tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18123248179567625932010-04-29T21:54:16.347-07:00Me Being MeThis is what makes it through my filter.Nosam Sivadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17070335901563180090noreply@blogger.comBlogger52125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1812324817956762593.post-53567175603294666302010-04-14T14:34:00.000-07:002010-04-21T12:44:35.917-07:002010-04-21T12:44:35.917-07:00Just say No to SocialismI found this online and had to post it. It's been said before in differnt ways, but I liked how it was put here. Also, I'm not big on the healthcare bill that was passed, but it's like anything (some good / some bad). I really hate lobbing up mandatory INSURANCE for the bastards who are source of this problem. Note: if we all had health COVERAGE (a la Universal Healthcare) we wouldnt need INSURANCE; that for-profit bureaucracy always getting in the way. Okay, enough from me, here's the excerpt:<br />
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<blockquote>This morning I was awoken by my alarm clock powered by electricity generated by the public power monopoly regulated by the United States Department of Energy. I then took a shower in the clean water provided by the municipal water utility. After that, I turned on the TV to one of the Federal Communications Commission regulated channels to see what the National Weather Service of the National Oceanographic and Atmospheric Administration determined the weather was going to be like using satellites designed, built, and launched by the National Aeronautics and Space Administration. I watched this while eating my breakfast of United States Department of Agriculture inspected food and taking the drugs which have been determined as safe by the Food and Drug Administration.<br />
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At the appropriate time as regulated by the United States congress and kept accurate by the National Institute of Standards and Technology and the United States Naval Observatory, I get into my National Highway Traffic Safety Administration approved automobile and set out to work on the roads built by the local, state, and federal Departments of Transportation, possibly stopping to purchase additional fuel of a quality level determined by the Environmental Protection Agency, using legal tender issued by the Federal Reserve Bank. On the way out the door I deposit any mail I have to be sent out via the United States Postal Service and drop the kids off at the public school.<br />
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After work, I drive my NHTSA car back home on DOT roads, to my house which has not burned down in my absence because of the state and local building codes and fire marshal's inspection, and which has not been plundered of all its valuables thanks to the local police department.<br />
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I then log onto the internet which was developed by the defense advanced research projects administration and post on freerepublic.com and fox news forums about how <b>socialsism</b> in medicine is <b>bad</b> because the government can't do anything right.<br />
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Furthermore, if the Politicians would just discuss what the real issue is here (hint: Human Rights), there'd be no debate.<br />
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Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness are supposed to be among our inalienable rights, instead they're just another example of our hypocrisy.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1812324817956762593-5356717560329466630?l=mebeingmased.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Nosam Sivadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17070335901563180090noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1812324817956762593.post-75700800596100289912010-04-06T10:36:00.000-07:002010-04-21T12:46:34.446-07:002010-04-21T12:46:34.446-07:00Collateral MurderI say this as someone who was more than angry after September 11th, as someone who voted for George W. Bush (now, regrettably) in 2004, as someone who thoroughly excused The War in Iraq and virtually anything America did to "defend" herself; but this is bullshit - period - and the same mentality a lot cops have.<br />
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<object height="385" width="480"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/5rXPrfnU3G0&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/5rXPrfnU3G0&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1812324817956762593-7570080059610028991?l=mebeingmased.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Nosam Sivadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17070335901563180090noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1812324817956762593.post-57173300691481088852010-03-29T18:06:00.000-07:002010-04-12T10:13:18.105-07:002010-04-12T10:13:18.105-07:00Fight Dog Fighting Dot ComFightDogFighting.com is a medium to raise awareness and stop unnecessary <i>Dog</i> Violence. <br />
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The Goal: to take the "fight" in "dogfighting" to <i>Dog</i>; WHERE IT BELONGS! The days of <i>Dog</i> bullying <i>Dog</i>, without fear of repercussion, are a thing of the past...<br />
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Our Motto: ZERO Tolerance and LESS Compassion<br />
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We'll beat the shit out of <i>Aggressor Dog</i> AND <i>Inferior Dog</i>, LETTING EVERY<i> DOG</i> KNOW, that if they dont change their dog-ways, they'll be "dogged" next.<br />
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Think tough love, but minus the love.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DYVdjkGMwP4/S7JHaIOGQFI/AAAAAAAAAHo/8BjQ-Y7uQCc/s1600/self-boxing-dog-boxing-260.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DYVdjkGMwP4/S7JHaIOGQFI/AAAAAAAAAHo/8BjQ-Y7uQCc/s320/self-boxing-dog-boxing-260.jpg" width="209" /></a></div><span style="font-size: small;">Ahh...Nice try <i>Deceiving Dog</i>! But I know "Dogfighting" isnt the innocent sparring down at the health-club like you'd have us believe. You're ruthless, you know that <i>Dog</i>? What'd you say? Oh, just another retarded bark, that's what I thought. </span><br />
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Here's some other things to think about:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.thingamababy.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/12/kelli.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://www.thingamababy.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/12/kelli.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Awe, cute! If you ignore the dick germs and cat-shit on his breath, that is. Really, <i>Dog? </i>To a baby? That's messed up.</div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_gprcqERH1K8/Sf4tM9DVtfI/AAAAAAAACeE/ll1PMr1j1es/s1600/poodle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_gprcqERH1K8/Sf4tM9DVtfI/AAAAAAAACeE/ll1PMr1j1es/s320/poodle.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> *sigh* No Comment </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://nursewriter.com/uploaded_images/butt-lick-725980.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://nursewriter.com/uploaded_images/butt-lick-725980.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Nice Kangaroo impression <i>Arrogant Dog</i>, but I'm not impressed.<i> </i>And by that unflinching whiff (of your own ass, sicko), I surmise your shit doesnt stink either. Great. All this while enjoying a snow-day, b/c guess what? <i>Dog</i> doesn't fucking work when it's snows, or doesnt snow, making everyday just another "dog day" in his vacation of a life. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.bradruggles.com/images/skitched-20100104-092012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="312" src="http://www.bradruggles.com/images/skitched-20100104-092012.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Oh perfect, her nose and eye in one full swoop. Talk about a prick. Oh and let me guess, the centuries of Puppy Propaganda have her "enjoying" this! And why shouldn't she? I dunno,b/c <i>Dog</i> loves to eat cat-shit and lick his own dick. But hey, to each their own I suppose...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.lifeinthefastlane.ca/wp-content/uploads/2008/01/body_armor_dog_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="226" src="http://www.lifeinthefastlane.ca/wp-content/uploads/2008/01/body_armor_dog_1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Oh sweet, somebody's ready for us huh? Well, you might look pretty fearsome <i>Medieval Feudalistic Dog</i>, but we will fight you Sir!! And newsflash dumbshit, your fancy armored suit was rendered useless, I dunno, like 400 hundred years ago. (Hint: Gunpowder.) You might trick some people <i>Sir Dog</i>, but not me...<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YJAHsfX-CcU/SFwVcjm4m7I/AAAAAAAAASI/jE5J3WtS0bk/s1600/sniffing-dog-butt-779919.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YJAHsfX-CcU/SFwVcjm4m7I/AAAAAAAAASI/jE5J3WtS0bk/s200/sniffing-dog-butt-779919.jpg" width="200" /></a> And am I the only one sick of <i>Dog</i> masquerading behind euphemisms like, "Man's Best-friend"? Puhhleasse! Nobody wants some <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YJAHsfX-CcU/SFwVcjm4m7I/AAAAAAAAASI/jE5J3WtS0bk/s400/sniffing-dog-butt-779919.jpg">shit-hole sniffing</a>, self-righteous prick, whose best trait is their ability to lick their own genitalia; as their BFF. (<a href="http://community.brandrepublic.com/blogs/campbelllacebetablog/dog%20licking%20balls._000003108289XSmall.jpg">Go ahead <i>Dog</i>, pleasure yourself while you think no one sees you, real fucking cool <i>Dog</i>.</a>)<br />
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Okay that's enough for now, from me at least. But I'd love for you to share your own stories (err..nightmares) about Dog exploiting his (what should be nonexistent) role in society.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1812324817956762593-5717330069148108885?l=mebeingmased.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Nosam Sivadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17070335901563180090noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1812324817956762593.post-15340949636114096632010-03-18T07:40:00.000-07:002010-04-21T13:57:49.217-07:002010-04-21T13:57:49.217-07:00I wouldnt put that in there if I were you....I'm all but 100% positive this is only funny b/c I'm still drunk from last night's St. Patty's day celebration....or maybe I'm just a sick sonuvabitch, who cares. But I love that I found multiple articles about this poor Bloke (not the guy in the image) who got his <a href="http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/newstopics/howaboutthat/6946257/Mans-penis-removed-from-pipe.html">willy stuck in a steel pipe</a> while I was prospecting this morning.<br />
