Work hard, make friends, don’t give up.
A bit more: be incredibly opportunistic and on the hunt for places that can use your art. Be hard on yourself. Shun all the woo woo vagueness that people tell artists: “fulfilling your dreams”, “nurturing your creativity”, the whole lot of that. It…
So, I didn’t quite like the feel of this tumblr as a blog, so I started a new one over at WordPress. It can be found at the following address.
mattandmaturing.wordpress.com
Hope this doesn’t inconvenience you too much, but that’s where I will be if you feel like joining me.
I didn’t think I knew what to write a blog about, and then I came up with a bunch of little things I had floating around in my grey matter, so I am gonna bullet point a blog. Lord knows it will probably turn into some long winded diatribes, and some briefly touched upon subjects. Either way, I hope it sates your appetite for my words, or maybe it will cause a hunger, that’s okay too. :)
-Today is the fifth anniversary of my accident. Five years ago at roughly 6:20 I was hit by a locomotive, scariest thing ever. I was just reflecting on it a bit ago, and I was thinking about how during the whole thing I never stopped figuring a way of escape, I never quit moving until the locomotives did and I knew I was safe. I was dragging myself along with a shattered leg and a sprained ankle on the other one, and I never quit moving. I eyeballed a few different means of escape, and I was not going to disappear that day, wasn’t an option. I can remember feeling my leg get struck, and I honestly can’t remember it getting pinned in, but I remember the leap out of the way, and something weighing on it as I leaped. I now realize what it would have meant had I not leaped, and it was the smartest thing I have ever done in my life, honestly. I need to trust my leaping more often, the adrenaline rush alone is worth it.
-Rites of Passage… There are various things in life that we do that allow us to move forward in a way that shows us and others that we are growing. They vary as we go, graduations, religious rites, personal achievements, jobs, on and on, but they mean something at that moment, and they give your life a bit of a gleam it didn’t have before then. Last week I had one of these moments, and I still kinda smile about it. Dad’s birthday landed on my days off and I told him I would take him and mom out to eat for his birthday, hell bring grandma with, what’s that, my cousin’s family too? Sure! They can come along, but let them know I am buying, and I won’t take no for an answer. So I took the old man out for supper, foot the bill for six adults and a child, and it was a nice night all around. Good food, good company, good shit! The thing about this being a rite of passage is that you’re showing your parents that they raised you right, that you have taken what they gave you, and now you’re able to repay them without having to jump through hoops. It’s a subtle movement forward, but it’s there, it is understated, but it shines forth, and I like it.
-Reactions to things said… Mom has a cousin that is dealing with some serious health issues, he’s been in the ICU for a while and he’s fighting, but it’s still up in the air as far as whether he will pull through or not. He’s a good dude, been around a while, but he’s also a bit of a loner. I was a little surprised by how hard mom was taking it, because I never thought them that close, but family is important to her, so I get it, and appreciate it. As his prognosis got slightly better, we were talking about something, not sure I remember what exactly, but something. The talk turned to her saying that I didn’t have to leave anytime soon because the folks are happy to have me here. I said something about that being fine, but it was time I should and I was ready too. That’s when she dropped the bomb and said “You’re right, I don’t want you winding up like Dennis”. That’s when I realized one of the reasons why she was taking it so hard, and a mother’s love and desire for her child to be happy came through. She would probably be fine with me staying in this town (probably not this house) but she knows I can’t do that and be happy, as far as I am concerned. Funny how those random sentences will brand themselves on your psyche.
-The witchcraft of the gloves at work… I don’t know what the hell it is, but the gloves at work sap the moisture from my hands. At first I only noticed it when I wore a new pair of leather gloves, and I figured the breaking in process had something to do with it. Now I notice that even the cloth ones, or knit kind do it. Once you make that realization, there is only one answer for what is going on…witchcraft. Those old crones want to look young again, and so they do not go with botox, but rather they magic up a shipment of gloves, and they sap the suppleness from my hands. There really is no other answer for this, so do not try to feed me one. No, I will fight it as best I can, but if you see me storming past you with a pitchfork, a bucket of water, a torch, and possibly a chicken foot, well you know I got fed up, and I am going after the glove witches. They can’t be that hard to find.
