tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-108881782012-02-15T11:54:22.724-08:00This is where I shotgun my feelings and pent up emotions into (or onto, however that works) the internet just so they no longer occupy the precious resources of my mind.Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.comBlogger16801100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-23751900307541482182012-02-15T10:17:00.001-08:002012-02-15T10:17:43.773-08:00

"Regrets collect like old friends Here to relive your darkest moments I can see no way, I can see no way And all of the ghouls come out to play And every demon wants his pound of flesh But I like to keep some things to myself I like to keep my issues drawn It's always darkest before the dawn" - Florence + The Machine It's one of those days where you wake up with a flood of bad memories, and fears

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-73283692361697341222012-02-14T12:56:00.001-08:002012-02-14T12:56:45.907-08:00

My introduction to the art world was, honestly, Bob Ross. I used to watch his show on the weekends and never missed it. Pretty soon, I was starting to think I should start painting. I had already been drawing for as long as I could remember, but painting seemed to be this magical thing to me. Even more than drawing. So my mom and I would start going to art supply stores. I would spend any

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-11505360164430606612012-02-12T14:32:00.000-08:002012-02-12T17:39:12.513-08:00

There are a lot of things I could probably write about. The last few weeks have been especially tumultuous, at least for me personally. Well, I'll give you a brief synopsis. Photography is, at the moment, dead to me. And I now understand how a half truth is a complete lie. Okay! That was fun. So, the Facebook thing. Here's what I mean by "giving up on Facebook". I'm not going to be posting to

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-81446148226659433022012-02-03T23:43:00.000-08:002012-02-03T23:44:47.063-08:00

There's a lot of talk and information in churches the last few years about the revival of liturgy and picking up traditions from the Desert Fathers, Orthodox church and other veins of Christianity that emphasize a more meditative prayer life. The Christian mystics have a lot of good things to say, and a lot of good can come from learning to enter and be the Christian life than merely proclaiming

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-33694043116494425582012-01-21T15:48:00.000-08:002012-01-21T15:48:46.864-08:00

 I was finally able to get to the laundromat to do some laundry. Normally, it doesn't take as long as it did this time for me to get out there. It's right up the street, but it's still a hassle to pack everything up, drive out there (especially in the snow) and then sit and wait for about an hour and a half. I would prefer to do it at home. However, lacking my own washer/dryer and not always

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-71682360457865569942012-01-05T14:26:00.000-08:002012-01-05T14:27:00.244-08:00

The fan on the cooling pad that my laptop is sitting on is making a terribly annoying sound, and I'm afraid if I keep beating it against the desk the thing will break. So, just keep in mind the things I have to put up with in order to write this post. I've been thinking about why I am...hold on (*pause*) ...okay. I fixed the fan. Anywho, moving on. I've been thinking about why I'm so often

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-69637067491853300152012-01-03T13:18:00.000-08:002012-01-03T13:18:54.546-08:00

I'm bored with photography. I still like it, I'm just tired of it. I'm tired of looking at it's stupid face. I guess I'm bored with writing, too, because I don't really want to be writing this. Have you ever been so frustrated with something that you can't express how frustrated you are with it? That's like me and photography right now. What sucks is I know all of the arguments. "You're in a

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-20228079015670851192011-12-25T13:45:00.000-08:002011-12-25T13:45:31.980-08:00

I, once again, have a laptop in my possession! While I have loved having internet on my phone, I came to realize that the things I loved most about using the internet (looking at pictures and blogging) were exceedingly difficult on the small screen of a phone. With my new laptop, I can once again get back into the habit of blogging. Which is good, because I have had a lot of topics on my mind

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-58254564921155748122011-10-29T22:13:00.001-07:002011-10-29T22:13:04.925-07:00

I watched a documentary about the emergence of modern art in Paris during the early 1900's. From the first Cubist painting all the way through Dada and Surrealists to the jazz influence of the 20's and 30's. It looked at the visual art, music, and literature of the era and how not only new works, but an entire new aesthetic was being born. I began to wonder; will my generation see anything like

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-37881092150468814512011-10-23T17:26:00.000-07:002011-10-23T17:26:11.116-07:00

Recently, I was trying to explain social anxiety and introversion to someone and I got the response, and I quote, “Grow up.” For reasons that should be obvious, this bothered me. As someone who has is both socially anxious and introverted, to be told that I need to work harder to change is not only insulting and demeaning, but it's impossible. My brain literally does not process the information

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-58155226245152033612011-10-20T22:21:00.001-07:002011-10-20T22:21:22.659-07:00

The self important nature of some photographers really bothers me sometimes. 99.998% of the population has no idea who took the picture of their favorite rock star, yet the photographer himself will suddenly be booking workshops and marketing DVDs because "*I* took that picture." It's disgusting. Yes, be proud of your work. But don't assume that just because you got that job you are now a

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-29393205630647839132011-10-04T18:49:00.001-07:002011-10-04T18:49:38.945-07:00

I'm not exactly sure why I'm writing this. It's not like anything I'm dealing with at the moment is necessarily ready for prime time. So, I don't expect to solve anything here, but at least I can process it better this way. See, lately, things have been piling up faster than my capacity to deal with them. Granted, a lot of them are, as the Interwebs is so fond of saying these days “first world

