Okay the update for those of you tha have asked what has been going on, or even curious, but were too afraid too ask.

Brenda and I are approaching 18 months and enjoying each day together.  She has taught me more about myself than I can think of.  To all the haters, keep hating, you only make us stronger and provide us yet another reason to stay together, to spite you.  I love you babe.

I have passed my PC 832 class.  Which means more job opportunities, and more money and somesuch.  What it basically translates to is that I can be a full time peace officer, in the state of California and just about any state in the union.  However if I don't go to a departmental academy it becomes invalid after two years.  I received the 2nd highest score in the class missing a mere three questions out of 80. 

I am still working at the House of Blues, where my goal of becoming management have been dashed by the acquisition by LiveNation.  The second round of layoffs have occured, with no end in sight. 

I have finally received my firearms permit from the state, which means once again more opportunities with more pay. Eventually I will be able to stabilize myself in a job, just not quite yet.

I am taking the San Diego Sheriff's test on Tuesday, I am shooting for a score over 90%.  Luck is for the ill-prepared.

I am severely addicted to Final Fantasy XII, it's not funny.  This game is awesome, it has nudged out every other game to achieve the coveted #3 spot on my list.  After Final Fantasy Tactics and Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas.  We will see what happens when GTA4 comes out, I have it pre-ordered on XBOX360.

School is going to take some time, I can't afford to go right now, and I have like 21 classes remaining with two retakes, it sucks being a slacker and missing finals.  I have better time management skills now and I rarely have to study, but I will make a better effort this go around.  Aside from the social aspects, I am tired of living the life that I lead.  I keep hearing that I am capable of so much more, and I know I am, and when I started believing it, I started again in the classes.  It is just going to take some time.

Another reason I love my lady; she can kick ass at trivia, and does the best recaps of Star Wars movies ever.

I have come to the realization I have a contempt for a great many people.  People that dress a certain way and act a certain way, provide you with an easy interpretation of character.  The ones that are easily defined into the many.  They preach individuality and personal freedom, however they refuse to acknowledge to an outsider of their deme that they are all carbon copies of each other.  You can only make a copy of something so many times before the quality is depleted and you end up with a mass of unintelligible chaos.

I am adjunctly aware of the fact that I too may fall into a stereotype of unusual proportions, of how I dress, act and speak.  But to be identified with such obvious and negative implications of character I am mercifully absent.  People actually have to ask what my beliefs or habits are.  That in the ambiguity of my presence they can not discern traits.  I like my anonimity.

I have so much to do in so little time, without the necessary resources to accomplish my goals.

I have recently grown addicted to chamoy, a mexican candy of indiscernible origins and dubious flavor contexts.

Be like the spider and not the lion.

"I'll have your job for this!"  I love it when people say that to me.

I have grown a rather large mental armor against insult and berating, that not much gets to me.

I need to get my shit together, and stop goofing off.

I realized last night that I have no fear of losing my job, for it is so easy to jump into another place and make a little bit more money, hopefully the financial setback will not be too grievous.

I should set up a donation account on paypal so people can give me money.  Not that I would get any, but because it would be there as an option.

I saw Feast and thought it was awesome

I love my girl, she is the best ever, and just gets better.

I would like to blog more, but I find that the attention that I get from it is unnecessary.

