<?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-12130034</id><updated>2011-12-31T22:55:57.296-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Portland Mick</title><subtitle type='html'>Day in the life of a Mick and his ever-flowing mug of Guiness!</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>64</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-5770302520175319738</id><published>2011-12-12T08:19:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-12T08:19:35.056-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A knight in shining armor, I am not.&lt;br /&gt;My horse is broken, I crashed it into a light pole.&lt;br /&gt;My armor is weak - The cotton does not stop anything.&lt;br /&gt;My weapon, a wooden sword, belongs to my son.&lt;br /&gt;A loving person, I am.&lt;br /&gt;My love for you, for your children, is unwavering.&lt;br /&gt;My heart is pure, it belongs to you.&lt;br /&gt;My soul and yours, matched together mated for eternity.&lt;br /&gt;You are my vest friend.&lt;br /&gt;Through the cold you warm my heart, my chest, my spirit.&lt;br /&gt;You provide comfort through all the chilling winds.&lt;br /&gt;You keep me dry when it rains.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12130034-5770302520175319738?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/feeds/5770302520175319738/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12130034&amp;postID=5770302520175319738&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/5770302520175319738'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/5770302520175319738'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2011/12/knight-in-shining-armor-i-am-not.html' title=''/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-8371298248187488541</id><published>2011-09-27T21:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-27T21:53:43.663-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>You always do the wrong things.&lt;div&gt;You never hear the song she sings.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;While it is her voice that glistens,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You do not listen.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A jester in a kings court,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Your life as it is is short,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Your bells on your feet and hands,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ring and chime, you have no fans.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;With a forced smile on your face,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You are a FUCKING FOOL!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Listen to your heart and mind!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It is this you will not find!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Stop playing the fool, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Stop ringing your bells,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Stop reaching to your fake admiration.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Your hand in hers.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Your hearts belong.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Your souls together.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Do it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&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/12130034-8371298248187488541?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/feeds/8371298248187488541/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12130034&amp;postID=8371298248187488541&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/8371298248187488541'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/8371298248187488541'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2011/09/you-always-do-wrong-things.html' title=''/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-3473185896532512752</id><published>2011-09-14T10:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-14T10:38:12.591-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Us</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="msg 1st"&gt;My life was lost.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div class="msg Nth"&gt;And then I found you naked and alluring.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div class="msg Nth"&gt;And I went.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div class="msg Nth"&gt;I saw more than needed to see.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div class="msg Nth"&gt;But it wasn't enough.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div class="msg Nth"&gt;We spoke, we laughed, we fell.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div class="msg Nth"&gt;But we didn't know.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div class="msg Nth"&gt;Until it was too late.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div class="msg Nth"&gt;This hill is steep that we have been climbing.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div class="msg Nth"&gt;I've slipped only to be save by the rope around our waists.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div class="msg Nth"&gt;I am climbing back up the rock face to you.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div class="msg Nth"&gt;I see the hand holds and foot holds&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div class="msg Nth"&gt;And your hand reaching for me.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div class="msg Nth"&gt;Climbing hard, tiring, slipping, regaining my  footing&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div class="msg Nth"&gt;Our hands clasp and you help me up.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div class="msg Nth"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hand in hand we walk the spring forest.&lt;/div&gt;   &lt;div class="msg Nth"&gt;Old twigs, sticks and leaves clutter the ground at our feet&lt;br /&gt;but around us bright green new leaves grow on the bare branches of the  forest.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div class="msg Nth"&gt;There's a Sweet smell from the fresh rain that has fallen and sun light slicing it's way through the the branches above&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div class="msg Nth"&gt;Lights our way through to an open field of fresh wild  flowers.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12130034-3473185896532512752?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/feeds/3473185896532512752/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12130034&amp;postID=3473185896532512752&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/3473185896532512752'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/3473185896532512752'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2011/09/us.html' title='Us'/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-5022122333161815903</id><published>2011-04-08T23:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-08T23:58:51.521-07:00</updated><title type='text'>you are</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;you are&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in; "&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;b&gt;N&lt;/b&gt;earest to my heart&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in; "&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;b&gt;A&lt;/b&gt;mour.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in; "&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;you are my&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in; "&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;b&gt;T&lt;/b&gt;rue love.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in; "&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;i&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in; "&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;b&gt;A&lt;/b&gt;dmire your every way.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in; "&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in; "&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;b&gt;S&lt;/b&gt;park a fire in my soul.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in; "&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;your&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in; "&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;b&gt;H&lt;/b&gt;eart speaks to me my love.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in; "&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;b&gt;A&lt;/b&gt;nd it tells me.  You love me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12130034-5022122333161815903?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/feeds/5022122333161815903/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12130034&amp;postID=5022122333161815903&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/5022122333161815903'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/5022122333161815903'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2011/04/you-are-n-earest-to-my-heart-mour.html' title='you are'/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-6991788006527019471</id><published>2011-02-02T22:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-02T22:37:27.071-08:00</updated><title type='text'>NRB</title><content type='html'>I sit here and stare at some letters on my computer monitor.  Hoping to see them jump out and on to their own special window; with words of their own telling me exactly what I need to hear.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;All the while, I resist the urge to quickly press down and form words of my own.  To resist causes aching in my body, heart and soul.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Why do I do this to myself?  Why resist and cause so much hurt?  Why don't you just ease the pain and listen to what it is you need?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ok self, I will. &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/12130034-6991788006527019471?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/feeds/6991788006527019471/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12130034&amp;postID=6991788006527019471&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/6991788006527019471'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/6991788006527019471'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2011/02/nrb.html' title='NRB'/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-7375648251522978847</id><published>2010-12-05T11:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-05T11:15:06.577-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If you want to write with me&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then you need to love with me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If you want to love with me&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then you need to love again.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-Jaden Banks, 5 years old.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12130034-7375648251522978847?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/feeds/7375648251522978847/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12130034&amp;postID=7375648251522978847&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/7375648251522978847'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/7375648251522978847'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2010/12/if-you-want-to-write-with-me-then-you.html' title=''/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-7798027468429031017</id><published>2010-10-03T22:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-03T22:53:51.711-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;Love&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;Beloved truelove&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;Cherishing admiring dreaming&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;“Yours was the first face that I Saw.  I think I was blind before I met you.”&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;Amour&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12130034-7798027468429031017?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/feeds/7798027468429031017/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12130034&amp;postID=7798027468429031017&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/7798027468429031017'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/7798027468429031017'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2010/10/love.html' title='Love'/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-2152474198116097790</id><published>2010-05-07T11:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-07T12:07:02.679-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Rafting McIver to Carver Packing List and Safety Brief</title><content type='html'>Packing List:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your shit = 1 set&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Safety brief for water excursions:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't drown.  If you do find yourself drowning don't drown recovery personnel .  If  recovering a drowning person do not drown yourself.  If recovery operations fail, tell the press recovery personnel drowned trying to rescue you and succeeded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;End safety brief.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Risk assessment is:&lt;br /&gt;Fucking beavers followed by &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;miscellaneous&lt;/span&gt; noises.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;End brief.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12130034-2152474198116097790?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/feeds/2152474198116097790/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12130034&amp;postID=2152474198116097790&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/2152474198116097790'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/2152474198116097790'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2010/05/rafting-mciver-to-carver-packing-list.html' title='Rafting McIver to Carver Packing List and Safety Brief'/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-430140605236697964</id><published>2008-11-05T11:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-26T13:11:42.325-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Yes We Can</title><content type='html'>It's election night. I haven't been so excited and nervous since Christmas as a child, or watching the Super Bowl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am at work in the office. Sitting, staring at my computer screen in my cubical at 4:30 PM. It reads that McCain has 8 electoral votes and Obama has 3. I nervously run my mouse along the eastern coast of a US map to see where the other states are currently standing. Things aren't looking too good. Majority of the southern states seem to be voting for McCain. Except for Florida, which at the time showed a 68% to 32% lead for Obama. Doing quick math in my head I calculate a 52 - 48 lead for Obama when this is all said and done. But it is still early. Anything can happen. My coworkers are gleeful for the lead thus far. Making jokes and laughing thinking this to be a different election than what has been predicted for a few months already.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Leaving work at 5:00PM to pick up my child, it's my day to have him for 2 hours. Being with him is surreal. I forget about everything and focus entirely on him. My world, is on pause when we are together. It's amazing what a three year old can do. Stop a mans world. Isn't Superman suppose to be the one able to do that? Fly around the Earth backwords to reverse the spin of the earth in turn travelling back in time? Awesome. Before dropping him back off with his Mom and Step Dad he tells me he wants to come home with me and starts to cry when I tell him not until Friday. So of course, I play his favorite song during the drive back to his house. "Baby Don't you Change" by Tyrone Wells.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sweet baby don't you change, baby don't you change, baby don't you change a thing!" He sings along with it. His second favorite song on the album "Sea Breeze" comes on next and we sing it together before knocking on the door to his house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There I learn that Obama has a lead in the polls and I leave to meet some good friends at The Lamp. A bar in south east Portland. Friends and I have decided that we want to get out and watch the election this year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Frantically weaving between cars, switching lanes to ones that appear faster than the others, I am in a hurry to see if who I voted for will win. Arriving at The Lamp close to 8:00PM I am given smiles and jokes about my Halloween costume and how awesome it was. I was the lead singer from Blue Oyster Cult in the SNL Cowbell skit. It was nothing short of hilarious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ordering an Alameda Ale, I sit down and joke with my friends and girlfriend. Looking at the polls I see it is Obama in a wide lead over McCain. By something like 80 electoral votes. Within a matter of seconds everyone is clapping. I join in and to my surprise Obama won.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Overwhelmed and shaking, so very excited, I can feel it in the pit of my stomach. I can hardly believe it. Not that I didn't want it to happen, I am so beyond happy. I have never seen anything like this. People were cheering, honking their car horns as they drive by. It's like New Years Eve, or Christmas. People are yelling outside. Screaming in joy. I liken it to winning an NBA championship here in Portland. People are crazy. Has ther ever been this much excitement over an election? Shortly after my friend, girlfriend, and I decided to take a shot. We are elated, conversations always come back to, "Wow, I'm so excited, I can't believe it." We try the most expensive shot in the bar, which turns out to be $8.00 a shot. Excellent whiskey too. We quited for McCain's speach and stood in front of the TV to listen. His audience boos when he first mentions Obama and he puts up his hands and quiets them down. I commend him for that. His speach is good, I felt he meant most every word.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quite a bit of time passes before Obama's speach. I am guessing something close to an hour. We sit eyes glued to the television listening, hanging on every word. We laugh we he mentioned getting a new puppy for the White House, but overall his speach captivates us. We clap again when it is over, tears almost escaping. And all this over our next President of the United States of America.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't realize how patriotic my friends where. Some of whom complain about the government alot and seem to not have very much faith in it at all. I am an Iraqi War Veteran. Nine years in the military. It wasn't award filled, and alot of the time I couldn't stand being in the Army. But I did my time, fought for my country, and wouldn't take back any of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can see a change in America. A change for good. A change for the better. I think what was said is true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes we can."