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-23307465390249766522011-07-28T11:34:00.000-07:002011-07-28T11:34:42.028-07:00

I should have written this last night when I was despondent and therefore more poetic. Now I'll be writing it from the perspective of someone who has had a good nights sleep and received some welcomed encouragement from a friend (more on that in a second...he said as if he outlines these things). So, what is my current position in life? To put it bluntly, I am not at all where I want to be. I

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-42402087464413786332011-07-19T21:37:00.000-07:002011-07-19T21:37:32.416-07:00

Photo by Michael McMullen This document, my high school diploma, was placed in my hands 10 years ago. It was only 10 years ago, but it feels like eons. In that time, not only have I changed dramatically, but so has the world around me. When I walked across the stage, diploma in hand, social networking barely existed. Careers that are rapidly disappearing today were still viable career choices

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-34297473022643469112011-07-19T00:06:00.000-07:002011-07-19T00:06:52.433-07:00

...but my last post had a photo illustration. I've been really inspired by David Hobby's push to get photographers to move away from naval gazing about the technical details of a photograph, and using the photo to tell a story. It's not a new concept, but I just like the way he's been promoting it. I think it will be good practice for the kind of editorial work I want to concentrate my efforts

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-4462052756408584442011-07-18T17:05:00.000-07:002011-07-18T17:05:59.310-07:00

Photo by Michael McMullen I try. I really try. To the best of my abilities, and with all the knowledge I have on hand, I honestly make an effort to sell myself. Despite all of that, however, it seems to go nowhere. I know all the “it's going to take some time!” and “keep at it, you'll get there!” Don't get me wrong, that's encouraging. However, encouragement can only take you so far.

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-61758978497851845552011-07-15T23:10:00.001-07:002011-07-15T23:10:54.306-07:00

Here's my frustration. I'm 28. That's old enough to know some stuff, old enough to know that I'm not old enough, and young enough to still be young enough to figure stuff out. That's it. That's what my biggest frustration is right now. That I'm neither here nor there. Even if I had gone to college, I would still be in the Pleistocene era of my career. In some ways I still am. Even if I do decide

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-3826572511110617972011-07-14T00:04:00.001-07:002011-07-14T00:04:04.604-07:00

That's the question Lois Lane asked Superman as he flew her back to the roof after she fell out of the helicopter that got stuck on the skyscraper in the first Superman movie. As he's flying with her in his arms he lets her know that he has her. She's safe. But she wonders, who has him? What's keeping him afloat? I'm not Superman in this analogy. I'm not Lois either. I might be the helicopter.

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-18947773342670095752011-07-10T13:25:00.000-07:002011-07-10T13:25:39.442-07:00

Today our church had a moment where people could go up and share testimonies. We heard some great things. Miracles that appear as made beds and baby girls. As I listened, I started reflecting on my testimony and a thought occurred to me. When I was growing up and listening to testimonies, it always felt that there was some sense that God had done great things in people's lives. Like, things were

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-1390949970870178482011-07-08T22:12:00.001-07:002011-07-08T22:12:25.942-07:00

So, I'm looking for a job. I'm desperate for a job. I want a no nonsense, low responsibility, get your paycheck and be happy job. And, yeah, I still want to be a professional photographer I guess. But I don't know how. I read a lot about "finding your niche" and making images that are important to you. But that's not easy. My brain freezes up and I can't get past the marketability of my images.

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-24840810838249570952011-07-02T00:06:00.000-07:002011-07-02T00:09:52.576-07:00

My fellow photographers, my friends, my family and other readers who are coming upon this blog from parts unknown (but seriously, drop me a comment to let me know where you came from) I have news. News you probably won't like, but news I have to share none the less. Actually, if you're a portrait photographer in Spokane, WA you probably will like this news. Starting soon, very soon, I am going

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-91991856416671540192011-06-12T23:34:00.000-07:002011-06-12T23:38:58.452-07:00

So, this is the thought process that brought me here:“I'm unemployed. I really need/sort of want a job. That one girl on Twitter who just graduated from Gonzaga said she was unemployed. I wonder how her job search is going. How does that work? You graduate college, and then...what...get a job in the field you studied? Hopefully? But then you probably have to do grunt work. Then I bet you meet

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-66112276911425602592011-06-05T18:50:00.000-07:002011-06-05T19:36:05.002-07:00

It started yesterday when I thought I would go down and get some coverage of ElkFest/ArtFest for Spoken. It's only one of the largest annual art events in Spokane. So to have it missing from the magazine devoted to art and culture...ehhhhhhhh, people might notice.Well, I made it downtown, saw the crowd of people, and left. A recurring theme in my life. Probably for the rest of my life. "I'll go

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-45412673549463639432011-06-03T18:55:00.001-07:002011-06-03T19:14:24.274-07:00

Make the fry bread dough Break off an egg sized ball and roll it out thin. Fry it (I used a little olive oil) Dab off any excess oil. Don't flatten out all the little air bubbles from the frying. Put on your sauce, toppings, all that jazz. What I did was mushrooms and a green bell pepper with some mozzarella cheese. They'll only be about 6-7 inches across, so they're more like personal size. The

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-55561735133296576932011-05-31T19:50:00.000-07:002011-05-31T20:15:39.029-07:00

