<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1468225857738713516</id><updated>2011-12-15T06:15:22.835-08:00</updated><category term='disability'/><category term='walking'/><category term='Depression'/><category term='observations'/><category term='mothers day'/><category term='sore'/><category term='struggle'/><category term='night'/><category term='god'/><category term='school project'/><category term='tv'/><category term='cats'/><category term='philosophy'/><category term='biography'/><category term='cop shows'/><category term='late'/><category term='love'/><category term='easy'/><category term='help'/><category term='life'/><category term='Politics'/><category term='friends'/><title type='text'>The Fyrewolf's Den</title><subtitle type='html'>A random assortment of writings about any and all subjects.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Phoenix Fyrewolf Seahawk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13967477423390313226</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KshC_ruO_yA/S9t77beHtUI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NHur5bQIako/S220/psychedelic-cactus-LG.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>37</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1468225857738713516.post-7947447370968857472</id><published>2011-12-15T06:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-15T06:15:22.844-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Madness Returned Part One</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;Part One in a story I'm puttering with&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jesus H. Tap Dancing Christ. I couldn't be sure of my senses, or even awareness of senses, or even what senses were.  I think I remember learning about that in elementary school science class, or was it something I saw on TV? I remember something vaguely sexual about the whole experience. Something I couldn't quite put my finger on but I really can't blame myself because I was only in fifth grade after all. &lt;br /&gt; God, the cooties were terrible. I still have nightmares from time to time.&lt;br /&gt; I kept staring at my hands hoping that I could just fade out of existence and reappear someplace a lot less confusing.  Confusing isn't really the right word for it.  Awkward? Obvious? Maybe it didn't matter.&lt;br /&gt; “Arthur?” &lt;br /&gt; I glanced up from my musings, trying to figure out what I was going to say before I knew the question.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; I have a hobby. It involves dissecting the elements and re-assembling them in my own image. Oh, wait, not my image; that would be egotistical.  Maybe some other image like Mona Lisa or David or Richard Simmons. I would try to explain but the whole idea seems preposterous.  I mumble something somewhat reassuring adding “I'll be all right, mother.”&lt;br /&gt; Would I be, would I ever really be “all right?” Too many questions and not enough answers to be had. Musical chairs of answers.  The loser doomed to exist in purgatory until the next time, if there was one.  That always seemed to be the last question on my mind.  I stared at my hands and then at mothers stew. I could see the past, present and future staring up at me in small, carroty and potato-shaped bits.  I felt a tingle in the back of my brain, I didn't want to deal with her right now.&lt;br /&gt; “Mother, do you ever think about your place in the universe?” I tried to break up the ice forming around the edges of my mind.&lt;br /&gt; “Oh don't start that tripe again. Shut up and eat.”&lt;br /&gt; If eating made any sense right now I would. &lt;br /&gt; “Quit nitpicking,” I replied absentmindedly. &lt;br /&gt; “Who is it that you are always talking to?” &lt;br /&gt; “N-n-n-othing, mother.”&lt;br /&gt; I felt her eyes through the back of my head. How much did she know, exactly?  All or nothing or somewhere in the middle.  Did she know I would end up this way?  Somehow, I was eating again.&lt;br /&gt; “Thank you,” at least that's what I intended to say as I got up and walked too the door. I couldn't handle much more hiding.  I kind of figured my hiding was obvious and that I shouldn't worry because she knew. Maybe I was being purposely deceptive because it felt natural at the time. &lt;br /&gt; The doorknob felt slippery. I couldn't quite place where I had felt the same thing before. I tried to grab on to the thought, tried to make it manifest itself once more but it ended up dashing away with the breeze.  The desert heat beat instantly upon my face and stung my eyes. I squinted as I fumbled around looking for my sunglasses until I realized I had them on.  &lt;br /&gt; “Christ on a cracker, that took you long enough!”&lt;br /&gt; I jumped out of my skin and spun around, surprised to find the smiling image of my good friend and roommate glaring at me from the passenger side of a nearby car. In the short while I was lost within the confines of mother's kitchen, I had forgotten what she looked like. The fender was missing on one side and the other side didn't match the rest of the body. There was a curious dent in the hood that I know I didn't cause, but I could have.  &lt;br /&gt; “What did you do, forget I was out here?”&lt;br /&gt; I silently slid into the driver's seat, not wanting to admit the truth.  I shouldn't be driving in my state of mind but I knew I didn't have too much of a choice. &lt;br /&gt; “Did you bring me any?”&lt;br /&gt; “Any what?” I mumbled to the tune of the song on the radio&lt;br /&gt; “Food, that I know you must have scarfed on while I was sitting out here in the blazing heat, listening to shitty top-40 radio”&lt;br /&gt; “At least you had the sense not to let the battery die” I observed.&lt;br /&gt; “Not that it matters, you have to roll start this pile of rusty shit anyhow”&lt;br /&gt; I was about to reply with venom until I realized he was right. The ignition switch was broken long ago. I have a fuzzy memory that the debacle involved  a trip gone bad and reality collapsing in on itself temporarily. Push starting the vehicle was almost as automatic as turning a key, and I found it strangely satisfying.  I often wondered, if I was presented with the opportunity to own a car with a functional ignition switch and an actual key, would I use it or would act on a subconscious impulse and destroy it?  Is self sabotage a hobby?&lt;br /&gt; “What is on the menu for next weekend, mate?”&lt;br /&gt; “Fuck,” I blurted, “This weekend isn't even over yet!” I had an inkling it was still Sunday. Mother always served stew on Sunday. &lt;br /&gt; “True that. We still have a few hits and a shit-load of weed to work through,” my companion said through a cloud of thick, purple smoke. &lt;br /&gt; What the hell was this, a contest? Some sort of drug-fueled brawl?&lt;br /&gt; “Pushing the limits of reality and telling it to piss off, eh mate?” I felt a firm, but friendly slap on my shoulder.  I stared out over the dashboard, suddenly fascinated with the road and everything in front of me.  The road was straight through a deep valley, surrounded by sagebrush on one side and a lake on the other.  The lake resembled an overgrown mud hole and was always crowded with birds of varying types in the summer.  I thought it was pretty, but was too concerned about appearances to ever mention it to anyone. “I wonder if the lake will ever just disappear and not come back.”&lt;br /&gt; “Aww there you go with that existential bull crap. Life is too short to be occupying our brains philosophizing about huge, water-filled holes.”&lt;br /&gt; “That water-filled hole could be whats separating us from annihilation,” I said, speeding up the car just a little bit.&lt;br /&gt; “Hey, do you want to get pulled over? Knock it off, crazy ass hole!” I was shaken awake by a punch to the arm.  I replied by turning the radio up and focusing on the road.  It must be Sunday because there isn't much traffic. The speedometer bounced angrily, unable to continue it's clockwise journey. Maybe I was going a bit too fast for the conditions.  Another cloud of purple smoke lazily spun its way through the cabin. I inhaled deeply, hoping to catch somewhat of a second hand buzz. &lt;br /&gt; I got the feeling that the people in the cars I passed were staring at me.  Maybe not at me specifically, but at the whole environment I was surrounded by. The car looked like it was being held together by prayers and duct tape. The passenger was gloomily puffing on a pipe, alternating between staring at me and gazing off into the horizon.  I was fairly sure that every hiss, every pop, every auto-tuned note could be heard for miles, rattling and radiating from our rolling disaster area.  I felt myself start to hum along with the song on the radio, even though I didn't really care for it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1468225857738713516-7947447370968857472?l=denowolfness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/feeds/7947447370968857472/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2011/12/madness-returned-part-one.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/7947447370968857472'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/7947447370968857472'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2011/12/madness-returned-part-one.html' title='Madness Returned Part One'/><author><name>Phoenix Fyrewolf Seahawk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13967477423390313226</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KshC_ruO_yA/S9t77beHtUI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NHur5bQIako/S220/psychedelic-cactus-LG.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1468225857738713516.post-5888659182246776040</id><published>2011-07-30T04:12:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-30T04:12:49.140-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My 4 AM World</title><content type='html'>Everything around here closes at 2300&lt;br /&gt;Except the gas station up the street&lt;br /&gt;The food is expensive&lt;br /&gt;I'm not all that hungry anyway&lt;br /&gt;You've been asleep for hours&lt;br /&gt;I'm not tired and besides&lt;br /&gt;I know you sleep better knowing I'm awake&lt;br /&gt;You seem to think that I'm going somewhere&lt;br /&gt;that one day I'll go up in a puff of smoke&lt;br /&gt;I won't lie to you&lt;br /&gt;because it isn't up to me&lt;br /&gt;I just don't know what to say&lt;br /&gt;So I sit in silence&lt;br /&gt;contemplating everything and nothing&lt;br /&gt;hoping I can keep a promise&lt;br /&gt;that I know I will never make&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1468225857738713516-5888659182246776040?l=denowolfness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/feeds/5888659182246776040/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2011/07/my-4-am-world.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/5888659182246776040'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/5888659182246776040'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2011/07/my-4-am-world.html' title='My 4 AM World'/><author><name>Phoenix Fyrewolf Seahawk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13967477423390313226</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KshC_ruO_yA/S9t77beHtUI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NHur5bQIako/S220/psychedelic-cactus-LG.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1468225857738713516.post-6590750447795262622</id><published>2011-04-06T00:44:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-06T00:44:07.428-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Waaayback Machine</title><content type='html'>This is something I wrote in 2004 I found on my Myspace page. &lt;br /&gt;--------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;There arent many things I can tell you now for you are young and unready for some things. I can tell you this much for now, you shall read this with a different mind later for you know that this will not last even though it may feel that way. I am writing through you for you to understand what it is that needs to be known. Live in this life as if you know what is to pass for though you do not know what is to pass, you live life in that way so as to give the appearance that you know. For knowledge is power and you have power, the power of God in heaven. Know that you are imbued with the power of God in heaven even though there are those that choose not to believe. There is a way for you to make it seem as if you know more than you do, and that is to admit that you know nothing save for what is present and real. Real does not mean what you see or hear or think. Real is a state of consciousness, a door to a beginning. What is real on earth is not true, what is true on earth is not real. Humans are incapable of understanding reality, it is beyond them. Humans do not perceive truth because truth is not a perception. It is an extension of a collective creative force not able to be seen or touched or thought. Thought is only perception, it is nothing more. Thoughts are not a manifestation of the will of man for man has no will save for the will of the Creator God and the forces set in motion by It so that Its plan can be executed in accordance to a power It doesnt even comprehend. The Creator God is sexless because sex and gender are perceptions not needed by the Creator God. The Creator God does not perceive things because It understands all. Note that It does not KNOW all but UNDERSTANDS all. Why is this? Knowing is nothing more than a perception, that is why knowledge is power. How does one know? They perceive that they are capable of reciting things perceived by others as factual when indeed, all that is known is a fallacy created by the small boundaries of perception. Make others believe that you know, for they understand knowledge, but do not understand how to be devoid of such fallacy. Knowledge is indeed power on earth because common perception makes it so. If people know you know, they will believe for they cannot perceive any alternative. You KNOW nothing. They know all collectively. Understand, do not know. Understanding may seem like a type of knowledge but this is not so. Understanding involves only going beyond the limits of perception and experiencing what the absence of perception is. THAT is understanding. To understand, do not know. To know is to NEVER understand.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1468225857738713516-6590750447795262622?l=denowolfness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/feeds/6590750447795262622/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2011/04/waaayback-machine.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/6590750447795262622'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/6590750447795262622'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2011/04/waaayback-machine.html' title='The Waaayback Machine'/><author><name>Phoenix Fyrewolf Seahawk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13967477423390313226</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KshC_ruO_yA/S9t77beHtUI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NHur5bQIako/S220/psychedelic-cactus-LG.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1468225857738713516.post-7093181986852511128</id><published>2011-04-05T20:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-05T20:08:24.589-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Im Gonna be a Rockstar</title><content type='html'>This essay is what catapulted me into an A in my last writing class. It is a reflective piece on my writing and how the class helped me improve. Enjoy!&lt;br /&gt;-----------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of my earliest childhood memories is of my grandmother's typewriter. I remember it being big, black and heavy.  I remember the smell of the ink and the sound of the keys hitting the paper as I spent many hours watching my grandmother type letters to friends and family.  At the time I didn’t understand what she was doing, but the rhythm of the keystrokes and the “ding” at the end of every line made me feel at peace. Sometimes, my grandmother would sit me on her lap and let me poke at the keys.  I wasn’t sure what the black marks that appeared on the paper were, but I had a lot of fun making the typewriter make noise.  When I first learned how to read, I remember thinking “I want to make stories too!” As a youngster, I had quite a few problems with handwriting which discouraged me. I was absolutely thrilled when I found out that big, black, noisy box with keys could make words that other people could read. At first I practiced copying books.  After a while, I became comfortable with putting my own thoughts down on paper. My first writings were simple ramblings about my pets or my latest video game adventure.  Eventually I started to come up with stories detailing the adventures of a dog/cat hybrid trying to live in two societies that didn’t accept him.  I think my parents still have those stories in a box somewhere. While other kids in preschool were doodling stick figures, I was doodling with words. &lt;br /&gt; When I first entered elementary school, I didn’t think I was abnormal.  I spent every free moment, and even some moments in class, either reading or writing. I remember my kindergarten teacher often becoming upset with me because I had my nose stuck in a book while I was supposed to be paying attention.  I soon began to realize that when it came to reading, I was ahead of my peers.  This made me the target of bullying from my classmates and the target of scorn from my teachers. I often was assigned extra class work during reading periods so I wouldn’t have time to read the books that I brought from home. In middle school I tried to make my obsession with reading and writing a more private affair.  I would often sit in my room from the time school was out until sunrise either reading the latest library find or writing down an idea. I stopped taking books from home to school entirely after a teacher had confiscated one of my books because I wasn’t paying attention to a chapter review. The fact that I got an A on the related test still didn’t convince the teacher to return my book. Despite social pressure to the contrary,  I still ended up spending almost every recess period in the school library because I didn’t feel safe reading on the playground.  I always did well in any course that involved reading and writing but admittedly I never really put in all that much effort.  My teachers were always impressed with my work but it was nothing special to me.  I had learned early on in school how to regurgitate information but at the same time I found it incredibly boring. Chasing my own ideas and reading books that weren't in the juvenile or young adult section of the library was far more interesting. &lt;br /&gt; High school was, for the most part, more of the same story. I wrote mostly for myself, with little bits of academic work here and there.  I became much more serious about my writing when I met my writing mentor, Mrs Block. She taught a middle-school English class that a friend of mine had been in and she also ran the local Star Trek fan club.  Mrs. Block took a genuine interest in my writing after I showed her a back-story I had come up with for one of my role-playing characters. She encouraged me to develop my skills as a writer and to think critically about what I wrote, especially about the things I was reading and writing for school. She often assured me that I am a good writer and that I shouldn’t think of anything I write as “just a doodle.” She also was the first person to help me understand that writing, reading and thought are all connected.  All the previous instruction in writing I had up to that point had convinced me that thought, reading, and writing were separate things.  Reading is done to gain knowledge, writing is used to regurgitate that knowledge, and thought is better left to the “experts,” whoever they may be.  Mrs. Block taught me and the students in her classes that thinking genuinely matters and that you don’t know exactly what you are thinking until you write it down.  It was Mrs. Block’s encouragement that inspired me to tackle the more advanced English classes in high school. I was also inspired to become first the Junior ROTC assistant communications officer and then to take over as the head of communications.  I wrote, edited and published several newsletters for my ROTC class and had a few press releases published in the local newspaper. &lt;br /&gt; During my senior year of high school, I thought I was at the top of my writing game. Class assignments were still very easy but I tackled them with a much more critical eye. I began to truly enjoy reading assignments because even though I didn’t really discuss them with my classmates, I still could discuss them with Mrs. Block. I also felt that my creative writing endeavors had a purpose, even if I was the only person who would ever read them.  I graduated in the top 10% of my class and floated off to college thinking I would be on top of the world there, too.  I soon found out that college was an entirely different ball of wax.  I found myself in lecture classes with over 100 other students. My professors didn’t have the time to be interested in critical thought, opinions, or observations made by students.  Their job was to make sure we “mastered” the material enough to move on to the next course.  I again found myself discouraged and uninspired.  I managed to pass my classes but I stopped thinking of my writing as an extension of my thoughts.  Writing became a means to getting the education that I thought I needed in order to make money and land my “dream job.”  After three years of college-level classes, I gave up.  