Sometimes I start asking myself questions, ones that aren't very useful or productive. Such is the nature of doubt. It creeps into your mind when you least expect it and it rarely leaves you with something productive. Why do I keep lifting heavy, why do I keep forcing myself to eat and take all my supplements, why do I organize my free time schedule around going to the gym.
During the past few years, I have had at least two or three joints with pains or aches at all times, either because I'm injured, or because of overuse tendinitis. I've never seen eating as much of a pleasure in life, and although there are foods I enjoy, I've always seen feeding as taking in fuel for your body, so as a necessity. There are also times when I think to myself when I'm out that I'd rather not stay too long, because I have to do deadlifts the next day and I want to be in top shape.
As far as appreciation from others goes, it was never a good motivator for me, even though it's always nice to hear compliments. Also, nobody cares how much I squat or deadlift, or how many pull-ups I can do.The thing is that working out with a serious training regimen is only a competition against yourself.
I remember when I first walked into the gym a few years ago. I fooled around with weights when I was younger, but I wasn't too serious about it. Then I decided I wanted to be strong. As soon as I stepped in I felt uncomfortable, like everybody was watching and judging me. The fact that I was doing squats with just the bar and struggling to bench 30 kilos didn't help. Even though some people were probably doing exactly that, I learned quickly that it doesn't matter. The ones who are in there to actually do hard work, don't have time to care about anything. And the same way it doesn't matter when I'm struggling with baby weights, it doesn't matter if I can deadlift a car. The only true reason to keep going is to be better than I used to be. The weight on the bar is only an indicator of progress, not what defines me as a person.
The fact is that lifting is an anchor in my life. If I keep doing it, it reflects in a positive manner in many other areas. It forces me to eat better, it forces me to try to keep a tight sleeping schedule, but most of all it allows me to set goals for myself, which is something I've always had trouble with, perhaps because of depression. I don't do it for compliments, I don't do it for attention, I don't do it to try to beat somebody else. Even though we are not alone in this world, and these things do matter for everybody, they're not enough. Motivation has to come from within. As soon as you start relying on exterior motivation as the driving force for your actions, you expose yourself to disappointment. When all is said and done, the only person that will always be there for you is yourself. And that's okay.
Sunday, June 16, 2013
Sunday, June 9, 2013
Two wheels
Against my better judgement, I decided to go out for a bike ride today. My hip was feeling a little bit better and I decided not to push myself too hard, just pedal to the sound of music on a quiet morning. That of course didn't happen, because I'm not very patient and I love to sprint. Plus, the pump I get in my quads from going hard for a minute or two feels great.
I like to listen to music when I ride, even though some might think that's a little bit dangerous. I just keep the volume down and pay extra attention to cars around me. Anyway, it was Sunday morning so there wasn't too much traffic.
Just as I was starting to go down this hill, Freebird by Lynyrd Skynyrd started playing on my ipod, and it couldn't have been a better moment. Rushing down at max speed, wind blowing, the smell of flowers and trees around me. When I came back, tired and sweaty, another perfect song. Feuer Frei. It helped me push and get on top of that hill faster. It was an awesome sensation.
Another cool thing happened. I was passing through this park and there was some sort of air show going on. Some guys from a parachuting club were doing precision jumps and I caught a picture of one of them landing. It was really sunny and my eyes were hurting from looking up at the sky so I didn't notice the dude in the black shirt when I took it.
All in all, a good way to start the day, even though I probably should be resting as much as possible. If I'm feeling better tomorrow, I'm deadlifting heavy again.
I like to listen to music when I ride, even though some might think that's a little bit dangerous. I just keep the volume down and pay extra attention to cars around me. Anyway, it was Sunday morning so there wasn't too much traffic.
Just as I was starting to go down this hill, Freebird by Lynyrd Skynyrd started playing on my ipod, and it couldn't have been a better moment. Rushing down at max speed, wind blowing, the smell of flowers and trees around me. When I came back, tired and sweaty, another perfect song. Feuer Frei. It helped me push and get on top of that hill faster. It was an awesome sensation.
Another cool thing happened. I was passing through this park and there was some sort of air show going on. Some guys from a parachuting club were doing precision jumps and I caught a picture of one of them landing. It was really sunny and my eyes were hurting from looking up at the sky so I didn't notice the dude in the black shirt when I took it.
All in all, a good way to start the day, even though I probably should be resting as much as possible. If I'm feeling better tomorrow, I'm deadlifting heavy again.