I want to do photography as a career. However, I'm either stubborn or stupid enough to believe that I can do this without doing a wedding. When people ask me why I won't do wedding photography, I usually say it's because it's really high pressure. That's true, but some photographers have some super natural (in my opinion) grace to be able to do them as their primary source of income.The real

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-69786087652217187172011-05-27T22:00:00.000-07:002011-05-27T22:26:58.293-07:00

This is where I shot gun my feelings and pent up emotions into (or onto, however that works) the internet just so they no longer occupy the precious resources of my mind.This is the end of what has been a very long, frustrating day. A day where I eventually had to just sit, put on my headphones and decompress.I have failed. That was the overarching theme of my day. Everything I have set out to

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-66722762402156492022011-05-20T22:58:00.000-07:002011-05-20T23:00:21.638-07:00

I’m sufficiently tired to write something profound.Let’s start, oh, about a year ago I’d say. I was sitting in the dining room of my very good friends TJ and Andrea’s apartment. We were discussing a program that, at the time, was new to me. It’s called This American Life and it’s on NPR. You should listen to it if you aren’t already.One particular episode dealt with a man who, after sleeping at

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-33483298912610016472011-04-25T14:39:00.000-07:002011-04-25T14:42:57.477-07:00

He fails at every relationship because he doesn’t love himselfHe doesn’t want to die, but he knows that he’s not livingThis is not a cry for help, and he doesn’t want your sympathyHe’s just tired of all the freedomBored with all the apathyHe wants to live right and enjoy the world in front of himHe sees all the possibilities, and all that can go wrong with themThis is the portrait of a man whose

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-46440637059790802902011-04-22T14:21:00.000-07:002011-04-22T15:03:44.080-07:00

It's becoming more and more apparent to me why artists in the past have decided to remain reclusive. For all my talk about being and introvert with social anxiety disorder, I sure throw myself into a lot of situations that require a great deal of my personal (emotional) space to be invaded. Unfortunately, it's built into the human existence that we have to learn from experience, more often from

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-24721786745122230482011-03-23T23:16:00.000-07:002011-03-23T23:43:08.500-07:00

Lately, I've been feeling like I'm sliding backwards. Almost like I've lost motivation. I probably feel that way because I've lost motivation.Take this blog for instance. I used to write in it every day. Granted, it was usually drivel that probably had no goodly business being on the internet, but still...I did it. To be honest, even trying to write this is a struggle since I'm so out of practice

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-76486309510146956492011-03-20T23:42:00.000-07:002011-03-20T23:44:00.003-07:00

I've come to hate the question "if you could go back, what would you change?" It usually ends up making me think about a lot of stuff that I can't change, or regret doing in the first place.Things like the death of my father. I can't change that. I would do anything if I could to have him back, but I can't. It's been 16 years since he died, and those emotions are still at the very top of my heart

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-36037680403433544302011-03-19T00:13:00.001-07:002011-03-19T00:13:04.655-07:00

I'm not looking to take my craft to any "next level". I don't want to usher in or take part in a new movement. I want people to look at my art and not be entirely sure what just happened.

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-11561614911220552692011-03-18T09:46:00.000-07:002011-03-18T09:49:42.328-07:00

I have only had the “dream with a dream” phenomenon once before in my life. Last night, however, I was not only fully aware of it, but I even mentioned it in my dream. I also had a brief “daydream” within the second dream.The first dream was about me being an enforcer for the mob. I had a wife and a house and two cars. One of my “jobs” went wrong, and I ended up killing the targets cat. That didn

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-9953967636282562392011-03-10T00:24:00.001-08:002011-03-10T00:24:53.683-08:00

This feels like the time where I either do it, or I turn away from it. This is the proverbial cliff, and I'm on the proverbial edge. Behind me is every job I've ever hated, and one I loved but wasn't inspired by. I'm a terrible salesman. I'm nervous around new people and situations. But, I want...need...to be an artist. Photography, magazine, whatever. I will never be happy with my job, or myself

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-37196399440379342922011-03-07T21:49:00.001-08:002011-03-07T21:49:25.029-08:00

The clock strikes me Its hands slap me across my face as if to say "You're alive!" I don't trust it though "Plenty of time to die alone, Time" I say Time is not for me, nor against me Time passes no judgment itself in its violence against me It only reaches back across itself to grab me by the throat Meet me face to face as we count each others years And remind me as so often I forget I'm alive

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-59938133055116384652011-03-04T14:44:00.001-08:002011-03-04T14:44:31.891-08:00

This is a transcript of a recent conversation I had with my friends daughters, Madeline ands Sophia (12 and 8 respectively). Madeline: "Where do you work again?" Me: "I worked at a metal shop, but I don't work there anymore." Madeline: "What do you do now?" Me: "Right now I'm not doing anyt--" Sophia: "He's a photographer." Me: "Yeah. Yeah, I'm a photographer. Thank you, Sophia." I love that kid.