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12130034-430140605236697964?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/feeds/430140605236697964/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12130034&amp;postID=430140605236697964&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/430140605236697964'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/430140605236697964'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2008/11/yes-we-can.html' title='Yes We Can'/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-1404385983356892075</id><published>2008-05-04T20:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-04T20:51:50.857-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Time has Come</title><content type='html'>It's been awhile since I have talked to you old buddy.  I have been home for over a week now and I have alot to do.  Although I have alot accomplished.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm fustrated tonight because of close mindedness.  There are small pictures, and bigger pictures and some people just don't see the bigger picture alot of the time.  I just don't understand it.  In all honesty, my mindset right now is about the bigger picture.  Not trying to appease one person or another.  I am not trying to do anything but the right thing.  Childeren, whether they have both parents still married, or in my situation, have both parents, but one has full custody, deserve and need to have both of their parents equally involved in their lives.  That is all for now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12130034-1404385983356892075?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/feeds/1404385983356892075/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12130034&amp;postID=1404385983356892075&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/1404385983356892075'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/1404385983356892075'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2008/05/time-has-come.html' title='Time has Come'/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-8433389442084588595</id><published>2008-03-23T09:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-23T10:05:09.525-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Goodbye</title><content type='html'>Goodbyes are difficult.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am  not sure where I am going with this so bare with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, as I was saying, goodbyes are difficult.  There is no easy way to say it, and in every situation it always hurts a little.  There's usually some idle chatter, followed by a quick joke that leads head first into an akward silence that saps all of the strength out of your neck and both people end up looking at the ground.  Then, look at each other, and not say goodbye exactly, but instead say, "call me when you get there".  Or, "I'll chat with you later".  Or "hey man, see you soon".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's the "telephone" goodbyes which are usually clumbsy.  One person usually has to get the last word, or the other isn't quite done finishing their sentences and usually leads to one or the other hanging up on the other person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's the in person, "see you soon" goodbye.  This is a friendly goodbye.  No one is going anywhere far.  They both live in the same city or close enough where you could, at any time, see the other person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there's the "long distance goodbye".  One person is leaving for awhile but will be back.  This is a hard one but knowing that there is no real danger and they are just going on vacation or something.  This normally ends with "make sure my dog gets fed 3 times a day.  See you when I get back" type of deal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The worst has to be the "I'm leaving, not sure if I'll make is back" good bye.  This is also currently known as the "I am going to Iraq" goodbye.  Neither of you are really sure if you are coming back.  You both hope and pray you will but not sure.  This is the hardest one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lastly, there is the, "we have become such good friends over a long period of time" goodbye.  This is where the other person is leaving and there's a good chance you will never see them again.  You know they are going to be safe but you wish they were closer so you can stay good friends.  This can also be hard, more of a good emotional than then "I'm leaving for Iraq" goodbye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again, sorry about the ramble.  :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12130034-8433389442084588595?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/feeds/8433389442084588595/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12130034&amp;postID=8433389442084588595&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/8433389442084588595'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/8433389442084588595'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2008/03/goodbye.html' title='Goodbye'/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-8680532265863869984</id><published>2008-03-11T23:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-12T00:04:12.263-07:00</updated><title type='text'>CLOSE ONE!</title><content type='html'>So the other day I was driving middle in the convoy from TND.  We were heading away when I heard this, "*whooooooooooosh* Booom!" and looked to my right to see a big plume of smoke rising about 250 meters away from where I was driving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We heard the other day some suicide bombers tried to approach Taji but they were apprehended.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just another day in paradise.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12130034-8680532265863869984?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/feeds/8680532265863869984/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12130034&amp;postID=8680532265863869984&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/8680532265863869984'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/8680532265863869984'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2008/03/close-one.html' title='CLOSE ONE!'/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-7191044948842737684</id><published>2008-03-05T03:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-05T03:36:25.086-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Book 'em Danno!</title><content type='html'>Today was pretty exciting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First of all I must give my repects to Gary Gygax.  A co-creator of DnD which has pretty much spawned the roleplaying genre.  Can we take a moment please?&lt;br /&gt;....&lt;br /&gt;....&lt;br /&gt;....&lt;br /&gt;Now that we got that out of the way... today was exciting.  I went to TND to pick up an order.  That was unexciting.  After that we had staged the convoy just outside the gate so we can move as one group.  I was in front and all of the trucks were following behind.  The second truck had just gotten into position when the MP had pulled up and said to me that he had stolen something and took him away.  Well for some reason they had let him go and let him drive in the convoy.  No big deal I suppose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we got to CIF staged the trucks and began unloading the covoy.  One truck at a time, we searched them and the driver, and waived them on their way.  The third truck came by and we caught the driver trying to hide some shirts and sock in the door mold.  We parked his truck just outside of the gate and took a picture of him holding his stolen goods and then called the MPs.  The following two trucks that came by also tried to steal stuff.  The second guy was thought it was no big deal.  He tried to steal one pair of gloves. &lt;br /&gt;The third guy tried to steal 3 pair of shoes.  When I saw all of t hose things I was cursing.  F this, and F you.  What the f is this.  Well, he was blowing me off and started to light a ciggarette.  My Iraqi Lieutenant slapped the ciggarette out of his hand and the thief then almost punched my Lieutenant!  I had one hand on my pistol stook in between them and grabbed the dude by the collar of his shirt and told him he will not fuckin' touch my lieutenant or else.  He tried to fight then noticed my hand on my pistol and his eyes got all wide and big and then he sat down in the sade next to the other culprits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man what a day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12130034-7191044948842737684?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/feeds/7191044948842737684/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12130034&amp;postID=7191044948842737684&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/7191044948842737684'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/7191044948842737684'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2008/03/book-em-danno.html' title='Book &apos;em Danno!'/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-3951700593611586903</id><published>2008-02-25T23:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-25T23:48:39.970-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It's been awhile since I have posted anything and to those of you who thought I had just given up, again, on my blog I haven't. Without internet it just seems difficult to get on and type anything out. My mind has been just about everywhere lately. But most importantly not here. Where it needs to be. I need to focus and get back on track. The end is coming and I am really trying not to have a case of the short-timers but, well, it fuckin' sucks here. :) I am going on another trip soon. Back to the place I was stuck at before. Only this time I am not flying. That's right 250 miles by vehicle. Am I scared? Yeah. How long will I be gone for? Who knows. I will bring my camera and when I make it there I plan on visiting where Abraham was born. Lots of pictures coming soon. Or so I hope. I need to send some to Broc. I have a package for him set up in my room, it will be mailed on Friday. I have been trying to call him but unable to get through. Been getting system busy, and "the non-working line at MNSTC-I". I hope they call soon. I would like to talk to my boy before I go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there is this poetry night here every Sunday at 2000. It has been giving me some inspiration to write, so I need to spend some time, sit down with my pen and work some things out. We will see. I will post it when it happens.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12130034-3951700593611586903?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/feeds/3951700593611586903/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12130034&amp;postID=3951700593611586903&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/3951700593611586903'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/3951700593611586903'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2008/02/its-been-awhile-since-i-have-posted.html' title=''/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-4537682302303895586</id><published>2008-01-29T04:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-29T04:47:08.700-08:00</updated><title type='text'>"It's been awhile..."</title><content type='html'>And so it has.  Nothing really knew to type.  It is my sons birthday today and I will call him tonight.  He had his party last Saturday, unbeknowist to me, but that's alright.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A little bit of crazy happened last night.  Apparently someone found a hand grenade out at one of the training schools.  They reported that the Iraqis were going to play soccer with it.  It's racist fuckin' remarks like that that really irritate me.  Either way, it was found, and demolished appropriatly. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today while at work I was quietly minding my own business, nose in book when suddenly.  "BOOM!"  We thought it was an incomming round and, me in my infinite wisdom went outside to see if there was any damage to the building or what.  Lucky for us there was none, and it wasn't anything.  Just some very very loud explosion some where off of the FOB.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12130034-4537682302303895586?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/feeds/4537682302303895586/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12130034&amp;postID=4537682302303895586&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/4537682302303895586'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/4537682302303895586'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2008/01/its-been-awhile.html' title='&quot;It&apos;s been awhile...&quot;'/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-8358822027038727182</id><published>2008-01-12T03:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-12T04:03:50.556-08:00</updated><title type='text'>'Absolut'</title><content type='html'>Speaking of. It would be nice to have an Absolute and tonic right now. But I digress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last few days have been pretty normal, except for a few things. We went out to the M4 range and did some 'range maintenance'. Basically putting up new paper target mounts, re-digging holes, etc. The Airforce in their utter genius decided to start burning the shrubbery and old wood behind the targets. Basically getting rid of the old used stuff. My Sgt. and I drive up from another range and I see the 8 or so burn piles. "This is not a good idea" I thought to myself. But whatever it's not my range. As we drove past, 3 of the Airforce guys are standing around looking at one of the fires when all of a sudden, POP! POP POP! POP! I don't believe it. There were live rounds in the fire, and it graized one of the Sgt's legs barely missing leaving a burn mark. Can you believe it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few days later we had a scare. There was intel that there might be a possible attack on base here and we, more or less, went into lock down mode and got into full battle-rattle. That was a scarey moment. I was like, damn wtf.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To lighten things up a bit yesterday it snowed. I have pictures and will put them up on myspace tonight. It was the first time, ever it had snowed in Baghdad. Wow. Maybe this is a sign of a turning of events?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, and then, there was today. During lunch apparently someone decided to break into a connex and steal some weapons. Just when you think things might be turning the corner...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12130034-8358822027038727182?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/feeds/8358822027038727182/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12130034&amp;postID=8358822027038727182&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/8358822027038727182'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/8358822027038727182'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2008/01/absolut.html' title='&apos;Absolut&apos;'/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-7513808950242692208</id><published>2008-01-07T20:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-07T21:20:31.155-08:00</updated><title type='text'>You shot me!  I don't believe you freakin' shot me!</title><content type='html'>I had the strangest dream last night. And starting off a blog by saying that doesn't necessarily mean good things to come. &lt;---- If you know what I mean. ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It started with me and Sgt. A in what was my house. Some other people there that I know but didn't recognize in the dream I just knew that I knew them. We had gotten word that someone was going to come over and try to rob us and kill us. A and I both had our 9mm on us armed and ready.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A and I were talking and I thought he said something about killing me or shooting me in the back of the head. I wasn't having any of that. So when he went down into the basement, all the lights were off and I followed him down there. Knowing exactly where he was I got on the floor and was sneaking around trying to get into good position from the ground. I reached my gun around the corner of the door way when I see a bright flash. Then bam the bullett hits me in my back. It stung like hell and I couldn't move. A came running up asking if I was ok and I said "Damn man! You shot me in the back!" He looked at my back and said "Yep I did. I can see its still there". He then helped me up and I walked off the pain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the two guys arrived to either rob or kill us we were ready for them. I was posted at the front door and one tried to break in but I had my foot jarring it. I grabbed my cell phone and called 911 and explained the situation. Before I hung up the operator had told me it would be 2 hours for help to arrive! Two hours! I was livid. Then I remembered I had a 425 number which is a Seattle number and duh of course it would take 2 hours for them to get to Portland. So I asked her for the number to local 911 and she gave me some 18 digit number that I had to write down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The robber pushing in the front door managed to move my foot out of the way and squeeze in. I proceded to punch him in the face with my right hand, gun in my left hand until he gave up and went after his accomplise. After this conflict I now had their weakness. I stepped outside and around the corner of the house finding Robber #2. I began knocking his teeth out but all he did was sit there and grin. He pointed to the clip board he had in his mouth to sheild him from my blows. I ripped that thing out and punched him twice square in the forehead saying "How does that feel?!" He replied "Ouch ok that hurts" and took him to the curb and waited for the police.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then I woke up. I didn't eat anything funny before going to bed. Just a ham/salami sandwiche. Wonder what it all means?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12130034-7513808950242692208?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/feeds/7513808950242692208/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12130034&amp;postID=7513808950242692208&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/7513808950242692208'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/7513808950242692208'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2008/01/you-shot-me-i-dont-believe-you-freakin.html' title='You shot me!  I don&apos;t believe you freakin&apos; shot me!'