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Who knew a "steel pipe" search would yield such ridiculous results?? I'd ask with the same sincerity, what in the world this Limey was doing, but we all know they're a bunch of sick, sex deprived, perverts stuck on an island, at this point, don't we? So thank you Universe for the much needed comic relief, and google for linking the article. You've made my day, now back to struggling through this formidable hangover, arggh.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DYVdjkGMwP4/S89mOUG5CSI/AAAAAAAAAH8/p_VMT3DmSr0/s1600/WTF.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DYVdjkGMwP4/S89mOUG5CSI/AAAAAAAAAH8/p_VMT3DmSr0/s320/WTF.jpg" /></a></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1812324817956762593-1534094963611409663?l=mebeingmased.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Nosam Sivadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17070335901563180090noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1812324817956762593.post-54905317995273158682010-03-16T10:02:00.000-07:002010-04-12T13:04:38.975-07:002010-04-12T13:04:38.975-07:00vacuous<a href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3138/2294884777_6d74f6aa49.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3138/2294884777_6d74f6aa49.jpg" width="213" /></a> I wrote this Sunday evening after one of my guitar strings broke. I was already slightly frustrated with some other things, amidst reading some pretty heavy material, and I just wasnt feeling the "bright" sound of new guitar strings. Furthermore, I havent had a cigarette since 2002, but the idea of a disgusting cig embodied my mood. <br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: line-through;"> </span><br />
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I want my strings old and worn out. I want them to ring dull and deep and dark; like the blunt touch to a weeks old bruise.<br />
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I want the harsh critique of an old has-been who was more than slightly used; with bitter sentiments about the way the world works.<br />
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I want rustic stained callused fingers to feed my crooked teeth. I want to play pick-less arpeggios with a cigarette between my lips and a piece of scrap paper nearby. I want yesterdays coffee, room temperature, and bitter to compliment the stale smoke that dances on my tongue.<br />
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I want a reason to scream in an octave you cant hear and play it off like a whisper, with a smirk reminiscent of every devious thing I've ever done.<br />
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I want to let my mind race like a maniac while occupying the like with straight talk about the forecast. I want to intentionally go the wrong way before being admittedly unsure and unaware; then play dumb and offer an apology so contrived it's insulting. I want total, 100%, complete, thorough destruction. Chaos. I want every single thing systematically destroyed, poof, completely to the ground, but done silently and with zero plans of reconstructing.<br />
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I want to waive my fist and march around like a freak and not give two shits.<br />
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I want you to win; to be beaten fairly and be genuinely indifferent about it.<br />
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I want to get in a philosophical debate about how 2+2 can equal 5; before we both agree we've been fed so much bullshit it's beyond our breath but ingrained in the very syllables we emphasize.<br />
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I want you to see it my way before I retreat from my ideologies. I want to disregard what I cant have once I get it and then complain about losing it.<br />
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.............<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1812324817956762593-5490531799527315868?l=mebeingmased.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Nosam Sivadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17070335901563180090noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1812324817956762593.post-73633441499418579022010-02-22T12:31:00.000-08:002010-04-12T13:05:18.469-07:002010-04-12T13:05:18.469-07:00Thoughts become things....<div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DYVdjkGMwP4/S4LrO8g_nbI/AAAAAAAAAHI/Na9PJ0MlmNQ/s1600-h/TheBluffs1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="39" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DYVdjkGMwP4/S4LrO8g_nbI/AAAAAAAAAHI/Na9PJ0MlmNQ/s200/TheBluffs1.jpg" width="200" /></a>I often take you with me in my day dreams</div><div>With a slight shift in resonance we're a world away</div><div>Living off pristine vistas and the new</div><div>We're sharing cups of warm laughs in a quaint cafe</div><div></div><div></div><div><br />
<a href="http://www.lilitcafe.com/Cafe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://www.lilitcafe.com/Cafe.jpg" width="150" /></a><a href="http://wikieducator.org/images/8/8e/101443399_d3db6c6f3c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://wikieducator.org/images/8/8e/101443399_d3db6c6f3c.jpg" width="200" /></a><br />
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Passport stamps are played out</div><div>Visas fatigued</div><div>And it just so happens we've topped the Seven Summits in under seven minutes</div><div>And sailed the 7 seas all Seven days of the week</div><div><br />
</div><div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DYVdjkGMwP4/S4MMp3h0bZI/AAAAAAAAAHg/vB9MkETeulA/s1600-h/sunset-sailing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DYVdjkGMwP4/S4MMp3h0bZI/AAAAAAAAAHg/vB9MkETeulA/s320/sunset-sailing.jpg" /></a></div><div>Yes, just a dream, my inner critic chimes</div><div>But my reality transcends manifestation a la grapes to wine</div><div><br />
</div><div>So I dream a dreamer's dream</div><div>I hang my coat on ideals</div><div>My thoughts on your smile</div><div>in this fantasy with wheels</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DYVdjkGMwP4/S4MKvbH7S_I/AAAAAAAAAHY/Dn20dNVkwtQ/s1600-h/Smile2-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DYVdjkGMwP4/S4MKvbH7S_I/AAAAAAAAAHY/Dn20dNVkwtQ/s320/Smile2-1.jpg" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DYVdjkGMwP4/S4MKWho1rII/AAAAAAAAAHQ/qzh1w-wiyMs/s1600-h/Smile2-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DYVdjkGMwP4/S4MKWho1rII/AAAAAAAAAHQ/qzh1w-wiyMs/s320/Smile2-1.jpg" /></a></div></div><div>It's errant and without aim</div><div>a swift rush between a pause</div><div>But yet just a dream....well...just because....</div><div><br />
</div><div>Sometimes I wonder what you think</div><div>Where you place your yesterday</div><div>Do you blink in the moment; in your dream of today?</div><div><br />
</div><div>Oh my, my musing mind</div><div>always losing it's place</div><div>But you the constant in my dream to escape....</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1812324817956762593-7363344149941857902?l=mebeingmased.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Nosam Sivadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17070335901563180090noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1812324817956762593.post-80784989665686802972010-02-18T11:20:00.000-08:002010-04-12T13:06:25.853-07:002010-04-12T13:06:25.853-07:00See you in Hell Frashour...<div style="text-align: center;">Please work the equation from the other direction, I beg you.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Please see a life cease's to exist. A man is dead, shot in the back, and it did not have to be so. This fact needs to supersede any tolerance for procedural mishaps.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Look no further than your own hypocrisy for the root of this tragedy. You cant dismiss the "absurdity" of racist notions while you employ them in the same breath. Now it's my turn to roll my eyes; talk about absurdity, please...</div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;">That you expect me to tolerate such things is in its own right sickening, maybe you should reexamine who's the bad apple.</div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;">(..............)</div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;">For one instance pretend it was me? And if in that instance you can look me in the face and say your blood would not boil with the rage of murder then I'll walk away. I will walk and I will never say another thing.</div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;">I will too, however, be sick to my stomach. I'll most likely have my hands full of respect that used to beam for you; a lifetime's worth...</div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;">No one ever said their job was easy, but that's what they signed up for. That's why they're in the line of fire... </div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;">...And like the men who have sworn to protect us from fire, they too have a duty. Would we shrug indifferent if they employed the same seemingly "reasonable" fears? Last time I checked burning buildings kill people. What if they refused to rescue people because "they feared for their life"? This might seem ridiculous and provocative but it equates the same...doesnt it?</div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;">Love or hate the Reverend, it's not about him or his ego; it's about an unarmed man following police orders getting shot in the back with an assault rifle.</div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;">To even be complacent is wretched (remember the poem; "<a href="http://www.serendipity.li/cda/niemoll.html">First they came</a>"?) but to defend these actions is insane. So yes, dismiss me and I'll go off and wave my pitchfork, thank you...and NO, I'm not angry: I'm FUCKING FURIOUS!!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="http://www.oregonlive.com/news/index.ssf/2010/02/grand_jury_letter_says_portlan.html"><br />