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-60323515398924565942011-03-01T22:21:00.000-08:002011-03-02T10:12:31.803-08:00

There is a documentary called “Who the &%$# is Jackson Pollock”. It’s about a woman who found a painting at a garage sale. She didn’t think it looked like much. It was just some paint dribbled onto a canvas. But a friend of hers said it looked like a Jackson Pollock painting. She said “well, who the &%$# is Jackson Pollock?” So began her journey, from her world as a long haul truck driver

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-32842059348924138642011-02-26T20:43:00.000-08:002011-02-28T21:31:44.459-08:00

If you've read this before, I've updated it a little. I still don't feel that it's finished, so don't be surprised if it pops up again at some point more.I have a lot on my mind. I need to relax. Maybe the caffeine is inhibiting the lack of inhibition needed to write this. I should really be writing this at 2:00 in the morning when my brain is sufficiently relaxed to handle the task of securing

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-77168906157301401372011-02-24T16:52:00.001-08:002011-02-24T17:13:29.461-08:00

In January, on my 28th birthday, I took my first flight. I headed out to Wisconsin to see the hometown of some friends of mine. Being a Pacific Northwest boy from the very beginning, there were a lot of things that were new experiences. Mostly food, but if it’s a good trip you get lots of food.I loved the whole process of traveling. I enjoyed checking my bags, I liked rushing from one gate to

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-70828472576431929062011-02-22T16:03:00.001-08:002011-02-22T16:03:00.360-08:00

I'm not quite ready to give up on Blogger yet. However, I do have yet another blog that I'm using for more of my art content. untitledartblog.tumblr.com Enjoy!

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-7437671044826145442011-02-21T20:07:00.000-08:002011-02-21T21:10:06.594-08:00

So, I buy myself a new smart phone and decide to go whole hog in the realm of social networking. I have two Twitter accounts (personal and Spoken Spokane) and one for Facebook. Early on I was hit with the frustration of trying to update this three way teeter-totter. Twitter being the biggest hassle since I would need to sign out and then sign back in for the separate accounts. When you're

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-62031208177099567502011-02-19T22:42:00.001-08:002011-02-19T22:42:26.872-08:00

...choosing the right Twitter app is a challenge. Yes, I did just make that joke. And yes, you do like it.

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-12497713613328356332011-02-13T13:20:00.001-08:002011-02-13T13:23:10.535-08:00

It’s been interesting these last few weeks.Without going into a lot of detail, let’s just say that I’ve been trying to sort through a lot of mistakes I’ve made. Falling back into old habits, trying to work through issues I thought were far in my past.It’s been difficult these last few weeks.I’ve found that I don’t forgive myself very easily. Instead, I go over the problem again and again in my

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-82199796329558982152011-02-06T10:00:00.001-08:002011-02-06T10:00:48.808-08:00

Testing this mobile post thing.

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-33719628610730988472011-01-01T12:47:00.000-08:002011-01-01T13:09:55.135-08:00

Blood spattered hillsidesburnt broken bodies laying on the roadsidesFlames spreading across fieldsas the smoke darkens the skiesand tears at your eyesIt's not washed away by the tears in your eyesYour hands are bleedingfrom clenching your fistbroken knucklesbroken facesyou rip your own skinhoping to make it out aliveYour tongue turns sourand food loses it's tasteYou are not the man you were

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-48829934133194779462010-12-31T23:35:00.000-08:002010-12-31T23:42:25.874-08:00

Another nightscreaming into silencethe world only makes senseif it's distortedThe distortion carries over the speakersmusic only makes senseif it's also cryingPut your broken dreams into my handsI can't put them back togetherbut I promise not to lose the pieces

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-24034443729117262882010-12-30T17:46:00.000-08:002010-12-30T18:16:48.374-08:00

In any situation, when it starts getting tough, you have to make a decision at some point to keep going forward. Maybe it's because turning around is more difficult, or impossible. Or, maybe it's because turning around would be a defeat and you just don't want to be defeated anymore.This past year, I've had to make that decision several times. There have been moments where I've held onto faith

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-71186637122532042422010-12-25T21:41:00.001-08:002010-12-25T22:15:17.112-08:00

Moleskine Journals (pronounced however you want to pronounce it, apparently) are supposed to be the best journal available. I, sadly, don't like them.Now, I've spent a lot of time with my Moleskine Large Plain notebook. It has a nice feel, the paper is sturdy. It can open and lay flat, but isn't spiral bound. I used to love spiral bound journals, until the spirals kept getting bent making it

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-63043700299357942252010-12-25T12:48:00.001-08:002010-12-25T12:57:57.712-08:00

May your day be filledwith light and laughterMay you receivewhat your heart is afterMay your season be filledwith the joy of loveFrom your friends around youand from God aboveMerry ChristmasHappy New YearMay you find restI'll think of you oftenBecause of youI am blessed

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-88083943314391293862010-12-12T01:30:00.000-08:002010-12-12T01:48:58.402-08:00

I wish I had the words to tell youexactly how I feelMore than that I wish my feelingshad exact wordsI'm working with a blank canvas hereand an empty palateAll I have are ideasIn my head I know what I want to saybut those words don't exist in realityI don't think I exist in realityBecause you are realityand we can't be from the same placethe world just doesn't work that efficientlyYou could

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-25692907361179379172010-12-05T21:33:00.000-08:002010-12-08T22:57:06.888-08:00