/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-6279691327539464979</id><published>2008-01-02T21:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-05-07T11:25:43.112-07:00</updated><title type='text'>01/01/2007 - 12/31/2007</title><content type='html'>Last year. Last year seemed at time to fly by. Other times it seemed it would go fast enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With this blog I am going to try to give you a month by month preview of my last year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;January 2007.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hectic, crazy. Brouth in the new year with a bang, and left the same month to Camp Parks, California to start the initial training for Iraq. Was there but a few days and left to Ft. Riley, Kansas. Wow. If hell could freeze over it would be Kansas in the winter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;February through April.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The start of training. The next few months trained trained and trained. Mind you, we are training for the desert in -15 degree weather! WTF? I mean really what the hell? At the end of April we left for Iraq with a quick stop in Kuwait for a few weeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May-Current.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Iraqi tour. Stopped in Baghdad spent some time there and pretty much the rest of my time here in Taji.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12130034-6279691327539464979?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/6279691327539464979'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/6279691327539464979'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2008/01/01012007-12312007.html' title='01/01/2007 - 12/31/2007'/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-5055675875790309286</id><published>2007-12-28T21:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-28T21:26:26.692-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Posessed.</title><content type='html'>I don't necessarily want to respond to a comment that was posted on a blog a few posts ago.  So I am not.  I am too tired with the gun fire keeping me up all night to come up with anything constructive or not overly critical of that individual so I am just going to leave it at what it is.  The comment is beyond typical.  Those who know, know.  Bi-polar anyone?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I couldn't sleep for whatever reason last night.  Maybe it's the gunfire, maybe it's Iraq.  I don't exactly know.  Either way, this morning I feel as though I haven't slept at all.  I remember last looking at the clock and it was 2:30 AM and turning the TV on, with the sleep timer set at 20 minutes.  Watching probably 10-15 minutes of whatever show was on.  Oh an old movie "Sleeping with the Enemy".  With Julia Roberts.  From what I saw it is basically about a wife who gets beat by her husband, fakes her death, runs away and tries to start a new life in hiding.  All the while the husband figures out she faked it and will come after her.  I then woke up at 5:30AM wide awake.  Not tired at all, and realizing my alarm was going to go off in another hour just laid there until it did.  Like I said, damn I'm tired.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12130034-5055675875790309286?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/feeds/5055675875790309286/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12130034&amp;postID=5055675875790309286&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/5055675875790309286'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/5055675875790309286'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2007/12/posessed.html' title='Posessed.'/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-4614676866702280974</id><published>2007-12-26T21:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-26T21:35:10.693-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A little reality, a little fantasy.  Or something.</title><content type='html'>It's been awhile since I had posted anything.  Although I have been more consistant as of late, than of previous posting occassions, I am really trying to stick with it.  :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I woke up tired as hell this morning.  Apparently last night I feel asleep sometime between 8:00pm and 8:30 pm woke up at midnight.  Then fell back to sleep again sometime after 2:00am.  Only to be woken up at 6:00am by my alarm clock.  Wonderful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My radio was going off.  My hand held.  The sergeant working the talk said something about gun fire at some location.  I didnt' quite catch where it was and was too tired to really give a shit.  Never thought I'd ever say that, but by the sounds of it, they got it under control and it wasn't any big deal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I shaved, went to breakfast and now here I am.  Cold as hell, barely able to type because of it.  Another day, another few more to go.  Can't wait to get back into the states. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and by the way.  I had the strangest dream last night.  I was escaping or sneaking away from some camp or base or something... not that I was necessarily in the military but just getting away.  Me and some female, someone I had never met followed this road and she pointed to an area that was quite a few miles away in a valley surrounded by these firn covered hills.  She said she thought there might be a town there but all I could see was a few buildings.  Head headed off the road down to the area where she was pointing and after a nights stay in the rain we reached where she was pointing.  It was just a few buildings together and not anyone in site.  We went in and asked for some help and they offered us a place to stay in the attic of some house.  We dried our damp clothes and from there I vaguely remember something about hiding from someone coming and looking for us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wonder what it means?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12130034-4614676866702280974?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/feeds/4614676866702280974/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12130034&amp;postID=4614676866702280974&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/4614676866702280974'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/4614676866702280974'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2007/12/little-reality-little-fantasy-or.html' title='A little reality, a little fantasy.  Or something.'/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-4710890216803706633</id><published>2007-12-22T05:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-22T05:15:10.890-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hardest Phone Call Thus Far</title><content type='html'>Long story short...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I spoke to Broc a few days ago.  It was good to hear him and then he said "Daddy I want to see you"  I told him I was very far away but i will see him very soon.  He started to cry and said he didn't want to talk to me, and handed me back to Steph after saying I love you and I miss you very much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Steph asked me why he handed the phone to her and why she was upset.  At this point I was tearing up and a few escaped and were streaming down my cheak, and so I told her what he said and she said "Yeah it's been very hard on him.  He says every weekend 'Daddy's going to pick me up.  Daddy's coming to pick me up'  Which must be even harder on you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't respond.  I didn't really have anything nice to say to her.  That just hurts me even more.  And to think, the doesn't even have any clue that is mostly her doing that to him.  She doesn't understand what him not talking to me does, even though she can obviously see it but just doesn't get it.  I don't know.  She says she is going to call me both Christmas Even and Christmas but then said she was going to try, and then changed her answer to either or.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which is why I have decided to call him on Eve night and Christmas morning.  Just to do it for her.  Knowing her she'll be "too busy" or whatever.  I am just not going to chance it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12130034-4710890216803706633?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/feeds/4710890216803706633/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12130034&amp;postID=4710890216803706633&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/4710890216803706633'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/4710890216803706633'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2007/12/hardest-phone-call-thus-far.html' title='Hardest Phone Call Thus Far'/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-8597336507755993896</id><published>2007-12-17T03:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-17T04:00:51.653-08:00</updated><title type='text'>To Iraq and beyond!</title><content type='html'>The other day I had a mission outside of Taji.  No big deal really.  Not that I was complacent or anything.  I am always on my game.  110% of the time.  Only this time, there was a few things different.  I was a driver and not a gunner.  Stayed behind the wheel waiting for mission to be complete and then drove home.  Same rules apply here as in the states.  No news is good news. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been  a bit down recently.  Nothing to be alarmed about.  It's mostly because I haven't talked to Broc in a while and I had started thinking about it.  Wondering what it was that I had done to cause his mother to hate me so much.  So that's been weighing on me quite a bit. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The headaches haven't stopped.  Although they aren't migrains they have consistant.  Starting in the morning and lasting until I go to bed at night.  I don't know if it's a product of my diet, not excersizing or what.  But it's been 4 days now and it's getting rather annoying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Otherwise nothing new to report.  Going to finish my second season in Madden '08 tonight, maybe do some karaoke.  I have to break the norm' and tonights the night to do it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12130034-8597336507755993896?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/feeds/8597336507755993896/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12130034&amp;postID=8597336507755993896&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/8597336507755993896'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/8597336507755993896'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2007/12/to-iraq-and-beyond.html' title='To Iraq and beyond!'/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-2497191205775811427</id><published>2007-12-07T11:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-07T12:15:44.825-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I have switched brands!</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Put a Fork in Me, I'm Done.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The past couple of days have been pretty hard. I had a tension migraine Tuesday night that floored me. It started as a headache at 1700 while I was eating dinner. I put on some American Dad and started falling asleep in my chair so I decided to move to my bed. I was woken up by a few phone calls of my Sergeants taking an accountability check. Basically making sure I was alive and well. Though I was already awake to begin with when the phone started ringing that was when the terror began. It was 2100. I was hurting so bad. I tried so hard to tough it out. Change positions, get rid of the blankets, hide under the blankets, turn off the heat, turn on the heat, I even stooped down to a level that I rarely get to. I took two Tylenol PM 500mgs to help me get through the night. It didn't help. I knocked on Sgt. Shepherds door and thankfull she was still up at 2230 and I had her take me to the doctor. I was seen right away, and the Captain, who on the civillian side was also a headache specialist gave me an IV, hooked me up with his "special concoction&lt;sp&gt;" which included some benadryl and some sort of anti-inflammatory and by 0200 I was on my way back home. I was so loopy I had felt as though I had just woken up from some antiseptic. I was given 24 hours bed rest to help recover and the next day I was still out of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;RAW!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lucifer is now on Raw. I had to switch brands because Smackdown wasn't paying me enough money and I was tired of it. After wining the championship belt and defending it 3 times I was screwed my McMahon and I decided to say fuck it and move to Raw. So far so good. Although it took a long time to get me into a title match I won and have definded that belt 3 times so far as well. I am currently ranked #1 in the Power 25 wrestlers, and kicking MAJOR ass and taking names.&lt;br /&gt;With a combined record of 83 wins and 18 losses, don't let my record fool you. This game is harder and a few matches, no matter what you do, you are forced to loose. Which really, really blows. BIG TIME. I have purchased all of the move sets, and am saving the money to create my minions. Watch out world of WWE it's about to get nastified! (no you cannot use that phrase I am copywriting it)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12130034-2497191205775811427?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/feeds/2497191205775811427/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12130034&amp;postID=2497191205775811427&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/2497191205775811427'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/2497191205775811427'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2007/12/i-have-switched-brands.html' title='I have switched brands!'/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-2673612162054014167</id><published>2007-12-03T02:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-03T02:38:49.623-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Support, Lightening, and Most Importantly...</title><content type='html'>The month of December has already been an exciting one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Support This!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All of our life support on the Iraqi side of the base has stopped.  That means, no port-o-potties being cleaned, no trash being picked up, no water being brought to any location.  None of that stuff.  Anything that would be considered "supporting our life" has been stopped.  Apparently, the contract has run its course and they didn't add the coalition to the new contract.  Also, any contractors that were working on this side of the base performing any of those duties are out of work.  This is going to be some trying times from here on out.  I expect some angry Iraqi's, upset civilians and possibly some action.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Lightening the Way&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other day there was a terrible lightening storm that started about 2200.  It sounded like the lightening was striking the ground right outside of my barracks, and the thunder was was deafening loud.  Continuing through the night, ever few minutes another strike, waking me up.  Needless to say I hadn't slept well in a few days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Most Importantly&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lucifer my Smackdown vs. Raw character is now a whopping 18 wins and 8 losses, and is on a six game winning streak.  Oh baby!  The only way I could acheive this was to turn the game settings down to easy.  I am about to create a stable with him and his two minions.  A little imp, and a skeleton.  Oh, and, Stephanie McMahon had me in a ladder match which I had lost!  And almost was sent to RAW!  Rediculous!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12130034-2673612162054014167?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/feeds/2673612162054014167/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12130034&amp;postID=2673612162054014167&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/2673612162054014167'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/2673612162054014167'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2007/12/support-lightening-and-most-importantly.html' title='Support, Lightening, and Most Importantly...'/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-3671694636481986116</id><published>2007-12-01T02:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-01T02:44:18.830-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Boredom at its Greatest</title><content type='html'>Before even starting this blog I was thinking about things I wanted to talk about.  Very important issues from football to the war, life.  But, now that I am here, in front of the computer there is nothing.  My mind is blank.  So over the next few days, either when I'm on the 'throne' or whenever I will write down things I have opinions about and do a daily or whenever I am able to get to this, post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;News on the Battle Front&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had just purchased the game Smackdown vs. Raw 2008.  Naturally, the first thing I do is create my own character.  After altering the body, arms, legs, height, weight, and face.  I added some horns, gave him some bunny feet and turned his skin color to the color of a delicious IPA.  Two hours later I have completed the feat only to realize I needed to give him some moves, punches and kicks.  My record as a fighter, so far, is a meager 3/1 two of the fights I didnt' even fight in, the other one the computer got DQ'd and I got my ass kicked in the other.  More to come on that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, again it's that time.  Work is upon us.  Have a good morning all.  Peace out!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12130034-3671694636481986116?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/3671694636481986116'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/3671694636481986116'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2007/12/boredom-at-its-greatest.html' title='Boredom at its Greatest'/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-6787758295092390844</id><published>2007-11-28T02:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-28T02:42:07.177-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Internet</title><content type='html'>Hey it's been a while and I want to say that at least once a week I will be updating you.  I know, I know, I have said that out loud befor but this time I am publishing the fact so I must stick with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the only news is that I made it back safely.  Yay, and it has been pretty quiet.  With that I mean that nothing has happened.  