</a></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1812324817956762593-8078498966568680297?l=mebeingmased.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Nosam Sivadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17070335901563180090noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1812324817956762593.post-80860841284931172342010-01-17T13:39:00.000-08:002010-04-12T13:07:06.184-07:002010-04-12T13:07:06.184-07:00StillWhile you exercise your routine trepidation, I wonder aloud if it's in an attempt to show the universe, yourself, or your friends that you're trying? <br />
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While the mirror stares back and you groom yourself in agreeance, I wonder what pageant this is for. <br />
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While life chases, and you run, I wonder if you will ever trip and refrain from grasping at conveniences.<br />
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While angst consumes, and you clench, I wonder if you realize you just lost a passing moment.<br />
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While you turn up the volume to deafening levels, and recite the lyrics of inaudible distractions, I wonder if you ever truly listen to the beauty of existence; to silence.<br />
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While I watch you hide yourself from yourself, I wonder with concern if you'll hide it too well, as so it will never be found. I hope you will be revealed; and if so, when, and by whom?<br />
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While I sit back, knowing it's now your time, I pray the fiery intensity of your being will marry an equally vibrant curiosity; one that seeps from your pores.<br />
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When I see all the fortunes this life has found you in I wonder if you will ever truly realize your own fortune; if life, without tragedy, will humble you to the point of apologies. I hope you get to see the softer side of grace dance beside you like the Aurora.<br />
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I see you have so much strength, followers feed from it, but yet a crutch is still firmly placed under your arm while you ceremoniously skip to avoid limping.<br />
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I wonder if the centrifugal force generated by you affords you the feeling of being grounded, or you too are uncertain.<br />
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I wonder if the ramifications of this life will ever resonate with you in an alarming fashion. If you will ever wake up, see the sun rise before deciding to take over the world.<br />
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I dream that you will learn to build smiles from your deepest moments; that one morning your eyes open a little wider and you learn something from yourself before teaching it to all of us.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1812324817956762593-8086084128493117234?l=mebeingmased.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Nosam Sivadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17070335901563180090noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1812324817956762593.post-32719560476069235742010-01-15T19:31:00.000-08:002010-04-14T14:17:53.085-07:002010-04-14T14:17:53.085-07:00Tomorrow Becomes Today (version 2)<div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"><object height="350" width="425"><param value='http://youtube.com/v/6enxWJTpbm0' name='movie'/><embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/6enxWJTpbm0'/></object><br />
<br />
<div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"><object height="350" width="425"><param value='http://youtube.com/v/D8rp9Qs0cMo' name='movie'/><embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/D8rp9Qs0cMo'/></object><br />
After a late night talk with a friend on Friday and my s<br />
<br />
I wrote this song last Saturday after staying up way too late talking about Life, to put it shortly, the night before.<br />
<br />
<br />
Intro<br />
I could rap over an acoustic guitar<br />
play the background of a backtown bar<br />
But ya know that aint get us very far<br />
Lets make real changes, not wishes on a star<br />
<br />
Verse<br />
Lets talk about clean drinking water<br />
for the impoverished children starving<br />
And certain things might be harder<br />
making less go farther / we could all get smarter<br />
After all / the planets getting hotter / we're deploying soldiers,<br />
that's just for starters,<br />
Lets take a hard look at all the hard things<br />
Violence, hand guns, your blood diamond ring<br />
What with all the exploitation<br />
Raping other nations with no explanation<br />
Just like a slave on the plantation<br />
soveriengty is now a corporation<br />
And I know I'm just one Mason<br />
writing silly poems 'bout the problems we facing<br />
But I see us all as one creation<br />
I fell in love with love and it's since been amazing<br />
<br />
Chorus<br />
Change Happens in the Funniest Ways<br />
We all speak up tomorrow becomes today <br />
<br />
Bridge<br />
Have we, all but forgotten<br />
The homeless, Jobless, Hopeless downtrodden<br />
<br />
Verse<br />
Lets form a whole new committee<br />
Each practice what we preach, its not enough just to pity<br />
It dont matter if you farm or you're city<br />
We're all earthlings and it aint all pretty<br />
Lets take a little gander at hunger<br />
bombs over foods and elected war mongers<br />
I keep saying it's fear we need to conquer<br />
knowledge is power lets get a little smarter<br />
All of us could use a little less<br />
conserve a little more and make a bigger difference<br />
Juxtapose useless expense<br />
With starved and deprived, it makes no sense<br />
Loads of us, living lost in excess,<br />
w/ Visa Mastercard American Express<br />
might seem daunting, but no need to stress<br />
own the moment, it's not hopeless<br />
<br />
Chorus<br />
Change happens in the funniest ways<br />
When we all speak up tomorrow becomes today<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>Undecided alternate verse</b><br />
Have we, all but forgotten<br />
The homeless, Jobless, Hopeless downtrodden<br />
At times, you might think it's rotten<br />
But someone's best day'd be your rock bottom<br />
I know, it happens all too often<br />
The best of ideals, get stomped & softened<br />
Stay strong, you belong in your convictions<br />
The world keeps spinning, we're all here to witness<br />
But make you're not in your own way<br />
As for making change, no day like today<br />
</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1812324817956762593-3271956047606923574?l=mebeingmased.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Nosam Sivadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17070335901563180090noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1812324817956762593.post-60910179527569845812010-01-11T11:12:00.000-08:002010-01-12T10:44:58.498-08:002010-01-12T10:44:58.498-08:00He aint no Joe, He's Mike The Plumber!!!And to clarify, I'm talking 'bout my <b>big brother Michael</b> aka Mike, Big Mike, The Bigger Mike, Grace's Dad or my all time favorite moniker; <b>Wabado</b>. We could also refer to him as "<span style="color: red;">Big Red</span>" if we wanted to go by the spray paint graffiti that adorned our garage way back in '95. <br />
<br />
Continuing on, this blog is of the promotional variety, specifically in the way of plumbing. It's a <span style="color: blue;">Plumbing Promo Blog</span>, if you will. <br />
<br />
My aforementioned brother is starting a plumbing business, so you should call him if you have any plumbing needs (503) 936-5618, or <a href="mailto:davmr220@yahoo.com">email</a> him or use the <a href="http://www.facebook.com/#/profile.php?v=wall&ref=ts&id=100000631812919">facebook</a> account he just started. Now, you might be thinking, "wait, doesn't his Dad have a plumbing business?" If so, you're correct, my Dad does indeed, so Wabado's initiative will make me the only male in my family without one. Yeah, talk about being left out. In television terms my character would be cast somewhere in-between George Costanza and Paul Pfeifer from Wonder Years, inadequate and picked last for the basketball game, but I digress. You might also be saying, "Good for him, but, I already know a plumber...and he's done great work for us," and I respect that. Honestly, I do. The only problem is, does your local plumber or handy-man-guy have a daughter this cute? <br />
<insert familiar="" handy-man="" here=""></insert><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DYVdjkGMwP4/S0td2SQ3GWI/AAAAAAAAAGA/Ojiu_YA-eds/s1600-h/Grace.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DYVdjkGMwP4/S0td2SQ3GWI/AAAAAAAAAGA/Ojiu_YA-eds/s400/Grace.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><br />
That loves (and NEEDS) accessories this much? <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DYVdjkGMwP4/S0tiVEautUI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/NO0l7_xrOCk/s1600-h/Grace+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DYVdjkGMwP4/S0tiVEautUI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/NO0l7_xrOCk/s400/Grace+2.jpg" /></a><br />
</div>And laughing this much?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DYVdjkGMwP4/S0tiZE73xuI/AAAAAAAAAGY/fWKO8ADmxSU/s1600-h/Grace+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DYVdjkGMwP4/S0tiZE73xuI/AAAAAAAAAGY/fWKO8ADmxSU/s400/Grace+3.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><br />
While still being this pleasant?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DYVdjkGMwP4/S0thSrStk0I/AAAAAAAAAGI/HceCvplH-OE/s1600-h/Grace+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DYVdjkGMwP4/S0thSrStk0I/AAAAAAAAAGI/HceCvplH-OE/s400/Grace+1.jpg" /></a><br />
</div>Dont answer yet, take on more look below. See, she's an Angel!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DYVdjkGMwP4/S0tyWA2mcDI/AAAAAAAAAGo/CYl4Tz7LlZo/s1600-h/Grace+7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DYVdjkGMwP4/S0tyWA2mcDI/AAAAAAAAAGo/CYl4Tz7LlZo/s400/Grace+7.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><br />
If for no other reason, give Wabado your plumbing business so Grace can sleep this soundly for the many happy years to come. <br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DYVdjkGMwP4/S0tiiqkbzLI/AAAAAAAAAGg/7zDXSnzfjms/s1600-h/Grace+5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DYVdjkGMwP4/S0tiiqkbzLI/AAAAAAAAAGg/7zDXSnzfjms/s400/Grace+5.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><br />