Monday, June 3, 2013
90 days of summer
I have 3 months left till I turn 26 so I decided I'm going to push myself extra hard in order to achieve a big milestone that I've always had my eyes on. I want to be able to perform 25+ pull-ups, deadlift 2x my body weight, squat 1.5x and bench press 1x for reps. I've had this target set up for myself ever since I started lifting and although it's going to be difficult, I think I can do it with a little bit of discipline.
Current stats:
Height: 1.81 cm
Weight: 68kg
Pull-ups: 20 reps
Deadlift: 105kg 3x3
Squat: 95x1
Bench press: 60kg 6x3
Deadlifting 140 kgs will be the most difficult to accomplish, followed by the bench press because of a nagging shoulder and the fact that I don't plan on gaining much weight during this time, if at all. Upper body pushing movements have always been my weakness. I'll just have to focus on form, technique and bringing up my triceps strength, since I've noticed they're lacking.
I'll be aiming for 150+ grams of protein every day and trying to get more quality sleep. I'll be testing my max squat and deadlift every 7-10 days and focus on form an assistance exercises in between. For upper body exercises, the time between personal record attempts will be 4-7 days. Deload time will have to be scheduled in somehow, but I have to do some research on this, as I've never done it on purpose within the parameters of a strict program.
I'll also try to keep a log of my progress here and check back on it every two weeks or so to see what I'm doing right and what I'm doing wrong.
Current stats:
Height: 1.81 cm
Weight: 68kg
Pull-ups: 20 reps
Deadlift: 105kg 3x3
Squat: 95x1
Bench press: 60kg 6x3
Deadlifting 140 kgs will be the most difficult to accomplish, followed by the bench press because of a nagging shoulder and the fact that I don't plan on gaining much weight during this time, if at all. Upper body pushing movements have always been my weakness. I'll just have to focus on form, technique and bringing up my triceps strength, since I've noticed they're lacking.
I'll be aiming for 150+ grams of protein every day and trying to get more quality sleep. I'll be testing my max squat and deadlift every 7-10 days and focus on form an assistance exercises in between. For upper body exercises, the time between personal record attempts will be 4-7 days. Deload time will have to be scheduled in somehow, but I have to do some research on this, as I've never done it on purpose within the parameters of a strict program.
I'll also try to keep a log of my progress here and check back on it every two weeks or so to see what I'm doing right and what I'm doing wrong.
Tuesday, May 28, 2013
Moment of sonder
"Every person on earth is living as if they are the protagonist of their own story.
Every person who has ever hurt you. every person who has ever loved you. every stranger you pass on the street. The guy who cut you off in traffic. The girl that gave you a dirty look when you reached for the coffee on the shelf she was blocking. Everyone.
And to many of them, you are a fleeting character - a cardboard cutout, even - that barely registers in their story. Others know you better but you are still a subordinate. A little less real."
Every person who has ever hurt you. every person who has ever loved you. every stranger you pass on the street. The guy who cut you off in traffic. The girl that gave you a dirty look when you reached for the coffee on the shelf she was blocking. Everyone.
And to many of them, you are a fleeting character - a cardboard cutout, even - that barely registers in their story. Others know you better but you are still a subordinate. A little less real."
Friday, April 12, 2013
The Iron
This article originally appeared in Details Magazine in 1994.
The Iron
by Henry Rollins
I believe that the definition of definition is reinvention. To not be like your parents. To not be like your friends. To be yourself.
Completely.
When I was young I had no sense of myself. All I was, was a product of all the fear and humiliation I suffered. Fear of my parents. The humiliation of teachers calling me "garbage can" and telling me I'd be mowing lawns for a living. And the very real terror of my fellow students. I was threatened and beaten up for the color of my skin and my size. I was skinny and clumsy, and when others would tease me I didn't run home crying, wondering why.
I knew all too well. I was there to be antagonized. In sports I was laughed at. A spaz. I was pretty good at boxing but only because the rage that filled my every waking moment made me wild and unpredictable. I fought with some strange fury. The other boys thought I was crazy.
I hated myself all the time.
As stupid at it seems now, I wanted to talk like them, dress like them, carry myself with the ease of knowing that I wasn't going to get pounded in the hallway between classes. Years passed and I learned to keep it all inside. I only talked to a few boys in my grade. Other losers. Some of them are to this day the greatest people I have ever known. Hang out with a guy who has had his head flushed down a toilet a few times, treat him with respect, and you'll find a faithful friend forever. But even with friends, school sucked. Teachers gave me hard time. I didn't think much of them either.