(Note: My formal education with poetry ended in 7th grade English class when my teacher saw fit to ruin the idea of poetry by making us listen to a Sound of the Ocean Waves CD and "write what you feel about this". So, I don't know anything about the structure of an ode. I just liked the title I came up with. Moving on...)Dear tree,I see you haven't let your leaves down yetI understandThey were

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-33456603726951499882010-11-29T17:20:00.001-08:002010-11-29T17:50:56.247-08:00

Back when I worked for Satan himself...er...I mean the call center, I would often come home and rant about how terrible my day was and about the stupidity I was dealing with. Now that I work for people I respect, and who respect me back, I have found I don't have the need to spew bile onto the interwebs.That doesn't mean I don't have any stories. Today for instance.*Note: I'm using a gimmick I

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-41646185713418134802010-11-27T00:02:00.001-08:002010-11-27T00:26:43.277-08:00

This is what I call those moments when you find yourself on the playground bench, looking at the Red Headed Girl, and wanting to put your lunch bag over your head. I wrote the following based on those moments."If I were a poet, I would write my words on the back of napkins. Postcards, envelopes and scratch paper. Just so future generations could see eloquence and grace scribed on ordinary

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-13123075693139573882010-11-25T09:21:00.000-08:002010-11-25T09:42:10.179-08:00

I don't know if this is my eighth entry about "last nights dream" or not...I just picked a number.It started out with my friends Steve, Jim, Spencer and I going on a vacation to New England. We get to the Bed & Breakfast we're staying at and put all of our stuff away. We decide it would be fun to walk around the town and take in the history of the place. As we're walking, a local tells us

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-17152061576494754822010-11-20T20:11:00.001-08:002010-11-20T21:04:42.492-08:00

Manuel Luz asked that question at this years Christian Musicians Summit. I've been giving that question a lot of thought recently as my theology has been going through some...not changes...advances? I don't know what word I'm looking for. Let's just say that I'm starting to embrace the alterity of my Christian faith and artistic sensibilities.I'll get to that at some other time. Maybe. i may

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-53727651034165852682010-11-18T21:24:00.000-08:002010-11-18T21:31:51.919-08:00

My friend Rachel and I hit one of the local Perkin's restaurants after a run to Border's (where I was saddened by their lack of selection of everything except comic books and Young Adult fiction).It started out well. We were seated and both given menu's. I turn my menu pages and then look over at Rachel's. She seems to have more selection than I do."Hey, I think I'm missing pages on my menu."

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-77590464994616531602010-11-11T15:37:00.000-08:002010-11-11T15:45:50.962-08:00

So, my friends and I are taking a trip to Seattle for the annual CMS (Christian Musicians Summit) Conference.Anyway, as we're leaving our neighborhood, we stop at the gas station for some coffee. Next to us is a rough looking truck with two rough looking guys stepping out of it. Soon, Jim, our driver, comes out and starts up the car. The two guys come out right after him and get in the truck.

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-22456719985835128742010-10-29T21:39:00.001-07:002010-10-29T21:41:31.398-07:00

There are no more steps in this journey.Will I remain single?Nope.I'm tired of talking about it, so let's just stick with that answer and we can all move on with our lives.P.S. Did I mention I'm single?

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-56292636141511757202010-10-28T21:52:00.000-07:002010-10-28T22:06:12.154-07:00

Not Pink Floyd.I've hit what some creative types (and apparently joggers) call "the wall". It's where you have the need, energy and desire to create but you just can't. Something is holding you back.With me, right now, I'm hitting it pretty hard. It's effecting my photography, poetry, comics. Even this blog is suffering. Like, nothing feels right. None of the words I write seem to be the

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-842898124912096862010-10-26T20:32:00.000-07:002010-10-26T20:44:17.741-07:00

No, that's not a new game.My response to what I'm about to show (as if anyone cares) needed to be a blog post. The 140 characters of TweetBook wouldn't cover it.There is a video game called SimCity 3000. In it, you build a city and basically micro manage it until you get bored and destroy it with natural disasters. At least that's how I play it. It is mind numbing in a sort of fun way. I

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-70885345739367561032010-10-20T21:59:00.001-07:002010-10-20T22:42:42.766-07:00

I am creatively frustrated. I work hard all day, and then I come home and have a ton of things I want to do, only to not do any of them. Among those is create. I just don't create the time or space for it.I tried to create a studio space in my apartment. The Dive, as I called it. Disaster. Total disaster. My place is now completely unorganized. My desire to clean it is inversely

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-55023988679217239022010-10-03T12:39:00.000-07:002010-10-03T12:40:33.009-07:00

I love to singbut I can'tI love to drawbut I can'tI love youbut I can't

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-79725035359141277232010-09-11T20:19:00.000-07:002010-09-11T20:56:59.100-07:00

I picked "my rights versus yours" as the title because it's also a song I happen to like. Honestly though, the title should be "my rights versus no one".There has been a lot of talk about Terry Jones (I won't be referring to him 'Pastor') and his plan to burn the Koran. The discussions I've been in come back to "it's a bad idea, but he has the right to do it." Constitutionally, as an American,

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-16088685038994280322010-09-08T21:17:00.000-07:002010-09-08T22:05:39.637-07:00