(Also, if you're thinking it's unethical for me to promote my brother's business prospects on the cuteness of his daughter, then I apologize. I am always going to be pushing the likes of Grace, aka the World's Cutest Niece, and helping out my brother who, over the years, has done his best to keep me outta trouble (dont make a joke out of that), goes without saying. Ah ha, so now you see it's actually quite symbiotic, huh? Glad we're on the same page.)<br />
<br />
<br />
So even if you have some less than urgent plumbing issue, you should take care of it now (before it gets worse) and help stimulate the economy in the process; or at the very least my niece's college fund. Further, this isnt just about YOU and YOUR plumbing needs, (quit being so vain!) My brother will gladly do GREAT work for your friends, family members, neighbors or colleagues. So again, call him [503-936-5618], <a href="mailto:davmr220@yahoo.com">email</a> him, <a href="http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#/profile.php?id=100000631812919&ref=ts">facebook</a> him, or even go through me and I'll play a cross between formal secretary and ghetto-adolescent-drug-runner-in-da-hood, if you catch my drift. Anything to ensure the world is a better place! Lets face it, when we talk about 3rd world countries in need, "running water" is one of the first things mentioned. So do your part and support plumbers here, specifically my Brother!!!<br />
<br />
All of my lame jokes aside, I'm very proud of my big brother and love him very much. He's setting out to pave his own path, in tough economic times no less, and I wish him all the best. I speak on behalf of him, Maureen (his beautiful loving wife), Grace (no further intro necessary), and their dog Bruce when I say all of your support is appreciated!<br />
<br />
Happy New Year!!!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1812324817956762593-6091017952756984581?l=mebeingmased.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Nosam Sivadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17070335901563180090noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1812324817956762593.post-18186836183844735282010-01-04T23:07:00.000-08:002010-01-14T12:48:20.684-08:002010-01-14T12:48:20.684-08:00It was good times oh nine...I'm still exhausted from this last weekend, wow, what a riot. It's not typical of me to get too worn out. I think my exhaustion is justified though and anyone in my position - except a "tweeker" on a meth bender - would feel similar. Let's suffice to say I'm feeling it after 2000 miles in a car, an Epic NYE's bash, The Rose Bowl, "Is this Love" a capella style through downtown LA (and on the subway), general shenanigans, enough one-liners to make an English major blush and day drinking on "the prom" in Santa Monica, then driving home on a few hrs of sleep. I love pushing it to the edge though, it can serve as a reminder to what we're capable of.<br />
<br />
Here's a rough attempt at a recap of our adventure.<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DYVdjkGMwP4/S0Ykizc_WyI/AAAAAAAAAF4/pIt1nRhm_6o/s1600-h/Sparklers21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DYVdjkGMwP4/S0Ykizc_WyI/AAAAAAAAAF4/pIt1nRhm_6o/s200/Sparklers21.jpg" /></a>Brian pulled into my driveway at 5:15am, and I did what anyone with the foresight of the magic to come would do, I lit sparklers and danced like a pansy in the driveway. I think Brian was laughing too hard to work the camera on his blackberry or we'd have a pic. If you're reading this though, you probably know me well enough to create a decent visual upstairs, so that and the crappy stock photo to your right'll have to do. I was fired up and ready to go after getting the car all packed.<br />
<br />
It's 5:30am, Wednesday, December 29th, 2009, when Brian and I set out for sunshine, leaving behind one overly soggy, nasty, depressing Portland, Oregon. I love Portland but my fine city was hit with a surprise snow disaster Tuesday afternoon. Luckily it wasnt a burden on our travel ambitions, but at this moment Portland was the equivalent of the semi-decent girl you convinced yourself to go to bed with, only to wake up next to after her breath went sour and her make-up rubbed off throughout the night. Not only is she hideous, but she made a mess out of your freshly laundered pillow case. It just aint pretty. <br />
<br />
<br />
We loaded up the car with two guitars, couple sleeping bags, one ukulele (aka the car guitar), an adequate amount of coffee, red bull, Gatorade, cold cuts, chips, tangerines, apples and of course, the necessary enthusiasm to entertain yourself on a straight stretch of interstate for the equivalent of two days at work. Getting out of my neighborhood Brian turned to me and said "you're really prepared", I nodded, it was evident I knew this was a cant miss weekend. <br />
<br />
<br />
So I man the wheel and we spend the first 6 hours listening to tunes. We cover most of my favorites before the loud music grew irritable. At this point BK picks up the Ukulele and we start having some fun. Brian put together a few chords and I belted out "We going to Flip Flop country, We going to Bikini's and Palm Trees" in some undesirable tone, but when BK repeated the words with his beautiful voice they fit like puzzle pieces. We took turns rapping over the uke coming up with versus for said song and another. It might sound ridiculous and silly, but that's the beauty of it. We're a couple of weirdos just trying to have fun. And in-between Brian's absent minded ability to sink into his blackberry to "tweet" some memorable quote for 20 minute intervals (that seemed longer), making up songs, and enough laughter to make watching Eddie Murhpy's "Delirious" seem like peanuts, fun we had. <br />
<br />
I basically drove the whole way there, minus the last 30 minutes where I slipped into a cocktail and gave Brian shitty directions, via my iphone, through Los Angeles' labyrinth-like freeway system. We still had enough energy to laugh at ourselves when I pronounced our place in the universe with this gem of a quote - "We're the two biggest fucking retards on the planet. You're first and I'm second, and we wont get into the marginal disparity between ranks." Ha! We made it to Dave's in one piece though. When we got there, Mike and David were out renting music equipment for the big bash to come, once again David out-did himself dropping too much on a more than adequate set-up. We passed the time prior to their return playing guitars in the "rec room" adjacent to the lobby. Once the equipment was seized, unloaded, and the bar was scoped we scurried up to their 20th floor pad overlooking the Staples Center and the rest of downtown Los Angeles. I know I had a couple drinks, a religious experience in the best shower of my life, and some "La Confidential", before falling into the most comfortable couch in the world like an 8 year old boy into a ball bin at Chuck E Cheese. This sleep was earned.<br />
<br />
I instinctively woke up at 7:00am, which is about an hour later than my internal alarm usually goes off. I let myself go back to bed despite excitement, and the fact that it was already warmer out than any day Portland would see in the next 3 months (if not longer), not to mention the last day of the best year of my life aka 2009.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DYVdjkGMwP4/S0YXct6NChI/AAAAAAAAAFg/e5AN0vm-g2Y/s1600-h/iphone+pics+1811.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DYVdjkGMwP4/S0YXct6NChI/AAAAAAAAAFg/e5AN0vm-g2Y/s200/iphone+pics+1811.jpg" /></a>A few hours later we finally pulled our heads from our drool soaked pillows and dunked them in giant bowls of cold cereal. We fueled up while Mike ran late to work. David showed up after having already digested a morning meeting in his dapper pin striped suit. You could see his mind racing with the angst that only someone who's thrown a huge bash knows, while going through the check list of things to be done. Brian and I rubbed the sleep from our wide eyes and played the guitars overlooking the sun drenched city for a while before setting out on foot. I'm pretty sure we were practicing a "Juicy" cover we conceived the night before. Then wandered aimlessly around this metropolis before bumping into Matt, Dave's brother. We exchange Hey-how-are-you's before catching the bus down to USC's campus. While Brian naively ganders at the diversity on this bus I tell him there's "no better way to get the feel of a city than to ride it's public transportation" - which I believe. He give's a hollow eyed nod in response. Then we went to rapping Juicy on the bus like we were alone, stopping only to confirm with a young man decorated in USC gear which stop was campus. A lot of people were wearing USC gear around the city, which was apparently their showing of solidarity to the out of town football fans from Ohio and Oregon, respectively. Campus was dead due to the holiday, but we dicked around till Mike picked us up sometime after 4:00pm to run a few last minute errands.<br />
<br />
The rest of the night went rather quickly, or turned into a blur rather quickly? Who knows. All I know is Mike led the charge on delicious bacon wrapped appetizers while we started in on cocktails. From here I wouldnt sober up until somewhere around Modesto on Sunday. I arrived down at the par-tay fashionably late (I need to get into guitar addicts anonymous, seriously) and Brian killed it, obviously, and at the end of the night we did our last minute cover of Juicy. It was fun but I'm sure I sounded like a cross between carrot top and Leah Remini, which isnt good. Plenty of room to improve though. Ha! I think my last memory of that night was David and Marriot jousting with gigantic stuffed animals from Africa, literally. I know the Giraffe was involved, but the other animal escapes me, as does who came out on top.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DYVdjkGMwP4/S0YcHNWHmGI/AAAAAAAAAFo/qBbTyX4u5Kg/s1600-h/Africa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DYVdjkGMwP4/S0YcHNWHmGI/AAAAAAAAAFo/qBbTyX4u5Kg/s320/Africa.jpg" /></a>(Note: Dave recently went to Africa and has 3/4 of the Lion King's cast in giant stuffed animals. Over to your right you'll find one unkempt character singing "In the Jungle" like a clown with an Elephant on his back.)<br />
<br />
