Livin' Dyin' Tryin'

Panic washed over me in a surprise wave as the feeling in the pit of my stomach made me suddenly realize that I hadn't felt this way in years. That I hadn't felt anything in sometime. I sat and thought resolutely trying to remember  the last time I felt the emotions that most would call normal. My ice cubes now melted as I nursed my drink, I paid little attention to the T.V. I was watching from across the bar, but my eyes remained glued.

It had been a long time under the water of work and life, and I was finally catching a breath. As relieving as that can sound, it's now allowing me time to think, time for those feelings to bubble to the surface, to pop open; for me to address them. 

I must have gotten so involved in work, so involved in keeping busy and making plans, making reservations, returning video tapes, that I simply didn't realize what I had been putting aside, why I hadn't been feeling. I felt vulnerable a year ago, I shut down, increased my work load, kept busy, kept distracted, focused elsewhere. Everything had been the same, but different, but mostly the same. I was unsure of why I now ran from the feelings that I had coveted, been so proud of having for so many years. Been so proud of the mastery of them. I hadn't allowed myself to come into contact with them even when I tried to squeeze them in, force them out, search and find them. 

I struggle to place a finger on the constant up and down of my now free flowing emotions, now unlocked from their cage way down in my subconscious. It had been a lie, counterfeiting myself all the way to self imprisonment. I look around the bar, and though I know I'm not crazy, I feel my vulnerability at it's peak and I try to take the target off of my back. 

I dispatch my plans on the account of the new found confusion and head toward home. I find myself sad and excited in a strange ecstasy of something I'd missing; living. It's cold, but I roll down the windows and turn up the radio, '... I don't want a lot for Christmas...'

baby all I want for Christmas is you

Suture Up My Future

This week has made me feel like a kid during their first week of high school. My breath trembles slightly, but I remain calm. Images flash through my mind, narrated by yang and he's only asking questions. Doubt. The path I've just set forth for myself is one that I wouldn't have expected a younger less aware me to make. One that I couldn't have made.

The alarm chirps like a bird from the depths of hell. I dismiss it with a math problem and the sum of that problem has made me more awake, aware. Snot is drained to one nostril and I can feel it through the breath of my blinks. Sitting up isn't an issue, but it's something I don't want to do. I move like I belong to a home of the old, but manage to get my socks on myself. It's early and I yearn to wake up when I haven't beat the sun to it.

There are things we do, choices we make that are determined by two paths. Do I want to do this, or do I not want to. Sometimes the hardest pill to swallow is the one you know is going to stick in the throat on the way down. The small amount of saliva is only going to unleash Bruce Lee from the pill to kick the inside of the throat. It fights you going down, but later on you'll feel better. These choices are all too often one's that we don't make. The easy route, that's way easier.

Recognition of a problem doesn't do much without resolution of the problem. Sharpening the knife won't do any good unless you plan on using it to bone. I'm not sure what reason we are here on earth. Everyone has an idea or angelical philosophy on the matter. We obviously have animal instincts that have yet to adapt to the lifestyles that we try and live by. I don't know a lot about what we are here, or why we are here, but I do feel like we are not living up to our full potential, that we lack a serious depth of concern for one another. I see the way things operate in our world, and there's a very sad cut-off between those who have power, and those that do not. Greed is a disgusting disease and there seems to be many affected by it.

I'm tired of talking, tired of lacking the strength to persevere, to watch injustice's waves smash against the foundation of what I believe to be true, tired of good men doing nothing and terrible men reaping the benefits, tired of the suffering, tired of the inaction. I'm acting, I'm leading. Grab my coat tails and follow me, or be strewn about in my wake. Welcome to the beginning of a new era, because I just sutured up my future. You have been warned.


The Era, Vulgaris~ Just stare at the lights while you drool in the dark.

Occupy This

I come from one of the most diverse areas in the world. Only second to one other city, New York. Los Angeles is a melting pot where you can find a town of almost any country within the limits of L.A. We are so ridiculous there that when Chan Ho Park (Korean) was signed by the Dodgers, the shut down an entire Farmer John's Dodger Dog stand to serve rice and lo mein. I'm not hating on that, but it's a Baseball game, what's wrong with someone from Korea enjoying a Dodger Dog? They're fucking awesome! This might sound racist to most, but if you actually aren't an ignorant fuck you would know that Koreans actually do eat dog all the time, and probably are upset at the fact that a Farmer John's Dodger Dog is not actually made out of Dog.

I get more and more tired of this world we are living in. I know it's the Holiday Season, but if no one else is going to start changing to become American, then why must I conform to do what is right? We have so many lazy cocksuckers in this world that it makes me sick that there are men and women dying in another country to protect those smelly-unappreciative-notdoingshitinlife-butoccupying- street happy vaginals. What happened to America being a bunch of winners? A bunch of hard workers? I have to feel for grandparents. What they must think about the generation of ass-clowns that are doing absolutely nothing but being retarded about something that they don't understand nor do they understand what they're doing. Not that they don't have a vision or scope to understand, but they simply do not know what they are there for.

Back to my grandparents; they lived through so much shit, really the birth of the nation as we now know it. They fought tyranny and oppression on a mass scale, but only after living through a depression and dust bowl that forced them to eat nothing but rice and drink water that stained their teeth. What the fuck are we doing America? These grand folks of ours worked so hard that we never had to worry about shit, but that kingdom they built for us is crumbling ever so quickly. Rocks are falling, the ceiling is caving.

What could unite us? Better yet, remind us of what we have here in this nation? Do people of our time even realize what our nation would be if all of this was taken away? It's obvious that the hurt of 9/11 wasn't enough to last more than pulling a band aid off swiftly. We are a nation full of excuses and a finger to point at everyone else. We have zero personal responsibility, and for sure no one wants be responsible for their actions. They look at the government to fix everything and do nothing for themselves. Everyone wants their handout.

The United States as we know it is on the verge of it's end. A lot is going to change in my lifetime, and there's no way that the masses will come together for the greater good. That's not verbiage in their dictionary. They're standing on the corner ignorance and selfishness, waiting for their bus of salvation, but no one really wants to drive.

Last but not least... how many more movies can Marky Mark be in about revenge and payback? He's so much better in roles where he's somewhat of a comic relief. ( I Heart Huckabees, and Departed, or his best role Boogie Nights)


...I could shoot you from over a mile away, you wouldn't even know that I was there. But I'm going to kill you from inside a foot; it's a lot more personal that way...

Love Me Do

The first time you look at the clock in a day, usually you have one of two things happen. Either the day has gone incredibly slow or way too fast. Usually when you have nothing to do it's the latter. For me this past few weeks have gone precisely the way that time intended them to go. A second has not gone to waste, nor wished to be to waste. I've been busy no doubt, but not with a work load that I would consider overwhelming, or underwhelming. Perhaps I could consider it just, whelming.

A few weekends ago, Columbus day actually, one of my best and greatest friends came up to visit me from his humble abode in Jacksonville, Florida. We embarked on an adventure with a few other friends, which eventually turned into more, to a cabin, of another good friend of mines, in Amherst county Virginia. My best bud Jason, freshly out of the Army as of early this summer, looked like a man finally free. Beard and long hair, you could hardly recognize him physically as the man he was. Mental changes were far more noticeable, as for the first time in nearly the four years that I have known Jason, he seemed truly happy. He became even more ecstatic when he shot a ten-point buck while we were deer hunting, part of the reason that we went up to the cabin to begin with.

Jason and I, though our conversation are too short from the large length in times that we talk to each other, seemed to have absolutely zero lull, zero drop in our friendship. A strength of friendship I can only describe as one you have with a brother. Love is a powerful word for two straight men to use with one another, but after all we have been through, all we understand about each other and the sacrifices we have made for this country, even that word doesn't quite seem fitting enough for the devoted friendship that him an I will always have. Lifelong friendship isn't a myth like I once thought it was. It simply takes a different depth of shared experiences and understanding to reach a level of personal connection to actually have a lifelong friend.