There was a controlled detonation the other day that, quite literally, made me hit the dirt, but otherwise quiet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We no longer have internet.  The other day our internet provider was raided and was found that he was melting copper and stealing pictures and information off of peoples computers.  I had always wondered why I kept getting attacked by 10.1.1.1 and why I kept blocking it.  It just didn't seem right.  You may wonder about the melting of the copper.  My only assumption is for the EFP's.  Explosively Formed Projectile.  I won't go into much detail about it.  Do a search online and I am certain you will find more information about it.  Well to fix the problem I think AAFES is going to provide internet at some point.  I really hope so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways it's about work time, I will chat with all of you later.  Have fun, stay safe and all, that, jazz.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12130034-6787758295092390844?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/6787758295092390844'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/6787758295092390844'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2007/11/internet.html' title='Internet'/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-5955506678118071005</id><published>2007-11-24T10:00:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-24T10:00:39.476-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="width:480px; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" src="http://w231.photobucket.com/pbwidget.swf?pbwurl=http://w231.photobucket.com/albums/ee36/broc_ariums2003/Guitar Hero/c169af3b.pbw" height="360" width="480"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://pic.photobucket.com/album/slideshow/wrapper_logo.gif" style="float:left;border-width: 0;" &gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://s231.photobucket.com/albums/ee36/broc_ariums2003/Guitar%20Hero/?action=view&amp;current=c169af3b.pbw" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://pic.photobucket.com/album/slideshow/wrapper_viewshow.gif" style="float:right;border-width: 0;" &gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/redirect/album?action=slideshow" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://pic.photobucket.com/album/slideshow/wrapper_getyourown.gif" style="float:right;border-width: 0;" &gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12130034-5955506678118071005?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/feeds/5955506678118071005/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12130034&amp;postID=5955506678118071005&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/5955506678118071005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/5955506678118071005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2007/11/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-4419768882600031607</id><published>2007-09-30T14:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-30T14:26:02.919-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Grabbing, tapping, having...Rain.</title><content type='html'>A walk in the clouds.&lt;br /&gt;A fall to the ground.&lt;br /&gt;Cleansing the air&lt;br /&gt;and muddying the ground.&lt;br /&gt;A lightening flash&lt;br /&gt;and a thunderous sound.&lt;br /&gt;Like the tears on my face&lt;br /&gt;streaming all the way down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You dampen my cothes&lt;br /&gt;and muss my hair.&lt;br /&gt;It's been awhile since I've seen you.&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes life's not fiar.&lt;br /&gt;While tomorrow doesn't come soon enough.&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday was just a few minutes gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want you to fall on me.&lt;br /&gt;Soak me through my clothes.&lt;br /&gt;I can almost hear your drums&lt;br /&gt;tapping the roof above.&lt;br /&gt;It is you that keeps me sane.&lt;br /&gt;Grabbing, tapping, having rain.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12130034-4419768882600031607?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/4419768882600031607'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/4419768882600031607'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2007/09/grabbing-tapping-havingrain.html' title='Grabbing, tapping, having...Rain.'/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-2038610985857577479</id><published>2007-08-19T07:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-19T07:09:03.646-07:00</updated><title type='text'>AnnaBelle</title><content type='html'>Is it you Annabelle?  That I lost so long ago.&lt;br /&gt;With golden hair, and sea green eyes.&lt;br /&gt;Remember I would not let go, through all of their lies.&lt;br /&gt;That day we said our goodbyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is it you Annabelle?  That I found not so long ago.&lt;br /&gt;With golden hair, and sea green eyes.&lt;br /&gt;Between all the cliches, and beyond the spies.&lt;br /&gt;On that same day we both said hi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Was it you Annabelle?  Who I heard just a few ago?&lt;br /&gt;With laughter in the air, and tears in our eyes.&lt;br /&gt;It all started with hello, and ended on high.&lt;br /&gt;With smiles dancing in our eyes,&lt;br /&gt;they were not pint sized,&lt;br /&gt;it was everything we had implied,&lt;br /&gt;This day I think you are mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is you Annabelle.  That I lost so long ago.&lt;br /&gt;with golden hair, and sea green eyes.&lt;br /&gt;I hear the glee, I see the glow.&lt;br /&gt;To you I cannot say no.&lt;br /&gt;Who I heard just a few ago.&lt;br /&gt;That I had lost so long ago.&lt;br /&gt;It is you, I found not so long ago.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12130034-2038610985857577479?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/feeds/2038610985857577479/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12130034&amp;postID=2038610985857577479&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/2038610985857577479'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/2038610985857577479'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2007/08/annabelle.html' title='AnnaBelle'/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-4195739546311118965</id><published>2007-08-16T07:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-16T07:40:43.288-07:00</updated><title type='text'>...it's what's for breakfast?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://uncyclopedia.org/wiki/Breakfast"&gt;http://uncyclopedia.org/wiki/Breakfast&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12130034-4195739546311118965?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/feeds/4195739546311118965/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12130034&amp;postID=4195739546311118965&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/4195739546311118965'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/4195739546311118965'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2007/08/its-whats-for-breakfast.html' title='...it&apos;s what&apos;s for breakfast?'/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-7301276865646400215</id><published>2007-08-11T01:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-11T01:38:51.800-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Bad</title><content type='html'>The previous post was written by Tara, and completely stolen by myself.  Thank you, thank you.  No autographs please.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12130034-7301276865646400215?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/feeds/7301276865646400215/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12130034&amp;postID=7301276865646400215&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/7301276865646400215'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/7301276865646400215'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2007/08/my-bad.html' title='My Bad'/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-3565824203826704679</id><published>2007-08-11T01:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-11T01:27:30.164-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ode to Future Friends and Lovers</title><content type='html'>Beware&lt;br /&gt;pray, abide by all laws three&lt;br /&gt;or plan on cab being hailed for thee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No glance, how small&lt;br /&gt;or pee will fall&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and count the stalls&lt;br /&gt;from the walls&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and above all,&lt;br /&gt;no call.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;Copy, Pasted, and Plagiarized By,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;Matthew Burke&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12130034-3565824203826704679?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/feeds/3565824203826704679/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12130034&amp;postID=3565824203826704679&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/3565824203826704679'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/3565824203826704679'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2007/08/ode-to-future-friends-and-lovers.html' title='Ode to Future Friends and Lovers'/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-2832714521159626300</id><published>2007-08-03T22:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-03T11:09:43.115-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Surprise surprise!</title><content type='html'>Well. They took my truck away. So now the 4 of us at CIF are crowding in a humvee. Soon probably, they will be taking my cell phone away. Which will hurt me terribly. I wont be able to talk to my sone but once a week, maybe. Although it's not like I talk to him all that often as it is. But now no one can call me at all, and it is will have to be up to me to find time to get to the phone booth to call back to the states. I'll adapt, and get use to it. No real big deal. It all sucks pretty bad but what can we do? I am at war right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well today we sent up some camo netting outside of our hooches so we could have a shaded area with some tables and chairs to relax by. It was nice. I offered to get get some Popeyes, yes there's a Popeyes in Iraq, and stopped by the PX picked up some Becks N/A Beer, and some Futurama vids. When I came back, to my astonishment the netting was decorated with happy birthday ribbons, confetti, balloons, and Sgt A got me a gift. I was so shocked and happy. So we relaxed, I put on a music mix (Amos Lee, Tyrone Wells, Michael Buble, Ben Harper, Mat Kearney, and Joseph Arthur) that I call Sleepy Time Mix, ate some chicken, biscuits, had some near beer and smoked a cigar. It was a definite good time had by all. MSG Garcia was there, Sgt A, Shepherd, and Major Opala. Thanks guys it was awesome, I will never forget it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12130034-2832714521159626300?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/feeds/2832714521159626300/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12130034&amp;postID=2832714521159626300&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/2832714521159626300'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/2832714521159626300'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2007/08/surprise-surprise.html' title='Surprise surprise!'/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-7545135383239153756</id><published>2007-08-02T02:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-02T02:40:00.428-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Updates from Afar</title><content type='html'>As you can see I have updated quite a few things today.  After looking at Marvel's blog last night (and I strongly suggest you check it out), I noticed that I badly needed some updating.  And although I felt some loyalty to my older simpler blog, with the new technology available how could I refuse?  I changed the way it looked, added a survey, some more links, and will add pictures a bit later.  I am excited with the new changes!  I will leave the survey up for a week to vote, and a week after to view the results.  So keep checking back!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is going ok, I woke up early early this morning, 2:45 to be exact feeling sick to my stomach.  I got that "oh shit, if I don't make a run for it now I am going to hurl right here" feeling, but breathed through it.  My left shoulder has been hurting me for quite some time and that didn't help any that early in the morning.  I hurt it working out, and I don't quite have full range of motion in it yet, I think I just pulled the tendon though I am not quite sure.  I went to sick call to check it out and they said to stay off of it for another two weeks.  So when it's healed I will be back in the gym!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I joined a flag football team and we have practice every day.  Two days on 1 day off.  First game is August 15th.  I am very excited.  I cannot wait.  After the game I will make sure to give you all the ESPN update on what happend.  Quarter by quarter.  :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12130034-7545135383239153756?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/7545135383239153756'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/7545135383239153756'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2007/08/updates-from-afar.html' title='Updates from Afar'/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-8540637091728656952</id><published>2007-08-01T10:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-01T11:22:14.454-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bitchy Festerson</title><content type='html'>Of all the things I could complain about, and those who know me, and where I am at in my life right now, know I most difinitly can. But this is different. Let me explain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I heard on the radio two songs from a band I thoroughly enjoy. Linkin Park. I loved their first album; when their second album came out there was some anticipation that they had changed their style, of which I think they did not. The second album I really really like too. It wasn't as ground breaking for me as the first was but it was still decent none-the-less.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I heard two songs on the radio and being where I am, I figured what the hell, purchase the damn thing it can't be bad, hell so far so good right? I rip the cd to my itunes and begin playing, what I will call the worst "ROCK/ALTERNATIVE" album I have EVER HEARD IN MY LIFE. It is terrible and doesn't represent the band at all. Why they even created this cd is beyond me. Every track sounds like an entirely different style of music than what they have done in the past, and for lack of better work, pussy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Linkin Park, you have lost me. I even thought the songs on the radio were bad but I was giving you a chance. Linkin Park, I want me $12.99 back please. I should have downloaded it. So I could delete it. Forever.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12130034-8540637091728656952?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/feeds/8540637091728656952/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12130034&amp;postID=8540637091728656952&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/8540637091728656952'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/8540637091728656952'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2007/08/bitchy-festerson.html' title='Bitchy Festerson'/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-4430074101219851354</id><published>2007-07-22T09:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-23T01:24:49.948-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Personality Test Results</title><content type='html'>ESTP&lt;br /&gt;Extroverted, Sensing, Thinking, Perceiving&lt;br /&gt;(6-8% of American population)&lt;br /&gt;"The sky's the limit!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quotes&lt;br /&gt;"I'm a naturally curious guy and I can think on my feet."&lt;br /&gt;"I define career satisfacton in two ways: my clients are happy and I am happy."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Profile&lt;br /&gt;For Matthew, life is full of one fun-packed adventure after another. Active, curous and playful, his Lead Sensor (S) notices everything around him as he participates in everything life has to offer. Responsive and adaptable, Matthew acts first, rarely thinking through the consequiences especially any long ter implications of how his actions might affect other people. Realistic, yet impulsive, he immediately seizes upon any exciting opportunity that presents itself. Super-observant, Matthew is indiscriminate about the sensory impressions he notices as he constantly scans his environment and the people around him. He learns best when he is physically engaged in the process, talking through what he is doing, and commenting on the many details he sees, feels and hears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Full of energy, Matthew loves all kinds of surprises, and willingly joins in whatever is going on around him as long as it doesn't get too involved, complicated or intense. Because his least function is Intuition (N), when conversations get too serious or discussions too theoretical or when things are overly planned, he grows bored and restless. To try to lighten the mood he may act silly or great issues with too much superficiality. Matthew loves the outdoors and is an avid sports fan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of all the sixteen types, ESTPs are perhaps the most naturally athletic and coordinated, learning physical skills and tricks almost effortlessly. they typically have a host of interests and hobbies which they are ready to plunge into at a moment's notice. This is good because they often have trouble sitting still or remaining inactive for any period of time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happiest when they are totally immersed at all times in the action of the moment, ESTPs are usually good at immediate problem solving, bringing logic and objectivity to theri analysis. They are often quite pragmatic, and are poised to change directions quickly if they think there is a better of more expedient approach. As ESTPs age, most grow increasingly more conservative in the attitudes and political leanings, but they usually maintain a "forever young" attitude about themselves and their own lifestyles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friendly, talkative and energetic, ESTPs love to laugh and joke around and are naturally flirtatious. Easygoing and casual, they tend to know a lot of people and are popular, since they are so much fun to be around. The life of the party, they are also often the first to try physical feats of daring or risk. They can sometimes gi ve the erronieous impression that they are more emotionally invested in an idea or a relationship than they really are. And they may have to work hard to overcome theri tendancy to move on to greener pastures once things become too familiar or predicatble. ESTPs are often so eager for the next physical thrill or experience, they sometimes neglect to follow through on the projects they've already started and can wind up disappointing or letting people down who are counting on them. When they put their minds to something, however, they are usually able to pull it off with skill and style, even if it is at the last moment!