Monday, March 30, 2009

If This Was Hard To Follow I'm Sorry, But I'm Monday-Night Drunk

I have been thinking a lot recently about what I will do after I leave the Army. I am taking (or trying to take) online classes through the Army and I plan to head back to real college when I get out. I mean its not exactly a detailed plan but that the farthest ahead I've looked in my entire life.
My plans aside however I wonder more often about what my Army-Family will do.
(For clarification purposes my Army-Family is Hauser, Aubrey and Kegge.) I wonder what they will do when they leave the Army. I know Kegge won't stay in, I doubt Hauser will and its a 50-50 shot about Aubrey. (This is just my assessment personally, nothing has been said one way or another.) So its funny to think about them in a non-Army setting. Will Hauser impregnate a nice Italian girl and end up overweight and with 4 daughters? And what Kegge will do once he leaves. Will he get a job managing some store? Party it up for another couple years until he is forced to settle or become that creepy old dude at the party. Aubrey? Will she get married and have kids too?
Basically I wonder once we are all done how much will our time here influence who we are? Will we tell our children we used to be soldiers? Or is that one of those things that just sort of pop up in conversation. You know, your parents are talking about back in college or how they met or when they moved to where you live now or some old friend of theirs is over to dinner and the story comes out about how they met. And its like you (their children) have lived your whole life (which is about 16 years at this point) without ever knowing this part of your own parents' lives and it is so shocking.
Bringing it back to topic: how will my Family's current lives affect their future lives slash future (biological) families? How will I affect them? How will they affect me? How will what I have done/will do here affect me and those close to me?
Does anyone else out there think about this type of shit?

Sunday, March 29, 2009

Nitro Circus, Planet Earth and Braised Salmon

There are tons of sayings about how important family is. Shit about how they'll always love you and whatnot. And about how you can choose your friends, but not your family. My issue is mostly with the sentiment of that last one. The idea behind it is that because you have no choice in the matter those people somehow become more important? I mean I just don't understand that. I would have to think the opposite. That is to say if I choose someone to be my friend, and I am under no obligation (be it situational or societal) to spend time or give a fuck about someone or group of someone's then isn't my bond with those who I choose to spend time with stronger? I mean that's the basis of marriage and starting a family of one's own; the idea that you pick someone to create your own family unit of your own volition.
I mean it might be just me, but I have a habit of building families. I mean I'm not hating on my biological one, but throughout much of my life they have been inadequate. Oh they have done a great job being my family and putting up with my shit, and I know they want me to be happy and blah blah blah, but there has never been any real communication. And that is really the basis of a family unit. So to make up for this lack I have built myself family units.
I don't think of each member as a mother or father or sister or whatever, those have stigmas attached oftentimes that do not carry over well. I try more just to consider these people as just that, people. People whom I love and care about, people who I do not judge, people who I will go to great lengths to help and simply put; people who I want to talk to and spend time with.
I just got done with Family Dinner, which is something I have instituted here. The concept is very simple: I get the people I care about here together and we eat a home made meal and watch TV and relax on a Sunday night.
I stole this idea in part from another family that I am not a part of, but were circumstances different I would gladly have been a part of. But before I got the idea from them deep down inside I already knew about it. In fact I wrote about it, more than 18 months ago. It was down in the RVA and some members of my family were there. I made chicken and we sat at a table and enjoyed the company of one and other. I have not forgotten that simple feeling of contentment, and that is why I am trying to recapture it here.

"Maybe that’s all family really is: a group of people that miss the same imaginary place."

Monday, March 16, 2009

The Guns Of Brixton

Have you ever felt like you were truly, honestly going to die? I'm talking No Fucking Way are you walking away from this one. Fuck walking; you know its all gonna end with you on the ground in a pool of blood and twisted metal and/or a knife in your side. Maybe you have maybe you haven't, either way I don't have to tell you that feeling sucks. The only comparable feeling I have ever had is right after you almost die and you didn't have time to feel like it before. That feeling also sucks, worse I think because that feeling sticks with you. The first one is fleeting, like FUCK! wait... wait a second... NOT DEAD, YOU ARE NOT DEAD CALM DOWN. Then you feel pretty sweet because you just cheated death and now you feel badass. But that second one... man you are scared shitless because you now have all the time in the world to look back and see how you almost bought the fucking farm so fast you wouldn't even have seen it coming. You don't get the benefit of the adrenaline rush from your body when you mind tells you that you had better do something or you're toast. No the only feeling you get is that fucking pit in the bottom of your stomach that is physically painful because now you know that you are not even close to invincible.
Confronting your own mortality is a complex task. Depending on the way you do it you either end up feeling invincible or terrified. Strange how one experience can result in such polarized results, dependant only on timing.