Then, after we went to bed for less than enough sleep, some bastard got past security at the front door and broke into David's apartment and stole my right converse all star. He was good too, didnt leave any sign of forced entry, almost like a ghost. After waking up and realizing what happened, I told all my homies to look for some one legged crook running around Los Angeles with my shoe. Fucking Bastard's lucky we didnt find him too, woulda got nasty. Okay, that last part is unconfirmed, but my right shoe definitely went missing and it's the only thing I could come up with that fits, (pun intended).<br />
<br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DYVdjkGMwP4/S0YEfmrb6kI/AAAAAAAAAFA/tLS6I-AEmhI/s1600-h/Santa+Monica+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DYVdjkGMwP4/S0YEfmrb6kI/AAAAAAAAAFA/tLS6I-AEmhI/s200/Santa+Monica+3.jpg" /></a>The first day of 2010 felt a lot like the start of 2009, sub Los Angeles for San Francisco and me waking up on David's couch instead of Jay's. But hungover all the same with my head in a thick fog and half a bong rip away from retardation. But it's on with the show as we set out for Pasadena after everyone had adorned themselves in their Ducks gear, and me in my neutral brown. (No way I'd get caught in that shit.) The sun's out and with to-go cups in hand the metaphorical play button to our Acapella version of <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iMBDYOVYZRQ"> Is this Love by Bob Marley</a> is hit. All join in singing and keeping a relatively decent rhythm with a mix of random sound effects and clapping.<br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DYVdjkGMwP4/S0YddOOlZ5I/AAAAAAAAAFw/DpraU8qdSo0/s1600-h/iphone+pics+1809.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DYVdjkGMwP4/S0YddOOlZ5I/AAAAAAAAAFw/DpraU8qdSo0/s200/iphone+pics+1809.jpg" /></a>It was like being in a music video as we took over the streets and engulfed everyone in song. Honestly, it was really really awesome. People didnt know what was going on, but smiles of approval met our harmonic haphazardness. The nonsense continued on the subway with more Bob and the ducks fight song, minus the words. Then the two mile walk from the subway stop in Pasadena to The Grand Daddy of 'em all. Well most of us walked, some of us skipped, none of us stumbled, and one of us rolled in a shopping cart. We've got plenty of company on streets of pasadena, they're either like us and headed to the game, out enjoying the sun, or there for the parade. Who cares, it's a good day to be alive though.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DYVdjkGMwP4/S0YDemQRnjI/AAAAAAAAAE4/sRtyWzwDv4A/s1600-h/Pasadena.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DYVdjkGMwP4/S0YDemQRnjI/AAAAAAAAAE4/sRtyWzwDv4A/s320/Pasadena.jpg" /></a><br />
</div>This was easily the biggest game I'd been to, but without my dog in the fight, the tailgating was relatively standard fare for me. We did have a keg though, thanks again to Dave's proper planning. After tailgating for who knows how long, I decided I was close to out of steam and took a nap under a car a few spots from us. Yeah, I know, and despite concerns about how "messed up" Mason was, it was a conscious decision of mine to lay down, where my only move in the next four hours would be to the front seat of Dave's Range Rover. I woke up feeling good and when I heard some passerby mention the ducks loss I felt even better. I was indifferent about the outcome of the game, but smiled knowing I wouldn't have to hear about how the Ducks should have been at the very least co-national champs if only they hadnt [insert ridiculous excuse for Boise loss here] and [random-unintelligent-regurgitated-Monday-morning-QB-anecdote here]. <br />
<br />
We tailgate post game before catching a shuttle back to the subway, and then back to Dave's. But before that Marriot is doing his very best to antagonize any and all Ohio State fans. He's way beyond drunk. He's basically a mess while shaking his fists and chanting various chants like...."You wear Jean Shorts!!" (clap clap / <i>clap-clap-clap</i>) and "Go back to sheboygan!!" Which isnt even in Ohio, but rather Wisconsin, thus making it even funnier, and my personal favorite, "Buckeyes suck guys!!!" This nonsense continues most all of the way home. At one point I told Ben to more or less shut up, he pulled the relative trump card with, "Really? You of all people?" Which is to say I've been far beyond obnoxious a couple of times, maaaybe.<br />
<br />
That night we collectively agree to stay in and party amongst ourselves. A decision I was happy with, even though I was well rested from my game-time napping. So we kick-back on a couple drinks while Brian serenades the group. The Cali boys had not yet heard all of his home-cooked brilliance -- NYE was hectic, and Brian played a lot of covers -- but they are more than impressed. It was good times indeed, and exactly what I was looking for. I didnt go down to LA for the Rosebowl, I went down to see my favorite people in the whole world. And while watching everyone bob their heads in unison to Brian's music, I find the moment that embodied what I was looking for. To me it was better than any ridiculous highlight, joke or one liner. It was that Friendship thang.<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DYVdjkGMwP4/S0YAxh2U-bI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/RQad7jXhRJo/s1600-h/iphone+pics+1814.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DYVdjkGMwP4/S0YAxh2U-bI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/RQad7jXhRJo/s200/iphone+pics+1814.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
Saturday morning finds us and David's condo in a disheveled disaster. We (mostly Mike) clean the place up a little bit while they start making plans to kick it in Santa Monica. I'm fighting my angst to start getting miles behind us while Brian grows restless, still wanting to "see" more of what LA has to offer. I concede to go and hang in Santa Monica, but not for too long, while we settle arrangements to crash in San Fran for the night. "Not too long" turns from a couple Corona's to Patron shots and like that we're staying another night. I concede and decidedly practice living in the moment, but it's hard to escape the picture of spending the following day hungover in that car.<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DYVdjkGMwP4/S0X-oWTPY5I/AAAAAAAAAD4/AWY6k5vZ17k/s1600-h/Santa+Monica+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DYVdjkGMwP4/S0X-oWTPY5I/AAAAAAAAAD4/AWY6k5vZ17k/s320/Santa+Monica+4.jpg" /></a>Drinks chase away my angst and the good times are again rolling. We've got an All Star line-up and we're definitely enjoying ourselves. We go from one bar to the next before taking over some Karaoke bar where everyone takes their turn being a rock star. We're all dancing and the bar fills up with an eclectic crowd composed of cute girls, aspiring entertainers and those people that live for Karaoke (you know who I'm talking about, you cant decide if they put on an "outfit" or a costume). After too many $7 beers we go back to Kirsten and Courtney's apartment (new friends) and keep at it till way too late - not sure the exact time. Brian has his eye on Court, but he blows it in standard BK style. Let me explain, after this nice young girl cooks bagel bites for all, someone compliments her "Rachael Ray" like cooking skills. Brian takes the lame joke and turns it on it's head, exclaiming that not only is she like "Rachael Ray" but she's like the "Rachael Ray that he'd like to fuck." It went over like you'd<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DYVdjkGMwP4/S0X8cxxr6LI/AAAAAAAAADg/VNeGYYKm0Vc/s1600-h/Santa+Monica.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DYVdjkGMwP4/S0X8cxxr6LI/AAAAAAAAADg/VNeGYYKm0Vc/s200/Santa+Monica.jpg" /></a> imagine and Brian goes from possibly sharing a cozy bed, to being with everyone else scattered across the available couches. I somehow find my way onto an aero-mattress for literally a couple winks.<br />
<br />
<br />
(Shots Shots Shots sha-sha-sha Shots Shots Shots - well in this case Jager Bombs)<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
January 3rd, 5:45am, 2010 my alarm goes off and I hate life. The nightmare of a 15+ hour drives sets in as I argue with Brian about the fact that we cant afford to loiter any longer. We're outta time. He bitches before reluctantly rising from his upright perch on the couch and stumbles out the room. We wander around Santa Monica looking for our parking garage and find it on our second attempt. We set sail while the sun rises over the hills to our East. In fact, it pains me to even think about the reality of that moment. The ride home is far from the ride down, we're spent and lack enthusiasm. I would equate the drive to one insanely long irritable buzzing noise. The highlight was probably the worst McDonald's breakfast you've ever heard of. It was terrible, but all things considered rather fitting. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DYVdjkGMwP4/S0YFmL7mOmI/AAAAAAAAAFY/OfmTQA45vrg/s1600-h/iphone+pics+1810.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DYVdjkGMwP4/S0YFmL7mOmI/AAAAAAAAAFY/OfmTQA45vrg/s320/iphone+pics+1810.jpg" /></a><br />
</div> (I mean, is that even food?)<br />
<br />
Laboring through that drive makes you understand the ambitions of Orville and Wilbur Wright. <br />
<br />
I'll add more later, I'm still exhausted. <br />
<br />
<br />
Memorable Quotes:<br />
<br />
"I'm not talking to them, they're talking to me!" Ben Marriot dead serious, deliriously drunk, (to the point of hallucination), after talking to the stuffed Giraffe the night of the Rosebowl. (Note: this may be a condition of delusion all Duck fans experience following a loss. Perhaps a collapse of the psyche after <i>The Worlds Greatest Team</i> fails to deliver, much like in Hitler's finals days when fantasy replaced cognition. Perhaps even a shade of schizophrenia, I dunno? I'm not a Doctor, just a Beaver fan so I sound smart.) <br />
<br />
"We're the two biggest fucking retards on the planet. You're first and I'm second, and we wont get into the marginal disparity between ranks." - Me being dead serious<br />
<br />
Brian - "Did you fart?"<br />
Me - "No. That's just what Southern Oregon smells like, that's why no one lives down here."<br />
<br />
"Make sure to tag me in that photo, there's this girl I'm really into and hopefully she'll be checking out my profile, and ya know, I want her to see how cool I am" - Brian facetiously serious<br />
<br />
"I hate it when a girls breast are too big, ya know when you take off her bra and they go all over the place and you're thinking....does her nipple have a lazy eye?" - 5th please<br />