Then came Mr. Pepperman, my advisor. He was a powerfully built Vietnam veteran, and he was scary. No one ever talked out of turn in his class. Once one kid did and Mr. P. lifted him off the ground and pinned him to the blackboard. Mr. P. could see that I was in bad shape, and one Friday in October he asked me if I had ever worked out with weights. I told him no.
He told me that I was going to take some of the money that I had saved and buy a hundred-pound set of weights at Sears. As I left his office, I started to think of things I would say to him on Monday when he asked about the weights that I was not going to buy. Still, it made me feel special. My father never really got that close to caring. On Saturday I bought the weights, but I couldn't even drag them to my mom's car. An attendant laughed at me as he put them on a dolly.
Monday came and I was called into Mr. P.'s office after school. He said that he was going to show me how to work out. He was going to put me on a program and start hitting me in the solar plexus in the hallway when I wasn't looking. When I could take the punch we would know that we were getting somewhere. At no time was I to look at myself in the mirror or tell anyone at school what I was doing. In the gym he showed me ten basic exercises. I paid more attention than I ever did in any of my classes. I didn't want to blow it. I went home that night and started right in.
Weeks passed, and every once in a while Mr. P. would give me a shot and drop me in the hallway, sending my books flying. The other students didn't know what to think. More weeks passed, and I was steadily adding new weights to the bar. I could sense the power inside my body growing. I could feel it.
Right before Christmas break I was walking to class, and from out of nowhere Mr. Pepperman appeared and gave me a shot in the chest. I laughed and kept going. He said I could look at myself now. I got home and ran to the bathroom and pulled off my shirt. I saw a body, not just the shell that housed my stomach and my heart. My biceps bulged. My chest had definition. I felt strong. It was the first time I can remember having a sense of myself. I had done something and no one could ever take it away. You couldn't say shit to me.
It took me years to fully appreciate the value of the lessons I have learned from the Iron. I used to think that it was my adversary, that I was trying to lift that which does not want to be lifted. I was wrong. When the Iron doesn't want to come off the mat, it's the kindest thing it can do for you. If it flew up and went through the ceiling, it wouldn't teach you anything. That's the way the Iron talks to you. It tells you that the material you work with is that which you will come to resemble. That which you work against will always work against you.
It wasn't until my late twenties that I learned that by working out I had given myself a great gift. I learned that nothing good comes without work and a certain amount of pain. When I finish a set that leaves me shaking, I know more about myself. When something gets bad, I know it can't be as bad as that workout.
I used to fight the pain, but recently this became clear to me: pain is not my enemy; it is my call to greatness. But when dealing with the Iron, one must be careful to interpret the pain correctly. Most injuries involving the Iron come from ego. I once spent a few weeks lifting weight that my body wasn't ready for and spent a few months not picking up anything heavier than a fork. Try to lift what you're not prepared to and the Iron will teach you a little lesson in restraint and self-control.
I have never met a truly strong person who didn't have self-respect. I think a lot of inwardly and outwardly directed contempt passes itself off as self-respect: the idea of raising yourself by stepping on someone's shoulders instead of doing it yourself. When I see guys working out for cosmetic reasons, I see vanity exposing them in the worst way, as cartoon characters, billboards for imbalance and insecurity. Strength reveals itself through character. It is the difference between bouncers who get off strong-arming people and Mr. Pepperman.
Muscle mass does not always equal strength. Strength is kindness and sensitivity. Strength is understanding that your power is both physical and emotional. That it comes from the body and the mind. And the heart.
Yukio Mishima said that he could not entertain the idea of romance if he was not strong. Romance is such a strong and overwhelming passion, a weakened body cannot sustain it for long. I have some of my most romantic thoughts when I am with the Iron. Once I was in love with a woman. I thought about her the most when the pain from a workout was racing through my body.
Everything in me wanted her. So much so that sex was only a fraction of my total desire. It was the single most intense love I have ever felt, but she lived far away and I didn't see her very often. Working out was a healthy way of dealing with the loneliness. To this day, when I work out I usually listen to ballads.
I prefer to work out alone.
It enables me to concentrate on the lessons that the Iron has for me. Learning about what you're made of is always time well spent, and I have found no better teacher. The Iron had taught me how to live. Life is capable of driving you out of your mind. The way it all comes down these days, it's some kind of miracle if you're not insane. People have become separated from their bodies. They are no longer whole.
