Tuesday, March 23, 2010
But some days are so hard its unreal. Some days my mortality and my insignificance are shoved into my face with a plume of dust and the wail of a siren. Some days I feel every single one of the 6085 miles between me and home. Those days are harder than I thought they would be. The world and everyone in it keeps living their lives, and I'm just here.
I forget too often about their lives. I forget that just because they're not in a combat zone they don't have to deal with tough shit. Because they do. Fighting for your life often doesn't take place far away with gun and grenades, it takes place everyday in the things we have to do vs. the things we want to do. It takes place in figuring out what is best for us, what will make us happy and keep us sane.
Life's hard no matter what and we all have to keep fighting for those golden moments when everything gets a little clearer, when the sun shines a little brighter and the weather is a little warmer. We have to fight for those days when we can just sit back and know that everything is right for once. The days we know we are where we are meant to be, with the people we're meant to be with, doing what we're meant to do.
Friday, March 19, 2010
So I suppose I am now a smoker. I hope I don't become one of those hardcore smoker-types who walks around smelling like smoke and shit, and the last thing I need is to be addicted to something new. But that doesn't discourage me much at this point. Neither do the health aspects, even though I am well aware of how bad it is for me. Not that the upsides outweigh the downsides, but there are some positives to be had. I've mastered smoke rings and it gives me something to do and a pleasent buzz, which is something I can always use.
My plan for ensuring that when I come home I'm not a hardcore smoker is fairly simple and I have confidence in it because so far nothing has beaten it. My plan of course is to fall back on my laziness. I am a lazy person, its something I should maybe improve on, but because I'm lazy I won't. But I look at it like this: I smoke here because I'm bored and I like it and I don't have to go out of my way an inch to do it. Out here I can smoke in my room, in the trucks, out on patrol or on my way to somewhere. Often I only smoke while sitting in bed reading or watching a movie. This will not be an option when I return to the States. Also the major inconvience of actully buying cigarettes will help impede me. I am just plain too lazy to have to go all the way to the store to waste my cash on something as dumb as smokes. I mean if I'm going all the way to 7-11 and waste the better part of $5 I might as well just buy a Hurricane and have a time of it.
When I return home my alcohol intake will undoubtably increase greatly, but my smoking will drop off just as sharply. Is this the best solution? Yes, yes it is.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Sometimes I wonder how we will view this war down the road. I suppose it will considered something of a failure, if not a total failure. Some people I talk to want so badly for it not to be, for the simple reason that they don't wish to think so many of our peers "died in vain". I don't know much about that, sometimes I think it doesn't matter the reasons or the outcome. If someone buys their farm does it matter why? Someone dead is someone dead, just or otherwise. At other times I think it must. Fighting for something truely and honestly right and giving your life for that must have more purpose than it being given without good reason.
I know this is nothing more than a brush-war, not some noble crusade or grand battle for the soul of our world. But I'm still proud to be a part of it.
When I signed up a friend asked me what I was doing. She told me in no uncertain terms that this wasn't World War Two, there was no reason why I had to go and risk my skin for this bullshit. I didn't mind her saying that, as I said I'm not stupid enough to think this will change anything. But I just don't know sometimes.
I'm proud to be a part of this, I'm proud of the stupid motherfuckers to my right and left. I'm proud I didn't quiver and rationalize. I'm proud I picked the heavy-lifting job and didn't give two fucks about getting a safe job, a better paying job, or a job that might make better use of me. I'm proud to be a bullet-catcher who whored out three years of his life and his ass for something he couldn't give a shit about.
I don't entertain the notion I am somehow keeping America safe. I don't like the Thank You's in the airport and I feel dirty when someone buys me dinner because they know I'm a soldier. I hate it when friends introduce me as; "This is my friend Nappi. He is going to/just got back from Iraq." It makes me sick when someone tells me about how they almost joined the military. It takes all my self control to not laugh in their face while they march out a parade of reasons why not. I don't care, and I wish people didn't care.
I know the entire nation is using us to atone for their Vietnam sins, and that people get a contact high from buying me drinks and putting yellow ribbons on their cars. But I want them to stop. And if everyone wants to help they can send me booze and cigarettes and just be normal. Keep your thoughts and prayers and worry about me to yourself. I don't need a sympathetic populace I need friends, just like everyone else in this world.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
- Being Able To Control The Thermostat
- Personal Space/Time
- Clothes Other Than Uniforms
- Showering Alone
- The Pool
- My Friends
- Cooking My Own Food
- The Radio
- Doing My Own Laundry
- Indoor Bathrooms
- Being Able To Leave Work
- Going Barefoot
- Sleeping Next To Someone I Love
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
The point is those changes have crept up on me. Just like getting taller (as anyone who is tall can attest) its not a sudden thing, it happens bit by bit until one day you realize you can see over everyone in church or you don't have to look up to see anyone's face. One day I didn't just wake up and saw that I'm different. Through certain actions and decisions I am figuring out what wasn't there before and how I feel about it.
I suppose this is growing up.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
For me its running. I love to run. I always have and I always will. It is one constant in my life that seems buffeted by changes that often confuse and upset me. But all too often I find myself not running. I know its good for me physicaly and mentally, I enjoy the action itself and I'm good at it. Yet some days I get back to my room from mission and I don't change into my shorts and go out there. I make excuses and I purposely find other things to get engrossed in. I say I'm too busy or too tired when I know I'm not. But if I go two days without it life seems to get too heavy, and my shit starts to unravel. I don't think straight, I let irrational emotions take over my thoughts and I make all kinds of mistakes.
Today I had KP (bullshit kitchen-duty) and in the middle of serving chow I just couldn't deal anymore. I couldn't think straight and I was on the verge of flipping my shit in front of Sgt. Major. I just put down my spoon and walked back to my room, changed into my PT's and ran a few miles in the mud and rain. I ran until I couldn't breathe and I couldn't keep my footing and until all the crazy came out of me. Then I showered and went back. I caught some flak for dipping out but I needed it and I don't know why I just didn't do it before hand.
I think if I can run everyday this whole thing might get a little easier. And the way things have been going I need all the help I can get.