With very few exceptions, I didn’t feel that any of my course work was appreciated. My professors were interested in what I had learned at the end of the class as opposed to having any interest in the learning process. I also didn’t feel any personal connection with my studies.  I ended up working minimum-wage jobs off and on to get by.  Sometimes, I worked over 40 hours a week, yet I was not able to fully support myself.  My job security was dependent on the economic success of those in upper management. I slowly realised over the course of the next nine years that I was not on the path to personal success.  I also realised that most of my despair stemmed from the fact that I had stopped reading and writing almost entirely.  I read work-related materials,  jotted a few things down in a journal, and posted quite a bit on chat forums, but I still felt that I was wasting my potential.&lt;br /&gt; One day, I decided that I was going to leave my jello-brain life behind. While trying to “find myself,” I had moved away from my childhood home in Nevada, thinking that minimum-wage drudgery would somehow be different in Oregon. I soon found out that the only difference was that Oregon drudgery was a lot more damp.  I decided to jump back into the academic world with both feet, hoping that my community college experience would be better than my university experience. I took Writing 121 my first term back because I knew that my writing skills were rusty and that there was always room for improvement.  121 challenged me because I was out of practice but after the first few assignments, I realized that my basic set of skills were still intact. I did well on the smaller assignments and  I received an A on my first argumentative essay.  I was surprised at the A, honestly.  I had struggled with the first paper and when I turned in my final draft I was convinced that I had gotten maybe a C.  My professor gave me hard criticism and forced me to keep thinking about my ideas. He also prodded me into becoming specific and concrete.  Even though he picked apart our writing, I still felt that he genuinely enjoyed teaching the students in the class how to be better readers and writers, and was enthusiastic when any of us made a breakthrough in understanding.  Writing 121 is the only writing class required for a two-year multimedia design student, but I felt that having an even stronger skills in thinking, reading, and writing would benefit my further academic work as well as my professional career.&lt;br /&gt;I signed up for Writing 122 hoping to advance my writing skills and have a bit of an edge over my peers who decided to stop at 121.  As I sit, contemplating what I got out of the course, I can’t help but think that I gained way more than just a new set of professional skills. The work is daunting and was a challenge throughout the entire term. As with my 121 course, 122 challenged me to think in different ways and further pushed me away from regurgitation mode. I also gained more confidence in my work because I built on the skills that I learned in my previous course. Previous college writing courses were tedious and aggravating because I would have to learn a new regurgitation style for every class. The reading assignments in this course were also interesting. In my beginning college years, my 122 level class spent the majority of the term reading from a book very similar to Keys for Writers. The information was useful insofar that it taught the technical aspects of writing, but it taught very little else. I was very glad to find out that this incarnation of 122 is very different. Even though my 121 course was extremely helpful in my development as a writer, I feel that 122 has been even more helpful.  The discussions both in class and on Moodle helped me understand my own thoughts better. Having a conference with the professor was also very helpful. I felt that he was genuinely interested in what I had to say and was interested in helping me say it.  His enthusiasm for the subject was evident even on the syllabus.  On the first page, he encourages the class to ask questions and to keep asking questions. Alternating fonts and font sizes is also a really nice touch. Large, bold font is a pretty good indicator that the author finds something to be incredibly important. During the lecture, I found the enthusiasm of the instructor and my fellow students to be infectious. When I missed classes due to illness, the constant buzz on  the Moodle forums helped me stay focused.  I learned even more about grammar, although I don’t think I will ever have a total grasp on all of the rules. &lt;br /&gt;Writing 121 got me back into the writing frame of mind but 122 helped me understand why I was so fascinated with the written word as a young child. I find reading, writing and thinking to be incredibly fun. For the longest time, the only other person I could have an intellectual discussion with was my husband. I was reminded this term that it is entirely possible to have an intellectual discussion with myself through writing.  Remembering that fact alone makes me glad that I enrolled in 122. The work kicked me squarely in the rear end and my powers of  last-minute-BS-ery were pretty much useless.  I had to actually think about what I was writing and invest myself in it again, not just puke on a page. At times I thought “Why do I care?  I’m going to be a big-shot producer anyway.” There are several reasons. Even though it was difficult, I did actually find the work enjoyable. Also, I have become better at editing my own work.  I feel more confident as a writer and as a reader. I know that my confidence will shine in my future work in both the academic and professional arenas. My goal this term was to become a better writer.  Not only did I become a better writer, I also became a better reader and thinker as well.  Overall, the time and effort I put into Writing 122 yielded results that exceeded my expectations.  I now am hungrier for knowledge and hungrier for honest and thoughtful discourse with myself and others.  The brain is like a muscle: if it doesn’t get used it tends to atrophy. Even though I experienced brain cramping more than once, I believe pain was more than worth it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1468225857738713516-7093181986852511128?l=denowolfness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/feeds/7093181986852511128/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2011/04/im-gonna-be-rockstar.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/7093181986852511128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/7093181986852511128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2011/04/im-gonna-be-rockstar.html' title='Im Gonna be a Rockstar'/><author><name>Phoenix Fyrewolf Seahawk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13967477423390313226</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KshC_ruO_yA/S9t77beHtUI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NHur5bQIako/S220/psychedelic-cactus-LG.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1468225857738713516.post-3061443392776781815</id><published>2011-03-30T19:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-30T19:38:05.528-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Killing us, but not very softly</title><content type='html'>This is another essay I did for my writing class last term dealing with advertisements and children. &lt;br /&gt;-------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;  Super Bowl Sunday: the biggest advertising day of the year in the United States, if not  the entire world.  Millions of people across the globe tune in to watch and most of them aren't tuning in for the football game. The Super Bowl was originally a contest between two iron-willed teams out to prove to the world that they are the best.  Today,  the Super Bowl is known more for its advertisements. Several people have told me “I don't care about the game, I want to see the new commercials!” This statement boggles my mind even though it makes sense in a creepy Bizzaro-world way.  Advertisers are blessed with an event that over the years has gained a large amount of worldwide attention, especially after television became mainstream. The Super Bowl consistently has a large audience who is glued to the TV until the game is over. People who watch the Super Bowl aren't inclined to change the channel when a commercial comes on, since the game is only broadcast on one specific station.  Advertisers know that the audience is captive and relatively stuck watching the same station for the duration of the game.  &lt;br /&gt;        What about people who have no interest in football? Advertisers benefit from a larger audience, so it is in their best interest to figure out a way to get more people to watch.  Every year, Super Bowl commercials become more like shows in and of themselves.  Now there are two captive audiences: People interested in the football game and people that are watching only for the commercials. Both audiences watch both programs because no one wants to change the channel.  &lt;br /&gt;        Advertising has invaded almost every part of our lives.  The Super Bowl is just one example of how advertisers have slowly taken over. Many people would say that advertising is a bad thing and that less of it would benefit just about everybody. However, those same people will gladly sit and watch a sports contest that has over the years become nothing but a day-long, multi-product infomercial. They will spend hours upon hours on Facebook, even though the entire site is funded by advertisers.  Advertising has become more subtle over the years while at the same time becoming more bold. I compare it to a silk-covered brick. It is soft to touch and pretty to look at but if it hits someone it still hurts.  People will ignore the pain if the object causing the pain is appealing enough. Feminist author Jean Kilbourne addresses advertising and how it influences our perceptions of what is beautiful in her video presentation Killing us Softly. I believe this influence is starting to affect children at a young age.  Art critic John Berger said that we see before we can speak.  Children, who are being babysat by the television at younger and younger ages, see a large amount advertisements.   Advertisements are often bright, colorful affairs that easily snatch a persons attention.  Even babies will pay attention to something if it is bright and colorful enough. Some of the first memories children have are of advertisements. By the time they are old enough to start spending money, they already are brand loyalists.  Furthermore, they have an image of themselves and of others based almost entirely off of what advertisers have been telling them for years. Even though they have been bombarded most of their lives with advertisements, young people do not realize the influence advertising has on them or the way they interact with others. &lt;br /&gt;        Children can be cruel, especially towards other children. Advertising is making children more cruel to themselves and others. The problem involves more than actual ads. Programs that target children advertise to them through cleverly placed products.  The programs have even become brands themselves. Television programs such as “Dora the Explorer” while educational, are still marketed to children as products. Dora backpacks, dolls, and even bedsheets are available. Children, absorbed by the show, end up wanting anything and everything associated with the show no matter how cheap or useless it is. This branding phenomenon isn’t a recent development.  I remember many toys from my childhood that were connected directly to television programs. I also remember being convinced that I needed every last Transformers action figure and accessory, otherwise I would simply die!  Products associated with television programs don’t need further advertisement.  Children walking through a store will recognize the “brand” that has been created by the television program and instantly enter “I want it” mode. Branding teaches children that wanting is acceptable and that those who don't want the same things must be abnormal. On top of the desire to posses more, children that are over-exposed to advertisements begin to absorb them into every aspect of who they are. They start to form references and jokes based on the ads they see.  The very few children who are kept out of the media loop become targets of reticule and even violence. Author Jackson Katz in his video Tough Guize, proposes that men start forming thoughts about how other men should act based on what they see on television. Children judge other children based on an image shaped by advertisements.  Young children shouldn't have to worry about being too fat or having bad hair but they do. &lt;br /&gt;        Children grow up in this “be what we tell you or suffer” world and are affected by more than just the judgment of others. They are also being constantly judged by advertisements.  People stare at the TV to immerse themselves in a reality that is better than the one they exist in but at the same time the more people watch, the more miserable they become. They realize that they aren't perfect and never will be no matter how much useless stuff they buy. However, they are inclined to buy useless things because ads tell them that they will feel a bit better. They will fit in more wearing an expensive fragrance or they will be more socially adept after a few beers but they will never be 100% perfect.  Images in advertisements display a reality that is edited, manipulated, and impossible to emulate.  &lt;br /&gt;        Children grow up with this reality, and as they grow,  they turn into the perfect consumers. Through repeated exposure to television, billboard and even radio advertisements, children are taught that in order to fit in, they must have certain possessions and look a particular way.  They become convinced that if something has been branded, it must be superior, even if experience tells them that the generic option is the same or better than the “name-brand.”  The knee-jerk reaction of many parents when they realize the massive impact of exposure to advertisements, is to completely isolate their children from media sources.  While this protects children from becoming brand-tools or product-mongers temporarily, isolated children often are sucked further into consumer culture because of the sudden and massive exposure to media that happens when their exposure is no longer monitored. Media isolation can also cause problems during childhood because the isolated aren’t aware of pop-culture references, which can make them the target of ridicule and bullying. The flip-side to over-monitoring is under-monitoring.  Parents who don’t care about or are not aware of the impact media exposure has on their children’s lives will not monitor what their children are exposed to. As scary as the notion is, part of the solution to the over-saturation of consumerism is to encourage children to think. Of course, this means more work for parents, which can be daunting for someone who is struggling with a career on top of being a parent.  However, opening a dialogue with children about media exposure will help them make smarter choices as consumers. It will also help them have a better sense of reality when it comes to body image. Many parents believe in the power of conversations with children when it comes to subjects such as drugs or alcohol. I believe that the same conversations should be happening about media and media exposure. As more people become aware of the impact media has on their lives and on the lives of their children, people can work towards lessening the impact advertising has on their lives.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1468225857738713516-3061443392776781815?l=denowolfness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/feeds/3061443392776781815/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2011/03/killing-us-but-not-very-softly.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/3061443392776781815'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/3061443392776781815'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2011/03/killing-us-but-not-very-softly.html' title='Killing us, but not very softly'/><author><name>Phoenix Fyrewolf Seahawk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13967477423390313226</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KshC_ruO_yA/S9t77beHtUI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NHur5bQIako/S220/psychedelic-cactus-LG.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1468225857738713516.post-3756345058312067226</id><published>2011-03-16T21:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-16T21:52:34.920-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Easy Meat n Potato Glop</title><content type='html'>I just came up with an easy and tasty recipe. Measurements are far from exact. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What you will need:&lt;br /&gt;Aprox 1 lb stew meat&lt;br /&gt;1 packet Mrs. Grass onion soup mix (Or a packet of whatever onion soup mix you prefer. I can only attest to the tastiness of this particular brand though)&lt;br /&gt;1 packet of random mashed potato flakes. (I used one of the "fully loaded" flavors this time. I plan on experimenting with different varieties)&lt;br /&gt;Water&lt;br /&gt;Milk&lt;br /&gt;Butter (optional?)&lt;br /&gt;Some sort of large pan&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Preparation:&lt;br /&gt;1. Brown the meat.  Leave all the grease and juice (or don't if you are a health nut.  Use more water in the next step)&lt;br /&gt;2. Mix in onion soup powder. Add enough water so the meat is covered entirely.&lt;br /&gt;3. Let onion soup simmer with the meat until the onion pieces are tender&lt;br /&gt;4. Turn off heat and stir in the potatoes. Add enough milk so the potatoes are a creamy consistency. This is the part where butter is optional. I added quite a bit of butter here but more milk will likely work just as well. &lt;br /&gt;5. ENJOY!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1468225857738713516-3756345058312067226?l=denowolfness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/feeds/3756345058312067226/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2011/03/easy-meat-n-potato-glop.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/3756345058312067226'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/3756345058312067226'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2011/03/easy-meat-n-potato-glop.html' title='Easy Meat n Potato Glop'/><author><name>Phoenix Fyrewolf Seahawk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13967477423390313226</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KshC_ruO_yA/S9t77beHtUI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NHur5bQIako/S220/psychedelic-cactus-LG.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1468225857738713516.post-7327772116738217342</id><published>2011-03-15T00:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-15T00:39:28.008-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sexuality On Sale</title><content type='html'>This is an essay from this term.  Enjoy! Works Cited at the bottom of the page.&lt;br /&gt;-------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;       Lets talk about sex. Actually, lets talk about sexuality. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; When most people think of the word “sexuality,” their thoughts drift towards sexual orientation and gender identity. Many people think that a person’s sexuality is something that can’t be controlled: people are born with their sexuality intact and nothing can truly change it. On the other hand, many people believe that sexuality is entirely a choice and so a person can be rid of any and all sexual tendencies and new ones can take their place.y. Humans seem to be overly aware of sexuality. People spend a great deal of time trying to make themselves more sexually desirable. They also spend a great deal of time agonizing over sexuality when it concerns other people. Michel Foucault, a French modern philosopher, wrote in his book The History of Sexuality that sexuality has nothing to do with sex. The Sparknotes editors say this of Foucault: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;"Sexuality, according to Foucault, is nothing more than a social construct. There is not something about our sex organs, or the act of sexual intercourse, or our instincts and impulses related to that act, that in itself relates to other aspects of our consciousness and social being. Rather, we have created connections that we now think of as objectively real and independent of us." &lt;br /&gt;(Online)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; If sexuality has nothing to do with sex, why do people obsess over it so much? Foucault goes on to say that sexuality has become something that has invaded every aspect of our lives. People are judged and have a moral character assigned to them based on how other people perceive them sexually. Not only do people have to work at becoming more sexually desirable, but also they must make sure that they are not perceived as being sexually unacceptable. &lt;br /&gt;What is sexually acceptable and what is not has never been concretely defined. Things that society today deems completely unacceptable were acceptable and even sought after in times past. The argument that “it has always been this way” simply does not hold water. Sexuality, while a huge part of our core being, is not something that appeared out of thin air. It was created through a bombardment of images and the massive power struggle that shapes our collective consciousness. Susan Bordo, a writer who often tackles the subject of sex, says that men featured in advertising appeal mostly to other men. No singular guide book exists (at least none that I am aware of) that tells gay men what they must find attractive. Yet, Bordo can look at an advertisement and say with confidence “That ad is appealing to gay men.” How does Bordo know what a gay male would find sexually attractive? Her perception of what gay men find attractive is likely found on display in advertisements, both in print and on television. With very little research, one can find a plethora of information concerning the likes and dislikes of a “typical” homosexual male. One can also find plenty of companies willing to sell things to a typical homosexual male. Of course, they also want to sell things to a typical heterosexual female, a typical homosexual female, a typical heterosexual male and anything and everything in between. &lt;br /&gt; Most people would like to think, no matter what “box” they have been put in sexually speaking, that they have total ownership over their sexuality. They know what they like and nothing is going to change it. Jean Kilbourne, in her presentation Killing us Softly, shares her view that advertising is contributing to poor body image in both women and men. She also speaks about how children are now growing up with an unrealistic view of themselves because they are constantly being reminded that they are not perfect little objects. I believe that the people in charge of media outlets are doing more than simply telling people “Please feel bad about yourself. We can fix whatever ails you for only $19.95!” Foucault theorises that sexuality is a constantly evolving social construct and that the construct is always being modified to benefit those in power. About the seventeenth century, he writes “One had tolerant familiarity with the illicit.” (Foucault) This way of thinking shifted, however. Behaviors and ideas that were perfectly acceptable suddenly became taboo. For example, homosexuality was not a subject of conversation even as late as the seventeenth century. As time progressed, it became less and less O.K. to be gay. Of course, people could still indulge in “unacceptable” sexual behavior, but it wasn’t free anymore. Not only had the definition of “sexual deviant” changed, but also people began to see profit potential in this new kind of deviant. Industries for treating and housing sexual deviants began to appear. Prostitution increased as more people required outlets for their deviancy, and as more people realized that there were some willing to pay large sums of money in order to deal with their deviant tendencies in a somewhat anonymous fashion. &lt;br /&gt; Rarely does a person wake up and say, “I am a sexual deviant. I am not normal,” even though this is the message people see on a daily basis. People have been conditioned not to label unattractiveness as sexual deviancy. No, being unattractive sexually is not the same as being a child molester, but with the way the media puts emphasis on needing to be sexually attractive, it might as well be. When someone is sexually unattractive, they face many challenges. They may even be put last in line for a job, even though they meet or exceed the qualifications required. Many laws are in place that tell companies and individuals that they cannot act against someone based on race, religion, or handicap. Being unattractive is not considered a protected class, therefore people can discriminate without fear of retaliation. Axe, a brand of male beauty products, often warns men of the dangers of having “bad hair.” in their advertisements. The warnings are meant as somewhat of a joke, but a male with unacceptable hair can find himself discriminated against by both women and other men. Attractiveness is used as a measure of worth. If sexuality wasn’t constantly on display in television or print media, I doubt that people would be willing to spend large sums of money in order to become more sexually desirable. People also wouldn’t judge people based on what they are told is sexually attractive. &lt;br /&gt; People in charge of the media benefit from telling people how think about sexuality. They have formed constructs telling people how to identify themselves sexually and what to do with this identification. Forces within the media even tell people how to operate within “unacceptable” sexual constructs. The television program "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy," for example, is designed to help heterosexual males with subjects such as wardrobe selection and hair management. The programs premise is that homosexual males are better at selecting clothing and doing hair. This implies that heterosexual males are incapable of picking clothes or doing their own hair. Conversely, homosexuality, particularly in males, is frowned upon. Paradoxically there is quite a bit of money to be had in telling men how to be better homosexuals. Women are affected by the manipulation of sexuality as well. Most women are aware of the dangers of eating disorders yet at the same time there are hints found in various media outlets that suggest that sometimes women must develop an eating disorder in order to stay thin enough to be sexually attractive. Jokes about eating disorders are a constant on comedy programs such as "Family Guy." Some would argue that statements that would encourage women to develop eating disorders are not supposed to be taken seriously. I believe, however, that these jokes are are tiny bits of encouragement to some, especially those that feel desperately unattractive. Those in charge of media outlets benefit from making sure everyone is dissatisfied with their sexuality. The media tells people “You are xyz paradigm, but you can always be better at it! Pay us to find out how” and people do pay because they they are being watched.. People fear the eyes of strangers, especially when it comes to anything involving sex. The more sexual paranoia is perpetuated, the more people are willing to pay to make the nasty feelings go away. Don’t like being watched? Buy this product, get this surgery, take this pill and become normal enough to be ignored.&lt;br /&gt; Even though they perpetuate a skewed perception of sexuality, television, magazines and movies appear to many as a savior. If the media are the ones telling people they have a problem, of course the media are going to have the solution. Maybe that new perfume will work or maybe just a little plastic surgery will do the trick. The media picture of the perfectly sexually attractive person is based completely out of image manipulation. Fashion models often admit that the images of them put on magazine covers and advertisements are not real. Imperfections have been smoothed over and pounds have been dropped artificially. Models are not perfect but people are told that they should find them attractive. No perfect person exists, even though there are many people who have some perfect parts. This is a good thing for the media because it means that people are constantly chasing perfection. People will never stop spending money on perfection because they can never achieve it. Those in charge of media outlets are careful not to reveal too much about how they are defining sexuality, even though it is obvious in just about everything the media has out there. There are shows that tell people how to be gay, straight and every thing in between. People start to think “Well they are experts after all; if I’m not all that they say I should be, there must be something wrong with me.” It becomes more than just not feeling attractive. People start to question what they find attractive about others based on what they see on television and in movies. Eventually, people begin to define their entire sexuality based on the opinions of others. &lt;br /&gt; Isn’t sexuality supposed to be a personal thing? Over time, sexuality went from an individual construct to a construct built by the illusion of the status quo. Sexuality has become simply another commodity that companies buy and sell from society in little advertisement-sized chunks. Taking control of something that people find to be deeply personal is the perfect way to assure that the profits will continue. Those in charge of media outlets know that people are more driven to action when it is their idea. Simply telling people “We are going to tell you exactly how you should act if you identify with this sexual construct. By the way, your sexual construct is:” wouldn’t work. Most people would reply with a heartfelt “Screw you!” Rather than being direct, the media convinces people that they come up with sexuality on their own. Once people have come up with their sexual identity, through repeated exposure to what is perfect and what isn’t, the “Empire of Images” (Bordo) comes swooping in to save the day. Until people realize that they are being manipulated at the very core, companies will continue to profit from sexuality. Media companies profit from advertising. Advertising is paid for by companies who turn a profit. In order for companies to sell things, people have to be convinced that they need those things. This goes far beyond the beauty product and fashion industry. People who feel like they have something wrong will seek out medical treatment, psychiatric treatment and who knows what else. It could be argued that every industry on Earth could potentially profit from people who are convinced that they are flawed. &lt;br /&gt;Works Cited&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SparkNotes Editors. “SparkNote on The History of Sexuality: An Introduction, Volume 1.” SparkNotes.com. SparkNotes LLC. n.d.. Web. 24 Feb. 2011.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bordo, Susan. "Beauty (re)-Discovers the Male Body."Ways of Reading: an Anthology for Writers. By David Bartholomae and Tony Petrosky. Boston: Bedford/St. Martin's, 2008. 131-76. Print.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Foucault, Michel. The History of Sexuality: An Introduction Volume 1. New York: Vintage, 1990. Print.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1468225857738713516-7327772116738217342?l=denowolfness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/feeds/7327772116738217342/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2011/03/sexuality-on-sale.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/7327772116738217342'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/7327772116738217342'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2011/03/sexuality-on-sale.html' title='Sexuality On Sale'/><author><name>Phoenix Fyrewolf Seahawk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13967477423390313226</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KshC_ruO_yA/S9t77beHtUI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NHur5bQIako/S220/psychedelic-cactus-LG.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1468225857738713516.post-2933287632062146485</id><published>2011-03-10T22:04:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-10T22:04:43.396-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Alone</title><content type='html'>I've been waiting for this moment&lt;br /&gt;For so long it seems I'm never at peace&lt;br /&gt;and yet you lie there unmoving&lt;br /&gt;Unfeeling...&lt;br /&gt;I touch you but you don't touch me&lt;br /&gt;I'll float around like a shadow&lt;br /&gt;silent, contemplative of my lonliness&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes you wander by&lt;br /&gt;and ask me silly questions&lt;br /&gt;I laugh and I smile&lt;br /&gt;I feel close to you again&lt;br /&gt;Departure...&lt;br /&gt;Back into the dark I fade&lt;br /&gt;back into yourself you go&lt;br /&gt;I am your rock, your fortress&lt;br /&gt;but I am a timeshare&lt;br /&gt;Pulled in pushed away&lt;br /&gt;it all ends up the same&lt;br /&gt;I'm in this moment and I'm alone&lt;br /&gt;and only sometimes, am I at peace.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1468225857738713516-2933287632062146485?l=denowolfness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/feeds/2933287632062146485/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2011/03/alone.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/2933287632062146485'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/2933287632062146485'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2011/03/alone.html' title='Alone'/><author><name>Phoenix Fyrewolf Seahawk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13967477423390313226</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KshC_ruO_yA/S9t77beHtUI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NHur5bQIako/S220/psychedelic-cactus-LG.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1468225857738713516.post-3643907237722494562</id><published>2011-03-08T15:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-08T15:44:05.419-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Final thoughts about my Writing class</title><content type='html'>This is one of my favorite quotes from the movie Fight Club:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Advertising has us chasing cars and clothes, working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don't need. We're the middle children of history, man. No purpose or place. We have no Great War. No Great Depression. Our Great War's a spiritual war, our Great Depression is our lives. We've all been raised on television to believe that one day we'd all be millionaires, and movie gods, and rock stars. But we won't. And we're slowly learning that fact. And we're very, very pissed off." ~Tyler Durden&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How many people are "pissed off" at this fact? Do people even realize that they are motivated by something that is invisible and in the hands of the owners of corporations? In a way, we live in a feudal society where those who have/run large corporations dictate everything to those who don't. The difference now is that it isn't very obvious. &lt;br /&gt;I've felt manipulated by advertising and other media for a long time but until I took this course, I didn't really think about it too much. Reading the required essays made me think a lot more critically about the world at large. They also kick-started my brain. After I dropped out of college the first time, I became the perfect corporate tool. I worked for what I could never have chasing the impossible dream that TV said I wanted and needed. Going back to college made me realize that the dream is total BS. Why should I want what someone else wants? If I want something different, does that make me bad? HELL NO!&lt;br /&gt;There is something better out there.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1468225857738713516-3643907237722494562?l=denowolfness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/feeds/3643907237722494562/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2011/03/final-thoughts-about-my-writing-class.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/3643907237722494562'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/3643907237722494562'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2011/03/final-thoughts-about-my-writing-class.html' title='Final thoughts about my Writing class'/><author><name>Phoenix Fyrewolf Seahawk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13967477423390313226</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KshC_ruO_yA/S9t77beHtUI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NHur5bQIako/S220/psychedelic-cactus-LG.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1468225857738713516.post-6300008974658271537</id><published>2011-02-20T23:52:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-20T23:53:05.813-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Thoughts on Bitchiness</title><content type='html'>It seems like the second someone posts a thread (on a chat forum or other online posting site) where it seems acceptable to be snarky (and dare I say, bitchy) several people come out of the woodwork who couldn't be bothered to post anything encouraging or intelligent anywhere else. This phenomenon is found in every online community on the planet. I think it is because everyone has a bit of pent up rage and saying things you would never say to someones face is way easier behind a screen.&lt;br /&gt;Also, bitch begets bitch. A snark thread is the most likely candidate for snark replies.&lt;br /&gt;That being said, bitch comes in all sizes and colors. I think the bitch factor goes up with the overwhelming sense of entitlement some people seem to have.&lt;br /&gt;No matter where the bitch flag came from, name calling doesn't do anything to help the situation nor does it work towards improving your life or the lives of others.&lt;br /&gt;Bitching and complaining is easy. Kindness and encouragement should be just as easy but unfortunately kindness and encouragement aren't nearly as entertaining. No one started chanting "hug hug hug" in the school yard, at least not that I've seen. There aren't any complement or cuddling competitions either. For the longest time (maybe since the beginning of human consciousness), conflict has been a source of entertainment. Can humanity as a species work past that? I hope so.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1468225857738713516-6300008974658271537?l=denowolfness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/feeds/6300008974658271537/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2011/02/thoughts-on-bitchiness.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/6300008974658271537'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/6300008974658271537'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2011/02/thoughts-on-bitchiness.html' title='Thoughts on Bitchiness'/><author><name>Phoenix Fyrewolf Seahawk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13967477423390313226</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KshC_ruO_yA/S9t77beHtUI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NHur5bQIako/S220/psychedelic-cactus-LG.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1468225857738713516.post-5889961694945525000</id><published>2010-12-30T01:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-30T02:09:13.919-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Total Limbo</title><content type='html'>I'm waiting for my financial aid refund to come through.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All of my nervous energy, all of my insomnia, all of my obsessive internet crawling can be blamed on this one simple fact.  At the beginning of the month, it was easy to accept brokeatude because the day when I would no longer be broke was so far away. It was past Christmas and past the new year so I put it in the back of my brain and tired to make a few extra beans here and there.  I did get a day of work and mom and dad did generously give this Christmas, which is probably what saved me from total insanity. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to do better this term in school.  Having to drop a class really irritated me, especially since I know I could have made up the work I missed. New term, new opportunity though. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another thing I want to get going is my mixing.  I may not go far or be super famous at it or anything but the sheer fact that I can do it is therapeutic. I would love to play to a crowd, and I get the feeling that I'll get the chance to if I apply myself. I think though that I'll start feeling better as soon as I start messing with a set of decks. Through everything, spinning tracks has always made me really happy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I have to wait for money.  Which is fine really but at the same time incredibly frustrating.  This whole month has been a lesson in patience and trusting the ebb and flow of the universe. I'm starting to get it but I'm still kept up at night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll get through, I always do somehow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1468225857738713516-5889961694945525000?l=denowolfness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/feeds/5889961694945525000/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2010/12/total-limbo.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/5889961694945525000'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/5889961694945525000'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2010/12/total-limbo.html' title='Total Limbo'/><author><name>Phoenix Fyrewolf Seahawk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13967477423390313226</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KshC_ruO_yA/S9t77beHtUI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NHur5bQIako/S220/psychedelic-cactus-LG.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1468225857738713516.post-2272697803031844365</id><published>2010-12-22T17:32:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-22T17:33:34.674-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Get Out of My House</title><content type='html'>Another class essay, this one is about college room lotteries. Enjoy!&lt;br /&gt;-------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At some point in time, I think almost everyone has lived with a roommate. I'm not talking about living with parents or even a relative. I speak to those who have been tossed into a living situation where they must co-exist with a total stranger.  This situation is encountered mostly by college students who, because of lack of funding and high enrollment rates, often have to live with someone else to survive.  