 I had dreams of being only 100 plus days away from being out of the Army, but for some reason I had a hung jury, a retrial and a new decision, a new verdict on the direction of my life. I place which has treated me so horrifically, I decide to commit more of my life, more of myself to. It's not for me, but it is at the same time, and the logic could only be described in enough words to make you just as confused as I am. I have to affect positive change on this place before I leave. And though that might happen with the one or two within the reach of my power now, it must happen at a higher levels, effect more people, a greater number. It's the road I would have never took as a younger myself, but a more mature one has a better idea of why I am here, that I'm an exception and not the rule, and my sacrifice might do great things not for myself, but for others.

I sit here and think of things left unsaid. Blogs yet to be written. Books, just a megabyte on a computer screen, yet to be read. There's so much to do in life, and so little time to do it. I haven't squandered as much as some, and have squandered just enough to realize my mistakes, my faults, and the will of what must be done. Life is perspective, life is choice, life is however we coat it to fit what we truly desire. We are a land of people full of creating their own excuses, their own perspectives, their own way of creating reason for what they're doing. Though mine seems less selfish, the understanding of the trend, of not only our society today, but out society of yesteryear seems to be perhaps the reason we live. But it takes true understanding, true knowledge of this truth to enjoy life as we know it. A depth that most people lack; not because they aren't capable, but because they're scared.

I've taken a deep breath, I'm not scared, just anxious. I hope this never ends. Living.


'you know i'll love you, i'll always be true...'

Your Disease, I Have Your Cure

I sit here at work and watch the time slowly and methodically tick further and further into the evening. The life of a paratrooper has never been an easy one I try to seldom complain about it. But it is one that less than a percent of less than a percent of people in the United States do. Tonight has gone later for me than this early afternoon release from duty was supposed to, and for the hundreth time-it's not my first rodeo. Unfortunately this one lasts a lot longer than 8 seconds.

I sit here mostly by choice, because an ass chewing now is better than an ass chewing later. We have a four day weekend ahead of us, and to the civilian world that would be rare. For us it's about a once a month occurance and one of the few perks that military life has. My since of dumbfounded responsibility is something that you rarely find nowadays in the youth. I have found it and tonight am exercising it almost all too well. Accountability is a pain in a place with so many things constantly going on and today will be another hard lessoned learned in my development. I didn't lose the item if that's what you're thinking, but because of my position (rather than my rank) I am intermediately responsible for the lost item. Accountability is one of the hardest things in the military. Not because it's hard to count or keep track, but simply because you can delegate authority-but not responsibility.

I'm just the middle rung in the ladder and am somewhat thankful to neither be on the top or bottom of it as they seem to get the most attention. However, today I'm the bearer of bad news. And so I wait. And wait. And wait. The story of my life on a lot of days from 3pm till 7pm. It's not the most efficient thing in the world, but eventually you just get used to it. Wet monkey theory at it's best.


and sidebar...

The Army full of bad leaders who are allowed to be in positions that they would be fired in in nano seconds, yet these are the same individuals who decide whether or not I live in the heat of battle, when they can't even realize in the 'heat' of garrison life what there role is. The biggest and most feared thing in the Army is blind ambition and lack of self-awareness. A leader has to be able to take a step back and look at how is actions affect others and how they are taken by others. You cannot be a perfect leader, it takes an umbrella of leadership to keep the proverbial shit from raining down. It's this understanding that makes you a good leader, and the understanding of how to take what you have and build a shelter with that leadership that makes you a great one. The system is flawed. It doesn't matter what pre-requisites you have coming into a role like the one we have, you have to throw them all aside and work on your experiences, merit and open-mindedness. In-fact it might be more dangerous to have distinguishment as that only shows selfishness which is not an aspect that you can possess as a leader. We tend to forget that with that power comes the responsibility, not to do great, but for your men to do great.

tangent not complete, but I'll save some for later.

My book, that I will have to start re-writing (since my computer was stolen), will ruin the political careers of individuals within the Army who are here for exactly that. I don't care to wear badges or ribbons, or awards. I have enough pride knowing that I myself accomplished the feats worthy of being bestowed those honors. But some people want to flaunt, to show, to speak out and peacock what they have done, what they will do. I'm a firm believer in something I learned long ago from a great mentor, GD- "Don't Tell Me, Show Me." A motto I live to this day.

Sew What?

Most of us don't imagine where we'll be in 30 years. It's kind of a scary thing to imagine life that far ahead when most of us can't even think about what we want for dinner later this evening. With life being such a roller coaster of emotions, positives, negatives and ever changing conditions; it's nearly impossible to paint an image of the future that would resemble any of the brush strokes of today.

I sit and ponder here and there for hours during the last few weeks as the reality of my situation has finally grabbed hold of me and won't let go. I'm drowning in my own destiny and I can't find the rope to pull myself out. They all seem to be slipping through my hands. I try and imagine what or where I will be in 30 years, and the five years before that and before that till I'm only five years away. How much will change not only in our time and space during that short amount of time, but how much will I change. Five years ago I barely resemble the piece of work that I was. I've grown and learned and developed more than I thought I ever could have- which has only made me realize how much potential I truly have.

Putting the ideas on the table is one of the easiest things for me. Following my gut on which one feels best is not. I lay out the seeds of my life and try and decide which one to give sunlight. Most of them are very ambitious plants to be growing and even possessing these rare seeds probably says something about the way I'll be able to sew. I look at a life that would be normal and as great as it would be to do what every else seems to do, I feel uninspired by it. If extraordinary is the sunshine of my life, then challenge would have to be the water in which I feed on. Those two things figured out it's off to the last and final thing: my base, my soil, what will support me through torrential challenge and the heat of extraordinary. That's probably why there's so much indecision in my decision. Do I stay in my current soil, it's dense with love and my roots are comfortable, or do I search for a different soil, not necessarily more rich, but filled with different nutrients.

Leaving the current friends I have made over the last few years its a tough decision that I shouldn't have to make, but one I'm confronted with. It unfortunately depends on the direction, the seeds I choose to sew, the place I need to go. I count the seeds, and the beginnings are endless. I look to plants who give themselves as they appeal to me. The selfless service I find intoxicating. The exception I find rewarding. I pause my life as easy as TV and look at the other plants growing around all of us, most of them weeds. They strangle the beautiful flowers. The ivy kills it's way to the top of shading trees, until there are fewer and fewer left. It's time someone puts and end to that reign, time to give shade and inspire flowers.

30 years, who knows what or where we'll be. I've got a lot of growing to do, but I will be a tree, large and magnificent with beautiful blossoming flowers. Which soil will I be in? The richest in the world, American soil.


Bleed for me, I bleed for you...

9/11

From Danny Nelson, aka Lt. Dan

As the eve of the 9/11 anniversary approaches, and the casual patriots feverishly thump their chests and a disconnected public vehemently rushes to weep in an obnoxious sea of yellow ribbon magnets and American flag decals, I feel obligated to note the local paper’s symbolic gesture of diplomatically concealing (eleventh page) the article: “Deadliest Month for US Troops in Afghanistan.”  The gesture is not an issue of media inaccuracy nor is it parochial journalism; rather, the gesture is symbolic of our nation’s catastrophic flaw and it’s most unforgivable exploit…  Americans have allowed themselves the hubris of memorializing the pain they personally felt on that day as the greatest catastrophe, when in reality the supreme tragedy lies in the nation’s subsequent willingness to ignore the tangible sacrifices of the men and women who have fought since 2001 to reconcile the injustices of that day.

The righteous warriors have done nothing but willingly accept the burden of war on themselves and their families.  Their lives have been indelibly changed, only to be recognized by the unnoticing majority when a heartrending anniversary compels them to do so.

Thus, as the nation is obliged to “remember” a horrific day, I humbly ask that it forever take ownership of the suffering felt by its silent warrior-minority since that day, because that burden will be carried well beyond the end of gratuitous news coverage.

Proper Exit

Feeling like a civilian the last two days has really been a nice break from the monotonous frenzy of Army life. The idea of having a life where waking up and doing whatever I feel like doing is almost to sweet to taste this far out, but sure looks good through the wrapper. That includes not shaving as well. I hung with my buddy Ryan, who used to be in the Army with me. He goes to North Carolina State University and works at the YMCA in Raleigh. As many friends as I have outside of the Army he is probably the best of them, just because he has the understanding of everything I've gone through. It's tough for someone who has lived a life so depraved, so deprived from normal existence for the the last five years to really connect with the other people, and I'm sure if you were in mine or Ryan's shoes you would feel the same way too. 