Up until recently I worked at a rather affluent high-rise condominum complex.  I was usually on staff graveyards and at the front desk, making sure the place didn't flood, immolate or disintegrate, which it almost always was apt to do.  One night after being on shift for no more than 10 minutes I receive a call from a complainant about loud music emanating from an adjacent unit.  The complainant claims to have called my supervisor and informed him of the situation.  I had relieved my supervisor and saw him exit the building.  Incidentally, the complainant said my supervisor had gone up to the unit in violation and attempted to gain compliance, unsuccessfully.  I told the woman on the phone that I would go up there personally and ask that they reduce the volume of the music, and that if I were unable to gain compliance, for her to call me back in a half-hour.  I went up to the unit in question and informed the violator that there had been a complaint lodged and that as a matter of respect to please lower the volume of the music.  Which by the way had been really stupid 80's music.  They refused, actually lodging their counter-complaint, saying their food smelled like shit and it stank up the hallways, and that the people beneath them, played their music too loud.  I said that the issue now was the volume of their music, not the neighbors music or food aromas.  She said she would take it into consideration.  Yeah, right, what the fuck do I care anyway.  So I left it at that.  Then another call came from the same neighbor and I just calle dthe police, by the way I hate being a fucking middle-man.  The cops show up and they go up there one of the officers comes back down and lo and behold little miss can't be bothered by my request is laced up and dumped rather unceremoniously in the back of one america's finest cab company's cars.  So The husband and his idiot friend come down and start gioving the officer shit.  They go call the king and leave me the heck alone and I get back to monitoring the cameras breaked rather frequently by abusing the internet like it was a heavy bag.   However the fallout would come many days later.  The bitch gets it into her overcompensating for a flat chest by picking on me head that it was my fault and she is "going to launch an investigation into me." I kid you not she actually said that, like it was my fault.  In my book you get one warning and then pow negative repercussions.  Anyway her investigation was quelled like the rebellion of a small island living in comfort.  Anyway her husband comes throught he main hallway a few days later and stares me down.  I open the elevator for the housekeeper not for his dumb monkey ass.  He says to me I will take the next one, like he couldn't stand to take the elevator with someone of my caliber.  I was thinking suit yourself dumbfuck, wait for no good reason.  Anyway the housekeeper gets on and I remain he jumps on the at the last minute, giving a look dirtier than a crackwhore after a 20 John night.  Anyway the point is look at yourself before you blame other people for your problems.  God, rich people need to be stripped of their belongings and thrown to the wolves.  Anyway that sums up  this episode of tales fromt he posh side.  See ya'll next time.

It seems like there is always somebody stirring the pot.  Mind you this pot can just simmer for a long while , and not even be stirred.  Like waiting for something that may never come and being conciously riddled with doubt, anticipation and other volatile feelings.  I used to consider myself a preety cold, hardass mutha' fucka.  People that know me, or at least in one point could say they did, know my character is quite the contrary.  For a long time I believed people would look out for me if and only when it was nuclear winter.  However, the sorry state of affairs in a post apocolyptic nuclear holocaust, would render the outcome to the worst and least common denominator of human and humane process. In a scenario resembling the game shows of old, it is expected to be a winner take all situation.  No compromise, nothing for second place and no lovely parting gifts hand delivered by over the hill (read 30+) ex-teenage beauty queens in evening gowns.  It is definitely a situation where serpentine tactics and bestial ferocity reign.  We now know the nuclear winter bit is out, so that leaves us with a time scale in which people actually gave a shit about their friends, family and other miscellaneous individuals; never.  I wore that comfort like armor, it protected and shielded me from the assault of emotion stemming from other people.  The visor provided me with almost unparalelled logic and reasoning capability, it was though when the visor was down I could see for miles, straight through anyone.  It kept me seperated from the bullshit and vile muck that would effervesce from people that were bogged down by their banality and ineptitude.  I would often be able to sidestep bombshells of horrendous magnitude and be clear from the explosive and often debilitating effects of an individuals tantrum.  What I am saying, is; I have lost my armor.  My inability to ward off the inequities found in others.  Those very same loathsome features within a person are trying to penetrate and inexorably control me.  I feel it coming and approaching like a slow moving mudslide, ready to engulf me.  The hairs on my neck are raised and I only wait, in anticipation and doubting volatility