I have decided recently that I can no longer have "a crisis of faith". Those are so readily dismissed by what I know to be true that the question of Christ is all but removed from my mind. Initially, I took this as a good step. It is, but it also raises a question that I didn't see coming.Christ is. But who are you?So now, my crisis is one of identity. What kind of Christian am I? What kind

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-4284505043641531262010-09-02T16:01:00.000-07:002010-09-02T16:34:40.173-07:00

I have several friends whose children are getting to "that age". Most of these kids I've known since they were in diapers, so I can empathize with the parents on some aspects of that process. On the other hand, I'm a dyed in the wool cynic who can only get through difficult situations by making jokes about them. So, in the spirit of not taking life seriously, I present to you some book titles

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-2102387098743897322010-08-29T21:04:00.001-07:002010-08-29T21:51:52.584-07:00

I always hated school. I still hate school. Often, I'm concerned about giving advice to the kids I work with about school simply because I lean so far into the "anti-establishment" camp in that regard that I fear I'm a poor role model.Stay in school kids. I guess. I mean, if you have to.No, but seriously. I really hated school. All of it. There was not one single aspect of my 12 years of

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-7065585051881271292010-08-25T19:36:00.000-07:002010-08-25T20:21:59.762-07:00

So, I'm talking with my friends TJ and Andrea (blogger break!: two incredibly incredible people that I am fortunate beyond words to know) and we start talking about my photography and what I want to be doing with it.I have this frustration brewing. On the one hand, I want to be successful and ultimately dream of paying my rent with my camera (if you sign up for a photoshoot, you could make that

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-61383406658379262232010-08-24T22:22:00.000-07:002010-08-24T22:36:23.108-07:00

Most of the details of last nights dream are gone from my memory, so this will be short.My friend Stacie and I were private investigators. My friend Eric and his daughter Destiny bought a horse. The country was reduced to ruble, ash, and smokey skies after Civil War II. Dan dropped his kids off with me so he and Tina could take a vacation. Dan's son Spencer had died his hair green and was

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-84114371644121027202010-08-21T16:43:00.000-07:002010-08-21T17:26:10.461-07:00

So, I'm going to ask. Just throw this out there. These are the "big ticket items" that I would like to have for my Road Trip of Epicness (working title). Not having these things won't stop me from going, but they'll make the trip that much better. This serves the purpose of making a check list for myself, and indulging in my fantasy that someone will see my sad puppy dog eyes and donate each of

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-91358742027618960412010-08-19T16:58:00.000-07:002010-08-19T17:38:34.884-07:00

Sometimes I get mad at God. It's an innocent "mad". It's the kind of mad a twelve year old boy gets when his dad won't drive him to the mall. It isn't even really anger...more of a confused "what's going on?"I think I get mad because I'm an artist. David got mad...he was an artist. All of the prophets got mad, and prophets are totally artists. The reason I get mad because I'm an artist is

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-41092782496074554312010-08-15T14:20:00.001-07:002010-08-15T15:00:08.839-07:00

Or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Shaved My Head.This week has been one of struggle. This weekend was one of death.Every death hurts. Be it a loved one, a close friend, family member, or even a good pet. All of these, when lost, strike us deep. In our hearts and our minds. Down to our very souls. We lose a part of ourselves when we lose something we have invested our love in. This can

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-76814106101084631402010-08-12T16:27:00.000-07:002010-08-12T17:13:33.827-07:00

For a few weeks now, I have seen on the horizon a very ominous cloud. I was very familiar with it, and truly hoped it would simply pass over me as it has done so many times in the past. But no. This time was different. This time, it came and placed itself directly above my head.I was seriously depressed for the first time in five years. Perhaps I still am to some degree. I'm finding it very

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-70040531951465627782010-08-08T13:49:00.000-07:002010-08-08T14:29:14.968-07:00

What I'm about to write, I probably don't even need to say. In fact, as I'm writing this, I don't know how exactly I'm going to express it. How does one go about sharing an experience that he is still living? How can I share with you the very real moment I had today where heaven touched earth? A moment where the glass was clear?I probably can't. Not through this medium anyway. I don't even

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-67995395326136782362010-07-31T19:55:00.000-07:002010-07-31T20:13:42.344-07:00

I've never been a fan of positive thinking. Having always leaned towards pessimism (and then becoming a full fledged, card carrying Pessimist in junior high), I tend to be more content in a place that allows for things to go wrong.By the way, I'm not sure what my point in writing this is yet. I just felt like writing.Sometimes I'll stop a song I like before it's finished playing. I do this

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-28840760585340376362010-07-24T16:09:00.000-07:002010-07-24T17:16:16.677-07:00

"So, then if I have taken so much time in coming to a conclusion that marriage is wonderful...but not for me...why am I still talking about it? What is keeping me from making some kind of definitive statement about how I want to live out the rest of my life as a single man after the purposes of God alone? Well, there is one issue that I can't seem to ignore..."First, let me sat that I'm cognizant

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-89164659079942522792010-07-24T14:57:00.000-07:002010-07-24T16:09:28.786-07:00

"I have nothing against marriage. I would even call this whole thing off, and clear The Question from my mind if it were not for..."There are a number of Scriptures that I can't ignore. I can't read over them, skip them, or blithely say that they do not apply to me simply because I live in a culture that says "everyone gets married" (I actually had a pastor say that to me once)."Not everyone can