-Books and the devouring of them… I love reading, and I thank my mother for instilling that in me early on. I try to read as much and as often as I can, which means that college was a blessing and a curse. I had to read a lot, but not that much of it was for pleasure, which might be another reason that I took so many English classes actually. I had a drunken revelation once that it was a hard decision for me to make picking Anthropology of English, and really, I hadn’t realized that it was, but yeah, it was. From kindergarten on, I had thought that I would work in a museum. I had no idea what it took to work in one, and then one day I saw a thing that said curators had degrees in Anthropology, so I jumped in. Two feet, no looking…how deep is the water? Doesn’t fucking matter, Anthro is my future, and it was, and still is, but I took as many English classes as I could along the way. When I found out I had to have a level 4 language proficiency or at least 20 credits in another discipline in order to get my B.A., well that was a no brainer, English was my at least 20 credits. Hell I already had at least 11 or so credits in it. I almost minored in it, but I let myself get distracted from that notion, but I am okay with that too. You see, I devour books. I feel accomplishments when I finish books. I love getting to the half way point, and even more I love getting to that last 100 pages and knowing it might be a sprint to the finish. I reflect on them and marvel at how much I soak up without knowing it. I have a dream of writing, and it’s one I know is attainable on some level, one that causes me to look at the words in a different manner as well. I keep a notebook of quotes near my bed, and I add to it as I find lines, phrases, and paragraphs that sing to me, that call out to me, that just flat out draw attention to them. I take solace in their wonderful comfort, and inspiration from their construction. I try to read as many books in a year as possible, keeping track all the way. The good and bad of this is that I know what I read and when, but I can also get down on myself for taking too long with one book, or between books. There is just something about holding a book and being transported away, something I will always run too, and something I will impart on others in some form on some nearby future day.
-Deviations… I have deviated a bit from the list I wrote, and partly because the things I wrote on it have merged with others, and became the paragraphs above this one. But that’s okay, I like deviations. Deviations are adventures that don’t necessarily have to be far reaching. A deviation from a set course can lead to unchartered waters, and once there, you might find something you never knew you were looking for. Deviations in blogging often happen to me. The way I blog is that I get an idea in my noggin, and I kick it around for a while, let it get it’s legs under it, see if it will walk, some do, some don’t, but I let them tell me. If it walks, then it gets a gait all it’s own, and once it has that mastered, well it’s time for fingers to push keys. I stream of conscience these things as best I can, which I think is partly because my fingers crave freedom in writing that they never got while I was in school. I often start walking along the path that an idea’s gait has worn into my brain, and just as often I get distracted by the pretty bird flying off to my right. The beauty is inescapable so I follow, just another deviation, but it allows me to address something I didn’t necessarily even know I had an opinion on. I like my deviations, and I hope you do as well, chances are they are going to accompany me for many, many years. Acclimate yourself as you see fit, because I am running with this shit!
So, what do you think? Any ideas of what I can deviate on in the future?
Heavy topic I know, but one that has been kicking around in my brain for a bit now, and now is the time for me to put it down on paper, or this mechanical equivalent rather.
Of course with a subject like this, one must find the correct music to have playing in the background. I chose George Harrison’s posthumous greatest hits album Let it Roll, because it’s awesome, and it’s apropos.
So, what made me think of mortality? Recently we had a co-worker die somewhat unexpectedly. He wasn’t of the best health, but yet we didn’t think he was knocking on death’s doorstep either. Many of my co-workers are convinced that the stress work put on him, our supervisor’s had been on a rules violation hunt with him, that pushed him over the edge. While I don’t think they are exactly right about that, I would argue that it played a hand in it for sure. Arnie, the deceased, graduated high school with my parents.
A couple days later a 64 year old male passed away in town. Dad will be 60 in 13 days…
Since I have moved home I have seen three co-workers pass away from various forms of cancer. Two of these men went to school with my folks and the third was slightly younger.
Last week another co-worker in his later 40s had a heart attack and had to have surgery to aid his problems, I believe they said three stints but it might have been shunts.