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

I feel nostalgic about a very many things in my life. I don't know/care if this is a god or a bad thing. What I do know is that as much as I look back I look forward. There are a great many things that I can not wait to do and there are just as many things that I am doing right now that I will miss once I can no longer do them.
But right now, for some reason, I am thinking about the days I spent at NOVA. Those days are when I started to publish online my writings, those days are the first that I had to realize that Life was/is not a game. Those days I was very busy. I was clearing 15+ hours of class and 40+ hours of work and I had to drive to Annandale and Reston every day. And yet... well me and Sid would have a man-date on Wednesdays to go smoke hookah. And we would drink a stolen beer or two in the back of the Green Monster while we played Mancala. We would talk about the too-few weekends we would spend down in Richmond or sit and plan out various NTD's. Other nights I would stay up until 3am just enjoying the feeling of being the only one still awake at such a late hour. Some nights I would take walks and soak in the moonlight; tracing the steps that I had taken on more purposeful adventures.
I can't do that anymore. There is no place here that holds meaning for me, and no one to scheme with. As I said before, in the future I will think back and miss sitting here and serving with these people, but right now I miss sitting around home and wasting time with you guys.

WTF=Wen, Thurs, Friday

I have opened up the "New Blog" tab 4 times today, stared at the blank whiteness on my computer screen and closed it. I don't know what I want to write. I mean half the time I don't know what I want to write, I just start and it flows out; oftentimes changing tacks and shifting purpose to the point where my original inspiration has been left long behind.
Recently I have been reading people who I do not knows blogs. These people are not well-known bloggers or whatever, just other people I find by random chance, hyper-link through hyper-link in the flotsam and jetsam of this strange thing we call the Internet. It seems that when they have no inspiration they either do not write, or talk about what they did 'today'. Since I can't not write without feeling some indefinable unpleasant feeling, I shall try and recount my day in a non-boring matter.

I woke up at 0540 and went back to bed until 0600. I was then awakened by my unnerving sense of time. I put on my PT (Physical Training) uniform and walked to work. I got to work by 0620. By 0643 I was back in bed because my platoon Sgt. was gone today and my Squad Leader didn't feel like doing PT. I awoke at 0830 and was back at work by 0851. From then until 1135 I worked in the Arms Room with Scar Face. (SIDENOTE: Scar Face is a nickname for a friend of mine. He has no scars on his face, but he does have a scared scalp. Scarred badly. I'm talking about 50% of the top of his head is fucked up. In spite of this I love the guy and whenever I have to work in the Arms Room I pick him. He is now my assistant.) (ANOTHER SIDENOTE: The Arms Room is where the weapons are kept. I am my platoon's Armorer, which means I am responsible for Aprox~ 35 rifles, 9 Machine guns, 27 Night-Vision goggles, 42 Scopes, 40 Sighting Lasers, half a dozen Thermal Optics, ect, ect... and all these come with unmeasured amount of bullshit and hard work that only Scar Face can/will help me with.) We filled out lots and lots of forms. From 1135-1205 me and Scar Face ate lunch and mused about how much we hate everyone/everything. From 1210-1255 I read, watched ESPN and masturbated. From 1300-1512 I sat around work and did nothing but make idle conversation and tell people why something they thought was fact was bullshit and why their analogies where incorrect. From 1515-1630 me and my squad pretended to do PT in the Gym, but in fact used all manner of weightlifting equipment to further our pastime of making homosexual innuendo. From 1630-1700 we stood in Formation and then were released. Since then I cut my hair, showered, watched TV had some drinks, ate Mac&Cheese, fucked around on the computer, read and that brings us up to speed.
If my day seems boring that is because it was. Granted not all days are like this. Last week I was firring live rounds 3 feet from my battle's chest, and he was doing the same. Next week we will be doing force-on-force close quarters paintball. By Thanksgiving I will be kicking it in the Projects of Baghdad. (EAST SIDE! WOOT WOOT!) So I guess I should listen to my Sgt. and 'treasure' boring days...