Most students have little to no say as to who they end up living with. If they are lucky, the decision is made based on compatibility surveys or personal choice. However, students are often placed together based on an arbitrary room lottery system.  This kind of arrangement can throw two people together who might not even be compatible as friends, much less as roommates. Room lotteries take two or more random people and force them to share a living space for at least one term (or semester) if not the entire year. Room lotteries do not take personality, living habits or cultural background into consideration. With a room lottery, it is always possible for two people with incompatible personalities to be matched together.   People generally try to avoid others with whom they share no common ground.  A room lottery will match these people together and then expect them to live together without difficulty.  If students were allowed to participate more in the process of selecting a roommate, they could focus more mental energy on doing well in school.&lt;br /&gt; Not everyone has a bad experience with a roommate assigned to them at random.  Sometimes, students are assigned someone that they end up being compatible with. The roommates become friends and sometimes they remain living together for the entirety of their college career.  Even if the roommates don't end up being bosom buddies, this type of living situation can help students develop tolerance for those that have differing opinions.  It also can teach students how to appropriately deal with conflict and respond to stressful situations.&lt;br /&gt; Room lotteries are a quick way to assign housing to a large number of students at once. They also eliminate the possibility of people choosing not to live with anyone but themselves. With student housing being at a premium, there often isn't enough room to accommodate people who wish to live alone.  Group situations are also cheaper. With the costs being divided between multiple students per living space, even colleges that take care of housing as part of tuition can cut costs by filling dorm rooms with as many students as possible. &lt;br /&gt;  Everyone has their own personal habits, personality quirks, and tastes based on cultural background and the environment in which they were raised.  The whole process of college is stressful, especially to students who are leaving home for the first time. Many of these students have not had the opportunity to live in an environment where they are free from parental influence.  They are not used to having to motivate themselves to pick up dirty socks or kill the mold monster in the sink.  On top of this, students are expected to make progress on an academic level. The whole idea of being self sufficient and self motivating is difficult when one has total control of their environment.  More problems occur when there is another person, or several persons, are added to the situation.  Each member of the arrangement desires some measure of control and disagreements are bound to happen, even in ideal conditions.  Too often, roommates in a dorm situation are in disagreement before they meet each other. They may not share the same beliefs, or have beliefs that are in direct conflict. An extreme example would be a Christian being paired with a Satanist.  When people disagree on a sensitive topic, it affects every interaction they have with each other.  The disagreement will also be tenser because everyone has to remain in close proximity. A simple complaint about someone forgetting to vacuum can turn into a catastrophic argument that ends badly. The recent trial of Amanda Knox shows what can happen if roommate rage is allowed to fester for too long. In the trial, evidence was presented to suggest that Knox was angry with her roommate and that because of this anger she stabbed her roommate several times. Most roommate disagreements do not reach this level of violence.  There are several college students, however, that have been through at least one situation where they feared someone would get violent if things didn't improve.  Many students are hesitant to bring up these issues to Residence Assistants or other people in authority for a variety of reasons and so they deal with the situation by avoiding it. They find themselves staying with friends or in extreme cases, sleeping on a park bench. &lt;br /&gt; Fundamental disagreements can also breed an environment full of mistrust. Safety concerns for college students are numerous. New students are cautioned heavily on making sure they lock their doors and that they don't walk around alone at night.  They must constantly be aware of threats found in the world outside their dorm room.  On top of all of these concerns, many students find themselves in a situation where they don't trust the person or persons they are living with. This mistrust can arise from people simply having a difference of opinion.  Not trusting the person one lives with is extremely stressful.  It also can lead to poor choices in reacting to situations as they arise. For example, student A has a difference of religious opinion with student B. Student A is convinced that student B is a heathen, based on their first meeting, which involved both students simply unpacking. Student A noticed that student B had a piece of literature that went against his beliefs. Later in the term, student A ends up missing some property.  Even if there is a possibility that student A simply misplaced his property, his first reaction is to accuse student B.  On the other hand, some people will exhibit poor judgment and steal from their housemate.  There is no typical reason why someone chooses to steal another person’s property.  It could be vengeance for real or imagined slights, jealousy, or even because the person just has a compulsion to steal.  Whatever the reason, the possibility of losing things makes it difficult to focus on getting an education. &lt;br /&gt; When I lived in a dormitory situation, I found it very difficult leaving valuable personal property alone with my roommate.  The roommate did not initially do anything to betray my trust, but because I was dealing with an unknown entity, whose beliefs differed greatly from mine, I found it impossible to let my guard down. At the same time, my own issues and hang ups prevented me from discussing the issues I had with her. As a result, the conflict between us escalated to the point where there were threats of violence.  Complaints to the Residence Assistant fell on deaf ears and the school did not offer any other sources of mediation. At the time, I was not familiar with how to deal with the situation at all.  I am sure I am not the first and only college student who has problems dealing with conflict. I can say with certainly that I would have benefited with more information on how to deal with conflict. If the school insisted upon matching people up randomly, some instruction, even if it was through print or sent electronically, could help students better prepare for conflict. More and more, colleges are instituting programs and classes that deal with conflicts between roommates.  College is a time of transition and suddenly having to live with someone else adds even more stress. I believe that students would benefit from more resources on campuses for mediating conflicts. With mediation, students also would learn how to deal with conflict in an appropriate way and hopefully feel that they could do something before the disagreement got out of control. &lt;br /&gt; Dealing with drama involving roommates is often cited as a reason for poor academic performance. Unfortunately, most schools don't accept this as an excuse even though conflict is created through room lotteries that are often mandatory for students wishing to live on campus. If colleges do not want to eliminate the room lottery system, they must acknowledge and give allowances for the problems that room lotteries potentially cause. Even though more proactive steps are being taken to deal with conflict between roommates on college campuses, something has to be done about the way students are placed with each other.  Living with another person is a large commitment that shouldn't be taken lightly.  Dating couples who are contemplating marriage prepare for the commitment of living together by often seeing counselors or seeking religious counsel. It is a little bit different with college students because the living situation is expected to be temporary. A married couple is presumably staying together for the rest of their lives. They combine their possessions and resources in anticipation for a permanent arrangement. College students are not expected to combine bank accounts or buy property together. College students are also not expected to spend a great deal of time with their roommates, certainly not the kind of time people typically spend with a romantic partner. Still, care should be taken when placing students together because they do have to live with each other. It is impossible to completely avoid someone sharing a common living space.  Filling out compatibility surveys is a good start but I think students should at least have the opportunity to meet with each other in person, if possible, before they are expected to live in the same space. If meeting in person isn't possible due to distance or time constraints, the people involved should meet via telephone or through an internet conference.  Having a roommate isn't an easy thing to deal with in even the best of circumstances. Colleges should be mindful of the diversity of students and try to match people based on similar interests and beliefs so that students can focus more on getting an education and less on being angry at or fearful of the person they live with.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1468225857738713516-2272697803031844365?l=denowolfness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/feeds/2272697803031844365/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2010/12/get-out-of-my-house.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/2272697803031844365'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/2272697803031844365'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2010/12/get-out-of-my-house.html' title='Get Out of My House'/><author><name>Phoenix Fyrewolf Seahawk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13967477423390313226</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KshC_ruO_yA/S9t77beHtUI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NHur5bQIako/S220/psychedelic-cactus-LG.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1468225857738713516.post-8625696804572006631</id><published>2010-12-22T17:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-22T17:31:26.358-08:00</updated><title type='text'>An Essay about Depression.</title><content type='html'>This is an essay on depression I wrote for a class. I got a fairly good grade on it. Works Cited are at the bottom of the page. I hope someone benefits from this. :)&lt;br /&gt;---------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Depression is a disease that affects thousands of people in all walks of life and in all cultures. It is even considered a leading cause of medical harm in developing countries. Despite its prevalence, depression is a disease that many people misunderstand. As a sufferer of depression, I hear a lot of people tell me that it is “all in my head” or that I should “just get over it.” Another misconception of depression is that it will simply go away once someone has been prescribed medication.  Depression is a topic that many people do not wish to talk about. It is easy to understand why people who do not live with depression choose to avoid it as a topic of conversation. In general, when people hear that a friend has depression, they avoid that friend. It could be because they feel that their depressed friend will make them depressed or that they don’t know what to say to help. Many times, the avoidance response isn’t even a conscious decision. Because of the social pressure to not burden friends and family with negativity, many sufferers of depression do not wish to learn anything about their illness. Even though the disease may negatively impact their lives, they are hesitant to find out more information because they feel that learning about the disease acknowledges the fact that they are indeed ill. Doctors depend on input from patients in order to recommend treatments and evaluate the progress of treatments already in place.  If a patient isn’t honest with the doctor, the doctor can only make guesses as to how to treat their patient.  On top of this, doctors are pressured by pharmaceutical companies to sell “quick fixes” to as many patients as possible. This pressure tends to create a less than desirable relationship between doctors and patients, making patients even more hesitant to speak up.&lt;br /&gt;A large majority of people believe that there are no physical symptoms associated with depression. Even people who have been diagnosed with depression do not believe that there are physical symptoms. A survey in Atlanta concluded that “72% of people with major depression did not believe, prior to their diagnosis, that painful physical symptoms such as unexplained headache, backache, gastrointestinal disturbance and vague aches and pains, were common symptoms of depression.” (World) yet over 75% of the respondents to the same survey reported that they were bothered enough by these symptoms to go see a doctor.  Patients have a tendency to not go to a doctor unless something causes a significant disruption to their daily life. When a physical symptom comes up, especially one that is debilitating enough to affect performance at work or in school, many people wish for the condition to simply go away.  They treat the problem as a disease in and of itself, rather than figuring out if it is a symptom of a more complicated illness. They go to the doctor with their physical complaints, and too often, depression isn’t even discussed. Doctors, when presented with unexplained physical symptoms rarely think of depression. As a result, a patient may be subject to a wide variety of tests that yield no useful results. Patients could avoid tensions with their doctor and doctors could save patients the aggravation of fumbling around for an answer if depression were discussed as a possible diagnosis.&lt;br /&gt;When people do see a doctor for depression, they are often prescribed medication.  Psychiatric medication has increased in popularity significantly in recent years. With the introduction of drugs such as Prozac, more and more people have been turning to psychiatric medications in order to cope with depression.  In 2002 it was estimated “that around 46 million prescriptions were written for psychiatric medications” (Davis-Berman and Pestello) even though the documented side effects of these medications are quite unpleasant. Side effects can be uncomfortable and even life threatening, and yet people are hesitant to ask their doctors about them.  Many sufferers of depression think that once they are on medication, the process of treating the disease is over. Advertisements for anti-depressant medication tend to mislead consumers into thinking that taking one pill will cure them. Advertisements also have a tendency to gloss over the potential side effects of the medications they are trying to sell. Even though some depression sufferers do see immediate improvement with the first medication they try while suffering no side effects, this is the exception rather than the rule.  There is no magic pill that works for everyone.  Each medication has different effects on the brain and no two brains are exactly alike. Unfortunately, the hesitation by patients to discuss the side effects of the medications they are prescribed often lead to a worsening of depression symptoms.  The mental and physical side effects of medications, especially those that involve sexual function, often make the patient suffer symptoms of depression that are worse than the original complaint. &lt;br /&gt;Patients are also hesitant to speak with their doctors after a diagnosis because they feel that their doctor will not take their complaints seriously. Many patients feel that they are rushed through the diagnosis and feel that they are pushed into taking medication.  Some doctors prescribe several medications at once; sometimes it seems with complete disregard as to how the medications will react with each other.  Several patients with depression report having bad experiences with doctors.  Patients who are dissatisfied with doctors soon seek out the advice of others, often through internet chat forums. In a study of postings found in chat forums designed for depression sufferers it was found that, “Posters sometimes challenged diagnoses and treatments that they or others had been given by their physicians. In this situation, they sometimes suggested alternative diagnoses and medications. Posters who had been ‘‘involved’’ in the mental health field for an extended period of time seemed to see themselves as ‘‘quasi-experts’’. They seemed to feel that in some ways their experiences made them more knowledgeable than doctors.” (Davis-Berman and Pestello). These same posters also felt that they were qualified to give advice about the type of medication taken and the correct dosage.  If doctors are unsure about the effects of anti-depressant medication, it seems unlikely that the average person has enough knowledge of the subject to be qualified to give out medical advice. Most doctors agree that psychiatric medications can be dangerous if taken improperly or stopped suddenly. Doctors often caution patients against diagnosing each other because when it comes to medication, no two people are identical. What works for one patient has the potential to kill someone else.&lt;br /&gt;Generally, when someone seeks the advice of a physician, they want to have their health concerns taken seriously. There is a prevailing attitude amongst sufferers of depression that doctors do not take what patients say to heart. Sometimes, sufferers of depression feel that doctors believe that they are “crazy” and will do anything to get the patient out of their office. This encourages people to adjust their medications themselves or quit them entirely. When symptoms get worse, the patient is hesitant to return to the doctor because of previous negative experiences. &lt;br /&gt;Even though there are millions of people under some sort of treatment for depression, there are countless others who are suffering in silence. In 2005 the World Health Organization reported that three-hundred-forty million people worldwide suffer from depression, yet it is estimated that three-quarters of people with a depressive disorder never receive any treatment.  This is partially because of the belief that depression is something that only affects the mind.  Surveys of physicians and psychiatrists in several countries suggest that there are many doctors that do not believe some unexplained physical symptoms can be a sign of depression.  Employers do not believe depression is a legitimate reason for poor job performance.  Several people with depression, including myself, have reported negative actions taken against them after they inform their employer that they may be suffering from depression. Because it is difficult to prove the existence of depression in a tangible way, there are people who use the label of depression as an excuse for poor job performance and attendance. The prevailing attitude then becomes that anyone who complains of depression must be faking it. People who genuinely would be diagnosed with depression become concerned with the stigma associated with the label and try to tough things out on their own.  Also, most health plans offered by employers do not cover diagnosis and treatment of mental health problems, even though there are some physical issues associated with the disease. Many anti-depressant medications are expensive and often, to find a treatment that works, it takes months of experimentation with quite a few different drugs.  Toughing it out seems like a better option, especially since there is no way to guarantee that treatment will be effective. Toughing it out also keeps the disease a secret from co-workers or supervisors. &lt;br /&gt;In order to combat depression worldwide, I believe several things need to be taken into consideration. First, the public in general needs to be educated about depression.  It seems that the only things people know about depression is what they see on ads paid for by the pharmaceutical industry.  It needs to be understood that depression is a legitimate illness both by doctors and the public so that people will be more willing to seek treatment. More and more doctors are admitting that the current methods of treating depression are not effective and that more patients would be willing to accept treatments if they worked better. Doctors are also starting to discuss new treatments and the need for further education about depression. These are positive steps in the fight against depression but there is more to be done.  Employers need to become more aware of depression and its symptoms and offer a way for people to get treatment if they need it. People who have depression need to be more up front with their doctors so that they can have the best treatment possible. Depression sufferers also need to be honest with themselves as to what treatments are working and what treatments are not. &lt;br /&gt;Depression can be a debilitating illness and the stigma of diagnosis can make the problem even worse.  