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Possible pitfalls to avoid&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Don't be limited to considering only career opportunities that are evident at the present time. Focuse on the future and try to imagin the possible implications of your actions down the road.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Work on the developing stick-to-itiveness and follow-through. Resist the urge to deal only with immediate problems instead of with the less exciting follow-through items.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Avoid being perceived as unreliable or unpredictable. Go the extra mile to demonstrate your dependability by keeping appointments, arriving on time or early and calling back when you say you will. Don't run the risk of offending someone because of your natural distate of following the rules.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Strengths&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Keen powers of observation, with excellent memory for factual information&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Ability to see what needs doing and be realistic about what's necessary to complete a job&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Enjoyment in initiating and promoting projects&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Lot's of energy; you enjoy being active on the job&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Ability to adapt well to change and to shift gears quickly&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Ability to make work fun and exciting&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Enjoyment in being part of a team&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Practicality, realist perceptions, and good common sense&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Process oriented approach; you create a lively and fun atmosphere at work&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Flexibility and willingness to take risks and try new approaches&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Willingness to accept differences and ability to "go with the flow"&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Weaknesses&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Difficulty working alone, especially for long periods of time&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Dislike of preparing in advance; you havfe trouble organizing your time&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Tendency to be blunt and insensitive to feelings to others or too casual with people's feelings&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Inability to see opportunities and options that don't exist at the moment&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Impatience and/or intolerance with administrative details or procedures&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Difficulty making some decisions and/or prioritizing projects&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Tendency to be impulsive and easily tempted or distracted&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Difficulty seeing the long-term consequences of actions&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Helpful tips&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Look around and find projects you would like working on and volunteer for them&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Consider taking a time-management course&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Ask supervisors to be clear about ther expectations&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Find time during the day to get outside and do sometihng physical&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Think about where you want to be five years from now&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Recruit and hire an efficient and organized assistant or support person&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Delegate some of the follow-through of projects to others if possible&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Find others with complementary strengths to give your ideas balance&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;The secret to succes for an ESTP is learning to...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;--&gt;Think before you act, consider people's feelings, and follow through on your commitments.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;How to spot an ESTP&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;ESTPs are sometimes described as chameleons because they can adapt their behavior so easily to new environments and situations. This can present a unique challenge to those who want to "figure them out so quickly" especially on the basis of limited exposure, since they are gregarious, outgoing, energetic, and active people who enjoy being the center of attention. They love to be spontaneous and to have a good time, and especially like parties. In social interactions, they are usually charming, animated and flirtatious. They usually remember jokes and are good at telling them, although they may be a little irreverent at times. Their language is straightforward and usually includes plenty of realistic and accurate sensory details. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;ESTPs often move gracefully and with a true economy of motion. For the most part they tend to be very much awaare of theri bodies and at ease within them. They are often comfortable touching others to demonstrate affection or to make a point. Their appearance is generally casual, and they may have a great sense of style. Aware of everything that goes on around them, including the impressions they make on others, they often are skillful at working a room, and are sociallyrelaxed in a host of different environments. Whiles ESTPs are found in a host of diverse occupations, they usually prefer their work as well as spare time activities, to involve physical activity, variety, and possibly even some risk. They often enjoy sports, both as participants and as observers.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Words or attention grabbers of ESTPs&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;"I'm game if you are."&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;"What have you got to lose?"&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;"You only go around once."&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;"Let's party."&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;"Let's get busy!"&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Special Challenges&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Introverts may be frustrated by ESTPs lack of interest in exploring subjects in great depth. Feelers (F) may be put off by ESTPs apparent failure to take important matters seriously. They may also misread ESTPs Extraverted Feeling as an indication of agreement wen none really exists. Feelers might try appealing to the ESTPs desire to be liked and have everyone as a friend (and hope for the best!) Judgers (J) may find ESTPs preference for keeping options open and changing plans inconvenient or even maddening. They need to appeal to ESTPs as Thinkers (T), to point out the Inuitives (N), who want to make ESTPs see the big picture and long range implications of decisions, rather than to just pay attention to the present moment. They may have success by linking new ideas to past successful ones and offering as many relevant models and specifics as possible. If Intuitives run into resistance because the proposed idea is yet untried, they can appeal to the ESTPs love of adventuer and risk-taking nature.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;How to speak to an ESTP&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Engage them in the process; expect and prepare for a vigorous, challenging, and even good naturedly confrontational give and take.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Lighten up! Make the conversation or presentation fun; don' misconstrue their casual easygoing style and perhaps good-natured ribbing or comments as a lack of interest or support for your project.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Avoid appeals based on emotion. Emphasize practical benefits.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Keep it simple. Present ideas in a straigt forward way; avoid long, complicated, involved explanations or rationales. Use plenty of specifics and action words to convey your intention.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;When possible, give them more than one option to consider and the opportunity to modify the plan.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;If appropriate, appeal to their willingness to take calculated risks.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12130034-4430074101219851354?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/feeds/4430074101219851354/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12130034&amp;postID=4430074101219851354&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/4430074101219851354'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/4430074101219851354'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2007/07/personality-test-results.html' title='Personality Test Results'/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-6784419499579986139</id><published>2007-07-10T22:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-10T12:06:53.895-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tunes</title><content type='html'>I crave you.&lt;br /&gt;I hunger to&lt;br /&gt;hear your voice who&lt;br /&gt;ever you are.&lt;br /&gt;Where ever I am&lt;br /&gt;I need you with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I desire you.&lt;br /&gt;I need to&lt;br /&gt;listen to your&lt;br /&gt;arrangment of&lt;br /&gt;notes and melodies&lt;br /&gt;that harmonize with&lt;br /&gt;my thoughts, dreams and my soul.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ev'ry string,&lt;br /&gt;ev'ry key,&lt;br /&gt;ev'ry beat so&lt;br /&gt;captivating.&lt;br /&gt;I cannot live with&lt;br /&gt;out you. I need you.&lt;br /&gt;You are music and I&lt;br /&gt;adore your ev'ry way.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12130034-6784419499579986139?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/feeds/6784419499579986139/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12130034&amp;postID=6784419499579986139&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/6784419499579986139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/6784419499579986139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2007/07/tunes.html' title='Tunes'/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-6884172485875810321</id><published>2007-06-18T11:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-18T11:43:38.476-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A War-hero in a Time of Casualty</title><content type='html'>A young man sits at home at night in a small town near Baghdad. Bombs explode around him and the sound of distant gun fire has become normal. He continually cleans his AK47 because of the new times that have fallen. His older brother an army veteran of 4 years maintains his pistol from the Hussain regime.&lt;br /&gt;This night was different. Peaceful. The two brothers laughed and joked of old times over chai tea and fish. Things were good tonight. There was a happiness that hasn't been shown in some time. It would be the same as you, or I were to be laughing and joking over a few beers, with literally no cares in the world.&lt;br /&gt;And then a strange tapping, or pounding echos from the front door. The window beside the door shakes as the fist strikes wood. The young man and his brother sat quietly and eyed their weapons lying against the far wall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Open the door you mother fuckers" Is heard between knocks at the door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The young man races over and grabs his AK. Loaded. His brother walks over to the door and replies, "No go away we don't want any trouble".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The door busts open and the two men could see the terror they were facing. Four men dressed in ski-masks and AKs stood before them. His brother let off a few shots that missed, but the young man, brave as he is, fired fifteen rounds that hit square into their targets. Injuring one man in the knee. Seeing what they were up against the intruders took to aiding their fallen camrade and fled.&lt;br /&gt;The young men shut the door and took to caring to their family. Ensuring their saftey, and that they were not injured during this frey.&lt;br /&gt;The young brave man slept on his roof guarding his family until he earned enough money to move his family up to Kurdistan in northern Iraq. To this day, the only thing left are burned memories and a trail of dried blood leading away from the house as warnings to the next who try and intrude.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An interpreter friend of mine says he will do whatever it takes to help his country, Iraq, become peaceful. He is not Muslim, he is not christian, he has no believes accept the one for his country. He has no fear of death, especially if it means dieing for what he believes in.  To me he is the hero.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12130034-6884172485875810321?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/feeds/6884172485875810321/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12130034&amp;postID=6884172485875810321&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/6884172485875810321'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/6884172485875810321'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2007/06/war-hero-of-casualty.html' title='A War-hero in a Time of Casualty'/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-5009117373077315571</id><published>2007-06-08T12:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-09T04:00:05.798-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Is it really that difficult to find a good stylist?</title><content type='html'>I got my hair cut today. I am pretty anal when it comes to my hair. I take pretty good care of it, and when I get a bad hair cut I get pretty upset. I know I'm a bitch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I sat down in the barbers chair right? He did the norm. white thing around my neck, rob around me from the front to the rear and asked me what I wanted. Six on top, one on the sides, leave the bangs a little big long because I like to style it and bring the back up to the crown." Is my normal response. Literally. Verbatim. Now I assume all stylists/barbers know to fade/blend it in. It's common-fuckin-sense. He nods and smiles and goes to work on my hair. And I'm looking at myself in the mirror at this face I'm making and it looked unhappy but it was just my normal resting face. I mean it's no wonder people thing I'm upset when I'm just sitting there chillin'. So I try to relax it, smile a little and I accomplish making an ass of myself with these faces I'm making in the mirror while he's cutting my hair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The barber performs the one on the sides and then grabs the scizzors, that's right the sizzors. He doesn't even change the guide on the fuckin' clippers he just grabs the sizzors, a comb and goes to town on the top of my head. Pulling hair out and shit. What the fuck? What the fuck was he doing. Can't this guy follow simple instructions. SIX ON THE TOP! SIX ON THE TOP MOTHER FUCKER! The sizzors are pulling hair out and shit they weren't even cutting the damn hair! And the bangs, oh forget about it. They are not longer then the rest of my hair. They were cut with the rest of the SIX that is at the tom. Needless to say, I am a little disappointed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At home I go to supercuts. No where fancy but if I get a good hair stylist I will stick with her, or him, and use her every time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's where all of you stylists need to pay attention. My list of demands that only one of my stylists have ever met, and they aren't even all that rigorous:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) Be nice and talk to me a little bit. Not too much. Seem interested in what I have to say, and maybe get a little personal like, you've gotten into the hair styling business to specifically cut my hair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) After or before the hair cut ask me if I want my hair washed. I wear a hat, and hat head is terrible to cut around. I've seen it in action and it never ends up pretty. Oh and when you do go about washing my hair, you should be massaging my scalp, not scratching it, and it should be as though you are massaging your lover. You should really enjoy it. Or at least fake it. C'mon ladys I know you can do this. No water down the back of my shirt help me lift my head up and flash a smile as if it was good for you. Because you know what, a good head massage can be better then sex.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) Just do a good job. If you can cut a six with your fingers, I'm all for the natural look. Lets go for it. If you can whip out the sheers. No problem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) After a couple visits know my name and the style I have gotten the last 4 times.. You have cut my hair for 8 weeks now. (I get it cut every two weeks)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You do these things and I will be inlove with you. And refer everyone to you. Really, guys, ladies, it's not hard to do a six on the top, one on the sides, leave the bangs a little longer so I can style it and bring the back up to the crown.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12130034-5009117373077315571?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/feeds/5009117373077315571/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12130034&amp;postID=5009117373077315571&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/5009117373077315571'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/5009117373077315571'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2007/06/is-it-really-that-difficult-to-find.html' title='Is it really that difficult to find a good stylist?'/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-7124691169624544322</id><published>2007-06-02T06:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-09T03:59:33.522-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Unconditionally Mine</title><content type='html'>I've done quite a bit in describing my feelings and such, but nothing to describe where I'm living and the weather.