Blog, Deep Archives, Doodles

I’m Not a Superman

There are a lot of things about me I’m not entirely fond of. I’ve got my issues. I’ve been dealing with them off and on for the last 28 years of myIMAG0483 life. Okay, maybe that’s a bit of an exaggeration, I probably didn’t really try to deal with any of my personal issues when I was a kid. So, let’s just call it the last 15 years. Still, no matter how hard I try, I never seem to make the progress that I really, really want to make. I suppose it’s always a matter of not settling, but it can be frustrating and infuriating. At the core, that’s who I am.

I am a bitter, angry man who wishes to be more than a bitter angry man.
      <p>I try to think of myself in philosophical terms. I search the cosmos for explanations of human behavior, scientific, theological, metaphysical, and philosophical. I look, I assemble, I understand, I regurgitate back into the world.&#160; I have questions, and when they get answered I ask more questions. </p>  <p>Honestly, I don’t respect people that just take things at face value.</p>  <h5>I guess I am a scholar of sorts.</h5>  <p>I doodle. I don’t call it drawing because I see drawing as an art of trying to put to visual medium reality. When I put pencil to paper, I’m pretty much blatantly ignoring reality in favor of humor, fun and emotion. I use doodling as a means to cheer myself up when I’m depressed, or to cheer up those around me when I’m in a particularly good mood. In many ways, it’s the opposite creative outlet for my mind that writing is.</p>  <p>Writing is what I do to channel all of the negative energy of my mind out of myself and into something I hope is constructive or entertaining. It’s the release valve on the steam engine that is my chronic depression. It’s what gives my brain the power to fight back against the sticky, gooey thorns that stab deep into my subconscious mind and make it bleed out hope and dreams. <strong>Writing is a pesticide to mind thorns.</strong> You can use that. Put it on a t-shirt. I don’t mind. As I sit here typing this up, I think it’s extremely clever. I often think I’m clever. I’m not always right.</p>  <h5>I am a duality of art. Words and Visuals. Positivity and Negativity. </h5>  <p>I’ve basically been on the internet since I was 12 years old. I spent a large hunk of my formative, adolescent years logged in via a dial up modem to a chat room called Open24. Growing up in a fairly tech-forward household, I stayed on the cutting edge of the real cyberspace most of my life. We weren’t AOL/Prodigy half net people. We were wading waist deep in the seedy underbelly of cyberspace. We didn’t have things like “<a href="http://www.netnanny.com" target="_blank">NetNanny</a>” on our computers. No, for this guy, teenaged life was a smorgasbord of the world’s most obscene and bizarre acts. I can’t say that it didn’t effect me. It probably really messed me up to be honest. Not that you would know. I’m one of a million in my generation.</p>  <p>It pretty much makes me wonder if the future world will be able to handle our impending rule.</p>  <p>Tripod and Homestead were the competing free website hosts back then, the late 90s equivalent of WordPress and Blogger. Homestead eventually got bought out by Google and became Google Sites eventually, although there is a new company running around doing the same thing under that name now. Of course, much like I do today, I had one of each. The homestead site is gone. Eaten by Google's hungry inactivity eaters. They devour pages left dormant for too long. <a href="http://gariff.tripod.com/bardic/index.html" target="_blank">The Tripod page is still there</a>. </p>  <p>Those were my first expeditions in to the wilds of content generation. It was an experiment that continued on through <a href="http://darksphere.livejournal.com/" target="_blank">LiveJournal</a> and eventually this blog. </p>  <p><strong>I’m not convinced that I’ve gotten any better at it over the years.</strong> </p>  <p>Journals and websites became Blogs, and chat rooms became social media. I’ve whored myself for attention on <a href="https://myspace.com/gariff" target="_blank">MySpace</a>, <a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/M-A-Brotherton/179610518754590" target="_blank">Facebook</a>, <a href="https://mobile.twitter.com/MABrotherton" target="_blank">twitter</a> and <a href="https://plus.google.com/109910328559232033949/posts" target="_blank">Google plus</a>, and I will continue to do so well into the future.</p>  <p>I like attention. It makes me feel special. </p>  <p>In my youth I pirated mp3s but long ago switched to legally purchasing them from legit sources like Amazon and Google Music. I stream Netflix now instead of someone’s poorly encoded, Russian subtitled version of movies and TV. To the internet cyber-culturalist these things are similar to the rebellious acts of petty vandalism or theft that a person just grows out of. Grow up or go to jail, I guess. </p>  <h5>I am a member of the iGeneration.</h5>  <p>Hello, my name is Matthew Aaron Brotherton. I am 28 years old. I am from a suburb of Kansas City, Missouri. You can call me “Matt” if you’d like. </p>  <p>I am a constantly changing and evolving human being with a fairly dark background and a penchant for strange and disturbing behavior. </p>  <p>Don’t mind me. I’ll just be sitting in the corner and rocking gently back and forth.</p>  <p>Oh, yeah… I tend to rock back and forth in my chair when I’m in a a really good typing flow. </p>  <p>It helps me keep rhythm. </p>  <p>I need as much help with that as I can get. </p>  <p>&#160;</p>  <p><em>This post is part of the Scintilla Project, won’t you go and explore the rest of them too? </em>

Published by M.A. Brotherton

M.A. Brotherton is a writer, blogger, artist, and fat-kid from the suburbs of Kansas City, Missouri. He’s tasted a little bit of everything the Midwest has to offer, ranging from meth-tweaking rednecks in massive underground cave complexes to those legendary amber waves of grain. When he’s not writing, he spends most of his time screwing around on the internet.

