olenski, you had officially had succeeded in making me feel like shit. Not like you needed to bring her into it to accomplish the task to begin with. Sorry for breaking up with you the way I did; apparently, I am not a relationship professional. Hope things are well for you.

Anyway, I've always liked pits. So I've decided to move out of Denver and adopt a pit pup for Elaina and myself. Mark, please don't have a heart attack. Now I'm contemplating what suburb to move to. I DEFINITELY will NOT live in Highlands Ranch. Never, not ever, ever, will I live in Highlands Ranch. Littleton is too far. I really like living in Central Denver, it's such a convenience. I really wanted to move to the Highlands, but that won't be happening because of the puppy. So, everyone - throw some ideas at me. Englewood? Thought about it, not sure yet. I suppose that's #1 on the list of the convenient suburbs, but I really don't like Englewood. Not sure why, it's just an overall vibe thing. I'd love to live in Boulder, but it's too far west. Thornton/Westminster - too far North? Not really, downtown is pretty close. I'll figure something out eventually—I think. I'm going to stay down here for another month.

I sold my car this week. My friend Marcus bought it - thanks Marcus! Now, I need my new car to get down here from Grand Junction. Going back to the roots, my oil-stained fingers are burning. I'm getting another 240SX! Good God, I've missed RWD and perfect weight distribution! But my seller is weird: I left him a voicemail to call me back with the VIN so I can run Carfax on it, and he hasn't called me back yet—weird. I'm still excited though, I can't wait! I'm especially excited for Laney and I to have it, she'll LOVE it!

What else I guess I'm enjoying peace these days. I had to change my phone number last week. (Tee hee, ninja). It's been nice and quiet. I added up the total number of people that know it: 11. Stalker still comes by and leaves things on my car, haha. Got some flowers this morning, thanks-psycho. I can't wait to move.

Other news, what other news is there? There's lots of news. I'm enjoying solitude, enjoying my daughter. I'm ready for spring, and even more so for summer. My Wiseman has officially pissed me off to no end. I think I'm finally getting over the whole thing. It's such a strange feeling. Anger can serve as great medicine. I saved conversations, bits and pieces of our conversations over the last months. I clutched onto them and hovered over them every time that I needed anger material. Well, so glad I kept them. Wiseman, I thank you, for everything. My train has now left your station. Physically—at least. Mentally, I'm sure I'm still madly in love with you. But I'm over it :). I send thee kisses on the forehead. Be good, dear.

I suppose that's about it for news. On agenda this week: finish up all the promo for the next three shows: exciting!!!! Also, month-end at work. Speaking of work, I've completely re-discovered the love for my job. I went in yesterday morning and just cleaned my entire desk. I'm so ready for tomorrow, ready to tackle the day. I love my job. I hate the company, but I love my job. And my three-year anniversary there is coming up. Ironic: April 20th. Even more ironic: they hair-tested for drugs. Thank God that, I'm a goody two-shoes when it comes down to that sort of thing. I did smoke pot about 3 months before I tested for that place.

Just one more VERY exciting thing on the agenda: beautiful weather! I took Laney out a lot this weekend, I can't wait to do it all day, every day! I talked to Mark last night about giving her a haircut and he's ok with it :). Yay! I can't wait to cut her hair. She has the most beautiful hair: long straw-blonde curls. Actually, it's identical to my hair as a child. But it needs some shaping up. She's two and has never had a haircut. So, I can't wait for that. :) She has been so cuddly lately, I love it. Night-time is the right time. Geoffrey, you said it well. Now she will not fall asleep unless we've cuddled for at least a half hour. It's that feeling of dependency that really satisfies me. There's nothing that I enjoy more then taking care of someone else.

I recognized that need when I was still in high school. Still to this day, I keep on falling for men that need ME, not men that I need. I think it's something that I learned from my mom: taking care of people. At the same time, I was completely conscious of my lack of need for "love", and I realized I never wanted to get married. I always just wanted a child, a daughter to enjoy life with. I guess my motherhood instinct kicked in really early: I remember being 15 and taking life in, puberty and all. I realized then that I wanted to produce life, I wanted someone to love unconditionally until the day I died. And a child would be it. Relationships come and go, but a parents’ love is forever….