It's a brotherhood is the only way I could describe it. Not in the same way necessarily that a Fraternity is, but it is one none the less. The drinking, the social construct is very similar, but a startling difference is the fact that at the end of the day not all of us walk out of it alive. The loss of life around me while I've been in has certainly been minimal in comparison to others who have ventured the same route of life, however accidents in the 'real world', as I'll call it while looking in, do happen and friends are lost regardless of whether in combat or not. It's not easier just because we have that expectation in the back of our minds. I find that as my youth fades, so does my immortality. Not that I think that I will ever die, or sit there and ponder, freeze in fear for my life when doing hazardous to my health things, but I do think that at 20 I was more willing to jump from a plane than I am now, and regardless of that fact, I do it anyhow. 

A few weeks ago a fellow paratrooper, one that I did not know, fell to his death from 1000 feet above ground level. Neither his main parachute nor his reserve parachute opened according to hearsay and rumors. I was on that same training operation, though a different bird, and I don't feel bad for the guy because I knew what he was thinking. I was thinking the same sad thing, that I'm so miserable being trapped in this C-130 Hercules aircraft for the past four hours and am sweating because of the lack of air conditioning and I'm freaking out because I'm slightly claustrophobic and haven't been able to move my legs which are now searing with pain because the weight of multiple ruck sacks full of combat equipment are staggered on top of them. It's not easy to be a paratrooper, enduring physical pain for hours on end, after already having a timeline that started your day somewhere in the Jurassic period, you just want to get up and off of that 'bird' as quickly as you can. My thoughts heading to the door are: "I don't care if my chute doesn't open, I just want to get out of this plane."

It's of course a sad tragedy anytime that another soldier dies, especially when it's accident or training accident. We get paid $150 extra a month for taking that risk.

I feel the same way about the Army door of exit. I've been cramped and sweating for so long that I need to just get off of this plane and out the door. There's an exciting life out there when boots hit the ground, and I can't wait to be there. I know I'll miss it, miss the camaraderie, miss the things that I now consider normal that you could only dream of having the opportunity to do. The men though, they're who I'll miss the most. 

Composition of Substance

It seems out of nowhere, I find myself in one of the hardest predicaments of my young life. I face separation from the Army in less 8 months, and in the mean time I look at positive traction and gain in what would set me up for a splendid and somewhat remarkable career in the military. I have mixed emotions about the whole thing for obvious reasons; I can wait for the chance to not wake up before the sun rises. To not have my life schedule dictated by what is best for the nation not for myself. These reasons are a few of many why I should just ride out the last of my short career in the military.

The mixed emotions consume me on levels that I don't yet understand about myself, and I feel remiss to have done so little during my enlistment. It's a strange thing that I sit here and beat myself up about being so mediocre, and yet in most realms it might be considered prolific, especially in comparison to what so many other of my age have done in their lives. I've jumped out of planes with hundreds of pounds strapped to me. I've lived in Baghdad for a year. I've done so much that can only be compared to by others who have made the sacrifices that are only fitting in the defense of our freedoms and liberties, and yet; I feel mediocre in it all. The mediocrity pressuring my will to the point where I know, I feel that I could've done more, I could've been better, greater in my existence, in my choices.

I sit, drinking a beer, staring at this computer screen. That could be my life. Writing and typing and staring at this boring screen. My life is exhilarating, or at least would be for so many other people. It's tough and challenging on days where you might be and I should be sleeping one off. Instead I'm running 4 miles in a 45 pound vest meant to save my life from the immanency of bullets being shot at me. Most people can't cut it, wouldn't cut it. It makes me fear for what I might face, and what I've seen of people in the outside civilian-take-everything-for-granted world. It makes me sick, and I'm scared to live in a society where things like being 'in shape' are not a norm, where making excuses are an everyday norm. The men I serve next to are among the greatest of our generation. They have sacrificed so much more than the others who continue to enjoy their freedoms. They aren't perfect by any means, but they have such a greater depth of character than so many others in this world, that I fear not having that surround me daily.

I fear not being able to fit in when I become a civilian. Sitting in a lecture hall in college and listening to 19 year old liberal fucks who have no idea what the real world is like. Someone with no perspective telling me what's left and what's right. I already have a lack of respect for men who do not serve some service to this nation who are able bodied and young like me. I've lost so much of my youth, not only in actual age, but in the mental and physical hardships I have strained myself through, in defense for the right I feel to go to college and truly enjoy the liberties that are now 'handed out' and that I'm entitled to. Excuses, they might all be, and filtering out the shit from the truth is as hard as you might think it should be. I'm up to my elbows in it, and I can't seem to find the plug. Will I be searching forever regardless of my choice to pull my arm out or not?


These are all questions... I must answer

In The Thick

Walking down the sidewalk I stared at my shadow cast by the street light. It was in front of me, but fading from black to gray and stretching further into the darkness ahead. My shadow disappeared, and then from behind, appeared again. It slowly crept on me and finally caught up to me, and then after directly under the light it slowly gained on me and beat me to my steps ahead. It was the last light on the sidewalk, and I knew the little cat and mouse game was coming to an end. I watched the shadow change from black to gray and then fade into the black of the night.

The sidewalk had ended, and begun grass. The pine straws were scattered every so carefully as to just break up the perfectness of the uneven grass. I thought of my shadow, no longer visible to me, hiding. How it had turned to gray, changed from what I once was, grown in size, but faded in color. I thought about five lights ago, five shadows ago, five years ago. I had changed, grown, but changed color in time. The thought struck me lightly and the magnitude never fully hit me until I realized how simple an idea it was, that it's simplicity had somehow equaled poignancy.

I tried to remember the me of five years ago, a man, rather a boy I would not recognize. I have come so far compared to that man with so few questions. I had learned so much, and now questioned so much more. A weird contradiction I suppose the me of five years ago wouldn't, couldn't recognize. My arrogant youth still around, but nearly as faded as my shadow in the street lamp of life. I spun and turned around, looking at the sidewalk I had now been off of. It was far in the distance, but close enough to imagine my steps to it, but not know them for sure. I looked at the lights, their shadows cutting angles in the night sky and bringing life in the dark and unknown. I had been in those lights once, but no longer. Now wandering, walking, wading in the night. My shadow of past and future in question, not around, gone. No preconception, no misconception. I spin back around, and stride into the dark, resolute.


Confused as it should be...

Photos I've Taken

Some photos from D.C. and such...

R.I.P Justin L. Bauer

Crazy Picture

TV art

The Subway

John has a very similar one...

... no words

Base of the Wall

Airborne over Normandy at the WWII Memorial

A view of the ampitheater at The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier

Now, It Don't Really Matter

The more I learn, the less I know. These past few weeks have challenged me to a point that's enjoyable. I realized what I've been missing in my life; challenge. My work is easy, and sometimes all to mundane. Only physically challenging, but not mentally stimulating. Given a job now with more responsibility and the use of critical thinking and or problem solving on a level where the final decision is mine has made me realize that power is empowering, and I see how the weak who gain it become obsessed with it.

My leadership has grown over the past few weeks as well, and I'm a little surprised with how I've been received. Regardless of the positive feedback, I refuse to rest on my laurels. It's the first weekend in a long time that I needed to take a break, not go out and forget about the stupidity of work, but actually just take a mental checkout of everything. Fold laundry, and wax the floors. My brain needed the break, not the booze or bars to check in to.

My biggest concern with investing so much time into my work, and caring to go above and beyond the normal standard, is that I lose touch with my emotions, and connection with others. My personal relationships subsequently falter and sometimes fail. Balancing the two is vital to having a good life, but perhaps by whatever balance act I can think of, I need to work harder at my feelings and relationships, instead of less hard at my job. It's a weird concept, but a possible cop-out to say that I work to hard at work and that is the reason why I fail at the other stuff in my life.