These things swirl around in my head and I think of mortality.
When I was a child I lost my Grandma Doris pretty early on, I was 5 and she was 71. She had obviously lived a rather full and long life, but this is my first memory of death in the family, the first memory of trying to avoid funerals, the first memory of a loved one in a box. Now, at this age I did not fully grasp what was going on around me, but you pick up on emotions and reactions of others, and then you realize that, that person is no longer there.
In the 28 years since then, I have lost two other grandparents, some great aunts and uncles, heroes, pets, and friends, and along the way, the idea of mortality comes into your vocabulary, and the definition settles into your lexicon. My understanding of the word has evolved with me, shaped by discussions, by novels, by poems, by movies, by comic books as well. Death is a turning point for characters, and it is a turning point in life.
For me it started out with the fear of dying myself. I think this is understandable because early on in life we have a concept of self and we are getting to grips with how that fits into the world around us, so of course we fear the ending of I. Eventually we learn more about compassion, about empathy, about others, and then we begin to fear the loss of those we love just as much as we fear the loss of ourselves.
As my fear shifted, I began to realize more about the world around me, began to notice the loss of others more than I had. When I moved back home part way through grad school I thought maybe there were so many cancer diagnosis’ because we are a small town and your odds of getting it are more evident in that type of setting. Now, that might just be because in a small town we know everyone and so the sufferers of cancer are known which makes it seem that more prevalent, when it probably really isn’t.
I do have to commend my community for coming together for those that are diagnosed. The benefit suppers, the raffles, and the helping hands offered are rather inspiring. This inspiration lets one see the humanity that resides in mortality, the compassion that can be there to ease the minds of those dealing with it directly. This side of mortality will always make me smile and appreciate this crazy thing called life.
Currently my fears involved with mortality have shifted to losing my parents. Neither my mom nor my dad are in poor health, they are overweight, but they are more or less healthy. Seeing people their age pass away makes you look at that though. These people that have towered over you your whole life, first physically and then mentally, are suddenly people that won’t be there forever. Helping your dad make sausage in the garage, and discussing the recently passed can cause him to utter the statement “I hope to hell I live a lot longer than that”. I instantly knew and understood what he was saying, but it is mildly disconcerting to hear your dad say something like that.
I am at a point where I need to leave this town again, get out into the world and see what it has to offer me, but part of me doesn’t want to leave because these are times I can spend with my parents, times when everything is still good, times when I can show my dad my Grad School transcript and hear him say that he is proud of me (he’s not a vocal man so that was awesome to hear the other night).
I am selfish in wanting to stay here for those reasons though. I think it is selfish because I am only doing it for me, but in the long run it holds me back, and it might even hold them back. It is also selfish because they want me to live a full life, and perhaps I am limiting myself from this because I want to be around them now, in case I can’t be later. Yes, even selfishness resides in mortality, but who knew it could do so in a way other than hoping for more time for yourself or a loved one.
Mortality is a big thing, encompassing so much, meaning so much, and yet it can be quickly snuffed out without anyone even realizing what happened. Perhaps that is why I have let it kick around in my head for a week before I wrote this, and perhaps I haven’t even discussed what all I thought of during this time, but the beauty of mortality is rather simple. As long as you’re alive and kicking, as long as you’re moving forward, as long as you can find that ounce of good in the pound of fear, mortality isn’t such a bad thing. It isn’t a bad thing, because without mortality we don’t have life, without life we don’t have experience, and without experience we are empty.
Mortality is looked at as a symbol of an end, but it is also a symbol of an existence, embrace that my friends.
(Source: maraoliver, via fyeahclivebarker)
@BrandeewineB wrote:
Wow, Matt! That is really incredible! I only know one other person that has been hit by a train, and they didn’t survive. I’m so glad that you are ok, and I really like your idea of a tattoo. I think that ink should have a special meaning behind it. I feel a lot like you do about Twitter & my online family. I’ve gained some incredible friends, and last year, I travelled to another state to meet them. I’ve met some incredible people and I’m closer to them than to people in real life. Looking forward to hearing about your adventures!