Rather than relying on information based on misconceptions of the disease, doctors, employers and patients need to work together and educate each other.  Through effort, mutual understanding, and honesty about symptoms and side effects, depression is a disease that can be beaten.&lt;br /&gt;------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;Works Cited&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Davis-Berman, Jenifer, and Frances G. Pestello. "Taking Anti-depressant Medication: A Qualitative Examination of Internet Postings." Journal of Mental Health 17.4 (2008): 349-60. Web. 26 Nov. 2010. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"People with Depression Unaware of Painful Physical Symptoms of Depression." World Disease Weekly (2005): 1112. 28 June 2005. Web. 26 Nov. 2010.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1468225857738713516-8625696804572006631?l=denowolfness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/feeds/8625696804572006631/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2010/12/essay-about-depression.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/8625696804572006631'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/8625696804572006631'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2010/12/essay-about-depression.html' title='An Essay about Depression.'/><author><name>Phoenix Fyrewolf Seahawk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13967477423390313226</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KshC_ruO_yA/S9t77beHtUI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NHur5bQIako/S220/psychedelic-cactus-LG.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1468225857738713516.post-103608302761606259</id><published>2010-12-17T00:23:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-17T00:23:46.129-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Fyrewolf Gets a Gig</title><content type='html'>A video I made...might turn into a regular series.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe width="425" height="344" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/18CGsknAm_g?fs=1" frameborder="0"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1468225857738713516-103608302761606259?l=denowolfness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/feeds/103608302761606259/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2010/12/fyrewolf-gets-gig.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/103608302761606259'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/103608302761606259'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2010/12/fyrewolf-gets-gig.html' title='Fyrewolf Gets a Gig'/><author><name>Phoenix Fyrewolf Seahawk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13967477423390313226</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KshC_ruO_yA/S9t77beHtUI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NHur5bQIako/S220/psychedelic-cactus-LG.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/18CGsknAm_g/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1468225857738713516.post-6863109698131717579</id><published>2010-12-11T16:09:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-11T16:09:34.946-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Rest in Peace Ryan "DJ Ribble" Beaton</title><content type='html'>A fellow DJ and a pillar to the EDM community died yesterday due to cancer. He had a rare cancer, usually only found in children, in his jawbone. The tumor broke his jaw and he went through massive re-constructive surgery. At first the doctors thought they had gotten out all of it and any residual that might be left would be killed by chemo therapy and radiation. The cancer came back and attacked the new tissue in his face. Within a couple of months it spread through his entire body and he just couldn't fight it anymore. He wasn't much older than I am and leaves behind a wife and a whole lot of electronic music heads who loved him for his positive attitude and his willingness to help up and coming local DJs through his online radio program. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Through the whole ordeal, surgeries, a huge tumor on his face, setback after setback...he was positive. He had the words "I'm Alive!" under his picture in the forums. He freely posted pictures of himself on facebook and in the forums with the tumor and after his surgeries. In every one of those pictures, he had a smile on his face. The man was a testament of how someone could be positive through a time of overwhelming adversity. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tried to post yesterday but couldn't. Thinking about it now still makes me cry. Ryan, I wasn't a close friend but through your music and positive energy, I got to know you. I am glad you are free of pain, and at peace again. Even though you are gone from this life, your energy and music will live on in the hearts and minds of many. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rock on at the Bridge, friend.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1468225857738713516-6863109698131717579?l=denowolfness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/feeds/6863109698131717579/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2010/12/rest-in-peace-ryan-dj-ribble-beaton.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/6863109698131717579'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/6863109698131717579'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2010/12/rest-in-peace-ryan-dj-ribble-beaton.html' title='Rest in Peace Ryan &quot;DJ Ribble&quot; Beaton'/><author><name>Phoenix Fyrewolf Seahawk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13967477423390313226</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KshC_ruO_yA/S9t77beHtUI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NHur5bQIako/S220/psychedelic-cactus-LG.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1468225857738713516.post-1680744253796406449</id><published>2010-12-09T17:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-09T17:30:11.159-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Keep Her Around!</title><content type='html'>I sent this to the Editor of the Eugene Weekly (a local news publication). I don't know if they will publish it or not but it gave me an opportunity to rant: &lt;br /&gt;A friend mentioned to me that they saw a letter in the Eugene Weekly about my car being an eyesore.  I haven't been able to find the letter, and I'll admit that there is a large possibility that the letter doesn't exist and that my friend was slyly dissing my car. However, the discussion has prompted me to write a letter to you about said vehicle. I call her the little blue pill. She is a 1993 Ford Festiva. There are several Festivas in Eugene but mine is probably the most noticeable.  She is blue, with a grey fender on the passenger side and there is no drivers side fender. You can hear her coming from a few blocks away and she doesn't sound like a $h!tty four banger.  A lot of people in Eugene like to stare at the pill disapprovingly, especially downtown.  I think if people knew why I kept her around, maybe they wouldn't be so upset that I drive "a loud eyesore".  First of all, she gets 45 miles per gallon of gas in town and around 48 on the highway.  After a tune up and an oil change she will likely get over 50 on the highway. Second, she is cheap to insure. I pay $280 for an entire year of insurance. Third, because of good engine maintenance I hardly have to put money into her for repairs. Yeah, she looks worn down but she is economical. Plus I own her outright, so if excrement hits the cooling device at least I've got a mobile shelter. &lt;br /&gt;If you see her and she offends you, I'm sorry you feel that way.  She has served me well for many years and yeah she isn't pretty but she is a testament to endurance and fortitude in the face of a crappy economy...at least I like to think so.  Too often people throw out things because they are no longer aesthetically pleasing even though there is a lot of use left. I think now is the time people should think about keeping things around a bit longer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1468225857738713516-1680744253796406449?l=denowolfness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/feeds/1680744253796406449/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2010/12/keep-her-around.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/1680744253796406449'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/1680744253796406449'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2010/12/keep-her-around.html' title='Keep Her Around!'/><author><name>Phoenix Fyrewolf Seahawk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13967477423390313226</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KshC_ruO_yA/S9t77beHtUI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NHur5bQIako/S220/psychedelic-cactus-LG.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1468225857738713516.post-8661254610283503118</id><published>2010-11-30T18:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-30T18:12:14.763-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Life Lessons in Video Games</title><content type='html'>This is an essay I wrote for a class...I got an A on it so I figured I'd put it out here on the blogosphere. Enjoy!&lt;br /&gt;----------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;It has been my personal experience that quite a few people have a low opinion of video games.  I have heard parents say they contribute to obesity in children and teachers say that they contribute to violence in schools.  Many parents I have spoken to have said that they would rather their children not play video games at all. They do not see the value in staring at a screen and pressing buttons.  At first glance, it does seem like a rather large waste of time. Sitting in front of the television and pressing buttons is not very engaging to those just sitting and watching the button pusher. Moving a few fingers less than an inch over and over again doesn't burn much in the way of calories.  But while the body isn't doing very much, the brain is in full gear, assimilating the  information on the screen and turning it into a wealth of useful tools, relevant to life outside of the virtual world.  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Regular video game play contributes to a keener sense of hand eye coordination. When I was younger, my coordination was poor.  At first, my parents put me through many types of therapy, however my coordination still did not improve. The problem was that I found the exercises boring, so I never did them. Eventually they decided to try a more unconventional approach. They had heard that some games help children with hand eye coordination and decided to get me a Commodore 64 computer and the game Frogger.  At first I was terrible at it. I couldn't move the joystick in the proper direction without looking at my hands.  I then lost track of what was happening on the screen. Soon my frog was overcome by an angry alligator or a rogue fish. After hours upon hours of game play, I got to the point where I could beat the game on a regular basis. When I later got a Sega Genesis game system,  I encountered the entirely new challenge of games that required a controller with more than one button. This type of game requires learning the layout of the controller by touch as well as remembering what button does  each action on the screen.  Again, I started out horribly. With enough practice, I soon became adept.  I even became skillful at the art of button combinations. I no longer needed to look at the controller in order to make the game do what I wanted it to do even as the complexity of the games increased.   As I improved, I began to notice a change in my daily life. I didn't drop things nearly as often and my teachers noticed that my handwriting began to improve significantly.  I went from being very clumsy to having at least some dexterity. My overall confidence in school increased because I was able to function better.  Through my experience I learned that improved hand eye coordination is a skill that benefits from practice. Video games made practicing fun and encouraged me to become more skilled in an area that was frustrating.  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Video games improve more than just dexterity. Being able to plan and keep up with situations that change rapidly are lessons that children can be taught at a young age through video games.  Games that are more complex than just timing jumps and attacks allow for practicing strategy and managing resources in a variety of situations.  Some games, such as first person perspective shooters, require players to make decisions quickly. Players have to figure out where to hide and where the enemy is while conserving ammunition and other game resources. Each game has its own secrets and pitfalls. Through trial and error, players begin to learn how to size up all types of situations. They can think about developing a plan b, a plan c and even a plan d at times. Games that pit human players against each other add an additional element of unpredictability.  In the real world, people face decisions every day. As people age, the ability to make a decision quickly tends to diminish.  Some studies suggest that decision making skills are improved and retained better through practice. Video games provide this practice in a relaxed and fun setting. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The ability to learn and adapt from making a mistake is a skill everyone will need eventually. It has been said that the definition of insanity is to do the same thing over and over again and expect different results. In order not to repeat a mistake, people have to do things differently when a similar situation presents itself. When players repeat a level in some video games, the level doesn't change. Through simple repetition, players will eventually figure out the solution. Young children benefit from this type of learning because it is a gentile introduction to the idea of not repeating bad decisions. The consequences of losing in a video game do not involve the possibility of bodily injury.  Video games are not a substitute for real life experience but  the lessons learned build a good foundation for children.  Through experiences with video games, children can learn how to adapt from mistakes in a safe environment.  The only consequence of making a mistake in a video game is that you have to do something over. At the same time, players learn how to change course and not make the same mistake twice. By learning adaptability early in life, children can be better equipped to dealing with mistakes as adults.  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;To be good at video games, players have to learn how to lose with grace and dignity.   One lesson learned through years of playing online games in particular is that there is always someone better.  In any given moment, the champion can turn into the loser and the loser can be on top of the world.  Learning to be calm about losing and learning from the loss as opposed to flying into a fit of hysterical rage builds a sense of good sportsmanship that applies to a wide variety of non-virtual situations. Video games can sometimes encourage very unsportsmanlike behavior, however.  One example that comes to mind is a case of game rage caught on camera.  In this video, an adolescent was playing the online multiplayer game World of Warcraft. During the course of the game,  another player decided to kill him at random.  Rather than changing servers or just turning the game off, the player proceeded to scream profanities at his computer. The entire tirade was caught on a hidden camera placed in the room by his brother. This unfortunate overreaction was then uploaded to the internet where several thousands of people watched this young man look like a fool.  The video game provided a situation where the young man in question  could have made a positive choice in his reaction if he experience was supplemented by parental guidance.  The parent in the video did not seem offer any positive guidance. In fact, she seemed more concerned with telling her child to “Shut up” and quit disturbing her. While playing games, children need to be monitored by their parents to assist them in learning the skills to deal with losses in an appropriate way.  The video game may present a situation where players lose, but they wont tell the player how to react. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Being part of a team is sometimes essential to the success of an endeavor.  Video games teach players of various backgrounds to come together for the common goal of winning.  Many games present situations where it is impossible to win by yourself.  By combining resources and different skill sets, players learn how to develop strategies by coming to a consensus.  Some games involve quickly working together and some games can have players talking together about a strategy for days or even months.   Groups of players can be from a few members of a squad to a giant battle consisting of over one hundred players per team.  A person who plays online games also runs into people of many different beliefs and cultures.  Despite these differences, and sometimes because of them, players learn how to win together.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The thrill of winning is motivation for children to learn skills and concepts  they wouldn't explore on their own until much later in life such as improving hand eye coordination and learning how to make decisions quickly.  They can practice the concepts they learn in an environment that is safer than most.   Children benefit from the lessons that video games teach.  They gain confidence in the face of unpredictability, faith in the face of defeat and the ability to work with a team. They learn how to plan ahead and how to formulate strategy.  They learn concepts about economy and managing resources.  They even learn better motor control. All of these lessons are impact children in a much more positive way if they are supplemented by parental guidance.  Video games do not teach by themselves and video games are not always a positive influence. Video games can also encourage inactivity and anti social behavior.  With proper guidance and someone to tell them when to turn the game off, video games can be a useful tool in teaching children how to deal with life.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Through playing video games, I have been shot a million times, fallen into just as many holes and have been eaten by countless extra terrestrials and zombies.  Through all this, I have learned how to adapt, how to lose gracefully, and how to make friends with people of differing beliefs and I had a lot of fun doing it.  The lessons learned weren't lost to boredom or the severity of the situation.  Every video game has its own lesson to teach, even if it is just simply that your princess is always in another castle.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1468225857738713516-8661254610283503118?l=denowolfness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/feeds/8661254610283503118/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2010/11/life-lessons-in-video-games.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/8661254610283503118'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/8661254610283503118'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2010/11/life-lessons-in-video-games.html' title='Life Lessons in Video Games'/><author><name>Phoenix Fyrewolf Seahawk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13967477423390313226</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KshC_ruO_yA/S9t77beHtUI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NHur5bQIako/S220/psychedelic-cactus-LG.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1468225857738713516.post-6016411657572245980</id><published>2010-11-23T15:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-23T17:20:14.279-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school project'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cats'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='biography'/><title type='text'>Hoodni: A small biography</title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KshC_ruO_yA/TOxTzZmOHmI/AAAAAAAAABk/wIMQC72DHcQ/s1600/Hoodiniweb.GIF"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KshC_ruO_yA/TOxTzZmOHmI/AAAAAAAAABk/wIMQC72DHcQ/s320/Hoodiniweb.GIF" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542897383895866978" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;h1&gt;Hoodini&lt;/h1&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;h2&gt;A small biography&lt;/h2&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;h3&gt;Vital Statistics&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Age:&lt;/b&gt;3 years&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Weight:&lt;/b&gt;9.5 lbs&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Species:&lt;/b&gt;Cat&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Coloring:&lt;/b&gt;Tuxedo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;h3&gt;Arrival&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pictured above is my kitty, Hoodini. He came into my life in the summer of 2007. I was visiting my parents house and while conversing in the garage with my dad I noticed a tiny black and white creature staring at me. I turned to it and said "Hey, kitty kitty!" which sent the creature scurrying for the bushes. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt; A short while later, the skittish kitten ventured into the driveway again. I asked my dad how long the kitten had been hanging around. He told me that three months prior a cat had a litter of kittens under thier shed and that he had been trying to catch them so they could be adopted into loving homes. The kittens were in a dangerous situation in my parents neighborhood. They lived near a field inhabited by a pack of coyotes and the neighborhood children tended to be mean to outdoor cats. My parents also had a dog that was very unsympathetic to cats in his yard. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Being a cat person, I decided I would try and help capture at least one kitten. I asked my husband to try and help corral our black and white observer. As we approached from both sides, the kitten had a bright idea and thought it wise to hide up inside the engine block of my dads Jeep. Unfortunately this got the poor kitty hoplessly stuck. We worked for over an hour trying to extract him from his sad situation. Eventually we managed to extract him and place him in a pet carrier. The kitty was frightened and the animal shelter was closed so I volunteered to take the kitty back to my house until I could call the shelter.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;h3&gt;Fostering Fail&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course I never called the shelter. When I got home, I pulled the kitten out of the carrier and comforted him. The long ride home and the events leading to his capture had him quite scared.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KshC_ruO_yA/TOxUD_fWvPI/AAAAAAAAABs/ZGsSaOdi2_w/s1600/Hoodiniweb2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 171px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KshC_ruO_yA/TOxUD_fWvPI/AAAAAAAAABs/ZGsSaOdi2_w/s320/Hoodiniweb2.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542897668945526002" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;h5&gt;&lt;i&gt;First Picture&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/h5&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After holding him for a while, I realized that I was quickly getting attached. My husband, who said after we got our second cat "NO MORE!" was getting attached to the little guy too. As days passed, we noticed that he got along with our other two cats as well. We named our new little furball Hoodini (intentional mispelling) because of his abilty to escape our sight by hiding in the wierdest of places. The name also lends itself to a whole host of interesting nicknames.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;h3&gt;Hoodini's favorite Websites&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.petoftheday.com/"&gt;Pet of The Day&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A website dedicated to pets. &lt;div&gt;Each day a new cat, dog and pet is featured. The site also has a forum where users can get advice&lt;br /&gt;about all things pet!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.catster.com/cats/58035"&gt;Remus' Catster Page&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caster is a site all about cats. Besides information about cats, users can make individual&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;pages about their kitty friends. This page belongs to Remus, Hoodini's adopted fur brother&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and best friend&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Page created by: &lt;i&gt;Kristina Hanson&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last modified: &lt;i&gt;November 23, 2010&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1468225857738713516-6016411657572245980?l=denowolfness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/feeds/6016411657572245980/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2010/11/hoodini-small-biography-vital.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/6016411657572245980'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/6016411657572245980'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2010/11/hoodini-small-biography-vital.html' title='Hoodni: A small biography'/><author><name>Phoenix Fyrewolf Seahawk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13967477423390313226</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KshC_ruO_yA/S9t77beHtUI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NHur5bQIako/S220/psychedelic-cactus-LG.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KshC_ruO_yA/TOxTzZmOHmI/AAAAAAAAABk/wIMQC72DHcQ/s72-c/Hoodiniweb.GIF' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1468225857738713516.post-6024644200063387483</id><published>2010-10-31T03:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-31T03:37:25.733-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Title Goes Here...</title><content type='html'>I am not entirely sure how long I have been staring at my computer.  I've been trying to make sense of what is going through my head, even though grasping everything seems impossible. Maybe I am skirting the edges of my perception or maybe it is just a matter of stepping outside of the box.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is the box, exactly? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somehow I know I am stepping outside of it. Maybe around it, maybe tapping on its door and then running off to hide...where?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It wasn't that long ago...I was walking through my door and staring into the rest of my life wondering how I had ended up standing in front of myself. I could have always asked but I knew that I didn't have the answer. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't really have much time to think about it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am trying to pin myself to something tangible...as time passes the whole notion becomes irrelevant.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Distraction...it seems to be the meaning of life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1468225857738713516-6024644200063387483?l=denowolfness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/feeds/6024644200063387483/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2010/10/title-goes-here.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/6024644200063387483'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/6024644200063387483'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2010/10/title-goes-here.html' title='Title Goes Here...'/><author><name>Phoenix Fyrewolf Seahawk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13967477423390313226</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KshC_ruO_yA/S9t77beHtUI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NHur5bQIako/S220/psychedelic-cactus-LG.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1468225857738713516.post-9207572782481641463</id><published>2010-10-24T03:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-24T03:21:45.598-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='easy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>3:07 AM on a Saturday Night</title><content type='html'>Up and down up and down up and down...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Repeat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am struggling with my sense of self.  More accurately it is my sense self related to people around me.  I am quite happy at the fact that the Giants are going to the world series.  For some reason this bit of sports news makes me gleeful in ways I haven't felt in a long time.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do love baseball.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I find myself at the precipice of getting something I have looked for for a long time. I do have to step into unfamiliar territory to get it though. I'm resourceful, I'll figure it out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least that is what I want to tell myself. I haven't been this unsure around someone in a long time. It isn't a bad thing necessarily but I don't want to look like a fool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*sigh* The good things never come easy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1468225857738713516-9207572782481641463?l=denowolfness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/feeds/9207572782481641463/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2010/10/307-am-on-saturday-night.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/9207572782481641463'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/9207572782481641463'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2010/10/307-am-on-saturday-night.html' title='3:07 AM on a Saturday Night'/><author><name>Phoenix Fyrewolf Seahawk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13967477423390313226</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KshC_ruO_yA/S9t77beHtUI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NHur5bQIako/S220/psychedelic-cactus-LG.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1468225857738713516.post-2746471018762971451</id><published>2010-06-30T12:02:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-30T12:02:41.064-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Mothers Tears</title><content type='html'>Another repost from my other blog...enjoy!&lt;br /&gt;-----&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The rain fell silently, soaking through the moonless night and chilling it to the core. It was one of those nights that drove people indoors to cuddle up with each other and converse in the language of love. On nights like these, life stops for a moment and all that is cold and lonely falls away, replaced by an inner peace that can only be described as heaven on earth. The deepest cold brought out the warmest joy and all that was wrong in the world faded away as people fell asleep embraced by something more powerful than the storm. As the rain fell, people held their comforts close,afraid of what might happen if everything was suddenly ripped away. The sad irony is while people are comforted by the closeness that the cold brings, they are also afraid of its tendrils that lie in wait threatning all that they hold sacered.&lt;br /&gt;While the city lost itself in slumber, a few stragglers wandered through the darkness. They were the untold element of the city, the part that was swept under the rug and excluded from conversation. They were the people that affirmed the status quo and reassured the masses that everything was just fine the way it was. On that cold, wet, September night, one girl wasn't thinking about status quos or governments or the machines they managed. She wasn't thinking about the cold or the darkness. She was thinking about survival. A survival so profound and sublime that it extended beyond herself, beyond conciousness, beyond the capacity of human reasoning. It was beauty and necesity. It was the very meaning of life itself. Her survival had been threatened and then taken from her all in the name of due process and civil order. While the city slept hidden from the rain, the girl stood in the middle of it, fighting for something society forgot long ago.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1468225857738713516-2746471018762971451?l=denowolfness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/feeds/2746471018762971451/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2010/06/mothers-tears.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/2746471018762971451'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/2746471018762971451'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2010/06/mothers-tears.html' title='A Mothers Tears'/><author><name>Phoenix Fyrewolf Seahawk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13967477423390313226</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KshC_ruO_yA/S9t77beHtUI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NHur5bQIako/S220/psychedelic-cactus-LG.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1468225857738713516.post-3107295728880259258</id><published>2010-06-17T01:01:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-18T04:07:27.983-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Depression'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='help'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='struggle'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='disability'/><title type='text'>Giving up...?</title><content type='html'>A person close to me has been struggling with feelings of depression for quite a while.   It seems sometimes like he has given up on life in general. He gets a lot of crap because of his disablity, especially since it is one that can't be seen. Simple things to most are difficult for him and when people get angry with him for "screwing" things up it really hurts.  I even catch myself getting angry when I know I shouldnt.  It makes me feel awful when I don't know how to help.  I know since I'm not living with it I can't begin to understand but I still want to do something.   How do you let someone know that you haven't given up when they have given up on everything?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1468225857738713516-3107295728880259258?l=denowolfness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/feeds/3107295728880259258/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2010/06/giving-up.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/3107295728880259258'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/3107295728880259258'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2010/06/giving-up.html' title='Giving up...?'/><author><name>Phoenix Fyrewolf Seahawk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13967477423390313226</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KshC_ruO_yA/S9t77beHtUI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NHur5bQIako/S220/psychedelic-cactus-LG.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1468225857738713516.post-190085683182406732</id><published>2010-06-11T01:41:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-12-30T02:26:20.547-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='night'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='god'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='philosophy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='late'/><title type='text'>Late night thoughts...</title><content type='html'>It is 1 am...well a little bit after actually. I'm sitting here, alone with my thoughts. I end up being alone with my thoughts quite a bit thanks to the work I do.  Tonight, I'm thinking about judging people.  I've noticed lately that I am quick to call someone a jerk or an asshole.  I have to stop myself and think are they really a jerk or are they just behaving badly?  Is it an isolated thing or are they really that bad?  I don't want to be guilty of casting stones because I know I am not without sin.  I try my hardest but I am only human and am prone to lapses in judgement.   Part of living in harmony is the establishment and respect of boundaries.  Most of the time, the poor choices made by others does not cross into my boundary sphere.  It makes me wonder exactly though how I should feel about the awful things people do to each other.  I know it makes me sad but should it anger me too?  Jesus taught tolerance and peace.  In other places in the Bible it says we should obey the people God has put into power because they rule with Godly law.  I don't see the actions of some of our leaders as godly at all.  Is there a reason why God would put ungodly people in places where they would do the most damage?  I pray quite a bit and I often find myself speaking to the Father because I am confused.  His ways are not our ways, this I know but sometimes I wonder why our ways are so different.  Maybe we were dropped here as an alien experiment.  For all we know we could have been the product of an accident or a cosmic fart.  No matter what though, I think that the creator of the universe dwells within every part of it and as consciously aware beings we are driven to understand our creator.  Maybe focusing on this drive rather than succumbing to greed, or something equally as destructive, will bring us closer to the peace we seek.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1468225857738713516-190085683182406732?l=denowolfness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/feeds/190085683182406732/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2010/06/late-night-thoughts.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/190085683182406732'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/190085683182406732'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2010/06/late-night-thoughts.html' title='Late night thoughts...'/><author><name>Phoenix Fyrewolf Seahawk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13967477423390313226</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KshC_ruO_yA/S9t77beHtUI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NHur5bQIako/S220/psychedelic-cactus-LG.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1468225857738713516.post-8558855625220354976</id><published>2010-06-09T16:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-11T01:48:14.136-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Politics'/><title type='text'>Throwing the baby out with the bath...</title><content type='html'>The game of nationstates (www.nationstates.net if anyone is interested) is a game that emulates real life. People in power dislike those who have an opinion that differs from theirs. The site is "at will" meaning any use is presumed to be "at will"; that is, the site and/or moderators are free to discharge individuals "for good cause, or bad cause, or no cause at all," and the user is equally free to cease using the site. In playing this game (and getting terminated from the site in accordance to this at will relationship) it made me painfully realize how screwed up this idea is. The idea is one that had roots in logic so that rule breakers could be dismissed without fear of punishment. Of course though, there are those that abuse this type of relationship. Is there a way to fix it? I wonder if there is a way, by putting enough minds together, something can be logically and peacefully done about the illogical way the innocent get treated because of the necessity of punishing the guilty.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1468225857738713516-8558855625220354976?l=denowolfness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/feeds/8558855625220354976/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2010/06/throwing-baby-out-with-bath.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/8558855625220354976'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/8558855625220354976'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2010/06/throwing-baby-out-with-bath.html' title='Throwing the baby out with the bath...'/><author><name>Phoenix Fyrewolf Seahawk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13967477423390313226</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KshC_ruO_yA/S9t77beHtUI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NHur5bQIako/S220/psychedelic-cactus-LG.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1468225857738713516.post-862028495744493677</id><published>2010-06-03T15:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-03T15:46:28.533-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dark Forest magic the gathering deck</title><content type='html'>A work in progress...this is what I could build with the cards I have right now.  As I test it and get more cards I'll update.   I'll put my other decks on here too :-D NERD POWER!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Lands&lt;br /&gt;    10 [DDE] Swamp (2)&lt;br /&gt;    10 [CHK] Forest (2)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;// Creatures&lt;br /&gt;    1 [LE] Smokespew Invoker&lt;br /&gt;    1 [ST] Hollow Dogs&lt;br /&gt;    1 [FUT] Cutthroat il-Dal&lt;br /&gt;    1 [8E] Maggot Carrier&lt;br /&gt;    1 [7E] Gorilla Chieftain&lt;br /&gt;    1 [CHK] Villainous Ogre&lt;br /&gt;    1 [GP] Poisonbelly Ogre&lt;br /&gt;    2 [MI] Restless Dead&lt;br /&gt;    1 [DK] Bog Rats&lt;br /&gt;    1 [LRW] Nectar Faerie&lt;br /&gt;    1 [CS] Zombie Musher&lt;br /&gt;    1 [ON] Anurid Murkdiver&lt;br /&gt;    1 [MM] Bog Smugglers&lt;br /&gt;    1 [UL] Giant Cockroach&lt;br /&gt;    1 [JU] Nullmage Advocate&lt;br /&gt;    1 [5E] Grizzly Bears&lt;br /&gt;    1 [7E] Giant Spider&lt;br /&gt;    1 [MR] Wurmskin Forger&lt;br /&gt;    1 [CHK] Moss Kami&lt;br /&gt;    1 [CHK] Order of the Sacred Bell&lt;br /&gt;    1 [US] Treetop Rangers&lt;br /&gt;    1 [8E] Elvish Pioneer&lt;br /&gt;    1 [ON] Wirewood Elf&lt;br /&gt;    1 [4E] Ironroot Treefolk&lt;br /&gt;    2 [10E] Rushwood Dryad&lt;br /&gt;    1 [PY] Pygmy Razorback&lt;br /&gt;    1 [DK] Scavenger Folk&lt;br /&gt;    1 [9E] Craw Wurm&lt;br /&gt;    1 [GP] Gruul Scrapper&lt;br /&gt;    1 [SC] Woodcloaker&lt;br /&gt;    2 [DS] Tel-Jilad Outrider&lt;br /&gt;    1 [FD] Tyrranax&lt;br /&gt;    1 [JU] Centaur Rootcaster&lt;br /&gt;    1 [CHK] Orochi Ranger&lt;br /&gt;    1 [MR] Fangren Hunter&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;// Spells&lt;br /&gt;    1 [IN] Recover&lt;br /&gt;    1 [ON] Aphetto Dredging&lt;br /&gt;    1 [OD] Morgue Theft&lt;br /&gt;    1 [ON] Swat&lt;br /&gt;    1 [TO] Restless Dreams&lt;br /&gt;    1 [TO] Waste Away&lt;br /&gt;    1 [TSP] Assassinate&lt;br /&gt;    1 [SH] Death Stroke&lt;br /&gt;    1 [A] Paralyze&lt;br /&gt;    1 [BRB] Sandstorm&lt;br /&gt;    1 [MI] Binding Agony&lt;br /&gt;    1 [6E] Fatal Blow&lt;br /&gt;    1 [B] Fear&lt;br /&gt;    1 [7E] Giant Growth&lt;br /&gt;    1 [IN] Whip Silk&lt;br /&gt;    1 [DK] Venom&lt;br /&gt;    1 [5E] Venom&lt;br /&gt;    1 [7E] Stream of Life&lt;br /&gt;    1 [PY] Jolrael's Favor&lt;br /&gt;    1 [US] Lull&lt;br /&gt;    1 [MR] Journey of Discovery&lt;br /&gt;    1 [ST] Natural Spring&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1468225857738713516-862028495744493677?l=denowolfness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/feeds/862028495744493677/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2010/06/dark-forest-magic-gathering-deck.