I find myself too often trapped as a member of our society, and have to remind myself that I don't have to follow societies norms. Those are just reasons, limiting factors within our own minds that stops us from being successful. I've become better at not making excuses, but it's been a tough bad habit to break. I'm on a constant quest for self improvement and success. The most challenging aspect of improving oneself is when you get blocked by an obstacle, and instead of realizing that there are other ways around or over it, you simply use it as an excuse to fail. Our minds will fight with us when it comes to working hard or giving up, and usually by our nature we just want to take the easier road. The path of least residence is sometimes the right one, but not when that path leads away from your goals. I've learned, thanks mostly to the Army, that there are sometimes you can't let those obstacles beat you. You have to put your head down and charge through them. This quality in life is mostly learned, and certainly any extremely successful person knows how to do this.


It's just a flesh wound

Arlington

The first few steps were certainly the hardest that I took. Coming out of the visitor center in the early morning, I felt the patriotic sun of the Potomac coercing the sweat to bead out of my skin and roll down my forehead. It was early enough that not a lot of people had come out yet to this vastly hallowed grounds of American Heroes that my feet fell on top of in Arlington Virginia. The National Cemetery was far bigger and expansive than I could have imagined it to be, and the tears looked to weep around the corners of my eyes.

I couldn't understand what it was I was feeling. I expected to be crippled, unable to continue, going down to a knee a weeping. I was glad to have my glasses on, not only so that I wouldn't have to squint in the bright early morning sun, but also to hide from my family the tears welling up in my eye lids. I walked and tried to appreciate the beauty of the cemetery, the perfectly manicured grass and blooming flowers. The tombstones were in near perfect rows as far as I could see, only broken up by the occasional tree or roadway. I walked, not feeling my legs past the pounding of my heart.

I started to understand what it is I exactly felt. I'm sure that since I've served this nation and have the possibility of being buried in such a remarkable dedication to those who were loyal enough to sacrifice everything for this country, and knowing some who are buried here, I took things a little more to heart. Walking and reading the names off of the white granite stones I couldn't but help to feel so extremely honored to be around the spirits of those who were willing to make such a sacrifice. I felt honored to be associated with these men and women who sacrificed their own lives allowing me to appreciate all that I had with my family in our Nations Capital.

I walked around, feeling the tears at the gates of eruption turn from one's of grief to one's of great veneration. At the JFK grave site, I looked over hi speech carved in granite over the graves below on the hill, and into the Captial at sights end, just waking up with the bustle of tourists and church goers on a wonderfully beautiful Easter morning. I couldn't help but feel abhorrent to the fact that so many were expressly enjoying the freedom and liberties that they so unknowingly take at such face value that they couldn't even begin to understand the amount of honor and respect that the men around me deserved. As beautiful a place as they had made to rest the fallen, it could not be enough to give the proper amount of homage to the saviors of freedom and fighters of oppression.

The kids walk past me on the road, playing grab ass and hollering about. It took some personal restraint to keep from making a scene, or worse hitting somebody, but I managed to deliver myself from doing so. I felt honored now, and disgusted in the fact that I had served this nation in combat in the sands of another country in order to help maintain the things we appreciate on a day to day basis protected; and yet I felt that no one of my generation, or close to it understands the price of that daily liberty. I start to feel embarrassed when I watch the news and see the way the youth of our nation are now allowed to act. We've made excuses for everything poor that we do now as a nation. These men resting eternally at my feet, they did not make excuses. They understood, much as I have, the willingness to put it all on the line to live a free life. That idea hasn't been as seriously threatened in long enough for us to really remember. We have forgotten about 9/11 in almost the same way that we've forgotten that we are at war.

I walk through the visitor center, a flew of emotions gripping at my soul, and beating my heart with their hammer throws. I'm glad to have come, unwilling as it had been. It inspires me to try and make a change in our country. I look up at the hill of change that we must make to preserve what for so many years we had valued, and what we fail to value anymore. The tightness in my throat, I can no longer tell where it comes from.


Give me liberty, or give me death.

Subway Ride

The lights flickered slightly enough to make me question whether or not they had. The rocking motion finally forced me to take a seat. The woman I had offered it to on the subway had declined and I reluctantly joined my family sitting in the tight, dirty seats. I observed the man with his gray hair and beard lose himself in the book as he stood near the door, an obvious professional at surfing the rock of the underground train. He held onto nothing to keep him steady, but his expression told me he was clinging on for his life.

He was older than my father, and appeared to have had a tough life. He creased the pages as he turned them, and moved his head along with his eyes as he read. He had been outside for sometime, and his coat appeared to be wet. The book was folded over so that I couldn't see the cover. The pages were yellow with age but unused and still stuck together with every vigorous turn his old cracked fingers flipped.

The train lurched, the old man looked up, and with the exit of so many people, and the availability of a seat just in front and right of me, he took the chance to rest his legs. He sat crooked on the chair, his attention enveloped by the book, reading of a life he'd rather be living. I noticed him in greater detail then. He wore a down jacket, and a few of it's feathers slipped through the old blue material. It was much to winter of a coat for the end of April, and I paid closer attention to his red blotchy skin, now seeing it was marked with small zits and blemishes. The coat was wet and so was his hair. Though I couldn't tell if it was with water or grease. His hair was either combed forward or his hat hair from he hood on his jacket that he had been wearing during the rain had pushed his hair into a neat row of pushed over stalks of corn. His scalp barely visible through the white well designed mess like the earth beneath a farmers crop.

His white beard covered up a lot of his age and imperfection but didn't hide the excitement in his eyes. The book he read I couldn't see the title of. Perhaps it was about things he did, or desired to do. Basic comforts of food or shelter, or extravagant ones of adventure in the outback. His eyes didn't come off of the pages of the book, glued to the words, even when the train stopped at it's next station. It was my exit and I felt compelled to stay on board, continue to watch this man live vicariously through the book in his hands. I felt I needed to know what was there, what secret of life was obviously written in the pages. I shuffled pass the oncoming crowd and didn't look back. I walked up the stairs and left the station.

Is There Life On Mars?

The middle of the day flows into the end as the beginning felt just out of reach now. I lean back and close my eyes. I can feel the earth rotate beneath me. I search for the bliss of hearing the bustle of work around me, just on the other side of the partitioned wall. The chair beneath me sinks, and I'm floating in my dreams. I'm aware of my body, but don't feel a thing.

Not a single thought races across my mind, and only then I start to breath. I've been fighting at being productive all day, and my lack of laziness has paid off. My worries, fears, and loathes are all but gone it seems, and I don't know what hide and seek game they are playing, but I'm glad they've let me get to home base, if at least for the moment.

Before I remember it I find my face being held up by a thousand red poles. They are gentle and warm in touch, and a wry smile spreads across my cheek as I realize that I had been dreaming for a time. I don't remember what time I started to read my book, or remember a conscious decisions to abandon it and lay the right side of my face down on the soft red blanket I have on my bed. I don't even know how long I was untethered from my consciousness. It could've been a minute or a week, and regardless of the difference between the two, I feel extremely refreshed and worried.

The weight on my mind has been one worthy of a two man lift, but I've been mulling over it mostly alone. I watch the world deteriorate around me, and wonder what my part will be. I imagine I could be in the middle of stopping things, of saving it all. In my thoughts, i realize the sacrifices we must make, before it's all to late, before we've squandered it all. We've been selfish and greedy for far too long.

The earth rotates and I flinch back awake, feeling the gravity pulling me back into the chair I had forgotten I was sitting in. I open my eyes, the bustle, the noise is gone. The barrier between it and I is also gone. They all are staring at me. I look in their faces, can feel their contempt, can see the hope of my demise in their evil eyes. They have my eyes. My arrogance has turned me into them. They stand fast and ready to take my chair, and I never even realized I had it. It's gone. I no longer float, I no longer have my chair. I sit on the floor in my rags and cloths.