I see them move from their offices to their cars and on to their suburban homes. They stress out constantly, they lose sleep, they eat badly. And they behave badly. Their egos run wild; they become motivated by that which will eventually give them a massive stroke. They need the Iron Mind.
Through the years, I have combined meditation, action, and the Iron into a single strength. I believe that when the body is strong, the mind thinks strong thoughts. Time spent away from the Iron makes my mind degenerate. I wallow in a thick depression. My body shuts down my mind.
The Iron is the best antidepressant I have ever found. There is no better way to fight weakness than with strength. Once the mind and body have been awakened to their true potential, it's impossible to turn back.
The Iron never lies to you. You can walk outside and listen to all kinds of talk, get told that you're a god or a total bastard. The Iron will always kick you the real deal. The Iron is the great reference point, the all-knowing perspective giver. Always there like a beacon in the pitch black. I have found the Iron to be my greatest friend. It never freaks out on me, never runs. Friends may come and go. But two hundred pounds is always two hundred pounds.
The Iron
by Henry Rollins
I believe that the definition of definition is reinvention. To not be like your parents. To not be like your friends. To be yourself.
Completely.
When I was young I had no sense of myself. All I was, was a product of all the fear and humiliation I suffered. Fear of my parents. The humiliation of teachers calling me "garbage can" and telling me I'd be mowing lawns for a living. And the very real terror of my fellow students. I was threatened and beaten up for the color of my skin and my size. I was skinny and clumsy, and when others would tease me I didn't run home crying, wondering why.
I knew all too well. I was there to be antagonized. In sports I was laughed at. A spaz. I was pretty good at boxing but only because the rage that filled my every waking moment made me wild and unpredictable. I fought with some strange fury. The other boys thought I was crazy.
I hated myself all the time.
As stupid at it seems now, I wanted to talk like them, dress like them, carry myself with the ease of knowing that I wasn't going to get pounded in the hallway between classes. Years passed and I learned to keep it all inside. I only talked to a few boys in my grade. Other losers. Some of them are to this day the greatest people I have ever known. Hang out with a guy who has had his head flushed down a toilet a few times, treat him with respect, and you'll find a faithful friend forever. But even with friends, school sucked. Teachers gave me hard time. I didn't think much of them either.
Then came Mr. Pepperman, my advisor. He was a powerfully built Vietnam veteran, and he was scary. No one ever talked out of turn in his class. Once one kid did and Mr. P. lifted him off the ground and pinned him to the blackboard. Mr. P. could see that I was in bad shape, and one Friday in October he asked me if I had ever worked out with weights. I told him no.
He told me that I was going to take some of the money that I had saved and buy a hundred-pound set of weights at Sears. As I left his office, I started to think of things I would say to him on Monday when he asked about the weights that I was not going to buy. Still, it made me feel special. My father never really got that close to caring. On Saturday I bought the weights, but I couldn't even drag them to my mom's car. An attendant laughed at me as he put them on a dolly.
Monday came and I was called into Mr. P.'s office after school. He said that he was going to show me how to work out. He was going to put me on a program and start hitting me in the solar plexus in the hallway when I wasn't looking. When I could take the punch we would know that we were getting somewhere. At no time was I to look at myself in the mirror or tell anyone at school what I was doing. In the gym he showed me ten basic exercises. I paid more attention than I ever did in any of my classes. I didn't want to blow it. I went home that night and started right in.
Weeks passed, and every once in a while Mr. P. would give me a shot and drop me in the hallway, sending my books flying. The other students didn't know what to think. More weeks passed, and I was steadily adding new weights to the bar. I could sense the power inside my body growing. I could feel it.
Right before Christmas break I was walking to class, and from out of nowhere Mr. Pepperman appeared and gave me a shot in the chest. I laughed and kept going. He said I could look at myself now. I got home and ran to the bathroom and pulled off my shirt. I saw a body, not just the shell that housed my stomach and my heart. My biceps bulged. My chest had definition. I felt strong. It was the first time I can remember having a sense of myself. I had done something and no one could ever take it away. You couldn't say shit to me.
It took me years to fully appreciate the value of the lessons I have learned from the Iron. I used to think that it was my adversary, that I was trying to lift that which does not want to be lifted. I was wrong. When the Iron doesn't want to come off the mat, it's the kindest thing it can do for you. If it flew up and went through the ceiling, it wouldn't teach you anything. That's the way the Iron talks to you. It tells you that the material you work with is that which you will come to resemble. That which you work against will always work against you.