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imagine, you are driving through Mexico and you car breaks down in one of those run down suburbs of Mexico City. All the buildings are made of stone and are half falling apart. The sun beating it hot rays down on your shoulders. There is garbage everywhere and there are flies and mosquitoes as far as the eye can see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are dropped off at your place for what you think will be just a few days. The door is hanging on the top hinge and the signs says "lift when opening". The floor looks of tile, dirt, sand and dust blanketing the hall way, and the smell of urine over whelms the rest of your senses. Turning your key to unlock your newest home the unlocking mechanism turn over once. You try the door but the lock is still in place. The key rotates a few more times and the door swings inward. Water drips from the AC in the top right corner of the room and smell of mold fights with the odor of urine coming in from the hall way. Both causeing you to gag and a little bit of throw up comes up into your mouth. You swallow it with pride and move it to assess the damage. Two beds fill the room, a bunkbed on your left with no matresses, and a single bed on the right, with 3 mattresses. There is only one pillow and you ro-sham-bo your room-mate for it. Paper beats rock. Damn, he wins. Both you and your room mate set down 4 duffle bags, a ruck sack, a computer bag, and a carry-on bag and head out into the hallway following the strong scent of urine like a bloodhound chasing the scent of a wanted killer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A doorless room which you assume is the bathroom, looks... like... your standard bathroom. Three stalls, and across the stalls are two sinks. You take your chances with door number one and you see a hole in the floor, what seems to be a toilet backing on the wall with a string attached to it. A sign is posted underneath the toilet backing reads "Do not throw toilet paper into the toilet" and you can not imagine squating, like you do in the forest, and shitting into one of these holes. This is what they call a 'european toilet'. Get with the times. Door number two opens to two geckos crawling up near the ceiling and a standard porcelain american throne in the center. Again the sign reads "Do not throw toilet paper into the toilet". A trash can sits on the floor and you notice it filled with toilet paper. Again, you gag a little and move on to door number three. A faucet with a pipe heading up towards a shower head. Sounds simple enough. And it is. You test the water and just as you expected it's brown like watered down coffee. So you let the water run a while thinking it will go clear like it does in the states. Well, it doesn't. And you just shrug, turn off the water and head out. An officer greets you into the hallway with "so you're the new guys" and tells you the standard operating procedures for the bathroom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"When you take a shit" he begins to explain "don't throw the toilet paper into the toilet. It will back it up and because they don't have a fuckin' sewer system here it just sits and will back up the entire fuckin' line." We both just nod when he walks away continuing "oh and you have to flush your own poo".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What? How does one flush his own poo. I assumed I was flushing my own poo when I held the lever down and the water swirled around the toilet and out the poo went.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"After you shit, you must lift up the lever, and dump a bucket of water down the toilet to help the shit go down."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My roommate and I cringe, look at each other, shrug, and leave to our room to unpack. You wake up at 5:30 to shower in the illustrious water, shave and brush your teeth with the non-potable water that flows like the nile through the faucets, and change for PT. As you dress, your lights go out and the air conditioner stops working. Peering out into the hallway, you notice all the electricity has gone out. Every morning at 7:00AM you loose power. Which of course makes your trip that much more enjoyable and you realize that it is unconditionally yours.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12130034-7124691169624544322?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/feeds/7124691169624544322/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12130034&amp;postID=7124691169624544322&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/7124691169624544322'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/7124691169624544322'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2007/06/ive-done-quite-bit-in-describing-my.html' title='Unconditionally Mine'/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-4395682210245304755</id><published>2007-05-30T03:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-30T03:09:03.791-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Post Between Posts</title><content type='html'>The military is slowly but surely restriction our access to the outside world.  To ALL of those who do not have my email address and are on my myspace, Amanda, Andrew, the rest of yall, contact me @:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:broc_ariums2003@yahoo.com"&gt;broc_ariums2003@yahoo.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love you all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12130034-4395682210245304755?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/feeds/4395682210245304755/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12130034&amp;postID=4395682210245304755&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/4395682210245304755'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/4395682210245304755'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2007/05/post-between-posts.html' title='Post Between Posts'/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-2957283952323185425</id><published>2007-05-24T08:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-24T08:55:15.246-07:00</updated><title type='text'>About Me</title><content type='html'>I hate spiders, not that they do anything specifically to me I just don't like them.  Oh and by the way, they always bring their friends.  If you find one in your room and squish it.  Keep looking.  There are others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate things that fly at my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't like having people know that I'm the one taking a shit on the toilet.  I will wait until they leave the bathroom before I leave stall.  I don't want them to know I was the one who had inflicted that damage on the toilet.  Weird I know.  But if you already know I'm going in there for that, like, I announce it to the world, no biggie.  Heck, I may even warn you not to go in there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't like being talked to while I'm on the toilet doin' da business.  Please it's the only time I really get to myself can I have it in peace?  I won't be long.  I promise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I despise flies.  They are absolutely the most annoying insect god has ever created.  Enough said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate people who try to blame me for shit I didn't do.  It's not my fault you are a fuck up.  Look at someone else buddy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate opening a cupboard door and bending down to pick something up, sitting up really fast and smacking the corner of the door on the top of your head.  That really annoys me.  I also hate running into shit, or hitting parts of your body on things that could have easily been avoided.  I hate it even worst when it hurts real bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate it when I remind myself about a million times to not forget something very important.  And then I reach my destination and have forgotten it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate letting people down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't like seeing people upset.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dislike it when people sing karaoke.  It's not the karaoke I hate.  It when the same people pick the same song, week after week after week after week.  Ok we've heard you sing this before.  You aren't bad, lets grow and sing something else.  Here, let me scary-oke you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think it's annoying when someone makes up stuff to tries to sound like they know what they are talking about.  You aren't fooling anyone.  Go away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate complainers.  It's ok to bitch and moan.  But if it's all you do.  Get a new hobby.  You are acting like a 5 year old child not getting their way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like Avril Lavigne, Madonna, Christina Aguilera, and Justin Timberlake.  Bite me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I play RPGs.  With a mechanical pencil, some paper, and all the funky-ass dice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love all music.  If there were one thing I couldn't live without, that would be it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would like to learn to play the guitar, but practice makes perfect and I just don't devote enough of myself to it.  I hate myself to that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like the rain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I enjoy dancing in it, splashing in mud puddles, and having mud wrestling competitions.  With girls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love winning, and despise loosing.  Though I am not as much a poor loser as I used to be.  If I know it gets on your nerves, I may become a poor winner.  Sucker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm a nerd. &lt;pushing&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I have told you I love you, I meant it.  I wouldn't say if I didn't mean it.  It's the truth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm hungry.  Where's SGT A?  I am going to go get him I think.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12130034-2957283952323185425?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/feeds/2957283952323185425/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12130034&amp;postID=2957283952323185425&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/2957283952323185425'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/2957283952323185425'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2007/05/about-me.html' title='About Me'/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-8239798704091987413</id><published>2007-05-19T11:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-19T12:06:20.365-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Die smiling</title><content type='html'>I have just finished watching what has just become my favorite movie of the moment.  Stranger than Fiction.  I laughed often, at different parts through out the movie.  I had a gleeful smile on my face at the end.  In my book it is one of those must sees.  It's some one a part of me wishes I was.  Harold Crick.  Maybe I am mostly envious of the relationship he ended having with Ana.  So see them lay there together and be so happy, just to hold one another.  To know, he's not living much longer, and enjoying the here and the now, the moment he has.  That's where I want to be.  Even if I live another 50 years I would really want that to be how I feel most every day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had this dream the other day.  I felt so out of body, and so very very real.  I will try to explain, what little I remember, in as much detail so you can be there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was dark.  And we stood together holding one another.  Your head on my chest.  I imagine you were listening to my heart.  Every beat telling you exactly how I felt.  I never needed to say anything to you.  My hand runs through your hair on the back of your head like a comb.  You tilt your head up and with a smile our lips connect.  I can feel the warmth of your breath as you breath out through your nose on my upper lip as the sweet kisses ends and our lips depart mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's all that I can remember.  The most vivid thing was the warmth of your breath.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12130034-8239798704091987413?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/feeds/8239798704091987413/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12130034&amp;postID=8239798704091987413&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/8239798704091987413'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/8239798704091987413'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2007/05/die-smiling.html' title='Die smiling'/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-2091572957648319313</id><published>2007-05-10T08:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-10T09:03:17.784-07:00</updated><title type='text'>'Take me down to a paradise city where the sand is brown and the girls are...pretty?'</title><content type='html'>Another day gone by.  A lot has happened in such a short day.  The saying goes "the army does more by 6am then the rest of the world does by noon."  I am starting to believe this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I woke up at 6 and shaved, and at 6:30 went to eat.  From 7-1200 we have been in briefings all day.  A One star general came in and had a briefing with us.  It was very informative.  He only spoke for about an hour.  Then came lunch and after words more briefing and the whole head of the operations in iraq, a 4 star spoke to us as well.  Then more briefings, dinner, and now computer time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am I really getting paid for this?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12130034-2091572957648319313?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/feeds/2091572957648319313/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12130034&amp;postID=2091572957648319313&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/2091572957648319313'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/2091572957648319313'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2007/05/take-me-down-to-paradise-city-where.html' title='&apos;Take me down to a paradise city where the sand is brown and the girls are...pretty?&apos;'/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-7558291141680037861</id><published>2007-05-09T08:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-09T09:04:48.673-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"Woah" (mimicking Joey from  Blossom)</title><content type='html'>It has been a crazy two nights.  It's 7:44 PM on Wednesday May 8th.  Two nights ago I could hardly sleep.  The sound of .50 cal machine guns rang throughout the night.  They sounded as though they were only a few blocks away although I am guess they were about 1000 meters.  Somewhere between 3 and 5 AM a loud explosion rocked BIAP (Baghdad International Airport) where I was staying until I can get a flight to Taji.  The explosion happened at just the right time.  It was as if the insurgents knew right when I was about to fall asleep and decided to let one off.  Strange as it was.  The .50 cal fireing continued all morning and I finally passed out around 0600.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was awoken sudenly about 0720 from a voice over a loud speaker.  It was very mumbled to me but I thought I heard "there will be head count in 5 minutes at the mall".  I thought, "at the mall?  How come the Major that explained where everything was, never explained this.  Somethiing must have really gone down"  I see Cross over on his bunk with one head phone out of his ear listening to the same loud speaker. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What did he say" I asked.&lt;br /&gt;"I am not sure, I think we have to meet somewhere" he replied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shortly after, 3 very loud explosions go off very close to the tent.  It seemed as though there were 3 blocks away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hastely I took out my electric razor and started shaving and dressing at the same time.  Cross gathered some socks, put his boots on and gathered his weapons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I put my ACU pants on and socks, and was thinking to myself "shit should I wear my kevlar?"  As I buckle my  belt I look up and I see Cross walking out with his kevlar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm going to poke my head out and see what's going on"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I strapped my boots on and ACU top.  I buckle my 9 mil holster to my hip and Cross comes rushing back in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What's going on out there?" I asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Nothing, everyone is walking around like nothing is going on"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT THE FUCK?   How could everyone be just walking around like nothing is going on?  How can they just be moeseeing &lt;sp&gt; around like this?  Cross and I then decided to go brush our teeth and see what was said. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As it turns out what was said over the loud speaker was "detonation will begin in 5 min".  So where I got my intel from I have no clue.  My guess is, they had found an IED outside of the gates and had it detonated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night we boarded a Chinook for our flight from Baghdad to Taji.  It was my first time and it was pretty damn exciting.  We carried our luggage onto the chopper.  You can barely breath from the amount of air being forced to the ground when we boarded from the rear.  The flight was only about 20 minutes long but it is, so far, the coolest vehicle I have been in.  We flew in complete black out and I noticed the piolots wearing some sort of NVG's.  Suh-weet.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12130034-7558291141680037861?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/feeds/7558291141680037861/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12130034&amp;postID=7558291141680037861&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/7558291141680037861'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/7558291141680037861'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2007/05/woah-mimicking-joey-from-blossom.html' title='&quot;Woah&quot; (mimicking Joey from  Blossom)'/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-9081657748042052364</id><published>2007-05-06T21:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-06T21:46:52.440-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How real is it?</title><content type='html'>In an earlier post I had talked about waking up and realizing again where I was at.  