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-44314659160018818632010-07-21T17:16:00.000-07:002010-07-21T18:07:38.483-07:00

I was going to call this 'Part the First' as a reference to King of the Hill. However, I'm not sure how many people saw that episode, and I doubt any of them read this. So we'll stick with Part I.As usual, my mind has been processing the "Great (Theological) Question Pertaining to My Life, 2010 Edition"...or in layman's terms...'marriage or not?' I decided today that I would clearly lay out

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-27240564536073794922010-07-18T21:33:00.000-07:002010-07-18T22:28:11.551-07:00

I need to slow down. I need to think in sentences longer than 140 characters. I need to write.I was at the laundromat tonight, reading Through Painted Deserts by Donald Miller. I just started it, and it already has my wander lust boiling. It's also doing the same thing Blue Like Jazz did. I want to write when I'm done reading it. I narrate every step I make, trying to find the most creative

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-86067716024338148082010-07-18T07:54:00.000-07:002010-07-18T08:11:32.598-07:00

Don't answer them...I'm on a journey. -Does everything happen for a reason?-Is love selfish?-What entails "[leading] a quiet life", "minding your own business" and "working with your hands"?-Does it really matter what you want?-What if you don't want to be healed from something?-Do our decisions upset God?-Will we ever really understand what true 'unconditional love' means?-Can a photographer

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-16306807809131965082010-07-11T18:50:00.000-07:002010-07-11T19:19:42.832-07:00

I'm rearranging my apartment. Perhaps this is the physical manifestation of trying to rearrange my life. At the same time, I'm looking for a new apartment. While also, perhaps, a physical manifestation of things going on in my heart, soul and mind, it's also a running joke. See, I've been living in this apartment for four years. Every four years, like clock work, my mom and I would move to a

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-53162573874360249122010-07-10T10:56:00.000-07:002010-07-10T11:19:28.519-07:00

I met a man who listened to my storyof hurt, heartache, heart break and bitternessHe hung his headreaching out, he put his hand on my shoulder"Son" he said "you can't see the forest for the treesLove only hurts if you feel itThat bitter heart of yours just needs some timeand what will heal you is what you fear the most"I turned and looked awaynot wanting to believeI didn't want to hear itI don't

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-64157279715770776062010-07-02T15:41:00.000-07:002010-07-02T15:55:50.981-07:00

I made a deal with GodA verbal agreementOr at least that's how I took itI told Him that if I'm meant to be in lovethen it will fall into my heart, into my lifeBecause if you have to search for loveyou don't deserve itWhen the winter winds riseand leave ice crystals in your veinsthe last glimmer of innocence in your eyesslowly fades like a dying manDying man,I'm dying manWhat kind of evil makes

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-90215036166875341182010-06-18T19:14:00.001-07:002010-06-18T19:22:39.597-07:00

I wear long sleeves in the summer to hide the scarsNot scars of fire, blade, or ropeThe scars deep inside from the boyson the playground who pointed out my imperfect body to the other kidsThe sun beating down on my skinonly matching the intensity of theirwords beating down on my mindThe searing of the sun howeverwas no match for the brands ofself hatred and shame those words producedI wear long

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-30325960953857338202010-06-18T18:36:00.000-07:002010-06-18T18:43:46.247-07:00

My head and my hands are bleedingCut open from beating them against my dreamsFighting to keep the reality real and the dreamson the horizonMaking it worth it to fight forward and not fallbackward into the dizzying arrayof things gone awryFailures and feelings tied around my neckpulling me under the wavesMy head and hands are bleedingSliced and diced from fighting against the currentand the

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-53317755671688877532010-06-12T19:25:00.000-07:002010-06-12T19:42:34.363-07:00

No, it's not what you're thinking (Spokane humor!).So, I needed to stop by the DMV today to run an errand. I sort of knew where it was, except I didn't. I drove past it and ended up at Target on Sprague (in the Valley...fyi). This worked out in my favor as they had something I needed (on clearance!). I turned around and headed back the way I came. I found it this time, parked, and went

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-421692321283432122010-06-10T10:27:00.000-07:002010-06-10T10:39:53.221-07:00

I wouldn't describe the dream I had last night to be a nightmare exactly, but it was unsettling.First of all, I had a large growth of some kind on top of my right foot, and something similar on top of my right hand. The one on my foot looked like a cross between a mole and tree bark. It was big enough to make it impossible to a shoe on my right foot. The one on my had was flat against the skin

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-59180690883775043252010-06-05T10:49:00.000-07:002010-06-05T11:15:51.989-07:00

I'm going to geek out/rant about something that is starting to really irritate me with photo gear.Crop factors are really starting to annoy me. The primary reason is the most obvious. I can't use any of my lenses at the focal length they were designed for. I know that quality doesn't suffer, but quality is one of many considerations I make when deciding on which lens to purchase. Since I

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-12796388003867739382010-06-04T22:17:00.001-07:002010-06-04T22:26:04.866-07:00

I almost had a lucid dream last night. I haven't exactly been trying to experience lucid dreaming, but I've been curious about it for years. One of the things they say to do, if you want to have a lucid dream, is to keep a dream journal so you can see if there are any patters to more or less watch out for. That way when one happens, you can say "oh, I'm dreaming" and go from there.I've sort of