Counterfeiting Ourselves

The Ball Set Forth

"Servicemen and women don’t serve their nation for the pay; however, the assumption of their continued service without financial subsistence is an unforgivable act, the ramifications of which further the deepening divide between an apathetic nation and its warriors. The term “nation at war” is a misnomer. There are no national war-time sacrifices being made nor is there a national consciousness of war; rather, we are a nation whosepublic servants are fighting a war that has been condoned either explicitly or passively by its citizens. Shame on all Americans, our transgression of neglecting the sacrifices of our military at war has escalated to neglecting their human rights. Pay the fucking troops." -Dan Nelson


I served with 1LT Dan Nelson in Baghdad, Iraq between December 2008 and November 2009. He was the inspiration for a lot of my more heated blogs concerning the views of America. He would stand in the guard shack with me and the others, and see the grim looks on our faces, past our weary eyes and see what was eating us up inside. He would have the right thing to say, to make you feel that at least someone notices, even if they're going through it too. What he says above here, there is nothing is closer to the truth. It's an idea, much as the military itself, that is not recognized not supported, not a part of this society.


As I flipped back and forth from the different 24 hour news networks that I could definitely say that I despise, I found myself wondering how many other Americans were watching the countdown to the shut down of our government. How many people of my age were watching the new Enron of called the United States Government fail in front of their eyes. The ticker rolling across the screen is about the only place you get any solid news. '... in the event of shutdown, military death benefits will not be paid...' I read that, and get as sick to my stomach as when I see a new row of tombstones being put in at Arlington. I realize that I am the last of what America used to stand for. That dying for an idea is worth the weight of freedom, of liberty.


We have so many causes that we push for these days, that it's hard to even sort your own mail. We give and give and give as an American society to so many other nations (356 million to Haiti). It feels good to help others out, but for far too long have we focused on the needs of others and forgot about the needs of our own. We've created so many programs within our government that gives money to those who pay nothing into these programs and provide no service back to society. We are up in arms about the possibility of cutting welfare, of cutting planned pregnancy programs, but when it comes to possibly not paying the protectors of all of the precious freedoms that we as Americans have become so accustomed to, to the point that we think we deserve them without sacrifice, we do nothing. 


Regardless of the fact that the Government came to an agreement on a budget (and only a temporary one) for the fiscal year, we should still demand the step down of all of the Congressmen, Senators and President of The United States. They have failed us, we have failed ourselves. The people of this nation must take back the power from these men and women who were so willing to cut all the pay to the employees that put in more time and effort than the paycheck that they receive would indicate. Yet, they would still collect their six figures on the 1st and 15th, while Americans would die in defense of this nation and their families would receive nothing. This country has lost it's morals, it's ethics, it's liberty if we do not demand a change, if we do not force a change, if we are not willing to make whatever sacrifice we must, to include the ultimate one to protect what is right! The breach of trust the government has caused has implications apparently to only those who know what the true price of freedom is. The sheep dogs and not the sheep have the clairvoyance to know what this has all meant, and if we do nothing, well then we've let this nation be devoured by the wolves that we are sworn to protect.




"I ask no greater glory, than to defend our country and our way of life, against all enemies, both foreign and domestic"

Wanting More

I sit here at my lonely desk. My company isn't bad, but the racket of the days drag and slap across my face has left me wanting to be home. I wish I had enough imagination right now to close my eyes and feel the hot water of a shower beat against my back and neck. I feel sticky and nasty with a little sweat.

I start to cook up some food for this weekend in my make shift kitchen of the barracks, my soon to be once again home. I feel for those who go to prison for the living conditions they endure, but for me the punishment is for the good I've done and not the bad. I'm twenty four and haven't lived in such a tight-confined, rule regulated by the man place since I was in high school, and even then my parents didn't give me half the amount of stress that this place sometimes can.

I look at the finish line, and then remind myself that I still have the rest of the race there to run. I focus on what I need to do to better myself, and not just for myself. I look to prepare the lot of these young men to carry on the fight, to protect the freedoms I hope to enjoy a year from now. That, and to help them protect themselves from the bullshit, the grind, and death.

North Carolina is a nice place this time of year. I yearn to smell that first grass cut, and in the mean time sit on my porch with a cold beer. This summer appears to be a gauntlet in my path to freedom, and a North Carolina summer can be grueling. It's my senior year and I'm looking to enjoy it. The baseball park in Durham is going to be a hot stopping point for me, and I know I'll see you there. The lake, or the mountain, or the gorge, they all have sent their invites, and I've RSVP'd for both you and I. This summer, it's challenge, I will prevail.


Seniors OH TWELVE

Just Another Day In The Life

Waking up to my neck now stiff and yelping with pain, I look at the fluorescent lights hovering thirty feet above my head. I move my neck emphatically to bring less pain, and make sure that no one else has moved, or that I haven't missed something. I check my watch. I don't remember what time we were supposed to start this whole thing, but I know better, no timeline is to be trusted. 

I push up off of the cold concrete floor, and back onto the oddly shaped wood bench. I feel as if the harness I am wearing is now part of my body. It's a beautiful day through the window, but it's been a few hours since I've stepped outside. The parachute resting on the bench, attached to my back is one that I have never jumped before. A new model, and though I'm very trusting of the rigorous testing of this equipment, and confident in my abilities to successfully leap from an aircraft while in flight, I'm still a little nervous. 

The bay door lifts with a racket and the C-130 aircraft is taxiing down the runway to where we will have to walk to it. Most of the time, I dread this part as much as any. Tired, sweating and carrying enough equipment to sustain for a week, you usually way around 400 lbs. It's a waddle, not a walk, and it's painful from the shoulders through the hips down to the knees and feet. This time though, in the clear blue North Carolina sky, I only carry the parachute today, and my body is thankful.

I've been in the harness for over three hours before we start to walk on the tarmac and towards the plane with it's tailgate down and awaiting our entry. That's a short amount of time considering that the manifest for the jump was conducted three hours before that. The propeller and engines blow loud enough that you can't hear without a yell, and the exhaust helps to make you sweat. We get tightly seated like sardines in the vessel and prepare for our take off and flight.

The seats are cramped, but spacious when you don't have any equipment for combat, just the chute and a helmet. The plane takes awhile to get ready, but eventually we are on our way. The initial start makes you lean against the buddy to the rear of the aircraft, as you sit perpendicular to the direction of flight. Eventually, after the rough jostling of the bird you're in flight and should be on the way to getting sick. The turbulence doesn't keep you awake, but it's quicker than you think and you're being told to stand up and hook up. The door is about the only light that lets in, and it's over and under the silhouettes of the paratroopers anxiously waiting the little green light to turn on.

The jump master gives a slap on the ass and a go, and the cable starts to pull. You feel the yank of a jumper outside the aircraft, his shoot just beginning it's first stage of deployment. You extend your arm straight out and walk behind the guy in front of you towards the tunnel of light. You hand your static line off to the safety and turn towards the door. You don't think anything at that point. There is not being scared, only perhaps the excitement of shortly being out of the parachute harness that's been your purgatory between relief and comfort. The first portion always is the same for me. I look at the horizon drop quickly, and then my head is forced into my chest and all I see is the sky, the plane, and maybe the confused look on my face.

The opening shock isn't bad, but then again I grew up spending summers at the local theme park. I look and make sure that the parachute is actually open, and then look around for others in the air. Yesterday was clear out, with no wind and Carolina starting to green beneath my feet, some 200 yards below. I float down like a feather, but feel like a brick. The ground comes, and with it comes me holding my breath and trying not to look down. Everything I've done to this point is entirely unnatural. I hit the soft sand of the drop zone and the parachute covers me. The silk, I can't seem to find it's end, and I'm buried. I crawl out and unhook. Urination is all I think of, and from a knee, liberation. 

Pack up the shoot, now freed of the harness. It's a little bit of a walk for me to the turn in point, but probably a lot of bit for you. By the time I get there, the sweat has dried on the sides of my face, and I feel the coarse red clay on my cheeks that's been attracted by the southern humidity. It's only taught me about myself, but maybe not about life, just an experience to hold in my deck of cards. Perhaps there's more that I don't see, miserable and tarnished from the experience up front. 

All the way?

