Well Folks, It happened,

 

Like the dodo bird, dinosaurs, and the Latin language before it, this blog is going extinct.  I mentioned previously the relocation of said space to air my ramblings, and in the past few days it has become official.  You may now see the writings of myself, along with the much more clever Mike, Cas, and Jon at the following address; http://ablogolypse.blogspot.com/.  We are now a blogging supergroup, so check in frequently as there will be not just one person rarely posting, but a much more frequent stream of the thoughts of four goofy twenty-somethings. What could be better?

 

Thanks a lot for taking the time to check in periodically, and for the encouraging and equally hilarious comments left behind.  It's been great to have a space to share things I find interesting, funny, and worth noting, and to have people take the time to actually read them is awesome.  I'll keep sharing nonsense as long as you guys continue to enjoy it.

 

Thanks again,

 

Matt

It has come to my attention that the all-powerful superior web-designers at MSN have made a drastic mistake in their desire to create the best blog programming on the web.  I've been told that after the switch to "Windows Live Spaces" now only those who share an address on this same Live network are allowed to comment on my postings.  This has thoroughly upset the narcissistic side of me that revels in the praise and thoughts of others, therefore I am packing up and moving away.  Away to somewhere with a more democratic, all-inclusive approach to blog commenting; a blog land flowing with milk and honey as it were, if you buy into that expression.  It always confused me, especially as a kid.  If I was contemplating entering the promised land I could think of several other foods I'd rather it be teeming with, if only metaphorically.  Like the land of Steak & Eggs, or the land of Bacon Double Cheeseburgers & A&W Root Beer in a Frosty Mug, or even the land of Turtles Cheesecake & Vanilla Ice Cream.  Man, it's getting to be dinner time, and that last tangent isn't helping things down in the belly area any.

 

Stay tuned for more moving info,

 

Matt

 

PS - While you're here, feel free to enjoy these self-portraits my brother felt obliged to email me.  Sometimes I wonder how he functions in everyday society, especially if his facial expression routinely makes him look like he's taking a poop. 

Hey There (Hopefully Still Somewhat...) Faithful Reader Team,

 

Now that I'm sure the number of those that frequent this space has dwindled down to less then the number of thumbs I own, I've decided to get back into the habit of writing good hearty thoughts frequently.  I'ts been a long summer, and it's taken me over a week to get back to the hustle and bustle of all that is involved with University, but here I am now ready to renew one of my favourite things about my past year.  I've certainly been mulling over a few things but since none of them would be worth reading about in their present unfinished state I'll leave you with a brilliant poem I found this summer.

 

Check back soon for some material I won't have jacked from someone more intelligent than myself,

 

Yahoooo!

 

Matt

 

Salvation

 

Salvation happens at five years old.  Salvation is better protection against the dark than her Wonder Woman nightlight.  Salvation makes her run into the kitchen to tell her mother how her entire body buzzes, how everything feels new.  Salvation means that God, who is always so near, wants to know about her day and what she's hoping for.

 

Salvation grows at ten.  Salvation is an adventure.  Salvation means Prince Caspian and Grandpa Jack and possibly kitty,  but we can't know for sure...  Salvation means that some of these, our favourite people, are part of one big family.  Salvation means crayon renderings of heaven, of flowers that are more colorful than tangerine and lemon yellow combined, and sea foam green oceans that you could swim in all day if you wanted to.

 

Salvation is forgotten at fifteen when she reads Kerouac and Salinger.  Salvation becomes uncomfortable.  Salvation reminds her when she hurts someone.  Salvation causes her to ask for her parents' forgiveness.  Salvation means obedience and submission and partiarchy, too, once she learns that word.  Salvation means defending things she doesn't understand to people she really likes, people she wants to like her.

 

Salvation is despised at nineteen.  Salvation involves sexual purity and the GOP.  Salvation means limiting her to writing nice things, listening to nice things, saying nice things.  Salvation means admitting a personal connection to Historical Things We Don't Want to Mention, like the Crusades. 

Salvation is a stranger.

 

Salvation is remembered at twenty one.  Salvation may mean regeneration, or maybe just the ability to forgive Joshua for his being such an amazing jerk.  Salvation is everywhere; in smoky, pre-dawn conversations, on page 242 of her favourity book, in Zion Canyon.  Salvation is tatooed in Hebrew on her lower back.  Salvation might be for her.  Salvation might not.

 

Salvation.  Salvation means sering this church in spite of its failings.  Salvation means thinking differently about human rights and architecture and unemployment.  Salvation means sowmehow being the Imago Dei, God's very own image. 

Salvation is at work all the time.