A couple years ago I went about joining the world of Twitter, mainly because my favorite late night host, TV’s Craig Ferguson, was talking about it all the time, and I wanted to see what he had to say. Little did I know the impact it would actually have upon me, and my little world.
I started with Craig, and then I started following more and more people as I started to get the hang of things. I followed people from sites I belonged too, people who had entertained me through their words, their music, or their acting. Things can snowball quickly on a person if they let them, and it’s fun if you do, trust me on this.
One person that i started following was @AlkalineSuicide heretofore known as Alk, I had talked to her through blog comments and the like before, and this was another avenue to BS a bit, and see how each other was doing. Little did I know the effect this follow would have upon me and, really, my life as it is. Alk is an amazing lady, my Mirror if you will, an Evil Top Hat as well, just a good person to have on your side, and to call a friend.
Through Alk I slowly met more and more people from the lovely city of Vancouver, and suddenly I had honorary Canadian status, and I also then had a favorite NHL team. See, I upped my Twittering when I got my first smart phone and could tweet constantly, before that it had only been on my computer, and when you work afternoons you miss some people that way.
Because of Alk, and all of those I have met and conversed with over the last year and change, I have booked a trip to Vancouver in July. I planned it around The Dark Knight being out so I could see it in IMAX, but there are so many other things I want to do and see when I get to Vancouver, and so many amazing people I cannot wait to meet when I arrive there.
I was offered many couches to surf upon, and that’s something that will make you smile, because I will let my opinion of these people err on the side of non-serial killer. So the plane ticket is booked, and so I get to have that paid off before I get there. The passport has been applied for and will arrive with plenty of time to spare. Money will be saved up so that I can have me a good time while there, eating and drinking, and being merry!
One thing I decided to do while there is to get the tattoo that has been swirling about in my mind for the last 4 years or so. I am putting it in “print” like this so that I will have whoever reads this around to call me out if I don’t get it. I like putting that kind of pressure upon myself, no backing out that way.
What made me decide to do it on this trip? Well, when I used to watch the various Ink shows on TV I always envisioned getting a tattoo on a trip. It felt like something that one did, but it also seemed like I would have better luck finding an artist with the talent and experience that I want in whoever is putting ink below my skin. So after random tattoo talk on Twitter the idea came back around in my head as something I would do rather than something I “should” do.
I am a guy that has a lot of things on my should list, and sometimes they move to my will do list, and sometimes they sit there and stare at me until I realize I have outgrown them, or I fear the level of importance they have taken in my mind. So, telling people I will do something, and putting it into something like this, flips a switch in my brain and I will in fact do it. I don’t always get it done immediately, but if I say I will, then I will, that’s me, that’s what I do.
Anyways, the discussion on Twitter snowballed into a couple day random topic, and when I brought it up to Alk and @BretinVancouver, heretofore known as Bret, it became even more of a reality. These are two of my friends in Vancouver, two people that have interesting and well done tattoos, so obviously they are my experts on all things ink. (Another thing Twitter is good for, finding experts when you didn’t know you were looking)
Alk and Bret have both gotten tattoos in Vancouver, so obviously I ask them for artist suggestions. Alk threw a website at me of an artist she used to work with, and after looking at his examples, I knew I was going to approach him about my idea, and see if he was available while I am there, and what he might be able to do for me if he is. I haven’t sent that email off yet, but I will do so with ample time so that he can wrap his mind around my idea, and so he can come up with something to show me as well.
What is my idea?
Well, let’s flash back to five years ago this April 4th, a day that I am rather lucky to have gotten through, a day that ended as well as it could with all things considered. That day was a rather uneventful day at work until around 6:20am. I was finishing up my shift at work, and after parking a locomotive on a track and moving the turn table to retrieve another one, I saw the first was rolling.