I get tired. I don't mean physically exhausted, but I mean eaxasperated.  Mental acuity and reaction times are dulled.  The same argument, the same distress, the same anxiety.  It all ends up being the same.  Every argument you have had, every problem you have, it is all the same.  I can't help but feel the eyes of people on me, judging, grading and rating.  What I said a year ago doesn't mean shit as to what I say right now.  It doesn't matter what I thought yesterday, it doesn't matter what I will think tomorrow, or a year from now, or a decade even.  It won't matter because I have no legacy.  When I am dead and everyone that has known me is dead, what will I have left behind.  Nothing.  No great artistic works or major contributions to society.  No heroic or epic tale of perserverance, or fabled legend of deeds done to right wrongs and bring happiness to the world forever.  I will have not brought peace to the middle east, I will have not ended poverty in eastern Europe, or brought and end to famine in Africa.  I will have not solved any of the world's problems.  I will have not balanced the budget or erased the national debt.  I will not have singlehandedly brought our troops home from all over the world.  I will not have stopped California from having earthquakes, or made San Diego an economically equal place to live and work.  I will not have moved mountains, turned the tide or altered the run of a river.  Yet for all these things that I have not and will not do, people are worried about what I say and who my friends are.  For as long as I can remember I have had friends dislike other friends.  I was always stuck in the middle with an ear for both sides.  Regardless of what people have said about another, I have always considered myself mature enough to think for myself, and bear witness to the deeds actions thoughts and motivations of my friends.  Just because you say something about someone, doesn't necessarily make it true.  I could say Mr. X eats a whole raw salmon everyday.  I could say Mrs. O owns the state of Kansas.  But you and I both know it isn't true.  One sounds more plausible than the other, however plausibility and believabilty have nothing to do with the truth.  Mr. X in fact is allergic to fish, and Mrs. O is quite impoverished, not even owning the clothes on her back.  Just because you tell me something that may have happened, doesn't mean anyhting to me.  To see what I am talking about, click here.  This brings me to my point, why would you even bring up anything bad about people.  For fuck's sake, doesn't the phrase, If you don't have anything nice to say about someone, don't say anything at all.  Get it? At all.  That means I don't want to hear it.  He doesn't want to hear it, she doesn't want to hear it and Heidi doesn't want to hear it (Heidi is my dog).  It amazes me, that because I will not have done the incredible or epic immortal deeds, people can't say "Damn it, Matt, you still haven't gotten around to eliminating the drug cartels.  'The fuck is your problem?"  Instead you trifle about with your little drama, and your trifling ass can't stay happy for a minute so you piss in my Cheerios, shit in my bed and rain on my parade.  All while spilling vile and acidic emotional detritus

"Wait a minute, did you just say I was ants at a picnic?" Brian

If you have anything to say to me, all you have to say is "Damn it, Matt.  Why haven't you brought peace to the Middle East?"

Fugazi is what happens when punk figures out it has talent.

Public Image Limited is what happens when punk loses an icon

Noone gets out of a Deadbolt song alive.

I start at the hardest puzzle and work my way back to the easiest, it provides the illusion of improvement.

I can do anything I set my mind to, the only problem is convincing to tsettle down for a minute while I explain the advantages of setting it to something.

Brezhnev is a fearsome individual with some crazy eyebrows. 

Having a girlfriend is like getting arrested for insider trading, you learn a lesson, and you still come out on top, if you know how to handle it.

Half the stuff I write or speak doesn't make sense to me.

A lot of Samurai must be wandering around in Hell.  Seppuku = suicide = sin = hellbound. 

Finding a good office chair is like trying to milk a bull.  First you think you have got a hold of it, then you end up with something entirely different.

There are a lot of different ways to say, Fuck You, I lik eto stick to the basics though.

I used to get wireless internet, I don't anymore. 

That really bums me out, I used to get so much done with it, and now that it's gone I know how the good old days were, and they should never be found again.

I used to be a slacker, I got better though.

My motivation is all but gone, I need to go out with the old crew, they knew how to light a fire under your ass.

It's probably because I am not competing with anyone, I need to compete in order to strive.  I need someone to maybe pretend to compete with me.

Working sucks, but what sucks even more is working 7 days in a row.

I always get upset that I don't have the typical weekend.  I am pretty sure I am not the only one as well.

I'd like to know what days I am going to have off before they are 2 days away

My supervisor passes the buck more than anyone else I know, it's always you'll have to talk to someone else.  I think to myself, then what the fuck are you doing here?  If your only additional responsibility is making the schedule, you might want to redirect your energies.  Work on it!

In all seriousness, no concept rolling around in his head, about how to schedule anyone for anything.  He bring teh Suks.