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-67847737959910146222010-06-02T07:34:00.000-07:002010-06-02T08:05:12.140-07:00

My photography business is slowly gaining momentum, but it will be a while before I can support myself with it. The magazine I edit, SPOKE(a)N(e), is also doing well. I'm starting to look for advertisers so I can start generating revenue from that as well. Again, it will be a while before it makes enough to run itself on.I'm not worried about income. The past six months of being "otherwise

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-14704841226326079932010-05-29T13:54:00.000-07:002010-05-29T14:03:29.021-07:00

I'm house sitting for some friends of mine. Last night, I was sitting on the couch, with my laptop online and back to back episodes of several of my favorite shows running on cable. It was at that moment that I realized The Dream had come true.Starting around 14 I decided that the ultimate goal in life was to have a laptop for internet and games so that you could watch TV at the same time.

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-33454142196288829212010-05-11T21:32:00.000-07:002010-05-11T21:54:44.840-07:00

I had an idea for a science fiction short story that I was going to write this month in honor of Sci-Fi Month. However, I realized that I liked it better as a topic of discussion than as a short story. So, I provide the topic to you and you may discuss it in the comments or amongst yourselves.Modern lore is filled with stories like Jack the Ripper, or The Zodiac Killer. Men who kill many

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-2134598315466671642010-05-08T19:14:00.000-07:002010-05-08T19:38:12.062-07:00

I find freeway driving to be a transcendental experience. The fact that, at the speeds you're going, you can measure distance and time simultaneously is fascinating to me. I got to think about that a lot in the last several hours as I spent most of my day on the freeway.Today was the celebration of my nephew's first birthday. I ran down to the Tri-Cities (about 150 miles) to see him, his

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-69742539331279511872010-05-07T16:17:00.000-07:002010-05-07T16:43:07.215-07:00

First, watch this.What caught my attention about the video clip is that in the first few seconds we are treated to a scene that any soccer mom would be familiar with. Two kids fighting over a toy neither one is playing with.I have been thinking lately about how we in the West make documentaries about other cultures. It seems to me that we have this perpetual 19th Century out look in the sense

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-36408524063141389952010-05-03T21:54:00.000-07:002010-05-03T22:03:53.370-07:00

It's not going as well as I'd hoped. On day three, I am two movies, several episodes of X-Files, all episodes of BSG and three comics behind schedule.--End Transmission--

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-68800781072817094822010-04-30T09:21:00.001-07:002010-04-30T09:25:40.434-07:00

I knew so much atSeventeenThen I turned 20and realized howyoung I had beenFoolish and ignorantswept along by trendsand friendsspeaking my mind for meThen I turned 23and realized howyoung 20 wasThinking I had itall figured outIndependent andsecurein my own thinkingA manThen I turned 25and realized howyoung 23 wasImportant if onlyin my own mindConfident I knewWhat the futureheld for meuntil I

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-49936360771450429382010-04-21T22:41:00.000-07:002010-04-21T23:17:14.952-07:00

Since April is National Poetry Month, my friend Eric extended an invitation to a shared experience. Every Wednesday in April we would visit a different pub in town for some brew and poems. We each pick a poem, read it, and then we discuss our thoughts on the poem.This week I picked The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost. I picked it because I had the last few lines memorized, but never really knew

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-87950019917645998002010-04-18T22:06:00.001-07:002010-04-18T22:59:52.811-07:00

This is a conceptual experiment I thought up today. For today's purposes, I'm not concerned with logistics or planning. I'm just throwing out the raw idea.Proverbs 30: 8-9 says "Keep falsehood and lies far from me; give me neither poverty nor riches, but give me only my daily bread. Otherwise, I may have too much and disown you and say, 'Who is the LORD ?' Or I may become poor and steal, and

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-74427230284867389282010-04-18T17:45:00.000-07:002010-04-18T18:45:54.465-07:00

I'm going to throw some statistics at you.-In 2007 5.8 million children were involved in abuse cases. Of that number, 59% were cases of neglect.-3.5 million Americans are homeless, with 1.5 million expected to be added to that number over the next two years due to the current economy.-Roughly 16,000 children starve to death every day around the world.I have a theory. I don't know if I read it

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-17586034994328747182010-04-16T14:34:00.000-07:002010-04-16T15:00:37.379-07:00

I do not worryI do not waitFor the timewhen time slows downI anticipateFree of burdens bornein timeFree of sadnessof sorrows criedI do not sitand think idlyFor the timewhen time slows downI anticipateWith bated breathand hopeful abandonI look into the inviting skyAt last our hopesand dreams elatedin the twinkling of an eyeHurry! Hurry!The time is soonTake a loving gazeupon the moonFor time will

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10888178.post-64045844654528453122010-04-13T22:20:00.000-07:002010-04-13T22:50:40.686-07:00

May will be Sci-Fi Month around my house. Initially I was just going to be doing one sci-fi movie every day for the whole month. But then it came to my attention that May actually is Sci-Fi Month.May has Star Wars Day, Towel Day, Universal Day of the Jedi, and Geek Pride Day. The last three are all on May 25, which is the day that Star Wars was originally released in theaters. So I have

Michael McMullenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15011812633205024739noreply@blogger.com2