20 thoughts on “I’m Not a Superman”

  1. Kim says:

    When I put pencil to paper, I’m pretty much blatantly ignoring reality in favor of humor, fun and emotion.

    It works. And there is just as much a need for this in the world as there is for drawing. Sometimes more so.

    I am now going to poke through the tripod site!

    1. M.A. Brotherton says:

      Have fun with that. There isn’t anything really cool there and Tripod is horrible about popups and the like. Really it was just a place for Eldaraenth Bards to put their work way back in the day.

  2. Kendra says:

    Music is my escapism. I play my fiddle to channel the happy and light and fun and just escape reality. I play the piano to express the darker emotions inside me. And right now I play neither because I’ve just moved and they are still with the movers. So I write and read. 

    1. M.A. Brotherton says:

      Once upon a time I played the Clarinet. After years of practice I was rather mediocre and I guess I just grew away from playing it.

      Sometimes I think I’d like to pick it up again, but really it’s just something I would do to say I can, not because I have a passion for it. I have a passion for listening to good music, not torturing people around me while I make bad music.

  3. Stereo.* says:

    Isn’t it weird? This time two years ago, I didn’t know you at all. Didn’t know about your love of doodling, taco Tuesdays, podcasting, Google and writing. Now, I know all this and more. There IS more to you than the bitterness and the anger; you don’t see it but that’s alright because that’s our job 😀

    1. M.A. Brotherton says:

      Matts are like Ogres and Ogres are like onions. 😀 There are layers and layers of me.

      That’s something I should have put up there: I love Mike Meyers in all his forms, but I have a special warm heart place for Shrek.

  4. amanda says:

    Love your perspective as someone who was online seemingly way before me –  not sure what years you are talking about here, but I didn’t even get my first email address until 1996. And I certainly didn’t know what the hell I was doing online for a long, long time. iGeneration – I like that.

  5. Jason Benoit says:

    You are all these things and so many more. It is a good thing to always question, to never settle and fill your days with curiosity. So says another bitter and angry man. 

    1. M.A. Brotherton says:

      We should have an angry and bitter party.

  6. Debbie says:

    I really liked reading your internet section.  I was in my early 20s when the internet became more than a BBS, and I always wondered what it would have been like had I grown up with it.  Reading your account, the only difference between the internet being new when you’re 21 and it being new when you’re 12 is that I probably would have downloaded more pirated material.  Great entry! 

    1. M.A. Brotherton says:

      I’ve always believed that growing up on the internet effected me in ways that generations before me wouldn’t be effected by, but I’ve recently begun reading a bit about the physiological effects of net use and am realizing that it’s universal. 

      I could probably write at great lengths about the internet, it’s impact on my life, and it’s impact on the culture in general.

      It’s a big part of me. 

  7. ***C*** says:

    “I am a duality of art.”  Aren’t we all, in some way.  This line has struck me all day and I have been struggling to articulate why exactly.  I still can’t, really, only that all of us have brushstrokes of realism and abstract forms to us.  We all have shades of dark and light.  It’s all perception, isn’t it?

    1. M.A. Brotherton says:

      We are all, in many ways, a living example of a duality. I think working towards a gray scale is as close as we can get to enlightenment. 

  8. Mrsmediocrity says:

    I’m going to be 50 this year and I’m still asking questions. In fact, I prefer spending time with the questions. We are all, in our own way, dualities of art. Keep asking, answering, asking again… this is the beauty of life.

  9. Inkytwig says:

    you are brilliant, sensitive, kind, decent, hilarious, talented and my friend. so thankful am i for YOU!

    1. M.A. Brotherton says:

      I am pretty thankful for me too. One day the world will see how awesome I am and declare me their new Ruler Supreme.

      That’s like a burrito supreme, but in charge of everything instead of having sour cream.

  10. Marie says:

     I like your words, the vistas that open in me when I read. These words “It’s what gives my brain the power to fight back against the sticky,
    gooey thorns that stab deep into my subconscious mind and make it bleed
    out hope and dreams.” just awaken a strong yes in me. For a long time, for me, writing was the only thing keeping me alive. Thank you for writing this, some of my best friends are books. This posting joins them.

    1. M.A. Brotherton says:

      Thank you. I have been forcing myself to be more restrained in my abuse of the adjective for a while, and decided that was a bad idea.

      So, there are many more run-on sentences filled with broken metaphors to come.

      I assure you.

  11. Littleyawps says:

    I’ve liked you since Reverb10 for many reasons. You write with a brand of honesty that is just honest. It’s not affected, it’s not FOR effect, it’s just a bare-bones telling.
    “I often think I’m clever. I’m not always right.”
    “I like attention. It makes me feel special.”
    You name the human condition in ways that are striking in their truth and simplicity.

    1. M.A. Brotherton says:

      I just try to avoid hypocrisy. I don’t see any reason to turn my thoughts into a blog and then be dishonest about them. I don’t like people that are manipulative or abusive with the power of language.

      I could see myself becoming someone like that, and it scares me. Being honest is the best way to stay humble and grounded.

      It’s the best way to avoid becoming just another talking head.

      I’d rather have meaning.

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