Bounce Back

Life will always have it's challenges, it's up and downs, it's successes and disappointments. It's inevitable and learning to accept that is sometimes very hard. We often live in a world full of faith in who we are and what we are meant to do, and that is challenged on a daily basis by factors that we often times can't control.  That test of our faith creates doubt, and though as Shakespeare said, "modest doubt is the beacon of wise." We sometimes carry that modesty a little far.

I've faced challenges all of my life, just as you have and everyone else who has lived on this planet. We are struggling against a lot of odds that we have, over time, eliminated their effect on living. We have food and water and shelter. With these basic needs already covered and taken for granted, we focus on self improvement and the things we 'want' in life but don't necessarily need. These are what we call dreams, and most of us never truly dream of our true potentials. We seek what we can see as attainable, not realizing that if we work a little harder, bounce back a little faster, have more faith in ourselves that we can dream bigger, and achieve more.

It wasn't until week three of SFAS that i realized how limited I would think about my physical capabilities. There I was with a rucksack and a contraption on my back with more weight than I even weighed. Every step was pain, and misery in almost every muscle. My brain was yelling, screaming for me to quit at every instance. I told myself that I would not, that I could not! I made it the 6 miles of misery with 185 lbs on my back and the soft sands of Camp MacKall underneath the soles of my feet. I had done it, and in the process of the physical pain had forged mental toughness. Had realized my potential was not even close to being met before this, and not even now.

Those obstacle we face in life, they are there to teach us about ourselves. We may find one to hard to carry or hard to cross and turn around. We fill our minds with doubt about surpassing them, and end up putting mental blocks on ourselves, that we can't do what is extremely possible. Opposition in our minds eye is often the greater of the opponent than our actual physical one to face. Even if we fail a first time, we much use a cliche or ultimatum as some kind of motivation to continue on, to try again. Because trying again is the moral victory we seek for self strength and courage. We will fail, we will not always make it to the top, but we must be willing to try again, and never settle for anything less than reaching our bests. Our doubt combats our faith and only we can choose who the victor is.

I've doubted plenty in my life. One thing that I will never allow doubt to creep in on; is myself. I will never doubt my own abilities. Perhaps, sometimes, I will not dream of their full potential,  but whatever potential I presume I have, I will meet. There will be times when I fall short of what I'm after. If I try and try and try again and still fail, I will hopefully have the clairvoyance to understand if I can't defeat this obstacle, then perhaps I'm focused on the wrong one. Perhaps it's not the obstacle that I should be focusing on, but what lies beyond that obstacle. No one says that you have to defeat every opposition faced, so long as you make it to the end of the course.

Innovation, perseverance, clarity and resourcefulness are the parts of my tool of faith. I use that tool to fight doubt, and in the end that faith will bring me success.

Doubt whom you must, but never doubt yourself. -Christian Bovee

Not For The Birds

The sunset was gone before I could watch it and I remind myself that I like sunrises better anyways. Time for the second slows way down and I can feel the second hand struggling it's normal progression forward. I will it to not move and try and freeze this moment of time like so many I've wished to have before. It's not a special occasion like the other ones I think of: California, City-Walk, or surfing at Mondo's. This one isn't anything but the pure moment of life and what the majority of what that consists of; nothing.

I don't want to offend you, so I bite my tongue every time I go to speak. You say this and that, but do the opposite. It confuses me and I start to wonder how the roles have reversed. I cling to my cloud of ignorance, but it begins to drip with rain and I'm soaked in stupidity. I see the signs, the target, but can't pull the trigger and put it down. These thoughts all happen at once and I can't even keep up.

I jump on the page my mind just flipped to. I have yet to crest the quarter century mark of life and yet I find a truth to be evident about myself. Never settle for second best. Never compromise for the things in life that will only leave you aspiring for more. It's a bitter taste to swallow when I think of the things my heart yearns for, and yet it still tastes sweet in the end.

A conversation today gave me a pen to draw conclusions and I took my artistic liberties with it. I'm young, but at my age if I'm not looking for something more permanent, something to experience and be happy about, then I'm wasting precious time. We could be gone any minute. Squandering time is a fear of mine along with settling for anything less than best. Knowing exactly what I want is easy, looking past that, looking past subtleties that don't paint that picture full will only leave me upset and unhappy.

I find all kinds of people interesting, and many women fun to kiss. It's tough to turn the back on some of that in order to fulfill my ultimate destiny. But it's a choice that I have, and exercise my right to do is compelled by a simple will to do better for myself in every aspect of life. I'm meant to do great things, with you or without you. I feel that the supplementary factors like who's involved in your life should make you strive even harder and further to fulfill not only my own dreams and finish my own sculpture of life, but to also help those around me achieve their goals.


Waiting for my sunrise

Season Of My Life

The doors, we pulled off this morning. Like a butterfly emerging from it's cocoon ready for flight, the green, paint worn and faded Clinton era Jeep emerged ready for the warm Sunday ahead. The wind parted the hair on my leg as we whipped past the pines and other freshly blooming trees now arriving at the spring dance. They showcased themselves brilliantly, but only as a blur as we rode on by.

Spring, the word itself a toast to new beginnings. It rolls off the tongue and spins off the cheek all whilst carrying it's excitement in the bucket of freshness. It means that no matter what happened in the last year, no matter what didn't make it to winter or did or won't be back again, that at least most everything get's a fresh start. The second chance becomes more than a Cinderella story and you yearn for you fresh start, your beginning.

Perched on the passenger seat with enough care in the world to be anywhere the seat would take me, I couldn't help but notice that the wind was warm for the first time this year. I stretched my leg out as far as I felt safe for it, all the way. The wind chased itself around my leg and up to my shorts where it celebrated with playful flapping around my thigh. I can't hear the radio with the wind whispering in my ear and the road feels more like a carpet ride than a drive. I smell the pollen waiting to explode like a firework in the clear skies above. I poke my head back in, and let go of my tight grip of the handle at my ear.

The heat from the sun starts to crawl onto any part of me not covered in the shade of the Jeep and I let it advance, awaiting to spring my trap. It never springs and I welcome the invader with a helpless disposition.  I try not to focus on anything but the wind as it raps against my exposed leg and arm. I'm alone all at once. It feels like an eternity until I blink and realize it wasn't that long. The things I saw, the things I did; just like the wind. I was free and soothing. Fluid and powerful. I was warm and cool. I'm in this season of my life, which makes more sense when I consider that I in fact am the season of my life.


Oz never gave anything to the Tin Man that he didn't already have...

The Chariot Ride of Spring

North Carolina is awakening from her winter slumber, and her first steps of spring are nearly a full stride. Today it rained, but was still warm, and I enjoyed the cool drops on the back of my neck as I went out my daily business. This is the third year I've been her for the oncoming spring, and most likely the last. Seasons are nearly like family to me. We are excited for them to come, but once they've been here awhile, we feel like they've over stayed their welcome, and we can't wait for them to leave. That's how this winter has felt.

Spring excites me, the days longer, and the nights warmer I look forward to the breezes that don't cut you down and turn you bitter. The humidity in North Carolina is about as bad as it gets, unless you travel further south. Spring is perfect because the nights don't stick your clothes to your skin the way her sister Summer does.

So far the time of this year is flying. March 10th and the Ides approach and though I'm happy about the speed at which the calendar turns, I can't help but think to myself that this is it. This is senior year. One more year left, no squandering it, no not doing everything I'm supposed to. It's weird that I've always been able to find a reason to celebrate, but I think on some levels, that's what we do as Americans. We find holiday in whatever we can. As a way to connect with each other, to be with friends and family.

I will celebrate spring this year. First in order is to welcome my parents right in time to Easter, and show them a little bit of the east coast with a trip up to one of my favorite cities; Washington D.C. If you have never been, you definitely should go. There is just so much of America there, so much pride in all of the hard labors and sacrifices that we as America's have done and accomplished. It's nice to see so much on display and my heart warms when I think about my place in this country's history.

I don't know what else the spring holds for me this year, but whatever it is I'm sure it will hold a constant. That of friends, smiles and good times. With the spring pregnant with so much fresh start and outdoor attraction, you can't help but to feel the tinges of excitement creep into the fibers of your existence and prime you for excitement. I breath in the pollen freshly forming on the trees, and watch as the trees give birth to new life on their limbs. Warmth has arrived, baseball and swimming as it's guest and all chauffeured by her majesty spring.