I thought about that for a long time, day in and day out while sitting on the beach, looking at little children. Even at that age, the differences between the two genders are amazing: little girls have such grace at three years old. And boys are mischievous all the time :). It's cute. I would sit on the windy beach at Berwyn in Chicago, looking at them play, planning and imagining the sort of parent I would be. I wanted a little girl back then. I think its just a natural thing for girls to want daughters. Who knows, I am probably wrong. But I wanted one. I wanted a little girl with pride and grace, with long curls and eyes as wide as the sky. We would live in a little cottage with a big purple couch, tons of books, wooden floors, and lots of art supplies. I daydreamed about picking daisies and making hair-wreaths with them, painting and drawing, singing, playing guitar in the middle of the field close to home, sewing dresses, and skirts, playing dress-up with old clothes, and writing stories, songs, books, while weaving life through. And, I have it, I finally have it. Except we live in the heart of the city, but we have a big purple couch, wooden floors, and a cottage-like home. There's a crab apple tree in my front yard and we lay under it and look at the sun through the branches when the weather is nice.

Yesterday the first flowers bloomed outside my door. She was so joyful when she picked them, it put the biggest smile on my face. Today we finger-painted ourselves purple, almost head to toe. We went outside for a bit, but it was windy. Later we went for a drive and sang our hearts out in the car. She learned to sing "Mister Mister" to one of P-Nuckle's songs. We watched Blue Planet in French while we were at home, and made fishy faces every opportunity we got. Now it's late, and she's asleep. And I suppose I should get up and clean the place. But, I am enjoying this happiness right now. I'm happy to be alive, I'm happy to have my daughter and happy I have this life with her. And in a strange way, I'm happy to have nobody to taint it. I figured long ago that bringing a man into this situation, introducing her to someone else would be a bad idea. And I'm glad I stuck to it. The wise man was convenient :). I do wish you would have met her, I wish it sometimes. I guess it was just that I cared enough about you to want you to meet her. But now I'm glad you didn't.

Good night, world, time for me to tackle the kitchen.

Currently listening: Janis Joplin - Greatest HitsBy Janis JoplinRelease date: By 31 August, 1999

Miss Optimistic

2006-03-31T14:32:00.000-08:00

by Irena the Croatian
Guest Blogger

Today I'm wondering if things ever really take on their true form, or if it's just a guessing game. A forever-in a long guessing game. I'm getting so tired of trying to read in between lines day after day. It's my book, too. That's the sad part. Bad night, last night. Bad week last week. And the week before. And a horribly bad morning too.

For the first time in AGES I had bird poop on my windshield. It's really been forever, probably since high school. I figured something was going to go wrong today, I woke up to find poop on my car - come on! If anyone reading this has the slightest belief in God, you'll agree with me: you see poop in the morning, you know something's gonna go down. Of course, it didn't take long. And I'm still trying to figure out if that's the one thing I need to crush me down or not, trying to figure out exactly how to deal with it. The happy train is slipping.

It's one of those things that you see other people dealing with. You try to sympathize with them, and as sincere as you are, your words are just thrown in the wind. Because nothing you say matters. And there is no cheering them up. It's one of those things you really don't fully grasp until it happens to you. Because, you move on with life after that conversation; and, they don't.

I found out this morning that my uncle has cancer. My mom wouldn't tell me what kind, or what his treatments are, or anything - really. She was in a rush, and our conversation was left half finished. I think I will twiddle my thumbs all day, hope that it's something small, something silly - you know? But in the back of my mind, I keep on thinking of every person that I've ever heard say that about someone that they love. And I keep trying to think of what the outcome was. But he's a strong individual, and putting up a mental fight is half the battle (if not more), and this goes for any disease and really anything in life. I know he'll be okay; I have complete faith in that.

I AM Miss. Optimistic. And I like it that way, thank you Mr. Wise Man. And if I wasn't Miss Optimistic, well... you wouldn't know me as the person that you do know me as. None of you would.

Have a good day, America.

A Story that is Universal

2006-03-26T07:56:00.000-08:00

Of recent I have been engaging in the world of bloggers, they come in various attitudes, diaries, and commentators. From the average homemakers, to engineers, to programmers, political bloggers/activists, or salesman, and yes, even the “real world” news has breached the Internet community.