<br />
"Hey Guy, whatcha think you're my Dad or sumfin? What'd you do go back in time and fuck my Mom, huh?" - Bk in his "guy" voice<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1812324817956762593-1818683618384473528?l=mebeingmased.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Nosam Sivadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17070335901563180090noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1812324817956762593.post-49481606510262997602009-12-28T11:36:00.000-08:002009-12-28T19:05:39.021-08:002009-12-28T19:05:39.021-08:00Coming back to feed the blues...I think the blues is straight up bad-ass. I love it, and since I first started making any semblance of music I've wanted to tear off some sweet blues riffs. It's tough though, really tough. I can feel it on the inside though, but I cant let it out. (Catch up left hand! And right hand for that matter.) The good news it that I can definitely *feel* it, like you're supposed to with all music. The blues is easy to feel though, isnt it? That's what makes it the blues. You can almost anticipate where the sound is going to go, aka call & answer, the best though is when it does something unexpected. Someday, who knows when, hopefully i'll be able to really embellish and throw my own surprises. Until then, I'll just keep doing finger exercise and that pentatonic scale. Both of which I've been doing in between typing these fragmented sentences. The finger exercises are not fun, scales arent that fun either. I just keep telling myself to push through it, to get a little closer to that elusive mastery. Which is to summarize my determination to learn the guitar.<br />
<br />
Last spring after I'd decidedly quit the guitar and before I picked it back up. I was talking with some friends about instruments, music, and the like, when "man hours" were referenced. I cant remember the specific context but I think I was gushing about how I marveled at talented musicians. Anyway, that's when a friend referenced another conversation he'd previously had regarding learning an instrument. He said anyone could learn an instrument with 500 hours into it. Some would obviously learn quicker but if you were willing to spend 500 hours you'd most likely get your head wrapped around it okay. I learned the guitar reciting that convo over and over in my head. I'd hear a faint "500 hours!" "500 hours!" While simultaneously thinking "I wonder how many I've put in so far?" And then wondering "well, I'm progressing, but i wonder if i'm learning as efficiently as possible?" That latter thought is probably why I'm taking a few lessons. Also, Abe at Portland Music insisted I should, citing his lack of doing so as his only regret as someone 100% self-taught. And since Abe is the main reason I own a Ukulele, we have a bond, (blog to come on that later.) After all, "500" is doable, but it'd be nice to get better mileage if possible.<br />
<br />
I havent read any study on whether 500 hours is accurate in terms of "learning" an instrument. It sounds fair to me though, particularly since we're not really defining the requisites of the measured accomplishment - we're simply saying to "play" the instrument. Along those same lines, Malcolm Gladwell wrote a book last year called, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Outliers_%28book%29">"Outliers: The story of Success" </a>that came out in November. I havent read the book, but as I understand it, the underlying theme is that it takes 10,000 hours to reach what most would consider a world class expert in any particular field. Now 10,000 hrs is a long long time, and it will be a lifetime before I'm there. My only consolation is that I'm not expecting to "master" the guitar, but forever accept my role as a student.<br />
<br />
We have 8,760 hours each year and almost two thirds of those are spent sleeping or at a job we may hardly enjoy. Then we have that remaing 1/3, or somewhere in the neighborhood of 3000 hours, to do whatever it is we feel like. And out of that 3000 we all probably spend a lot it looking forward to something or glorifying our rear-view. Facebook status updates are a great indicator of who thinks like that. How many people have you seen, or maybe you yourself have, put out "cant wait til Friday" or "is it Friday yet?" or "uggghhh... Monday". Not trying to sound overly poetic, but I honestly enjoy everyday. I mean, sure everyone loves Friday, but there's an opportunity to better ourselves everyday, right? I think of how many hours I've wasted doing nothing? Countless. And while learning the guitar is not something that's going to make me amass traditional wealth, I'm certain the treasures will be worth the voyage.<br />
<br />
I'm 27 years old and god willing will be 37 someday. I have over 87,000 hours until then and so many things to do. It can be overwhelming. I wonder if I'll have 10,000 hrs to spare on the guitar.... What is that, 3 hours a night?<br />
<br />
Practice Practice Practice<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1812324817956762593-4948160651026299760?l=mebeingmased.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Nosam Sivadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17070335901563180090noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1812324817956762593.post-9559241679803476712009-12-28T11:30:00.000-08:002009-12-28T11:30:17.927-08:002009-12-28T11:30:17.927-08:00ThankfulI stayed up late last night rapping over the guitar with <a href="http://briangkrichevsky.wordpress.com/about/">BK</a>. Reconnecting with Brian on a creative level was both long overdue, and sooooo much fun. We've gotten together in the last few months but havent necessarily put our egos aside and gotten weird. And weird is good.<br />
<br />
I think Brian left at a 12:45am and I woke up for work a brief five hours later, after a restless attempt at a good nights sleep. The funny thing is I dont even feel tired today, if anything, I feel like I have more energy. I feel like I'm rejuvenated. I am rejuvenated, which is to say I have that "alive" feeling - love that. I also have a lot to be thankful for, which brings me to the song we worked on. Without having a copy of the lyrics in front of me I'll try to loosely recreate them, but moreover just try to write a rap that works in the cadence.<br />
<br />
Ya know I've got a lot to be thankful for...<br />
<br />
In my health<br />
I've got my wealth<br />
A life with love, no need for stuff, cuz I know that love is enough for me<br />
I've got my fun, my friends, my foes, my lows, my people make one big family<br />
I've got my space, I've got a pace, no time to waste, for life's a race<br />
And I've got my freedom to breathe...Yes...<br />
My freedom to breathe...<br />
<br />
I'll put the actual lyrics up here later.... The song's a hit though - for sure!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1812324817956762593-955924167980347671?l=mebeingmased.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Nosam Sivadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17070335901563180090noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1812324817956762593.post-55019784522093041242009-12-16T15:52:00.000-08:002010-01-12T13:45:44.347-08:002010-01-12T13:45:44.347-08:00On the back of our eyelids<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DYVdjkGMwP4/SyrQKmVH6RI/AAAAAAAAADU/Kom7GQ82WbA/s1600-h/Slide50.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DYVdjkGMwP4/SyrQKmVH6RI/AAAAAAAAADU/Kom7GQ82WbA/s400/Slide50.jpg" /></a>with time an after thought<br />
their still-shot series is shown<br />
muted critics sit amongst fans<br />
and w/ rapidity, view the stills in this still-shot slide show<br />
<br />
it's the past, present AND future<br />
Every high voiced through lows<br />
its decored in an omnipresent technicolor with perfect clarity <br />
all seen with eyes closed<br />
<br />
every second composed through a million moments<br />
every snapshot suspended in it's own context<br />
we're alive like you were then, screaming "look, No hands!"<br />
with lessons still learned, we're younger again, but we make demands<br />
<br />
now with foresight afforded, is our path not the same....?<br />
Can we decipher which components made us stronger, weaker?<br />
does it even matter?<br />
We matter. Yes. and we dont "accept" the inevitable<br />
We are the inevitable and we've already found comfort in ourselves<br />
<br />
So now light creeps through the cracks<br />
between eyelashes it replaces the impression<br />
calmness remains and we remain standing with our luggage in hand<br />
<br />
every choice we've made is there stacked neatly along the curbs<br />
Picket fences and weedless flower-beds fill out the shadow box neighborhood<br />
every decision yet-to-be loiters up ahead<br />
<br />
between the curbs and manicured yards we are<br />
and not intimidated either<br />
We stand and lean in, and smile between hiccuping laughter<br />
The first noble truth was already accepted <br />
and it's accuracy is comical...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1812324817956762593-5501978452209304124?l=mebeingmased.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Nosam Sivadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17070335901563180090noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1812324817956762593.post-38717027937058931272009-12-11T13:31:00.000-08:002009-12-17T10:06:15.195-08:002009-12-17T10:06:15.195-08:00Eric's song<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>This is for my friend <a href="http://hepdot.blogspot.com/">Eric Anderson </a>, who is currently off in India fulfilling his karmic duties. I started it awhile ago, but lost track of it like the other 20-something unpublished blogs I have. In short, I'll say Eric is an inspiration, an artist, a friend and someone I admire.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://go635254.s3.amazonaws.com/ecoworldly/files/2009/10/sunrise-over-river-ganga.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://go635254.s3.amazonaws.com/ecoworldly/files/2009/10/sunrise-over-river-ganga.jpg" width="200" /></a><br />
</div><br />
(chorus) <br />
Take a walk....out by the Ganges<br />
Walk up to the sun, on Himalayan peaks <br />
Talk a walk.....out by the Ganges<br />
Walk up to the sun, on Himalayan peaks<br />
<br />
(verse) <br />
<br />
From now 'til your final savasana<br />
An example for all, letting nothing stop ya<br />
Carry on with all your good intentions<br />
As lessons of a past life, roll into retention<br />
<br />
No need to cogitate fate<br />
Living breathing meditation<br />