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/862028495744493677'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/862028495744493677'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2010/06/dark-forest-magic-gathering-deck.html' title='Dark Forest magic the gathering deck'/><author><name>Phoenix Fyrewolf Seahawk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13967477423390313226</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KshC_ruO_yA/S9t77beHtUI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NHur5bQIako/S220/psychedelic-cactus-LG.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1468225857738713516.post-7212873004860662868</id><published>2010-06-03T09:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-03T09:26:14.144-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Repost of Dream Journal 3-27-2010</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px; "&gt;This is a dream I had written down on 3/27. I put it on facebook but decided to repost here for everyone to see...Ive been accused of having a vivid imagination lol. I hope you all enjoy this foray into my strange mind :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;--------------------------&lt;/span&gt;&lt;wbr&gt;&lt;span class="word_break" style="display: block; float: left; margin-left: -10px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;/span&gt;---&lt;br /&gt;It was pitch black, the kind of dark that makes you think twice about being outside. I glanced in the review mirror as a whisp of an exasperated and nervous sigh escaped into oblivion. I asked myself, "what the hell am I doing here?", a mantra to go along with the intermitant tap of my finger on the steering wheel. I suddenly felt the chill of the night air through to my core as my phone sprung to life. The text gave me a place to go. I checked the review mirror again and started on my way. Was that someone behind me? As I drove, I saw the lights getting closer. I pushed my car harder and harder and the lights got closer and closer. I felt my car start to give and the check engine light came on. I could smell smoke and the heat suddenly washed over me as I felt the other car hit my rear bumper. I heard a thunder clap and my vision went white...and then I woke up in my bed as my alarm started to sound.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1468225857738713516-7212873004860662868?l=denowolfness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/feeds/7212873004860662868/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2010/06/repost-of-dream-journal-3-27-2010.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/7212873004860662868'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/7212873004860662868'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2010/06/repost-of-dream-journal-3-27-2010.html' title='Repost of Dream Journal 3-27-2010'/><author><name>Phoenix Fyrewolf Seahawk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13967477423390313226</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KshC_ruO_yA/S9t77beHtUI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NHur5bQIako/S220/psychedelic-cactus-LG.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1468225857738713516.post-3833246928757703043</id><published>2010-06-03T08:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-03T09:21:41.381-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I watch way too much Sci Fi...Dream Journal 6/3/2010</title><content type='html'>I found myself in a large structure.  From the view I can tell it is some sort of control tower. Various alarms are going off all around me and I can see from what looks like a radar screen that we are surrounded by a large number of red dots but not a lot of green ones.  There was an old man, military type, barking orders through a PA microphone.  I had hardly registered where I was when I saw a missile, one of OUR missiles, crash right into the side of our building.  Everything erupted in chaos.  In the confusion I made my way to a helicopter pad.  Rows and rows of choppers in various states of repair and function surrounded me on all sides.  I saw a woman directing orders in the middle of the confusion.  I walked up to her almost impulsively and asked her, "Do you need a gunner?" She pointed at a helicopter that was about to take off.  I ran and jumped into the back seat.  The pilot took off without a word.  As soon as we were in the air, we were surrounded on all sides by alien creatures.  They were about 4 feet across wingtip to wingtip.  They had 8 claws down the side of each "wing" and had very large stingers at the end of short tails.  They seemed to be dripping a slimy clear liquid from what looked like a gaping mouth filled with pointy black teeth.  They attached themselves to the sides of the helicopters and started ripping away metal and melting it with the slimy liquid.  I watched several choppers go down in flames as I shot as many aliens as I could out of the air with the rear and forward guns.  Suddenly an alien burrowed through the side of my helicopter and attached itself to me.  I tried to fight it off as it latched onto me with its claws and started stinging me.  Thats when I woke up...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1468225857738713516-3833246928757703043?l=denowolfness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/feeds/3833246928757703043/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2010/06/i-watch-way-too-much-sci-fidream.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/3833246928757703043'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/3833246928757703043'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2010/06/i-watch-way-too-much-sci-fidream.html' title='I watch way too much Sci Fi...Dream Journal 6/3/2010'/><author><name>Phoenix Fyrewolf Seahawk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13967477423390313226</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KshC_ruO_yA/S9t77beHtUI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NHur5bQIako/S220/psychedelic-cactus-LG.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1468225857738713516.post-1349166149756102318</id><published>2010-05-27T15:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-27T15:19:29.326-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My thoughts on oil</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFFFF;"&gt;I've been asked a lot lately what I think about the oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico and about what I think of oil in general.  I hear a lot of talk about people being hypocrites because they speak of wanting to stop suckling at the teat of the great oil mother while at the same time using products that are at least manufactured using the energy off of oil.  This is what I have to say on the subject:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFFFF;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFFFF;"&gt;There is honestly no way to live completely petroleum free. We can thank the assholes who own the lions share of the production base...what better way to have job security than building (and supporting with a LOT of funding) a system that NEEDS your product. Any headway on renewable energy has been cut off. We could be living entirely on &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFFFF;"&gt;alternative energy sources but a LOT of people would suddenly be broke. Since wealthy people hate giving up the lifestyle, here we are. Oil is a drug and we are all addicted to it. It would be nice to just drop off of the grid but that isn't going to happen because everything uses petroleum at some point...there is always living in the woods in a cave and wiping ones ass with a leaf but I'm sure someone would take exception to that eventually because you'd be trespassing on someones property...then it is off to jail and back into the arms of sweet sweet consumption. Society is win.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"&gt;&lt;span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"&gt;&lt;span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; "&gt;We have been groomed to NEED oil...and no one bothered to take exception to it when something could have been done.  Now we are reaping what we have sown through decades of inaction.  Now all the action in the world short of a violent revolution or a catastrophe is going to change things.  Violent revolutions use oil though (and waste a lot of other resources on top of it all) and we are getting closer to a catastrophe each and every day.  When all the oil is gone...then people are going to have to think of something else.  It makes me sad that the oil is going to last way past my great grandchildren.  I would hope though that as the old oil barons die, new ideas will start to prevail over greed and the status quo.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1468225857738713516-1349166149756102318?l=denowolfness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/feeds/1349166149756102318/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2010/05/my-thoughts-on-oil.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/1349166149756102318'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/1349166149756102318'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2010/05/my-thoughts-on-oil.html' title='My thoughts on oil'/><author><name>Phoenix Fyrewolf Seahawk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13967477423390313226</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KshC_ruO_yA/S9t77beHtUI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NHur5bQIako/S220/psychedelic-cactus-LG.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1468225857738713516.post-1775766663266212612</id><published>2010-05-20T20:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-20T21:27:17.950-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I am a Jackrabbit...</title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'courier new';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;I was doing a lot of thinking today about spirit animals.  I've taken a lot of tests online about spirit animals and the one that keeps coming up consistently is the Hare.  Hares (The Jackrabbit in particular) have always fascinated me.  They are survivors of the harshest climes, peaceful and intuitive.  Most people think they are pests but they are a necessary component in the great circle of life, especially in the desert.  I identify a lot with jackrabbits.  I am kind of a nervous sort around new people, I'm always making sure I don't paint myself into a corner and I can be one place and then in another place in the blink of an eye.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'courier new';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'courier new';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-family:Georgia, serif;"&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'courier new';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;I found this on a spirit animal website:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'courier new';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'courier new';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'courier new';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'courier new';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;"Jackrabbit&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; "&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'courier new';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;’s message is, always be alert. When walking in a strange neighborhood pay attention to your surroundings . Keep away from your enemies; you know who they are. Change your fears into faith. Learn to "freeze" when you want to avoid detection. Develop clairaudience to hear psychic messages. You are fertile with new ideas and now is the time to act on them."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'courier new';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; "&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'courier new';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'courier new';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; "&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'courier new';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;I try to live my life this way.  Until now, I really didn't think that these were qualities associated with the Jackrabbit. Most people when you ask them what their spirit animal is they say something along the lines of the Wolf or the Bear or maybe some type of big cat.  Animals that are romanticized and often thought about.  I do identify with some aspects of the wolf, and I love the grace and demeanor of the Cat but am I a wolf, am I a cat? The answer is a resounding NO!  I have always been a desert creature, a wary creature, a survivor, a jackrabbit.  Even some of my mannerisms and way of speech can be considered "rabbit like" . This is something people have told me but I really never believed it until I got introspective about it.  The first thing that people usually associate rabbits with is how much they reproduce.  They do this for a reason and  whether we humans understand the reasoning behind it or not is really irrelevant in the grand scheme of things. I'll admit the reason why I was so resistant to believing that the Jackrabbit was my spirit animal was because of this negative connotation. Now that I think about it, it seems kind of an ignorant reason to be denying a part of my nature.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'courier new';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; "&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'courier new';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'courier new';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; "&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'courier new';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;I am a Jackrabbit, a survivor, nervous around predatory people but friendly once I get to know them and know they aren't going to bite my tail off.  I am a creature of peace and a creature of the desert.  Now I'm learning to be a Jackrabbit of the forest.  It's taking some time, but I think that through instinct and intelligence, I will survive just like I always have.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1468225857738713516-1775766663266212612?l=denowolfness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/feeds/1775766663266212612/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2010/05/i-am-jackrabbit.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/1775766663266212612'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/1775766663266212612'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2010/05/i-am-jackrabbit.html' title='I am a Jackrabbit...'/><author><name>Phoenix Fyrewolf Seahawk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13967477423390313226</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KshC_ruO_yA/S9t77beHtUI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NHur5bQIako/S220/psychedelic-cactus-LG.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1468225857738713516.post-1413197019374803511</id><published>2010-05-18T01:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-18T01:54:19.076-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cats'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><title type='text'>My cat, my friend</title><content type='html'>I was thinking a lot today about my cat, Remus. The cat that went from an awkward little ball of striped and spotted fur to a huge bulk of a feline and in the process has worked his way into my heart.   Over the years, I've gotten used to having him around, to the point of ignoring him a lot of the time.  I think it is easy when you've been around someone (and yes Remus is a someONE, just because he is a cat it doesn't make him any less of a being) for so long to take them for granted.  It really makes me wonder how many people do this. I also got to thinking about how much I would miss Remus if something were to happen to him. Does he know how much I appreciate his company? I spend way too much time being upset with him, at least it seems like it.  He does what all cats do...gets into things he shouldn't and scratches things he shouldn't scratch.  It seems like lately I've been yelling at him more than I've been telling him I love him.  I know that I've been way stressed out but I shouldn't take it out on my friend.  What if he isn't the only friend I've been abusing?  It makes me think about how I've been treating the people around me.  &lt;div&gt;I shouldn't take my stress out on my furry friend. In fact I should be showing him love and affection because in all his annoying catness, that is exactly what he is trying to show to me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1468225857738713516-1413197019374803511?l=denowolfness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/feeds/1413197019374803511/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2010/05/my-cat-my-friend.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/1413197019374803511'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/1413197019374803511'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2010/05/my-cat-my-friend.html' title='My cat, my friend'/><author><name>Phoenix Fyrewolf Seahawk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13967477423390313226</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KshC_ruO_yA/S9t77beHtUI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NHur5bQIako/S220/psychedelic-cactus-LG.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1468225857738713516.post-4440467313427150513</id><published>2010-05-09T12:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-09T13:24:26.848-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='walking'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sore'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cop shows'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='observations'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tv'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mothers day'/><title type='text'>Sore Observations</title><content type='html'>I'm sitting in front of my computer...glad I can finally sit up but still a little sore. I've had an interesting few days. I'll start with my birthday (the 5&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;).  I spent some time outside, got myself a good lunch and reveled in the fact that I was around to enjoy the semi-sunny afternoon that Oregon decided to bless us with.  At some point, I got a text from my neighbor.  Her car blew a hose and she needed a ride to the auto parts store.  Of course, the parts house didn't have a simple piece of plastic...they informed us that Ford was the only one who makes said plastic hose and they wanted over $60 for it.  All this part is is a plastic tube with a hose barb at the inlet and two on the outlet.  It's simple, it's stupid...but it's expensive.  Going to the junkyard would be a far better idea than giving Ford more money (and helping them justify making such a crappy part to begin with). The next day my neighbor needed to get to her mid term so I happily volunteered. I'm glad I did! The drive up to the Lane Community College (hereafter referred to as &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;LCC&lt;/span&gt;) is beautiful, especially when it is sunny out.  Thursday was such a wonderfully sunny day! The whole landscape seemed alive and vibrant, more so than usual. I got my financial aid paperwork in (I really needed to if I want to get into summer term).  Afterwards we got some Taco Bell and sat back and watched a LOT of TV.  Mostly police shows and Lets Make a Deal (Wayne Brady, I love you &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;lol&lt;/span&gt;).  We did go to the junkyard, but it closed right as we pulled in.  On the way there and back, I was amazed at the diversity of the cars and trucks around here.  You rarely see the same make and model twice.  I figure its the huge diversity that makes it so no one notices my car.  We got to the junkyard Friday though.  I would love to spend more time just checking the place out.  I love junkyards, though.  I did end up working on Saturday.  I walked more in one day than I usually do in a weeks time so I am really sore.  I need to work back into walking long distances again although I don't think I'll be able to get back into the shape I was in before because of my bad foot.  It makes me feel kind of old but at the same time I have to accept my limitations...and get educated to the point where I can get a job that doesn't involve miles upon miles of walking. At least I have today to relax, which is just what I needed.  Happy Mothers day to all moms by the way!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1468225857738713516-4440467313427150513?l=denowolfness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/feeds/4440467313427150513/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2010/05/sore-observations.