I love music.
My eyesight and hearing are both failing me, thanks to genetics and speakers, respectively.
I could eat peanut butter all day long, preferrably the organic type.
I like to stare at the night sky. I'm quite fascinated by it, and I have books and binoculars that edify my near-obsession.
I like old cowboy shirts. Or cowboy-seeming shirts.
I type rapidly.
I seriously enjoy learning. I wouldn't mind going to school forever, you know, taking some classes - becoming Dr. Matthew. (That'd be a good name for a TV show - "Becoming Dr. Matthew".) I think I want to be a teacher. Any grade would do, except perhaps 5th through 8th, the dreaded junior highers.
I like whitewater rafting, and occasionally guide down the South Fork American during the summers of Northern California.
I always carry chapstick with me, and have recently added a sly pocketknife as its companion.
I am a boy in need of a purse-equivalent - or a toolbelt, either the carpenters' type or the British spy type. I carry a large array of items with me at all times, and my pockets bulge.
My favorite color is and always has been black; yes, I do recognize it as a color, not just the presence of all of them.
People let themselves get annoyed too quickly. I like to love everyone. I want to understand everyone.
I am a hypocrite. Aren't we all?
I need to play my guitar more often.
I admire authors. My current favorites' names start with either John or Jack, and the one I'm reading right now starts with Dave.
Driving long distances is much more than a methamphetamine for me.
I have vices. I drink diet soda by the gallons. And there are more.
The right side of my body grows slightly more hair than the left. At least, so it seems.
I write notes on my hands. All the time.
My brain is constantly active...
I work well with computers, and the internet always has something for me to pursue.
I have a vast collection of music CDs. It is ever-growing.
I like to wear a belt, even when I don't need one.
Jeans.
I think soymilk is delicious, even though I still enjoy normal milk (skim or 1%), especially for chocolate milk - with Hershey's Special Dark syrup.
I sometimes like to wear a suit, context permitting.
I really should read more often. Sometimes I wish I did a lot of things more often...
I have alternate selves that seem to develop around my closest friends.
I have a special bond with children that didn't realize itself until I had my own.
I want to travel the entire world aimlessly, an ascetic, a vagrant.
I want to publish books of my own stories and words and images.
I want to release albums of my own creation.
I am less artistic, in all senses of the word, than I wish I were.
And my drawing skills rival those of a two-year-old.
There is a very large stack of books next to the headboard of my bed. It too is ever-growing.
I have (mostly) undying faith in super glue.
My tastes differ slowly over the years, in food, texts, music. But invariably they cling to the basic foundations that were built for me by my parents and the media.
I often feel old.
Yet I still love snowboarding.
And I'm not really that old. Is 26 old? (Recently-turned, mind you.)
Vans are my favorite shoes, tried and true.
I am always, always late. Perhaps due to the fact that-
I love to stay up as long as possible; I like to skip out on sleep.
I am a Star Wars once-junkie, and have 6-8 bins full of 'treasures' to prove it.
I like to always find the best deal. I have a newfound interest in thrift stores.
I don't want to worry much about what I can't control. I keep an attitude of cavalierism in my buttoned-up double-breasted pocket.
My fingernails are trimmed about once a week.
I have too many favorite bands to make a brief list.
At one point in time I had six piercings. Those old holes are all currently vacant.
My sweet tooth owns nearly 90% of the self-control bound to my cravings (it's not really 'self-control').
I loathe shaving, but I cannot grow a full beard, and besides, longer facial hair itches like mad.
Sometimes I feel like I should live in Mexico.
Saturday, January 07, 2006
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5 comments:
Interesting post. I even agree with some of those statements for myself:)
Keep blogging,
Raya
Matthew...I really like this one. Just like all of your other ones. It's simple and sweet and yet, very informative and honest. It was fun to read. You are so talented. I'm really lacking when it comes to writing and everything about it. But you're not. So I too hope that one day you get to publish all of your own stuff. It really is publish-worthy anyway. So go for it. I really miss you guys.
Strange, I knew most of these things about you my older brother, yet it held my interest completely and absolutely. I love to read about people I know very well, read things they've written about themselves (how often do I do that?) Most of us read things about others whom we have never met nor ever will, and that keeps our interest. I love that. I totally love it, I love stories written by strangers, it is a passion, but I also find it pretty amazing to delve deeper into people who you think you have down to a science. It's incredible to discover these new mystical facts, simple things. I am feeling very emotional in this time in my life, stronger and more drawn-out than any period I have yet experienced in my eighteen years. My iTunes plays sad songs constantly, on shuffle, current He Lays In THe Reins - Iron and Wine / Calexico. Tearing up. I am looking at this picture of Jarom and I and I miss him and Bella and you and Amy. And everyone. And my very good friend Tommy leaves to live in Humboldt tomorrow. I leave this town that consists of new friends and fresh stomping grounds on monday. Its all tough. Im gonna steal your idea and write down a list of things about myself as well, and post it. Good call man.
matty is cool. i have thought so since i can remember, even when he was a chubby little guy with thick glasses and a big wave hair style. your writing is real cool. i think, therefore i'm an idiot. thats my story. see ya buddy.
yeah yeah yeah yeah!!!!! who wrote all these anonymous messages. this one struck a chord mattie. nice and personal.
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