Inspiring me with your revolution revelation<br />
<br />
<br />
(bridge) <br />
Share your heart, your love, your smile<br />
Your Karma will change the life of a child<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DYVdjkGMwP4/Syf93g3TuKI/AAAAAAAAADM/pjP5INpheO0/s1600-h/Eric+in+India.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DYVdjkGMwP4/Syf93g3TuKI/AAAAAAAAADM/pjP5INpheO0/s200/Eric+in+India.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><br />
(chorus)<br />
Take a walk....out by the Ganges<br />
Walk up to the sun, on Himalayan peaks<br />
Take a walk....out by the Ganges<br />
Walk up to the sun, on Himalayan peaks<br />
<br />
(verse)<br />
Two oceans away - but always at home <br />
Walk tall my friend, for you're never alone<br />
I and I within, divine and proper<br />
(You know) all righteous paths lead back to our father<br />
<br />
(bridge)<br />
You, the way, the path<br />
These moments in time quickly become our past<br />
<br />
(chorus)<br />
Take a walk....out by the Ganges<br />
Walk up to the sun, on Himalayan peaks <br />
Take a walk....out by the Ganges<br />
Walk up to the sun, on Himalayan peaks<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://z.about.com/d/goindia/1/0/F/5/-/-/toytrain1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="155" src="http://z.about.com/d/goindia/1/0/F/5/-/-/toytrain1.jpg" width="200" /></a><br />
</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1812324817956762593-3871702793705893127?l=mebeingmased.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Nosam Sivadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17070335901563180090noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1812324817956762593.post-36067240349779759442009-12-09T22:56:00.000-08:002009-12-11T12:21:29.524-08:002009-12-11T12:21:29.524-08:0012/9/2009<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://imnotfish.files.wordpress.com/2009/05/acoustic-guitar1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://imnotfish.files.wordpress.com/2009/05/acoustic-guitar1.jpg" width="160" /></a><br />
</div>I got rhythm!<br />
<br />
Last night I took my 2nd paid guitar lesson. I've had friends, youtube, books, and the internet show me plenty of things, but last night, and the week before, I popped for my first paid lessons. I found a super cheap guy off of craigslist, $10/hr first lesson and $15/hr thereafter. My instructor Dan's a nice guy, but you get what you pay for, and I didnt pay for Stevie Ray Vaughn. Which is to say he hasnt shown me anything earth shattering, but he's given me a few great technical tips, and has been able to answer my questions regarding song structure, progressions and theory in general. Plus, the steel determination I practiced with in-between lesson 1 and 2, in an attempt to impress him, was definitely worth a few bucks. <br />
<br />
So like I said, I practiced with "steel determination" this last week, and it definitely felt like I took a swift step forward. I didnt practice more than I was before, I just practiced more effectively. I did more finger exercises, scales, and worked at changing my index finger position in my bar chords. All categories improved and remain a work in progress. Dan did mention my rhythm, noting I had "excellent rhythm". BK said something to that effect a while ago too. Even before that I would have probably said I have good rhythm, if you asked me. I've always been able to dance, and pickup on a beat in a freestyle, but it was really good to hear it from him. He told me I've got really great natural skills too, (again, very gratifying), and that he'll prolly only be able to give me lessons for a few months b/c I'll surpass him. HA! Needless to say, that last part had me beaming. I really hope I'm able to make progress like that on the guitar, but like I said, he's no Stevie Ray Vaughn. <br />
<br />
It made me think though, about focus, something I'm definitely no poster child of. Being able to really focus is such a powerful tool. It is as much of your will, in the smallest place you can fit it.<br />
<br />
Anyway, gonna go work on that rhythm a little more before zzzzzzz....<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1812324817956762593-3606724034977975944?l=mebeingmased.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Nosam Sivadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17070335901563180090noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1812324817956762593.post-89851926539672796352009-12-08T20:29:00.000-08:002010-01-09T13:13:38.459-08:002010-01-09T13:13:38.459-08:0012/8/2009I'm not sure where I'll end up with this blurb, I'm just setting out to jot down my thoughts.<br />
<br />
So I've been really antisocial as of late, and the weird part is, it doesnt bother me at all. But I guess it not bothering me, is actually what gives me some concern, since I know this sort of imbalance isnt healthy. Honestly though, all I want to do is play the guitar. I cant even find my desire to go out and party.<br />
<br />
At this time last year I started working on my 2009 New Years Resolutions. I made a worthy list of goals for the year, two of which were; 'Spend 30 minutes, (at least, preferably an hour), by myself everyday,' and another; 'Learn to play the guitar'. Little did I know these two would compliment one another with perfect symmetry in 2009.<br />
<br />
I already owned an acoustic guitar as a present from xmas-past, and I picked it up in January. My friend Charlie Dobson started me out with a few chords - G, C, and D, (I think), and so it began. It was a long time (7 mos.) before I even tried to strum the thing. I would reluctantly practice moving between the chords while watching blazer games or something. At this point the guitar was definitely a chore and I one done w/ sparing regularity. Then in late February or early March a friend broke one of my strings, doing what I aspired to, actually playing it. So there my guitar sat for the next 4 months. I even remember Charlie asking me if I was 'wasting his time' - since I'd given up on the guitar so easily. I had again let something small get in my way, much like I had at other times in my life. I could say it was the string, it broke, but in reality it was me getting in my own way. (Note: I took guitar lessons when was 10/11 years old, but quit for baseball, which I then quit a few years later - dammit!)<br />
<br />
My reason for resolving to allot alone time for myself, was a good idea. I've spent too much of my time surrounding myself with the party, or being the party. In a sense, distracting myself so I didnt have to deal with myself. Not that I was unhappy, but no matter who you are, a long hard look in the mirror can be revealing, in a good way. When we're left alone, we're never really alone, we all have that inner voice dont we? I know I do, and it's rather vocal, and, if you let it, a great mentor. That voice will ask the hard questions, it's whether or not you listen to it or the radio silence. I liken it to things we're always <i>going</i> to do, or have always wanted to do, but never did. Maybe it's an obscure guilty pleasure, maybe not, maybe it was a sport you werent big enough to try out for, or a girl you were too scared to ask out, or anything else. Now granted there are people who have never experienced that and do exactly what it is they want to do. Those are the lucky ones, and I happen to believe we make our own luck. If everyday you conciously make an effort at something, it will eventualy give - however I digress.<br />
<br />
So it wasnt until sometime in June that I picked the guitar back up. Before that I'd been spending my alone time mostly writing, which oddly enough was both one of my 2009 New Years Resolutions, and what led me back to the instrument. That resolution to 'keep writing' mainly pertained to poetry. I first wrote poetry in middle school and always enjoyed it from then on. Though I never read much or wrote much in the next 10 years (a little here and there). Also, I don't think I'm a great writer by any stretch, but I enjoy expressing myself with the literary art form, and that's what it's all about - right? Anyway, I started casually writing poetry again in summer 2008 (with a broken jaw). It started mostly in jest, or I at least disguised it that way, but I enjoyed it - which is why it became an '09 resolution. Fast forward to June 6th and I'm in Corvallis for my little sisters graduation, with my notepad in hand - of course. I wrote my sister a poem for her graduation, one that I liked enough to share (this was pre-blog, which has been an anything goes platform). That night was instrumental in leading me back to the guitar as Brian Krichevsky started putting some music to a few of my poems. We stayed up late drinking and dinking around with the guitar, poems and I think a little free-styling (maybe). Days before this Charlie had put music to one of my poems and this further solidified the resonance I felt. I've always felt comfortable in my own skin, and with that comfortable being a little odd - to put it kindly. This was different though, I was getting comfortable exploring myself. It's one thing to be comfortable in your own skin, but another to go outside of that with the same confidence. Later in the summer someone asked my Mom if I was a "songwriter or a poet" and she laughed - rightfully so. But like we've been told since we were little, you can be whatever or whoever you want, and in that same vein I say; fake it till you make it. So in June I got new strings and promised myself that the rest of my summer leisure time would be spent with the guitar in hand (or nearby). I was certain that if I did this by summers end I'd be able to play. Well I'm still learning but I can play it, now I need an intervention to stop....seriously though!<br />
<br />
My underlying theme for 2009 was to make it the best year yet. More than that, to approach every year like that from then on out. Well time will give perspective to whether or not this year was the best, but I'm fairly certain it will be second only to 2010. <br />
<br />
Live in the moment.<br />
<br />
I've started shaping my 2010 New Years Resolutions, I'm sure I'll share some on here....<br />
<br />
Mase<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1812324817956762593-8985192653967279635?l=mebeingmased.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Nosam Sivadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17070335901563180090noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1812324817956762593.post-27756974699524764402009-10-20T17:50:00.000-07:002009-10-21T09:59:51.184-07:002009-10-21T09:59:51.184-07:00LonelyWarning: very incomplete, just came up with this song about alcoholism and had to write these lyrics down before I'm off to yoga. <br />
