I Was Never One of Those Bastards Who Wished They Were 21 (Excepting the Advantage of Alcohol Purchasing)

I just watched a video on Facebook of the Madison Men's 4x400 from the 08-09 Winter Track season. My younger brother was the first leg, I don't know 2nd and 3rd and a kid whose initials are M.S. ran anchor.
It is almost indescribable to see with my own eyes the track where I used to run and to hear the cheers I used to hear and to realize I was not a part of it.
I cannot put this feeling into words right now but I felt an obligation to write on the topic before the feeling goes away.
I remember that place and that race. I remember waking up balls early to catch a bus to Episcopal. I remember walking in with a boom-box playing "Listen to Your Heart (Dance Remix)" by DHT and laughing lustily at the looks thrust upon us. Those fucking assholes and their bleary eyed stares meant nothing. We were young, dumb and full of cum. We were hung over and pumped up. We knew everything there was to know and we still laughed when we saw the street sign for Balls Road. We were never the fastest, we were never the most dedicated, were weren't even the most spirited, but god dammit we knew what was up.
Sometimes I catch myself wishing I was 16 again. Then I remember how much shit I had to deal with back then and I stop myself. Then I remember that night when I was 14 and I swore to myself I would never be one of those people who idealized their youth. I swore that the person I was at 8 I'd be at 16. The person I was at 16 would be the person I'd be at 21. The person I was at 21 I'd be at 30. Ect, ect.
I don't live everyday like it was my last. And if I had the chance to do some shit different I would. And no matter how much my day-to-day life seems to suck sometimes I realize I do love it.
I love everyday in its own Cerebral Palsy sort of retarded way.

I Can Have Cookies For Fucking Dinner, Hot Dogs For Breakfast and Soda at 1A-Fucking-M.

Regardless of how much Army Life sucks sometimes; i.e. bullshit rules, being treated like a child, shitty hours (I got off work at 4am on a Saturday morning this week), the very real/imminent risk of bodily harm/death on a frequent basis, ect, ect... sometimes I love it.
I have met some great people, I have done some great things. I have learned a lot about the world and how life is not just so much more than the NoVA upbringing we all know and love. I mean I knew that there was much more to this world; I think we all did, but this is something else. Suffice to say that if you come from where I come from and you are on the path that many of us walk you will never understand.
And what's more, I like knowing that I have a place to sleep every night. I like knowing that I have my own income and that I work very fucking hard for every penny I get. And when I am not On the Job I don't have to answer to anyone. I am responsible for me and the buck stops there.
I am Master of all I Survey, King of my Domain.

Thanks For Making This Country Worth Defending

So today someone thanked me for "Defending Our Country". I mean I guess I do, more so than most citizens and more than those fucking cooks I guess I do. But it still feels funny. I mean we don't think about it that way and I venture to guess that most soldiers now and in the past didn't either.
This week I have been out in the Field and I got back late Thursday morning. Because its Memorial Day weekend we have a 4 day weekend and Thursday ended the work week. While I was eating in the DFAC for lunch (my first meal indoors for a week) they put some shit over the PA system. It was some voice talking about remembering the sacrifices of the brave men and women who have given their lives in defense of this country and whatnot. Now do not mistake what I say; I do honestly and truly appreciate them. And I know more than one of those brave men who have died.
However I couldn't help but be... well disappointed. I mean that while I (and those around me) understand that we serve a larger purpose we don't really keep that in the front of our minds. Patriotism and selfless service are not what get us up every morning for PT. Keeping America Free doesn't offer much solace when its 100 degrees and you have to run a 5.2 mile Platoon Attack lane for the 3rd time in a day with 3 hours of sleep. And maybe it makes bleeding out on some dusty road in some bullshit country a little easier, but for some reason I don't really think so.
So my disappointment at the playing of this pre-recorded bullshit is that I thought we had risen above the need of the brain-washing. I thought that that kind of crap was over when we all left Basic Training and the harsh realities of out lives as soldiers was thrust upon us. I hope it was mandated by some fag-ass POG officer motherfucker who thinks that shit helps with morale. Because if I buy the fucking farm Over There the last thing I want it some POS memorial rock or a 2 minute remembrance in the chow hall.
I want my friends, my family, my battle buddies and any random GI to have another drink, kiss another girl and realize that we all only live once, so fuck the bullshit.

So Little Booze, So Much Time

As much as I would like to bring everyone along with me and watch over them through good times and bad I know deep down inside that we all have our own path to follow.
We all must make our own way in this world. The best I can do is wish all well and protect them best I can.
That being said everyone will taste pain and loss and unhappiness. I can not protect them from that. All I can do is be here when it happens and try to offer what solace I can.
This solace may take the form of slashed tires, a sympathy shot, sage advice, drink recipes or a shoulder to cry on. I honestly wish I could do more but I can not.
Such is life I suppose...

Who Sucks At Writting? THIS GUY

Three times I have tried to write this and three times I've failed. I have tried to be subtle in the introduction and broaching of the subject and I have failed. Fuck the scalpel, its time for the tire-iron.

I am glad that other people appreciate some of the shit I do. I am glad that my endless pursuits of ways to bring fun and adventure into this life have not all been in vain. I am glad things like NTD's Beer Olympics, CHP's, Mustache March, the NDF, Senseless Roadtrips and so forth have not been complete failures. I am glad to hear that people who I do not talk to on a daily basis, people that I do not think about or see anymore still remember fondly the things I, that we have done. I suppose that it is vain, but fuck it.

I've been having a rough time lately and its nice to know that maybe the shit I try and do now will be remembered in the future by someone.

Never Thought I'd Miss It This Much, Live And Learn I Guess

"easiest way is just take the turnpike pretty much the whole way, get off when you get to the shippensburg exit. the only part that sucks is the toll is up to $11.25 . not much going on cause it's a small town but pretty much anyone you meet can guide you towards the bars"-- ez

"Maybe Yes. Maybe No. Maybe Go Fuck Yourself"

There are times when I want to drunk dial. I want to call someone up so I can bitch and whine and make no sense and blame it on the drink.
Yet I do not. To be fair sometimes I do Drunk Dial, yet I find myself catering to another person's problems, as I often do. I guess I can't help it, I'm just that kind of person.

But fuck that.

I'm just like you fucks. I'm fucked up in the head. I have problems of my own. And unlike you I do not ask for help. It's 3am El Paso time and I won't call/text someone I want to. She probably wouldn't mind, but I would. I already left a voicemail with someone else and I regret it. I do not do that kind of shit. I am the guy who others do that too.
I am a fucking man. Men don't bitch and whine. Men keep their shit to theirselves. Men suffer in silence and just fucking deal with shit.
And if after reading this you think that I'm fucked in the head, if you think that I'm wrong, if you think that I hold old fashioned and outdated ideas about what makes a man a man and if you think I might just flip the fuck out one day soon...
Well you might be correct, or you might just want to go ahead and fuck yourself.
It is as simple as this:
A Man Handles His Shit and does the best he can.
End of Story