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

Sid Was Right, Little Wayne Sucks

This is maybe the most interesting thing I have seen on the Internet in a long while.

That is correct, SAT scores against the most popular music as listed on Facebook. I am still figuring out exactly how they got the info, but from what I can tell this info wouldn't stand up to harsh analytical scrutiny. In any case the information is very interesting. It can also be used to mock people who read The Bible and like Little Wayne. So its got that going for it, which is nice.

But take a little time to check it out, there are some surprises. Like the Book of Mormon is right in the middle of the bell curve, while the Bible rocks the left (or "Dumb") side. Something that surprised me at first was the prevalence of books such as Their Eyes Were Watching God and Fahrenheit 451 over on the left side. After some thought I realized that those books were ones that are mandatory in many schools and would likely be listed as "Favorite Books" by stupid people who felt ignorant that they never read any books that they are not made to read. Which would also explain a book like Lolita chilling on the far right side. If you are unfamiliar with that work it is an erotic novel that tells about a creepy older dude who fucks a 14 year old and blah blah blah. I wasn't too taken with it myself, but it is a classic that is often banned in many high schools due to its "graphic nature". This means that only those who really enjoy reading outside of the mainstream constraints of high school literature classes would ever even pick up the book.

Take a gander and let me know what you think about either chart.

Saturday, March 7, 2009

Ohhhhhh Yeahhhhhhh

I have been thinking about memories quite a bit today. (Why stems from the fact that the film Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban and it references good and bad memories a decent amount. And since nothing better has presented itself this Saturday afternoon I have been sitting on my couch drinking Vodka and Red Bulls and watching Harry Potter. Don't judge me. I mean I suppose you will, but I could give two fucks. I know who I am and I am proud of the man I have become. But the issue of Pride will be addressed in later writings. Back on track.) And thinking of memories raises some thoughts. What do I remember? What "good" things? What "bad" things? Do I remember the first time I ever did this that or the other?
And that raised more questions. What exactly is a good memory versus a bad memory? Oh I mean I'm not so deep and philosophical that I cannot judge some good experiences from some bad ones, but somethings may be more subtle. For example: I can remember how nervous I was the first time I asked a girl to Homecoming. At the time it turned out well, that is to say she said Yes. Then down the road a short while I wished I had not asked her. Now further along I can look at that memory with warm fondness. Maybe it is because as one is more separated by time from an event, the more one's mind wants to look fondly on that event.
And while Revisionism provides an easy, if cynical, reason for this mental phenomena it raises the question: why then do we antagonize over (perceived) embarrassments and failures from out past?

But an obligation will cut short my musings. This topic will be revisited.

Clever Titles Are Hard To Come Up With Every Single Post

There is a sandstorm going on outside. While this is nothing new out here apparently they will be more frequent for March and April. Rosy was telling me that the locales have some legend about some Indian lady who drowned her kids in the Rio Grande and their revenge is shitty weather in the spring. I don't know anything about that, but in my opinion the weather is always shit here. Weather aside I am getting more comfortable out here. I mean I suppose I would have to; I live here now. I guess if I wanted to be optimistic I could say that at least they didn't station me in Alaska, there was a chance of that happening. I prefer the heat to the cold any day, and after 10 months here 40 degrees and windy makes me feel like I am about to die. Plus the heat and dry air cured the case of pnemonia that I picked up in basic.
Unrelated: I like Bud Light more than Miller Lite, but I seem to be in minority here. I mean I drink Miller, I am right now, but Bud Light seems smoother to me. I also miss Natty Light. I am putting together Beer Olympics a week from today and it's BYOB, so I'ma track down a 13 dollar 30 rack of Natty Light and show these peeps how I do. For Beer Olympics I have 6 (7?) games already lined up. They are:
Beer Pong
Mushroom (?)
Beer Ball
Beer Bong
Flip Cup
1/2 Case Race

Hopefully the day will be a success. To paraphrase the esteemible Mr. "EZ" Ernie: "We are putting all of our eggs in this basket... SHUT UP FINCH! ALL THE EGGS!"

Sunday, March 1, 2009

Close Call

What I just wrote almost alienated everyone who I care about. If you know me I am sorry. I am sorry for what I just wrote, regardless of the fact that I erased it.