It's a beautiful day for a ball game...

Landslide

I can't help but feel like a weight has been lifted off of my shoulders. Perhaps it was the fact that for work this week, I have done literally nothing but stay in a 4 star hotel and drink fine scotch in a very comfortable bath robe in not to far away Chapel Hill. In my four years in the Army, I have never been privileged to such good treatment.

But pointing my finger in that direction doesn't explain it all. I've had a lot weighing heavily on my head, and am finally feeling like I'm lifting some of it. I've always been in a constant forward motion, but yet somehow still stuck. Today I feel like I can see through to the other side. The lights cracks through the blackness of the unknown and I can start to guess at what an immediate future beholds.

This week though, it might have been the turning point. I finally was able to understand what the writing on the wall meant, and took it to heart. I can't help but feel like Stevie Nicks wrote part of my life years ago, and I could hear it in one of her songs. I search around iTunes for a little while, but can't find anything to concrete.

The rain is pitter patting just outside my window and I find the sound all but relaxing. The monotony is constantly broken up by my youngest roommate. Ava, my roomies one year old cutsie pie. She's absolutely adorable sans the crying, but she's sick so what do I really expect? Her smile reminded me of earlier this afternoon.

 I was on my way to get some frozen yogurt, and had just got done with my work and was still in uniform. I was in Chapel Hill still, and a uniformed man up there is kind of rare. Especially compared to Fayetteville. As I approached the famous YOPOP frozen yogurt bar, I noticed the table with girls in brown vests with their merit badges showing proudly. Girl Scouts, my arch nemeses. Not really, but they are so gosh darn cute that I just want to buy all of their cookies. The little blond girl kind of messing around at the front of the table, dancing or twirling or doing what any little girl does to pass through the boringness of selling her sugary delights, looked up and saw me walking towards her in uniform. Her eyes lit up with an excitement I feel I only once knew from my childhood. She spun around and ran towards a sign sitting at the bottom of the table. She picked it up, blond hair everywhere, and a smile that could melt your heart and gave a little giggle as I walked by. The sign said something along the lines of 'buy our cookies, the proceeds help to go support our troops.' Sometimes, life reminds you how precious it can be. How wonderful, how pure, and how remarkable a world we live in.

You might think that made her day. That her and her friends had had a slumber party and written some signs with the help of their mothers, and that a soldier, who part of their sacrifice was for would walk by. That it couldn't have been a better dream come true. It wasn't her or her fellow Brownies who were best served by my random appearance. It was me who had my day made. If that happened to me everyday, I don't think I could ever take off that uniform.


I climbed a mountain and I turned around...

Army Birthday Weekend

The reflection I look at in the pond of life has a ripple in it. It was that last week was a bad week and this weekend was so needed that it didn't go over well. Timing is never clutch. I was looking so forward to a nice weekend out with friends, a chance to catch a breath and take a mental time out from my normal life.

The Triangle area here in North Carolina I have a love for. Although I've only been living in NC for a few years, there's something about the wooded drive and nestled in cities that give me that satellite home feeling. I enjoy my time there, the people I meet, the things I do. This weekend I was relying on that. Splash, and the reflection is gone. Uncertainty puts his fingers in it and you end up in the wrong place at the right time.

Friday night was weird to say the least, and later we found out why it had to be that way. The Fayetteville meter was turned to far up and made the night harder to delve into. Then, upon a Saturday research on the internet, it became apparent. We were in the wrong place. Kevin Pollack had been doing a stand up routine in close proximity, and not only had we missed it but we didn't even know it was happening. The whole night was explained. We just went to the wrong place.

Saturday started out as Friday night had passed it's baton off in this relay. I woke up to the neighbors above my friend Ryan's apartment making more noise than most dance clubs allow. That and the blow up mattress had deflated mostly and my neck was screaming. Ryan and I made some waffles and drank some italian coffee his aunt got him. Even a trip to the gym couldn't break the funk. Finally the afternoon arrived, and with it it's knight in proverbial shiny and day saving armor.

I had lunch with a friend, and finally had a deep conversation with someone other than the three people that I normally do. It helped me put an eraser to some of the question marks my mind had drawn up over the last few months, and I was happy for the weight being off of my shoulders. Lunch moved too fast, but apparently not fast enough for our waitress and I was back hanging out at Ryan's apartment. Saturday night had to be better.

Ryan and Travis (still on his way back up from Fayetteville, and phone less with my Jeep), both had prior Saturday night engagements they had to attend to. They would rendezvous with me at a later point. I enjoyed a few more beers and watched the travel channel, found some pizza pie in the fridge and headed out to act as a loner. Little did I know, I was going to be acting like one.

After a few drinks, and watching the end of the Duke game, I ran into my friend the general manager at Natty's and threw a few darts to make sure I still had it. The night progressed faster than I had anticipated and a few missed calls, texts were part of the phone tag being played by me and my friends. I went to a bar where 15 minutes prior they were at, and couldn't find a trace of my buds. The night got later, and closing time was hitting. No one answers their phones at this time. They are all caught up in the last second digit swapping and the bustle and hustle of the exhaling bar. 2:30 and the Clarion is totally booked, except the Pres Suite at a nice round 250. I walk back towards Ryans, in the rain. 

No one answers their phones and I find a nice place down the street to rest my head. I'm to nicely dressed to be homeless, but I think, then again it could be my first day. I woke up, damp and shivering and decided that Ryan must be home by now, or at least I can break in. Walking down the street and going over the bridge, a car pulls up next to me and traces my trickle walking pace. I'm not intoxicated and my fight or flight starts pouring into my veins. I turn and look to my opponent, and it's Travis in my car. It's 4:30. We find an all night open place and head to Ryan's where we debate how to break in. We use the oning over the bottom door and I shimmy the wall and open his window using my car keys. I kick in the screen and by 6:15 we're sleeping on the hard wood floor. About the only successful thing that happened all weekend, and it came down to using Army training.

Sunday was always the bitch she is, and other than the amazing sunset igniting the clouds with bright orange fire over Fort Bragg, the weekend has left me desiring more, desiring it to be Friday. For round two of March. It's my senior year after all.

Today, marks my fourth year of service to this country. To all those who I've met over the years, who I've known and cared about, who I never got to say goodbye to, I just wanted to say this: I love all of you my brothers, all you have done for me, yourself and the people of our nation. You will go without thanks, and be treated as sub society, take your licks and protect the rights of those who do not appreciate what they have. And you do it without question. You are remarkable men. It has been an absolute pleasure to have known you.

Un-Focus T H E Focus

Number of buildings from my apartment I had to walk after parking my car from mine totalled twenty seven. Thousand. The days have recently grown longer. Work is busy pit pat, but not busy tic tac. There, normal. But there, crazy. The seven's dwarfs cottage doesn't keep dirty and the deadly sins have been reduced to six instead of seven. Work runs like a race track with no cars, but them all driving backwards in my mind. The rubber smells of wax, and the strawberry I bit into tastes like tire.

It's days like today, watching the North Carolina sunset that I am reminded of the 82nd Chorus' horrible rendition of Carolina In My Mind. There are few songs that should never be redone by someone of less talent than Robert Goulet, and that's one of them. Another, Brittney's Womanizer. It's amazing what hearing even a crappy rendition of a song will remind you of, make you crave, make you feel. This morning was no exception to that. The sun was setting this evening, and I was happy to be at least away from work even if I was still working as I watched it. Most of the time, I'm still at work during that time and don't get to see the beautiful rays say goodbye to today. Goodbye to the world.

I don't know whether some of the decisions I've made in my life are going to make me stronger or weaker. I'd like to think that I face adversity and suffer the turmoil of life to come out on top, but day by day my idea of what I think is right and wrong fades to it's infinite shades of gray and I'm unsure of the consequence upon myself of my choices. I look to the round face, tattered and marked with itself, the only judge who will tell you what was right. Time. I wait for it's decision, it's truth.