It wasn't until my late twenties that I learned that by working out I had given myself a great gift. I learned that nothing good comes without work and a certain amount of pain. When I finish a set that leaves me shaking, I know more about myself. When something gets bad, I know it can't be as bad as that workout.
I used to fight the pain, but recently this became clear to me: pain is not my enemy; it is my call to greatness. But when dealing with the Iron, one must be careful to interpret the pain correctly. Most injuries involving the Iron come from ego. I once spent a few weeks lifting weight that my body wasn't ready for and spent a few months not picking up anything heavier than a fork. Try to lift what you're not prepared to and the Iron will teach you a little lesson in restraint and self-control.
I have never met a truly strong person who didn't have self-respect. I think a lot of inwardly and outwardly directed contempt passes itself off as self-respect: the idea of raising yourself by stepping on someone's shoulders instead of doing it yourself. When I see guys working out for cosmetic reasons, I see vanity exposing them in the worst way, as cartoon characters, billboards for imbalance and insecurity. Strength reveals itself through character. It is the difference between bouncers who get off strong-arming people and Mr. Pepperman.
Muscle mass does not always equal strength. Strength is kindness and sensitivity. Strength is understanding that your power is both physical and emotional. That it comes from the body and the mind. And the heart.
Yukio Mishima said that he could not entertain the idea of romance if he was not strong. Romance is such a strong and overwhelming passion, a weakened body cannot sustain it for long. I have some of my most romantic thoughts when I am with the Iron. Once I was in love with a woman. I thought about her the most when the pain from a workout was racing through my body.
Everything in me wanted her. So much so that sex was only a fraction of my total desire. It was the single most intense love I have ever felt, but she lived far away and I didn't see her very often. Working out was a healthy way of dealing with the loneliness. To this day, when I work out I usually listen to ballads.
I prefer to work out alone.
It enables me to concentrate on the lessons that the Iron has for me. Learning about what you're made of is always time well spent, and I have found no better teacher. The Iron had taught me how to live. Life is capable of driving you out of your mind. The way it all comes down these days, it's some kind of miracle if you're not insane. People have become separated from their bodies. They are no longer whole.
I see them move from their offices to their cars and on to their suburban homes. They stress out constantly, they lose sleep, they eat badly. And they behave badly. Their egos run wild; they become motivated by that which will eventually give them a massive stroke. They need the Iron Mind.
Through the years, I have combined meditation, action, and the Iron into a single strength. I believe that when the body is strong, the mind thinks strong thoughts. Time spent away from the Iron makes my mind degenerate. I wallow in a thick depression. My body shuts down my mind.
The Iron is the best antidepressant I have ever found. There is no better way to fight weakness than with strength. Once the mind and body have been awakened to their true potential, it's impossible to turn back.
The Iron never lies to you. You can walk outside and listen to all kinds of talk, get told that you're a god or a total bastard. The Iron will always kick you the real deal. The Iron is the great reference point, the all-knowing perspective giver. Always there like a beacon in the pitch black. I have found the Iron to be my greatest friend. It never freaks out on me, never runs. Friends may come and go. But two hundred pounds is always two hundred pounds.
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
I felt like destroying something beatiful
The skin on the palms of my hands is almost torn. My fingers are shaking. I can barely bend my elbows. The towel I brought with me is soaking wet. I feel like I don't remember how to walk. I glance at my self in the mirror, there's no expression on my face.
My heart is pounding and I breathe heavily. My vision is narrowed, the periphery gets lost in a blur. I can't hear what song is playing on the radio, but I can feel the beat. The people moving around me are just figurines doing a silly dance. My mind is almost blank, only able to focus on breathing.
I take a final sip of water, the whole bottle is gone. I don't remember what I say to the guy at the door, but I'm pretty sure I said something. I'm on auto-pilot now.
I go down the stairs, carefully grabbing the handles, because my legs are fried. Night time has come, and the air is nice and cool. There's a pleasant aroma floating around me; it seems like linden, probably from a nearby tree.
People are out walking their dogs, but my eyes are fixed in the distance. I almost don't hear the sound of cars passing on my side, and their lights seem to be like white balls of light flying by.
My mind is clear, void of thoughts, but it feels like it doesn't need anything to occupy it or distract it either. Beautiful, sublime nothingness. I felt like destroying something beautiful, but I destroyed myself instead. This was a good workout.