<br />
It's a lonely lonely road<br />
It's one you're gonna travel down alone<br />
And it starts down at the corner store<br />
Where you pick up 6 of ya'friends and off you go (oh)<br />
And it ends at the bottom of a bottle<br />
But there's no end, and that is your problem<br />
And when you're numb you know that it got ya<br />
<br />
It's the start of another sad, sad-sad day<br />
It's sad, cuz it's starts out the same<br />
One pint, and then you feel okay<br />
A few more and then you're ready to play<br />
Keepin' on, till we cant make-out what you say<br />
You get so mad, you're all filled up with decay<br />
At one point I knew you, now just and extinguished flame...<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1812324817956762593-2775697469952476440?l=mebeingmased.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Nosam Sivadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17070335901563180090noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1812324817956762593.post-21744548565142658512009-09-27T11:49:00.000-07:002009-09-29T08:12:46.677-07:002009-09-29T08:12:46.677-07:00EntitledI know my ABC's<br />
Look at me, Look at me<br />
I can count to 3<br />
Look at me, Look at me<br />
Dont I look amazing?<br />
<br />
Me, Me, Me, Me, Me, Me, Me<br />
<br />
Hands in the air, I am easily angry'd<br />
I know, I know<br />
I know everything<br />
Off I go, Off I go to follow other sheep <br />
<br />
Me, Me, Me, Me, Me, Me, Me<br />
<br />
I pound my chest, when I speak<br />
I scream and I yell from a chin so weak.<br />
<br />
I know my ABC's<br />
Look at me, Look at me<br />
I can count to 3<br />
Look at me, Look at me<br />
Dont I look amazing?<br />
<br />
And you might know, but I can do anything<br />
I'm an expert, the best that you seen<br />
Go on and ask me anyting<br />
I'm for real, that amazing<br />
<br />
<br />
Guitar tab for this song - it's really simple<br />
o x x x<br />
x 2 x x<br />
x x x x<br />
x x 2 o<br />
x o x x<br />
o x o o<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1812324817956762593-2174454856514265851?l=mebeingmased.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Nosam Sivadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17070335901563180090noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1812324817956762593.post-53937428780530140522009-09-22T16:23:00.000-07:002009-10-13T00:19:47.269-07:002009-10-13T00:19:47.269-07:00Stack your DebtMoney Papers line your pockets, you rock-it<br />
Buying up everybling, ya seen - latest fad, you got it.<br />
<br />
Not trying to knock it, it's good<br />
so long it's understood, <br />
that it'll never be a dollar that makes you be what you could. (or should)<br />
<br />
Besides...<br />
<br />
Every dollar's tied to__ Debt<br />
Never Forget<br />
Worth as much as their silhouette<br />
In context<br />
Wanting money's not a regret<br />
But beset <br />
your true happiness on your content<br />
<br />
I want everything, but needing what I know<br />
Always living rich, if you always live to grow<br />
Take it slow, to control, the moment<br />
Finding your purpose, each moment perfect<br />
it is what you make, it is as you have it<br />
so long's it not tragic, be passionate and fabulous<br />
remember living's bliss, dont miss, your chance at a smile, for some it's been awhile<br />
Dont live in denial, be wide eyed at this world, just act like a child, but no single file, play<br />
give away, your debt, be happy, so long to regret's what what I say, but hey, it's just another day, for me...<br />
<br />
Every dollar's tied to__ Debt<br />
Never Forget<br />
Worth as much as their silhouettes<br />
In context<br />
Wanting money's not a regret<br />
But beset your happiness on your content<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1812324817956762593-5393742878053014052?l=mebeingmased.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Nosam Sivadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17070335901563180090noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1812324817956762593.post-33074125649969980622009-09-14T08:23:00.000-07:002009-09-14T09:26:14.314-07:002009-09-14T09:26:14.314-07:00Look upYou got it,<br />
<br />
But dont know it<br />
<br />
I can see it,<br />
<br />
Though it’s stoic<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
You’ll get there – don’t worry<br />
<br />
You’ve gotten up and dressed<br />
<br />
Your journey predestined w/ achievement and success<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I’m obligated to encourage<br />
<br />
Just so you’ll know it<br />
<br />
Knowing it is my purpose<br />
<br />
No need for heroics<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Let go of the rear view<br />
<br />
Bright days around the bend<br />
<br />
Cruise in behind shades<br />
<br />
Riding confidence from within<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Tendency to transcend<br />
<br />
Thorough your way<br />
<br />
Outworking the world<br />
<br />
With barely anytime to play<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Perhaps best times a memory<br />
<br />
On a distant continent<br />
<br />
But your best days are ahead<br />
<br />
Of that I am confident<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Please make this year your year<br />
<br />
To be your best one yet<br />
<br />
Let go of needless worries<br />
<br />
Give up senseless regrets<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Reach out beyond grasp<br />
<br />
Dream things need not mentioned<br />
<br />
Enjoy every last second<br />
<br />
Happiness knows no pension<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Please try to see<br />
<br />
Please just know one thing<br />
<br />
Please know that in my world I think you're Amazing<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1812324817956762593-3307412564996998062?l=mebeingmased.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Nosam Sivadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17070335901563180090noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1812324817956762593.post-57557164892391340662009-09-14T01:21:00.000-07:002009-09-16T11:58:52.394-07:002009-09-16T11:58:52.394-07:00forI'll be the bull in your china shop<br />
No Bull<br />
<br />
Your optimistic Optimist<br />
Bowl Half Full<br />
Know I can run with the bulls,<br />
Encierro<br />
Uh oh Torero...<br />
Now where did you go?<br />
Lets shoot the bull, <br />
But leave no bullet whole<br />
<br />
And I can pour your Wine, <br />
fill it up past full<br />
On my Clairvoyant Voyage, to be<br />
Full-n-Whole<br />
Adventuresome trouble seeker<br />
All untold<br />
Not bought never sold<br />
I'm in my control<br />
<br />
I can be the bull in your china shop<br />
No bull<br />
I could be the light, <br />
be bright in your lull<br />
<br />
Who knows whats in store<br />
living's not a chore<br />
Spark in the dark<br />
incandescent noir<br />
It can fall apart<br />
Still you reach for the stars<br />
Too many things I adore, You<br />
And our rapport<br />
<br />
I can be the bull in your china shop<br />
No bull<br />
Know I can run with Bulls<br />
Incierro<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1812324817956762593-5755716489239134066?l=mebeingmased.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Nosam Sivadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17070335901563180090noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1812324817956762593.post-24557035886741607822009-09-01T09:18:00.000-07:002009-09-01T10:11:50.326-07:002009-09-01T10:11:50.326-07:00Who's Preferred?preferred provider?<br />
prefer to be a survivor?<br />
Know it all backseat driver<br />
Fiery cold faced liar<br />
You presume to know the answers<br />
No need to inquire<br />
<br />
preferred provider<br />
prefers situation's dier<br />
<br />
Preface your preferance<br />
For the have's and have nots<br />
Preface your menace<br />
to preventative vaccines and shots<br />
<br />
I prefer a healthy society<br />
Americans leading the way<br />
Universal Health, <br />
Single Pay you nay say<br />
<br />
Why not us?<br />
We're true revolutionaries?<br />
We should aspire to be better<br />
Be evolutionary!<br />
<br />
I feel you prefer to detour<br />
from what could occur<br />
entrepreneurs you prefer<br />
We need a care transfer<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1812324817956762593-2455703588674160782?l=mebeingmased.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Nosam Sivadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17070335901563180090noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1812324817956762593.post-46358979375915466362009-08-25T10:29:00.000-07:002009-08-28T11:05:33.348-07:002009-08-28T11:05:33.348-07:00My Crazy Mind!(For what it's worth I recite/rap/sing this with a total reggae vibe. I effing love Reggae.)<br /><br /><br />My thoughts run wild till I pick up a pen<br /><br />Then They Freeze<br /><br />Nervous<br /><br />Standing at Attention.<br /><br />Retention suspension it seems<br /><br />Like Art, both light & Dark<br /><br />Critical and Complimentary<br /><br /><br />They love to be free <br />- not chained to paper<br />So you see, I be, my own dictator<br /><br />I am them, and They make me<br />Not tapered, steady spread evenly<br /><br />And in my mind<br /><br />I climb thee divine...(reflection of divinity)<br /><br />My mind refined...(byproduct; pure clarity)<br /><br /><br />For Now I can See, within me, life's line has symmetry<br /><br />You push, You Pull, You tumble, You Roll<br /><br />Just depends on what's in your soul<br /><br />Look deep at what's in your soul<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1812324817956762593-4635897937591546636?l=mebeingmased.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Nosam Sivadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17070335901563180090noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1812324817956762593.post-60995547252287323032009-08-24T14:22:00.000-07:002010-03-29T19:41:25.012-07:002010-03-29T19:41:25.012-07:00<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1812324817956762593-6099554725228732303?l=mebeingmased.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Nosam Sivadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17070335901563180090noreply@blogger.com0