Every morning that is still happening.  The realism of it all still seems to escape me.  Even though I am here, and I can feel the heat, I go to sleep and dream of home, of people and wake up and think, "yeap, still here."  I guess what I am saying is it doesn't feel real.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were a couple incidences yesterday that brought me back to reality.  Just walking from the PX to the MWR tent which is basically a rec. room, the heat  baking me at 100 degrees, looking around seeing iraqi's, and Army, Navy, and Airforce all with weapons, a casualty collection point, wow I am really in Baghdad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I heard a couple explosions off in the distance.  The ground vibrated very little.  Enough that you would feel it sitting down but if you were walking you would have missed it entirely.  Shortly after , the power goes out and we find out 12 soldiers were killed by vehicle borne improvised explosive devices.  VBIED's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is very real.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12130034-9081657748042052364?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/feeds/9081657748042052364/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12130034&amp;postID=9081657748042052364&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/9081657748042052364'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/9081657748042052364'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2007/05/how-real-is-it.html' title='How real is it?'/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-4851349673515748686</id><published>2007-05-03T22:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-03T23:01:41.707-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Iraqi Challenge</title><content type='html'>Alot of people have been on my mind as of late.  My son, Paula, Liz, Chris, Xavier, Fed and Steph.  The list goes on and on but these are what seems to come and go the most.  My son for obvious resons.  Paula for reasons I cannot entirely explain right now.  Those of you who know me and have know me for quite a while do understand.  Liz is a true dear friend that I care lots about.  Yeah she's a gimpy softball player but it's not 'entirely' her fault she broke her leg.  It was dark out.  Chris a true friend and the last person from Oregon I had spoken with before flying out.  Weird how it wasn't any of my immediate family.  Professor and Fed, to friends, or I should say family that I wish well, and care lots about.  They are more family than my family will be.  And Steph.  Mainly because she's the mother of my child and people keep asking me what happened and how fucked up it was.  Yeah it was but, I'm tons happier now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On another note  I want to talk about the bathrooms.  I said it.  Let me describe to you the experience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lets start with showers.  You have a total of 15 gallons, they say, of water to shower.  Which they call 'combat showers'.  I have never done any type of combat in the showers, those some of the sexual experiences have been quite a battle.  You must turn the water on, rinse, turn it off.  Oh and mind you the shower are about 40 feet from the tent where we stay.  Lather up.  Turn the water on rinse, turn the water off.  And your done.  The water is barely potable, some people have gotten the runs, not from the showers but from brushing their teeth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The toilets are a whole nother venture.  The nearest toilet is about 70 feet from the tent and it's a porta-potty.  Which are pretty gross.  No grosser than the porta-potties you would seen anywhere else mind you, but the whole thought is disgusting.  And the smell.  That's for another blog.  Majority of the porta-potties do not have toilet paper so in the even you are going 'number 2' you are announcing to the entire FOB what you are doing.  Then there are what we call, the nice bathrooms.  They smell like out house when you walk up to them, inside they reak of urinal mints and piss.  But they have actual toilets.  I wouldn't go as far as to say they have running water but you can crap in a bare toilet, flush it down a whole with little water and wash your hands.  Probably the best thing about the porta-potties, if there is a best thing is the poetry and drawings on the wall.  People getting desperate to "eat any pussy" or the crude drawings of tits and ass, which seem to be on the same side of the body.  Last I knew they were on opposite sides.  Strange these military folk.  Though I'm willing to bet the drawing is from a marine.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12130034-4851349673515748686?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/feeds/4851349673515748686/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12130034&amp;postID=4851349673515748686&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/4851349673515748686'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/4851349673515748686'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2007/05/iraqi-challenge.html' title='The Iraqi Challenge'/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-7353784694901255343</id><published>2007-04-30T22:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-30T22:21:01.599-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Consciously Subconscious</title><content type='html'>I have been having some strange dreams of late.  The first being me and this woman.  She is about 5'1" red hair and wearing a red cocktail dress.  She is very beautiful.  She is with her b/f through out the entirity of my dream when I finally, after her b/f is gone, walk  up to her, put my hands around her waist and pull her close.  I  move in slowly for a very passionate kiss and she says to me "Finally, you see me for what I really am to you, I love you."  And throughout the rest of the dream we are holding hands and are blissfully happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The dream I had last night was about a short blonde.  She also was about 5'1" and wearing a black dress.  This time she was married.  And I had spoken with her husband on several occassions before.  I am not exactly what occurs or how it all happens but at some point we began kissing and she says to me "I  have always wanted this, to be with you".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not sure what these are suppose to mean of if something is happening that I have always wanted to happen.  I am not sure.  I only wish I was  home and able to see things up close.  Instead of 7000 miles away.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12130034-7353784694901255343?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/feeds/7353784694901255343/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12130034&amp;postID=7353784694901255343&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/7353784694901255343'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/7353784694901255343'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2007/04/consciously-subconscious.html' title='Consciously Subconscious'/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-5091477441372592912</id><published>2007-04-29T23:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-29T23:35:25.760-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Can you belive it?</title><content type='html'>After a 9 hour flight to a refueling location, and a 5 hour flight in country I have made it.  'Boots on the ground' or so they say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Day 1 was exciting.  Unloading and loading our luggage.  Just to give you an idea of how much, 5 bags per person, 251 people.  Hot damn.  When we arrived at the FOB we had to unload them again, just 1 bag per person, and unload the rest of them into a conex.  Then came breakfast.  They made 1o omlets, special order in about 3 minutes.  Holy shit!  Cross and I decided to look for the computer lab, obviously we found it, and then decided to leave. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Funny thing happened on the way back to our tent.  We got lost.  Yes, we were lost in the desert.  We were wandering around for about 2 hours before we finally found where we needed to go.  Man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me tell you about the scenery and the weather.  It is so dusty here it practically blocks out the sun.  Makes the sky look as though it's cloudy with a light grey to brown clouds.  And it's hot, yea but not over-whelmingly.  There's wind that constantly blows and to give you an example its 86 degrees at midnight.  But so far i am not doing too bad.  There is nothing here to look at except sand, rocks, and dirt.  No hills, no trees, no bushes, just sand as far as the eye can see.  And not the rolling sand dunes you would expect like in the Sahara, just flat rocky sandy sand.  There is a pretty cool souvigner &lt;sp&gt; shop here that I plan on buying stuff and bringing back home for me and gifts for those of you who asked.  Am I a tourist or a soldier?  Perhaps a little of both?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12130034-5091477441372592912?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/feeds/5091477441372592912/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12130034&amp;postID=5091477441372592912&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/5091477441372592912'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/5091477441372592912'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2007/04/can-you-belive-it.html' title='Can you belive it?'/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-1046994509650436654</id><published>2007-04-22T20:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-23T21:05:57.327-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Je rappelle...</title><content type='html'>Perfect blond hair and a perfectly beautiful face.  Accidentally, I had fallen, and was taken to another place.  Unbelievable, skipping like a young child playing hopscotch was my heart.  Looking back I watched her walk away, wondering if it was an angel that I saw.  An angel she was. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God himself had brought her down and I had to meet her.  It wouldn't long before we would be holding hands during a dreadfully scary movie.  Lump in my throat, to excited for words, I admired her from afar and could still feel her warm hand in mine.  Every now and then we would lay under a blanket of stars on a clear summer sky.  Shooting stars would scream by and I wondered if she heard them too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are they screaming for us?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Je rappelle...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12130034-1046994509650436654?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/feeds/1046994509650436654/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12130034&amp;postID=1046994509650436654&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/1046994509650436654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/1046994509650436654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2007/04/je-rappelle.html' title='Je rappelle...'/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-6650532393811883612</id><published>2007-04-18T20:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-18T20:30:41.291-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"I love you daddy"</title><content type='html'>I have but one thing to say this evening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is nothing better than to hear your son say to you "I love you Daddy" when you are so far away.  It truly bring tears to a mans eyes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12130034-6650532393811883612?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/feeds/6650532393811883612/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12130034&amp;postID=6650532393811883612&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/6650532393811883612'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/6650532393811883612'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2007/04/i-love-you-daddy.html' title='&quot;I love you daddy&quot;'/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-7563353165280427647</id><published>2007-04-01T12:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-12T14:58:55.168-07:00</updated><title type='text'>In the Sun</title><content type='html'>Song of the moment: In the sun, Joseph Arthur&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Weather: Sunny, slight wind, gorgeous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the better days here at Ft. Riley.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is the perfect day for going to the river with your son and a few of your best friends.  Drinking booze, bar-b-queing, and enjoying the day and the present company.  It's too bad that opportunity is not at my finger tips.  I have a few great friends here, Luke, and Cecil, Shawn, and a few others.  But no river, and my son is so far away.  He is almost unreachable.  I will be back.  To continue writing some more, after an intense game of volleyball.  I love it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Song to end this post: Somewhere Over the Rainbow, Israel Kamakawina&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12130034-7563353165280427647?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/feeds/7563353165280427647/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12130034&amp;postID=7563353165280427647&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/7563353165280427647'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/7563353165280427647'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2007/04/song-of-moment-in-sun-joseph-arthur.html' title='In the Sun'/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-8274283217777617165</id><published>2007-03-12T04:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-12T04:53:34.008-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Good Morning Sunrise</title><content type='html'>"You were there.&lt;br /&gt;Smiling as you came towards me, arms open wide.&lt;br /&gt;As you came closer you became iridescent,&lt;br /&gt;and vanished as I put my arms around your shoulders.&lt;br /&gt;I cried.&lt;br /&gt;And then woke up."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12130034-8274283217777617165?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/feeds/8274283217777617165/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12130034&amp;postID=8274283217777617165&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/8274283217777617165'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/8274283217777617165'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2007/03/good-morning-sunrise.html' title='Good Morning Sunrise'/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-116920718021599015</id><published>2007-01-19T03:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-19T03:46:20.223-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Early Morning Drive</title><content type='html'>The drive wasn't quite long enough; the music on the radio didn't quite cover the thoughts, and the fog blanketed the streets making it difficult to navigate beyond the front bumper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anxious to get home, the car slid on the left over snow from two days prior and into the assigned parking space.  Grabbing the Tim's Jalapeno chips that are oh-so fabulous, turning off the car, the worst of it, braving the cold at 2:30 in the morning befor racing up one flight of stairs to the apartment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fumbling and dropping the keys twice befor finding the correct one to escape the frozen arctic of an Oregon winter.  The door opens with ease and with a few steps the keys are sat next to the computer monitor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An email is sent and the lights go out.  The typical bathroom routine is performed befor climbing into bed: facial cleansing, teeth are brushed and flossed, and a quick urination.  A perfect 10 would be given to the routine as if it were an olympic event.  And the crowd goes wild.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pulling off the glasses and clumbsily place them on the nearest nightstand.  Without even skipping a beat they hit the floor.  Typical.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Without the quiet muse of Death Cab or Air to quiet my thoughts, songs dance in my mind as I pull the covers over my head. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember 'our hands clasped so tight waiting for the hint of a spark' and the cuddles that warmed the frozen oasis being that of each our beds. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I slip in to dreamland I remember 'If there's no one beside you when your soul embarks then I'll follow you into the dark.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's late, or early but sweet dreams and good morning.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12130034-116920718021599015?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/feeds/116920718021599015/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12130034&amp;postID=116920718021599015&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/116920718021599015'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/116920718021599015'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2007/01/early-morning-drive.html' title='Early Morning Drive'/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-116778986563920789</id><published>2007-01-02T17:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-04T12:01:39.146-08:00</updated><title type='text'>One Step Closer</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"&gt;So I recieved this cd the other day from a good friend. And so far, there is not a bad song. Though there is this one that I have repeated four times now. Allow me to share it with you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b  style="font-family:webdings;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One Step Closer to You&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I've been down for far too long&lt;br /&gt;Till my faith was nearly gone&lt;br /&gt;I never knew somebody just like you&lt;br /&gt;Could be a friend i could call my own&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Till i let go of a broken heart&lt;br /&gt;I let go to an open heart&lt;br /&gt;I let go of my broken dreams&lt;br /&gt;I let go to the mystery&lt;br /&gt;And i believe in the miracles&lt;br /&gt;I believe in the spiritual&lt;br /&gt;I believe in the one above&lt;br /&gt;I believe in the one i love&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp; take one step closer to you&lt;br /&gt;I just take one step closer to you&lt;br /&gt;Even when i've fallen down&lt;br /&gt;My heart says follow through&lt;br /&gt;I take one step closer to you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never meant to hurt you, no&lt;br /&gt;And you never meant to hurt me to&lt;br /&gt;But it seems like you always do&lt;br /&gt;And even though i'm scared sometimes&lt;br /&gt;If ever see you fallen down&lt;br /&gt;I will be the one that's there for you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So i let go of a broken heart&lt;br /&gt;I let go to an open heart&lt;br /&gt;I let go of my broken dreams&lt;br /&gt;I let go to the mystery&lt;br /&gt;And i believe in the miracles&lt;br /&gt;I believe in the spiritual&lt;br /&gt;I believe in the one above&lt;br /&gt;I believe in the one i love&lt;br /&gt;&amp;amp; take one step closer to you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just take one step closer to you&lt;br /&gt;Even when i've fallen down&lt;br /&gt;My heart says follow through&lt;br /&gt;I take one step closer to you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just take one step closer to you&lt;br /&gt;I just take one step closer to you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I keep on walking to you, i'm walking&lt;br /&gt;I keep on walking to you, i'm walking&lt;br /&gt;I keep on walking to you, i'm walking&lt;br /&gt;And i'm never going to stop&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even when i've fallen down&lt;br /&gt;My heart says follow through&lt;br /&gt;I'll take one step closer&lt;br /&gt;I'll take two steps closer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just take one step closer to you&lt;br /&gt;I just take one step closer to you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So far, it's my favorite song on this album.