I thought “Oh fuck” and I began to move the turntable back around so that I might line up the tracks on it with the track the now rolling unit was on. It was cold that morning, and because of that the table didn’t turn as quickly as it could have. I came close to lining up the tracks, and once I realized I wasn’t going to be able to, I started moving backwards to get out of the way. I moved backwards so as to see the unit coming at me, but I moved at a kind of an angle. I tripped a bit on the track, and it was then that the locomotive struck me and I made a sound I know I will never be able to duplicate, nor do I ever want to be in a position to do so. I was never really pinned down, but I had to really jump to my left to get out of the way of the moving locomotive. I eyed the drop into the pit, wondering if I was going to have to hurl myself down there, but I kept moving away from the locomotive. As I drug myself, the rolling locomotive struck our switch engine, and finally came to a stop. Once everything had quit moving and I knew I was safe, I relaxed and stopped dragging myself. I will tell you what, pain comes on fast when adrenalin wears off, boy howdy does it come on fast. I knew my right leg was messed up, but I also knew it didn’t hurt as bad if I just stayed still.
The supervisors and all that came out to check on me and the accident once they had called 911. Luckily one of them is an EMT so that made me feel more relaxed about it all as he knew how to assess everything. I went to the ER, and at that time my town didn’t have an ortho surgeon, so they had to find one to take me. I am glad they found the one they did, Dr. Isackson in Dickinson, ND. I really liked him, and his approach in all my dealings with him. Luckily I got hurt on a Tuesday and that’s one of his surgery days, so I was able to take an ambulance to Dickinson so that I could have a rod put into my shattered tibia, and my broken fibula assessed as well. I was in the hospital until Thursday, I had a brace on my right leg, crutches, and one of those cushioned braces for my severely sprained left ankle. What can I say, when I get injured I do it right! Here’s a picture to kinda show what went with it all.
That is the actual accident report from work, something that they figured out wasn’t my fault due to the 7337 having a faulty handbrake modification. See the walkway by the green switch engine, that’s where I wound up, and that mangled part in the foreground, that’s where I was standing moving the controller that was there, and that’s where I started getting out of the way.
So you can see why I say I got out of it in the best way possible, a broken leg is nothing compared to no leg, or no life, so I will take the scars I got and never say a bad thing about them.
I probably got the idea for the tattoo about the time I was getting the rod taken out of my bone a year after the accident. I had always kinda wanted a tattoo but never knew what to get, or what would mean something to me. Inspiration hit, and I knew what I wanted. I want a train tunnel with a light shining forth from it. I don’t know if I want 7337 and 4-4-07 included or not, but I am definitely open to seeing what the artist might come up with on this.
So you can probably understand why I want this tattoo, but let me tell you what it means to me. I often hear about people going through traumatic situations and they get a new lease on life, a new outlook, and I didn’t really get that. Sometimes I wonder if I am broken because I didn’t, or if I just process things differently. I used humor to get over the trauma of it all, and I think that was good, but I also downplayed it when telling people about it. When faced with the statement “You got hit by a train?” I would always say “Well, one locomotive” and go on with the discussion.
I want to remind myself that things can go differently, that things may have a way of working out, but that doesn’t mean you let them be. I want to have something that catches my eye, something that speaks to me about something I have been through, something that reminds me of where I have been and where I am going. That is why I want what I want, and that is why I will get it.
Alk talked about her love of taking blank people to get their first ink, and after sometime towards the end of July, I will no longer be blank.
Think my leg will be pretty?
(via fuckyeahgaiman)
Okay, so why am I starting a new tumblr…but why?
Well, I love the pictures, and the jokes, and the memes, and the gifs, and the stuff I post, but I also like writing from time to time, and that get’s lost in the shuffle of it all, so I am separating the two.
So here I have taken all the writing I did over on SadorfDreaming and put it here, I also plan on putting the quotes that stick out to me or inspire me. This way you can come and go, and you don’t have to wade through the other stuff.
This is not very well structured, I apologize, kinda.
So I will try to write here every week, or more if the mood hits me. If you have anything you would find interesting for me to touch on, then please suggest it. If you have a topic you think would be funny for me to cover, go ahead and suggest it too…
Basically I am gonna be loose with this, but sometimes something serious might hit, so be prepared for that…
So come along with me for a brand new adventure, I will hold your hands through the scary bits, and guide you through the confusing parts, it’s only fair of me isn’t it?
(via fuckyeahgaiman)