This community is vast and somewhat intimidating. Yet, I added my voice, almost a year ago, with my musings in political thoughts; and, a tools for research for those who wanted it. I have built this website little by little, learning the programming code of a website, all the while going to school, and working.

Last month I discovered an online site known as Blogexplosion.com, it is for those who wish to have their web-logs be heard in the tocsins of the Internet follies and aides in providing tools and access to multiple sites. It also has a chat room, where bloggers can exchange codes, tools, and even build friendships with people of common interests.
One of the most fascinating aspect of this chat room, and I would guess with any, since this is my first participating in one, is the binding ties that are built. One such way to do so is to tell a story together—and on this page—One Paradise View—you will witness this event as it transpires. Here are the rules of the game enjoy, I have added part three below….

The Dig - Interactive

This was an idea a blog buddy came up with & I thought it was a blast! I did my part now its up to everyone else to do theirs! Here is HIS original post:
3/20/2006

The Big, Bad Short Story Challenge - Part 2

The Big, Bad Short Story Challenge is back!I’ve posted a couple of paragraphs of a new short story that I have started, and ask that volunteers finish it. Here’s the way it works:

1) I post my couple of paragraphs.
2) Volunteer No. 1 puts the next couple of paragraphs on his blog, and leaves a link in the comments of this post.
3) After the link is posted in the comments, I will edit my blog and post it here.
4) Volunteer No. 2 follows the link to the next blog and picks up where Volunteer No. 1 left off.
5) This continues until the story is finished.

EDIT: I’ve tagged SamRyan at Just a Girl

While you’re there, be sure to check out her poetry and writing.

Cheers!

The Dig

Dusty Chambers looked up from his work just in time to witness the last sliver of the deep red sun disappearing into the horizon. As if on cue, the quartz halogen lights set up around the excavation site came to life, illuminating his find once more. The buzz that the lamps emitted bothered him no more than the cold that swept in to replace the sun’s fading warmth. Dusty had been digging all day, patiently scouring away striated layers of packed dirt. He had worked through lunch, such was his concentration on the task.
Over the course of the past few weeks, Dusty and his crew of archaeologists had meticulously uncovered what they had thought would be a Native American village, but instead had been rewarded with something completely different. The entire top floor of a steel building now lay exposed to the elements. Dusty had earlier walked the perimeter of the structure, expecting to find a broken window through which he could enter, but found none. Intrigued, he researched the coordinates of his find, hoping to discover the nature of what had once been located here. Finding no information on the building, he continued the dig, wondering what circumstances would bury a building without raising reports of its disappearance.
posted by Dale N. Allen | 12:58 PM

2 Comments:
AnthonyLemons said…

Great writing, keep it up.
8:23 AM

Jean -AKA- SamRyan said…

There was a definitive aura about the top of the structure, something almost seemed to be drawing him in. As if some force just under the surface were calling to him, beckoning him to its hidden secrets. he felt that once under its skin he would find answers to questions he hadn’t yet pondered. There was definately something compelling about this discovery aside even from its odd location & mysterious circumstances. What was this place? How did it get here? It seemed almost otherworldly and he wasn’t even sure what that really meant. All Dusty knew was that he was must uncover its tale and he must be the first to enter this thing which had no business being here in the first place.Lost in his own musings, he thought he heard tiny clicking sounds emanating from a hollow sounding place just along the western edge of the semi-buried structure. It sounded so faint as to almost be missed but he was certain that something or someone had made those sounds from within. He started towards the sound just as it seemed to stop. He yelled for the other workers to cease all activity and then he stood as a statue and strained to hear any trace,……..

10:44 AM
And so now,…I leave it to you! I will update this page as each new entry appears,…Lets make a book people! C’mon,….Whatcha waitin’ for? Just see Dale -AKA- Biognome over at: Galaxies, Universes, and Things That Spin Leave your bit & I will also publish it here on permanent display with your link for all the world to see! Here is the direct link for the post at his place: (just leave your piece there, as the bits come in, I’ll add them here!) (image placeholder)

The Big, Bad Short Story Challenge - Part 2

Entry Part 3 by Greg Stewart

Dusty waited for the others to silence the noise of the dig. Standing tall, his strong features shone the years of wear and tear, graying around the temples, and he had a goatee chalked with white, with dark ebony eyes protruding from the inset of the skull of his face, he squinted in the glaring light of the day.