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/4440467313427150513'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/4440467313427150513'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2010/05/sore-observations.html' title='Sore Observations'/><author><name>Phoenix Fyrewolf Seahawk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13967477423390313226</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KshC_ruO_yA/S9t77beHtUI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NHur5bQIako/S220/psychedelic-cactus-LG.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1468225857738713516.post-5874209092145181256</id><published>2010-05-03T16:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T16:45:16.227-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Fourteen Precepts of the Order of Interbeing by Thich Nhat Hanh</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="line-height: 14px; font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"&gt;A friend of a friend had this note on Facebook. These reminders are from the book, "Peace is Every Step." by Thich Nhat Hanh, A buddhist monk who emphasizes practicing mindfulness. Here are 14 easy steps to help you develop and maintain a legitimate human soul. These really spoke to me, and I encourage everyone to read, share and discuss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.Do not be idolatrous about or bound to any doctrine, theory or ideology. All systems of thought are guiding means; they are not absolute truth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.Do not think that the knowledge you presently posses is changeless, absolute truth. Avoid being narrow-minded and bound to present views. Learn and practice non-attachment from views in order to be open to receive others’ viewpoints. Truth is found in life and not merely in conceptual knowledge. Be ready to learn throughout your entire life and observe reality in yourself and in the world at all times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.Do not force others, including children, by any means whatsoever, to adopt your views, whether by authority, threat, money, propaganda, or even education. However, through compassionate dialogue, help others renounce fanaticism and narrowness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.Do not avoid contact with suffering or close your eyes before suffering. Do not lose awareness of the existence of suffering in the world. Find ways to be with those who are suffering, by all means, including personal contact and visits, images and sound. By such means, awaken yourself and others to the reality of suffering in the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.Do not accumulate wealth while millions are hungry. Do not take as the aim of your life fame, profit, wealth, or sensual pleasure. Live simply and share time, energy and material resources with those who are in need.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6.Do not maintain anger or hatred. Learn to penetrate and transform them while they are still seeds in your consciousness. As soon as anger or hatred arises, turn your attention to your breathing in order to see and understand the nature of the persons who have caused you anger or hatred&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7.Do not lose yourself in dispersion and in your surroundings. Practice mindful breathing in order to come back to what is happening in the present moment. Be in touch with what is wondrous, refreshing, and healing, both inside and around yourself. Plant the seeds of joy, peace, and understanding in yourself in order to facilitate the work of transformation in the depths of your consciousness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8.Do not utter words that can create discord and cause the community to break. Make every effort to reconcile and resolve all conflicts, however small.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9.Do not say untruthful things for the sake of personal interest or to impress people. Do not utter words that cause division and hatred. Do not spread news that you do not know to be certain. Do not criticize or condemn things that you are not sure of. Always speak truthfully and constructively. Have the courage to speak out about situations of injustice, even when doing so may threaten your own safety.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10.Do not use the religious community for personal gain or profit, or transform your community into a political party. A religious community should, however, take a clear stand against oppression and injustice, and should strive to change the situation without engaging in partisan conflicts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11.Do not live with a vocation that is harmful to humans and nature. Do not invest in companies that deprive others of their chance to live. Select a vocation that helps you realize your ideal of compassion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12.Do not kill. Do not let others kill. Find whatever means possible to protect life and prevent war.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. Possess nothing that should belong to others. Respect the property of others but prevent others from enriching themselves from human suffering or the suffering of other beings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. Do not mistreat your body. Learn to handle it with respect. Do not look on your body as only an instrument. Preserve vital energies for the realization of the Way. Sexual expression should not happen without love and commitment. In sexual relationships, be aware of the future suffering that may be caused. To preserve the happiness of others, respect the rights and commitments of others. Be fully aware of the responsibility of bringing new lives into the world. Meditate on the world into which you are bringing new beings.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1468225857738713516-5874209092145181256?l=denowolfness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/feeds/5874209092145181256/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2010/05/fourteen-precepts-of-order-of.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/5874209092145181256'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/5874209092145181256'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2010/05/fourteen-precepts-of-order-of.html' title='The Fourteen Precepts of the Order of Interbeing by Thich Nhat Hanh'/><author><name>Phoenix Fyrewolf Seahawk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13967477423390313226</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KshC_ruO_yA/S9t77beHtUI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NHur5bQIako/S220/psychedelic-cactus-LG.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1468225857738713516.post-268065875308058610</id><published>2010-05-01T14:15:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-01T14:35:51.686-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The first day of May...</title><content type='html'>It is the first day of May and surprisingly sunny in my corner of the world.  I find myself sitting alone with my thoughts and the thrum of electro house in my ears.  I might go outside later if it isn't too cold. I find myself kind of at a loss in many ways, mostly because for the longest time my life was defined by my work schedule and suddenly that is all changing.  I will admit that the change is good for my health...working a funky schedule was literally killing me.  This is the first time in a while that I can say Ive felt "normal" and actually want to do something other than sit in bed all day. Maybe this respite from my job is exactly what I needed.  &lt;div&gt;My birthday is in four days although I might as well celebrate it now.  Whats a day or two on either side? The transition from 27 to 28 isn't exactly profound.  Not like the transition from 17 to 18 or 20 to 21.  Nothing special happens to me except that I can look at everyone and say "See? I survived another year!" That is something to be proud of I think, especially in this crazy world.  My cat agrees with me. *smiles*  I think everyone should take the time out of their day to appreciate the fact that they are still alive to experience all the joy and the pain of our world.  This existence is but a scratch on the surface of whats out there but we were put here for a reason.   Somehow I think we should be enjoying the ride and learning from it, not resenting every step.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So today, listen to some good music, pet a cat or a dog (or whatever critter you prefer) and embrace living.  The alternative is misery. :-)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1468225857738713516-268065875308058610?l=denowolfness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/feeds/268065875308058610/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2010/05/first-day-of-may.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/268065875308058610'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/268065875308058610'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2010/05/first-day-of-may.html' title='The first day of May...'/><author><name>Phoenix Fyrewolf Seahawk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13967477423390313226</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KshC_ruO_yA/S9t77beHtUI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NHur5bQIako/S220/psychedelic-cactus-LG.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1468225857738713516.post-6391354681240986387</id><published>2010-04-30T18:20:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-30T22:30:13.538-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Windchill</title><content type='html'>A post from my Vox blog...&lt;div&gt;----------------------------------------------------------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="line-height: 22px; font-family:georgia, 'times new roman', times, hiraminpro-w3, 'ms mincho', serif;font-size:13px;"&gt;The morning creeps slowly into my conciousness.  I sit, numbed by my rented coffee. Cold by now, yet warming my brain into mediocrity. I see Gods grace through the pale majesty of the rising sun and I feel small.  The birds share the morning; quietly prolcaiming the start of a new day, a new year, a new life. Awareness sparks anew with the dawn and while I contemplate the mystery of existence, pidgeons stare blankly without concern or care.  I worry about survival yet they just survive. I anylize, I ponder, I agonize, I drive myself to madness.  I have just enough awareness to put me in a grave. I greve over things I can't possibly change and I rejoice in things I have nothing to do with.  Do birds agonize and greve and ask favors of the impossible? I wonder not so silently about the nature of existence while they just exist in nature.  The passage of time ticks by second by second by hour by day.  Woe piles over optimisim and hope defeats wow and above it all the sun still rises and the birds still sing.  I am warm against the cold, light against the darkness. God has placed me in this moment according to his purpose and while I wonder, I still know, through the shower of light and beauty of the rising sun, I am loved.  The chill of the wind never lasts forever...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1468225857738713516-6391354681240986387?l=denowolfness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/feeds/6391354681240986387/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2010/04/windchill.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/6391354681240986387'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/6391354681240986387'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2010/04/windchill.html' title='Windchill'/><author><name>Phoenix Fyrewolf Seahawk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13967477423390313226</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KshC_ruO_yA/S9t77beHtUI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NHur5bQIako/S220/psychedelic-cactus-LG.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1468225857738713516.post-6204735748655027687</id><published>2010-04-30T18:09:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-30T18:09:57.250-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dreams and the Supernatural</title><content type='html'>Another old Myspace post...&lt;div&gt;--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 13px; "&gt;I blink...and everything has changed.  I see the same things staring me in the face, ominous and looming as a reminder of what I am leaving behind. I almost feel a tugging at my soul, calling me to a different place. I close my eyes for a second...maybe it was more than a second...the more I sync with this new universe the less time seems to matter.  I hear the voices of the past, present, and future mix in a klidoscope inside my head.  Fractured pecies of sound meld into my every nerve and the separation between body and mind becomes painfully clear.  I have the distinct feeling that I should be saying something and find that I articulate myself beautifully in this realm of timespace.  Is this timespace or something that exists within the deeper confines of another plane?  My thoughts seem to speak and my words seem to think as I get an answer to my question in an English I don't quite understand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    I suddenly feel a warm caress cooling my skin and chilling me to the bone.  I look up in confusion and in supplication to a force I can see but I'm not entirely convinced that it is really there.  I reach out in a vain attempt to link with something real, but all I see are illusions.  My hand falls through solid form and the thin viels holding everything in proper place are breaking down in an avalance of shattered atoms.  I hear them fall around me, dropping slowly as if it were raining paint in the color of everything around me. I feel it run down my skin, oily yet subtle like a silk wind warping and twisting my memory until I remember the future and forget the past.  I am standing in a pool of carpet now, wet and sticky between my toes as it grows over them. I try to lift my feet but I am stopped by the chains of a thousand souls bound to some energy I percieve only behind my eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I awake in my bed, unsure of how I garnered permission from an unearthly overlord to return to the land of my familiars. I am unsure as to the nature of reality in my room, afraid that I am still being tempted.  I close my eyes again and fall deeply into slumber.  I'm still not convinced that I am truely awake...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1468225857738713516-6204735748655027687?l=denowolfness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/feeds/6204735748655027687/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2010/04/dreams-and-supernatural.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/6204735748655027687'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/6204735748655027687'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2010/04/dreams-and-supernatural.html' title='Dreams and the Supernatural'/><author><name>Phoenix Fyrewolf Seahawk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13967477423390313226</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KshC_ruO_yA/S9t77beHtUI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NHur5bQIako/S220/psychedelic-cactus-LG.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1468225857738713516.post-2111553696528603552</id><published>2010-04-30T18:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-30T18:06:37.476-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sleepless in Reno (written Jan 2007)</title><content type='html'>This is on my Myspace blog...decided to share it here for those who haven't had the chance to read it.&lt;div&gt;-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 13px; "&gt;Some situations in life take on the shape of colors and sounds, surreal to the touch and alien to the ears yet you have no choice but to feel and listen to the echo of the cosmos deep within yourself.  It's an interchange of threads masking themselves as one thing or another, even though they may not necessarily be one thing or another, but in the interest of normalcy and the maintaining of the status quo, the mask stays and everyone pays the toll that comes from driving on the freeway blindfolded.   The headlights flicker past as I drive hazily through the fog, asking myself if I am going too fast or too slow.  I know where I'm going yet I don't exactly know where I am. &lt;br /&gt;    It's starting to rain.  I question my perceptions as my eyes are flooded and my body strains under the drip drip dropping of the water.  I walk, purposefully in no particular direction, inhaling the sweet scent of despair falling from the sky.  I stop, standing in a puddle of blood and look up into the gaping maw of suffering and stare into its deep gray eyes.  I ask myself if there is anything I can do except suffer along with it and it responds that my presence there is enough to keep the worst part of it at bay.  I stand there and bleed, as the rain washes everything away, chilling me to the bone.&lt;br /&gt;I am awake again, my back up against something cold, brick walls staring down at me from every angle.  My bare feet tingle as I start to walk.  The night sky shines down upon me, clouded and dark yet strangely comforting. I travel for hours, days...I lose track as I wander around trying to find my way out.  Slowly, though, I notice that everything is getting hotter.  Without my realizing it, I collapse as the heat consumes my entire being.  As I fade slowly away, I see flames coming at me, slowly and full of intense burning beauty.  I feel it caress me as I my eyes close and my grip of reality slowly blends into nonexistence.&lt;br /&gt;    Outside these walls the city sleeps.  In a few hours people will stir and go about their Saturday as people often do.  It is all in the spirit of normalcy and what the majority has decided for themselves even though the majority doesn't like the way things are going.  I walk among them, blinded by the morning sun and delirious from lack of sleep.  I ask myself questions and give myself the answers I want to hear, even though I know they aren't the right ones.   I'd like to think that I have learned a measure of acceptance, a measure of understanding as to how the world presently works. I realize, blinded as I am, I understand things from a different point of view.  Is it wrong?  Is it even right to think of it as wrong?  In all this entropy is there ever really a true order to the way things really are?  I stand awake and ponder, staring off into nothing and everything, sleeplessly wandering through the spider web of reality.  I tear through the delicate threads, with no regard to what once was.  Can I really exist out in between the threads, or do I have to fall back into the pattern that I pretend to know?&lt;br /&gt;    I have kissed reality and have been caressed by her. I have been beaten and scarred for all my days, yet I come back to it all with open arms because that is what I have been put on this earth to expect. I'll be outside again when it rains, without anything to hide under or behind. I'll follow the threads past the signs and I'll take an exit to someplace I've never been, just to taste a different color. I'll lose sleep and I'll become lost in the very unreality of it all. What else is there to do?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1468225857738713516-2111553696528603552?l=denowolfness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/feeds/2111553696528603552/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2010/04/sleepless-in-reno-written-jan-2007.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/2111553696528603552'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/2111553696528603552'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2010/04/sleepless-in-reno-written-jan-2007.html' title='Sleepless in Reno (written Jan 2007)'/><author><name>Phoenix Fyrewolf Seahawk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13967477423390313226</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KshC_ruO_yA/S9t77beHtUI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NHur5bQIako/S220/psychedelic-cactus-LG.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1468225857738713516.post-7277420872977186297</id><published>2010-04-30T17:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-30T17:59:27.711-07:00</updated><title type='text'>New Blog, New Beginning</title><content type='html'>This is my new blog...Hopefully I'll have time to put more than just a little intro/place holder deal. &lt;div&gt;Stay Tuned!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1468225857738713516-7277420872977186297?l=denowolfness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/feeds/7277420872977186297/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2010/04/new-blog-new-beginning.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/7277420872977186297'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1468225857738713516/posts/default/7277420872977186297'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://denowolfness.blogspot.com/2010/04/new-blog-new-beginning.html' title='New Blog, New Beginning'/><author><name>Phoenix Fyrewolf Seahawk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13967477423390313226</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KshC_ruO_yA/S9t77beHtUI/AAAAAAAAAAM/NHur5bQIako/S220/psychedelic-cactus-LG.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