My heart is pounding and I breathe heavily. My vision is narrowed, the periphery gets lost in a blur. I can't hear what song is playing on the radio, but I can feel the beat. The people moving around me are just figurines doing a silly dance. My mind is almost blank, only able to focus on breathing.
I take a final sip of water, the whole bottle is gone. I don't remember what I say to the guy at the door, but I'm pretty sure I said something. I'm on auto-pilot now.
I go down the stairs, carefully grabbing the handles, because my legs are fried. Night time has come, and the air is nice and cool. There's a pleasant aroma floating around me; it seems like linden, probably from a nearby tree.
People are out walking their dogs, but my eyes are fixed in the distance. I almost don't hear the sound of cars passing on my side, and their lights seem to be like white balls of light flying by.
My mind is clear, void of thoughts, but it feels like it doesn't need anything to occupy it or distract it either. Beautiful, sublime nothingness. I felt like destroying something beautiful, but I destroyed myself instead. This was a good workout.
Thursday, April 4, 2013
Great last lines from famous movies
"You met me at a very strange time in my life."
-Fight Club.
-Fight Club.
"I find I am so excited I
can barely sit still or hold a thought in my head. I think it’s the
excitement only a free man can feel, a free man at the start of a long
journey whose conclusion is uncertain. I hope I can make it across the
border. I hope to see my friend and shake his hand. I hope the Pacific
is as blue as it has been in my dreams. I hope."
-The Shawshank Redemption
"The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist. And like that, he's gone."
-The Usual Suspects
"There are no more barriers to cross. All I have in common with the uncontrollable and the insane. The vicious and the evil. All the mayhem I have caused and my utter indifference toward it I have now surpassed. My pain is constant and sharp. And I do not hope for a better world for anyone. In fact I want my pain to be inflicted on others. I want no one to escape. But even after admitting this there is no catharsis. My punishment continues to elude me and I gain no deeper knowledge of myself. No new knowledge can be extracted from my telling.
This confession has meant nothing."
-American Psycho
"Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn."
-Gone With The Wind
"I'm an average nobody. I get to live the rest of my life like a schnook."
-Goodfellas
-The Shawshank Redemption
"The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist. And like that, he's gone."
-The Usual Suspects
"There are no more barriers to cross. All I have in common with the uncontrollable and the insane. The vicious and the evil. All the mayhem I have caused and my utter indifference toward it I have now surpassed. My pain is constant and sharp. And I do not hope for a better world for anyone. In fact I want my pain to be inflicted on others. I want no one to escape. But even after admitting this there is no catharsis. My punishment continues to elude me and I gain no deeper knowledge of myself. No new knowledge can be extracted from my telling.
This confession has meant nothing."
-American Psycho
"Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn."
-Gone With The Wind
"Now you're looking for
the secret... but you won't find it, because of course you're not really
looking. You don't really want to know. You want to be...fooled."
-The Prestige
-The Prestige
-Goodfellas
"I guess I could be pretty
pissed off about what happened to me, but it's hard to stay mad when
there's so much beauty in the world. Sometimes I feel like I'm seeing it
all at once and it's too much. My heart fills up like a ballooon that
about to burst, but then I remember to relax and stop holding onto it,
and then it flows through me like rain and I can't feel anything but
gratitude for every single moment of my stupid little life. You have no
idea what I'm talking about I'm sure, but don't worry, you will
someday."
-American Beauty
"I don't know the future... I didn't come here to tell you how this is going to end, I came here to tell you how this is going to begin. I'm going to hang up this phone, and I'm going to show these people what you don't want them to see. I'm going to show them a world without you... a world without rules and controls, without borders or boundaries. A world where anything is possible. Where we go from there is a choice I leave to you..."
-The Matrix
"This is me taking control of my life...what the fuck have you done lately?"
-Wanted
"I will see you again. But not yet...not yet."
-Gladiator
-American Beauty
"I don't know the future... I didn't come here to tell you how this is going to end, I came here to tell you how this is going to begin. I'm going to hang up this phone, and I'm going to show these people what you don't want them to see. I'm going to show them a world without you... a world without rules and controls, without borders or boundaries. A world where anything is possible. Where we go from there is a choice I leave to you..."
-The Matrix
"This is me taking control of my life...what the fuck have you done lately?"
-Wanted
"I will see you again. But not yet...not yet."
-Gladiator