He looked down at his feet at the equipment that he had brought with him earlier, the canvas green bag, had been with him through his many travels. Now he knelt down, while straining to hear the rhythmic clicking coming from within the building.

He pulled out his Geiger counter, a spectrometer, and he sat them down on the bluish-green sand next to his feet, and finally found what he was feeling for, the portable sonar device. It fit smoothly into his palm, allowing him to cup it, and he flipped the jointed cover open with the other as he began to punch the buttons on his miniaturized device.

He thought quietly to himself; yes, it had been nearly three hundred years since the invention of sonar—and the equipment once filled entire rooms. Now, in the twenty third century, finally being able to stand at this place, looking into what seemed to be familiar sky, Dusty had wondered what had went wrong.

The birth place of humanity had been traced back to this very spot, and although, there had never been a report of this site, in any historical records; this type of development was becoming a regular event.

For after the migration to the stars, humanity was now……

Posted in Imported |
Commentators: none yet

2006-03-04T13:41:00.000-08:00

I Hate My F….. Job! (Or the Inanity of the Clueless!)
By Irena the Croatian

I hate my job. Jimmy Craco, I know you're reading this, hope you get a goddamn kick out of it. I do, I really hate my job. Just like the rest of you. I hate the borderline white trash or recovering white trash general suburban population that I just so happen to work with. My boss excluded, the rest of this place is absolutely ridiculous. And it's finally getting to me: The same hairstyle for the last 20 years, the same television show on the same day of every week, family-sized frozen dinners, being hurt because her husband took the “goddamn remote,” while she was watching the country music awards, and then crying about it….

Here is a witness account of what is called normalcy in America….and the closed-mindedness, here is example of one such idiocy, "OH MY GOD you have a tattoo on your arm??!!?! Do you KNOW that that will still BE THERE when you are 80?!?! OH MY GOD! Did you hear about John's girlfriend's sister's boyfriend's neighbor's dog that ate a sock?? HOW FUNNY IS THAT?! OH MY GOD! I JUST PEED MY PANTS! I gotta go to Costco today, I gotta refill my prescriptions for my asthma, acid reflux, depression, anxiety, migraines, allergies, oh my antibiotics for my life-long urinary tract infection too, God, I know I'm forgetting something... oh yeah! I need more hamburger helper too.”

It is as if she is streaming inanity, she continues her clueless drivel, “Isn't that puppy cute? Did you see that puppy? OH, that was the cutest puppy. Did you hear what I said to so-and-so? Did I do good? You know... I really don't want him to get mad at me, I just want to get my point across, and I'm afraid he'll get mad at me, but they never ever listen, did I say it good? Did I? Did I? Did I? Ohh! This one time in college me and my roommate got really really drunk and we both fell down! OH MY GOD! IT was CRAZY! (Shh... I think people saw us, tee-hee!!!). JEFF! YOU NEED TO BRUSH YOUR TEETH! Foley's is having a big sale. I have to hurry or I'll get stuck in traffic and GOD FORBID that I'm 2 minutes late….”

This is what America sounds like, the babbling continues, “OK see you guys later! Do you like these glasses on me? Hey did you watch the Bronco's game last night? When that guy made that pass I was like OH MY GOD! And they cut him? Can you believe that? Oh I really gotta hurry I'm gonna catch lunch traffic. At least Foley's is right by Costco; I can get my prescriptions filled while I run to Foleys. I'll see you guys later! OH I almost forgot to tell you! I hit this lady yesterday when I was picking up the kids from daycare. I was backing up and I couldn't see her, you know how my Yukon XL sits kind of high? Yeah I guess I hit her car pretty well and I barely even noticed it, OH my god I felt so bad. Did you watch Bush's speech last night? God, the oil prices are crazy. I hope he can take care of this, I'd hate to be the president... I don't think I could handle it. OK I really have to go now, ok I'll see you guys later."

I need a cigarette. I F…. hate these people.

Vent over.

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