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who can tell what adventure this cd has in store for me. I can not wait.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12130034-116778986563920789?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/feeds/116778986563920789/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12130034&amp;postID=116778986563920789&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/116778986563920789'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/116778986563920789'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2007/01/one-step-closer.html' title='One Step Closer'/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-116560768073974050</id><published>2006-12-08T11:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-08T11:54:40.746-08:00</updated><title type='text'>This Morning</title><content type='html'>The alarm goes off buzzing in the back ground.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said "It's 7:30..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She replied "what?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said with a smile "It's 7:30, do you know where your children are?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;she laughed and said "Oh Matt stop talking."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12130034-116560768073974050?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/feeds/116560768073974050/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12130034&amp;postID=116560768073974050&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/116560768073974050'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/116560768073974050'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2006/12/this-morning.html' title='This Morning'/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-116440664865194009</id><published>2006-11-24T13:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-24T14:17:28.726-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Elusive Escape from a Dreamed Place</title><content type='html'>The normal routine sets in.  Your eyelids are heavy, but you don't want to go to bed just yet.  There is still plenty of night left and you don't want to miss anything.  You fight it for a few more minutes before finally giving in to the sandman's stranglehold over your eyelids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You get up from the couch, brush your teeth, undress and pull back the covers to a vast sub-arctic space you call your bed.  Your body trembles the moment you touch it and you yank the covers quickly over your head to protect yourself from what could be lingering outside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a child you played a simple game with yourself to help fall asleep.  You'd imagine a burglar, or someone, trying to break into your house through your bedroom window.  You would hide under your covers for protection knowing there's know way he could harm you; as long as your body was hidden underneath the warmth of a comforter and a few sheets.  You would frighten yourself for a few moments believing that someone may actually be there and the faster you fall asleep, the faster he would disappear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are not quite sure how it happens.  It seems that everything that happened a few moments before falling asleep is forgotten.  Thrust into a world governed by your imagination, yet you have no control over anything.  It seems your actions have already been dictated for you like some sort of play directed by Shakespear himself.  And the colors, scientists say we only dream in black and white, but you and I know otherwise.  Maybe they are right and we associate the colors with our feelings.  Red meaning anger, green being jelousy and so on.  It seems so real.  You can feel it, touch it, taste it, smell it, all of your senses are hightened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are times you fly like Superman through the cloudes and into the stars peering down on the global earth that we have seen so many times in the movies.  Other times we are falling, screeming not knowing where we are, or why we are falling, or when we will finally hit the ground, and just before we do we are awoken.  Either but some strange sound or by our own minds fear of death in our dreamed place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dreams of Hitler's secret weapons falling down around your house.  A house on the outside appears to be a normal 3 story 6 bedroom home.  On the inside there are no walls.  Just the skeletons of where the walls should be.  You are curious about where the walls are, the privacy, and then you hear your father tell you that the reason.  Being built this way is so we each can have our own space and yet still be together as one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then you finally awake and its all over, knowing "it was just a dream".  But your heart races, there's sweat on your brow and you can barely speak but a whisper.  You don't want to leave the comforts and warmth of your bed so you turn on to your side and try to fall asleep.  Your mind has already forgotten what happend, but your emotions have not.  As you fall asleep you are thrust into the very dream that had awoken you suddenly. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where is the exit?  How do I leave?  Where do I find the elusive escape from this dreamed place?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12130034-116440664865194009?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/feeds/116440664865194009/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12130034&amp;postID=116440664865194009&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/116440664865194009'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/116440664865194009'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2006/11/elusive-escape-from-dreamed-place.html' title='The Elusive Escape from a Dreamed Place'/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-116110657931729114</id><published>2006-10-17T10:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-17T10:36:19.326-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pitter-Patter</title><content type='html'>When I see your smiling face I am whisked away,&lt;br /&gt;Taken to a special place.&lt;br /&gt;Upon arrival my heart begins to race.&lt;br /&gt;"Am I shielded from this fray?"&lt;br /&gt;(pitter-patter, pitter-patter) and I'll ask you if I may...&lt;br /&gt;Only if my heart can keep this pace.&lt;br /&gt;"Lord lead me with your grace."&lt;br /&gt;"...be with you just one more day?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12130034-116110657931729114?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/feeds/116110657931729114/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12130034&amp;postID=116110657931729114&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/116110657931729114'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/116110657931729114'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2006/10/pitter-patter.html' title='Pitter-Patter'/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-115828181041716244</id><published>2006-09-14T17:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-14T18:01:12.776-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Into the Twilight</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://a.tribalfusion.com/i.click?site=LiteratureNetwork&amp;adSpace=ROS&amp;amp;size=160x600&amp;requestID=42853919" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Out-worn heart, in a time out-worn,&lt;br /&gt;Come clear of the nets of wrong and right;&lt;br /&gt;Laugh, heart, again in the gray twilight;&lt;br /&gt;Sigh, heart, again in the dew of the morn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thy mother Eire is always young,&lt;br /&gt;Dew ever shining and twilight gray,&lt;br /&gt;Though hope fall from thee or love decay&lt;br /&gt;Burning in fires of a slanderous tongue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come, heart, where hill is heaped upon hill,&lt;br /&gt;For there the mystical brotherhood&lt;br /&gt;Of hollow wood and the hilly wood&lt;br /&gt;And the changing moon work out their will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And God stands winding his lonely horn;&lt;br /&gt;And Time and World are ever in flight,&lt;br /&gt;And love is less kind than the gray twilight,&lt;br /&gt;And hope is less dear than the dew of the morn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-William Butler Yeats&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12130034-115828181041716244?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/feeds/115828181041716244/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12130034&amp;postID=115828181041716244&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/115828181041716244'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/115828181041716244'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2006/09/into-twilight.html' title='Into the Twilight'/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-115700411032520908</id><published>2006-08-30T22:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-30T23:02:13.343-07:00</updated><title type='text'>To Tired to Fall Asleep</title><content type='html'>A slight fog-like state obstructs my vision.  "Hello" by Lionel Riche pours into the room as the ambient sound.  "Clickty-clackity" my fingers race across the keyboard typing these words as they fall in and out of my mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A slight popcorn smell in the air.  A neighbor maybe?  Popping popcorn at 10:30 in the evening?  It's very possible.  I wonder which movie they are watching?  I imagine the couple cuddled up with one another in the typical spoon position laughing with a classical comedy such as Wayne's World.  Or better yet, any of the Austin Powers movies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh so tired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another great song is played from my randomized play list.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you.  I never dreamed that I knew somebody like you.  Oh I want to fall in love.  Oh I want to fall in love.  With you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Interrupted by texts from a dear friend Chris.  Telling me he also has the text messaging capabilities with his cell phone that that we can send naked pics back and forth now.  Now, as inviting as that sounds, the thought of Chris naked is a bit disturbing.  Mainly because he is a dude and I'm a dude and I'd rather look at nekkid chicks.  He is just kidding though.  Or so I hope.  FAG!  I gave him my blog address so he knows I'm talking about him.  I am so getting hate mail in the morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How uninteresting.  Tomorrow I should have finished my sonnet I've been working on for the past two nights.  Lets hope I get some inspiration.  Until then...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HASTA!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12130034-115700411032520908?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/feeds/115700411032520908/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12130034&amp;postID=115700411032520908&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/115700411032520908'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/115700411032520908'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2006/08/to-tired-to-fall-asleep.html' title='To Tired to Fall Asleep'/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-115691409334344117</id><published>2006-08-29T21:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-29T22:02:13.460-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Karaoke Machine</title><content type='html'>Sunday night Karaoke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love singing.  I'm just not very good at it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Songs sang:&lt;br /&gt;Cats in the Cradle (Ugly Kid Joe)&lt;br /&gt;You've Lost that Lovin' Feelin'&lt;br /&gt;Hero (Chad Kroeger)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Songs in queue at time of departure:&lt;br /&gt;Penny Lover&lt;br /&gt;All Night Long&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It rained today.  A cleansing, refreshing rain.  Not that it doesn't rain often here in Portland, but it was good.  The city needed this.  I needed it.  I walked in it like when we were kids, jumped and splashed with no concept of time.  Being careful not to drench my pants as my break time was coming to an end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wished on a shooting start two weeks ago.  Does that even work?  As the song goes, maybe I "wished on someone elses star"?  It's hard to tell at this point but, life has its paths, mine is just very steep and I am slipping.  Will anyone lend a hand?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12130034-115691409334344117?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/feeds/115691409334344117/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12130034&amp;postID=115691409334344117&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/115691409334344117'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/115691409334344117'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2006/08/karaoke-machine.html' title='Karaoke Machine'/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-115673577583164604</id><published>2006-08-27T20:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-27T20:29:35.840-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Starting over again...</title><content type='html'>Back in the blog scene again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like a terrible actor who just doesn't get the hint after numerious failed attempts as an extra in local soap operas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of, I'm going to keep this post short and sweet and end it on an outgoing message sent from me to the professor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here goes:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No.  In love.  In devotion.  In everyway a man can feel for a woman!  And yet I sit.  Here in a straight jacket waiting for her love to unlock the key and set my arms abound for her!  To hold her, touch her...  I am trapped."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12130034-115673577583164604?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/feeds/115673577583164604/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12130034&amp;postID=115673577583164604&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/115673577583164604'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/115673577583164604'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2006/08/starting-over-again.html' title='Starting over again...'/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-111393751255136412</id><published>2005-04-19T11:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-19T12:05:12.553-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Glug!  Glug!</title><content type='html'>In the near future, Chris and I plan on experimenting with alchemy.  In about 4 weeks when we have enough money to purchase a mashton.  I can not wait.  First an amber seeing how that turns out and then trying  a  honey wheat.  Mmmm beer.  I will keep you posted.  It should be about 2 months from now, after we brew, and after it ferments before we will know how it tastes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mead is another thing I'd like to try.  There are plenty of great recipes out there and it seems easy enough.  Plus the alcohol content is quite a bit from what I hear.  Though over indulging on mead brings on a hang-over from hell.  Note to self, "drink in moderation".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12130034-111393751255136412?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/feeds/111393751255136412/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12130034&amp;postID=111393751255136412&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/111393751255136412'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/111393751255136412'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2005/04/glug-glug.html' title='Glug!  Glug!'/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12130034.post-111333534978911450</id><published>2005-04-12T12:45:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-12T12:49:09.790-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Numero Uno</title><content type='html'>Well this is the first post.  And that's exactly what it is.  Post number 1.  The begining.  Genesis if you will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Really what I plan on putting here is idle bullshit, and my Rifts campaign notes.  Brief description of what happened that days game session, what have you.  I hope it to be interesting and attract alot of posts!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12130034-111333534978911450?l=portlandmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/feeds/111333534978911450/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12130034&amp;postID=111333534978911450&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/111333534978911450'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12130034/posts/default/111333534978911450'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portlandmick.blogspot.com/2005/04/numero-uno.html' title='Numero Uno'/><author><name>Matt Burke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09649142962372379298</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry></feed>