I hear the heart beat in my ears and it tells me close my eyes. I slept too much last night and won't sleep enough tonight. I play some music and I don't recognize it even though I've heard it more times than I can remember. But never like this. The key to the soul, music that is, always seems to speak to your exact feelings and emotions. That's what good music does. 

Short timers and long timers too, they all arrive at the zoo, spattered and clattered with a knack for disaster and call of master. I grab the thorn and feel no pain, let go and it hurts again. The sky is blue and so are you. You call me a cactus but meant to say snake. I regret me for you and you for me with a honey made from bumble bees. Your castle built isn't a keep and you don't hope to keep it, just preserve it long enough to move back in. It's growing mold and you're not too old but your race car goes faster than mine. You count to three and then we'll see if the running of the bulls will happen in your lifetime or if you just come up tomatoes. The random isn't funny, but it makes you wonder where I'm going and I can't even imagine, but I'm writing with my hands closed and my eyes not smelling, but at least my nose is seeing. The battle of this world known as my soul still rages on, but the fires have dwindled, the oxygen is gone. I sniff your roses but they don't smell to good, but their taste is amazing and I swallow two more.

I get off my kick because I'm tired and too overwhelmingly creative for my own good, and it's sucking me down. I push off the bottom because at that point of the maze you have to. My brain is thinking more than ever. It's a combination of things and with one more number I'll be able to open this lock, let the flood gates roll. I can't focus it's so much energy and I'm surprised that this made any sense. But it didn't, not to me, but maybe to you or to me and not you. It started focused, but with all things, except those other things I lost focus, lost my train of thought, couldn't remember all that I told myself not to forget, but can distinctively remember telling myself not to forget at the moment of such idea, of such clarity. I need a note pad, one I can operate while I drive. My brain is numbingly busy like the bee with honey and tonight maybe; I'm going to close my eyes and get a little taste.

ROBERT GOULET!

Go Back To Sleep

I had a horrible nightmare on Sunday night. It wasn't just that the wind was howling and the rain was hitting particularly hard on the side of the house. I'm sure the sleep was already anxious as most Sunday night's are, especially when I sleep up in Durham. The details of the dream are very vague compared to when I usually remember one. Although I can't recall what exactly was happening or how I even got to what I do remember, I know this; the emotions of the dream I felt were very real.

We never remember a dream's beginning, but that we are there. This particular instance, the thing I remembered the most was the screen door. I'm not sure where it was supposed to be, but it wasn't supposed to be where I imagined it. This room I had been in several of hundreds of times, if not thousands. The screen door, brown and weathered was where a usual window was. I had dreamt the door in this spot, and I'm sure with the help of the forceful winds rapping the trees, rain and other objects against the house, the sound was not all imagined or made up in my mind. The door, if I recall correctly, I was annoyed at. It had been banging repeatedly against something. Wind had not only knocked on it, but was now desperate to get the attention of anyone it could. I couldn't remember why, but my hands were wet and I had tears running down my face. The door kept slapping, kept beating up on literally nothing. But it was louder than the whistling wind whispering through the window.

I woke up at that moment and the scariest was this. My heart was thumping, beating fast and I wasn't sure how or why, or where I'd been, but I looked for the door, instead a closed window. It was darker than my dream, but the emotions felt the same. The door not there, but the wind whistling and playing tunes with the windows and branches outside. I was already sitting, looking around in the dark room. I looked over, having a certain feeling of death, and blood, and sadness. I grabbed the woman to my side, remembering at that moment why I was so flustered, why I was sad in my dream and now. She had been killed, murdered as I slept next to her. Of course, thankfully that had only been like the door of this upstairs room; part of my dream.

She resisted the urge to awake. But I had to know, know that she was alright. Tears streaking down my face. She moved slowly, and with sadness in her voice she rumbled, 'what's wrong?' The air returned to the room, and I replied, 'nothing, just a bad dream. go back to sleep...' She restlessly rolled back and forth for a second or two and then found her slumped pose again in the comfort of the sheets. I whispered, 'my love.'


Am I strong enough for this?

I See Your Free Speech and Raise, Concern

I am by no means a war monger or even for that matter condone such a horrible act of humanity. After experiencing war, combat, I certainly can say that our world would be a better place without it. Unfortunately, though we as civilized America's may believe this truth, our world has yet to believe it too. It's a sad fact that we can't all just get along, but a very real and true one. I'm an advocate for world peace, but a bigger one for protecting the freedoms we have to believe so.

Watching a video posted on a facebook page, downloaded from youtube and originally aired on Jon Stewart's the Daily Show, which has always seemed to be very liberal in it's slight and comedy aspects, I was amazed at the amount of ignorance in our own community. If there's one thing that I hold to be 100% true in life it is that nothing, absolutely nothing with the obvious exception of this, has a definite right or wrong answer. We can argue semantics all day long about whether or not that's the only thing, but it's an exaggerative to make my point. This video was a comical interview and possibly if not likely jaded with the sleight of hand that every television news story has to show the side of the story most entertaining. It was of the Marine Corps recruiting center in Berkeley, California, and the city and the people of the city fighting to get it removed from Berkeley. Although it was very comical, it held a lot of truth that is bitter to the taste about WE Americans.

I have seen both sides of the spectrum and neither is particularly charming and certainly not beautiful. I'm talking the red meat eating, confederate flag having, two front teeth southerner's and the non showering, eat only green, make own clothes and live out of a tree for a year liberal hippies of the northwest and neighboring areas. They both have one great thing in common, and that's ignorance. These interviews made me sick to my stomach to think that these people absolutely without question knew what was right and wrong. That they had no consideration even for the other side of the argument, no consideration for the other human beings. No perspective, and no compassion. The video is right here if you want to view it before you read further... Hippies

The fact of the matter is that life is balance. It's a balance between good and evil, wealth and poor, health and poor health. When you have that with the proverbial black and white, what you get is gray. What we lack perspective on we will always be certain about. The world is flat. What we do not know we will not question. The earth is the center of the universe. We are a fortunate people, we Americans. We don't have to worry about what to eat, where to sleep. These are questions that can be answered with the simple help of the government of good Samaritans, of churches, if not by how most of us answer them; ourselves. We don't have the same worries that other countries do. We are spoiled and have shed blood and tears to be so.

Just take into consideration this; 10 Billion dollars is spent per month in the Iraq and Afghanistan wars. That means that over the past nine years that we have been in conflict we've spent $1.1 Trillion. That's about three times the amount we spent in WWII, assuming that my math is correct. But we only spent $360 Billion during that 5 year war. Now in that time, the military numbers ranged from 1.6 million to 8 million personnel. The lowest number is three times larger than the active military today. The entire economy based around the 'war effort.' Milk, gasoline, wood, and other building materials would have been nearly impossible or extremely expensive for the every day American. Even in Vietnam, only $140 billion was spent. That conflict lasted only 7 years, and the size of the military reached 3.5 million. 13% of that was non-volunteer draftees. Even with that dramatic cut off from WWII in size and money spent, there was still a 'war effort,' a restriction of goods to the civilians of the United States. The war was felt, it hit at home even if it was in southwest Asia. Today's military, cutting down on size again, is under 600 thousand in number. Less than a percent of the living population is serving or has served the military. With that small amount of sacrifice and small amount of hit at home, except to those few who have loved ones deployed or the Gold Star families, America has had all the luxury, all the freedoms that they always get.

The point I'm trying to get at is that who cares that there's a recruiting station in your town. Who cares that they are going on school campus and recruiting what will be less than 1% of the population in order to protect the very freedoms that give the right to picket and protest such things! Focus your attention on something more pressing, more rewarding for society. Use the precious and valuable freedoms that we have to do good for America. The semantic part is biting me in the ass here, but the World around us, those who hate us out of their ignorance, out of their envy of what we all have in this country, they are not going to change anytime soon. Of course we can't understand what they would want to hurt us, attack us, kill us, because we have no perspective in what it's like to have to worry day in and day out of how to survive. They have the playground kids mentality that Suzy has what we want, and if we can't have it then she can't either. Our ideas in America, we weren't born with them, weren't given them by God or monkey. We grew to develop them, to learn them, to become civilized, only because we have to the time to care about such things. We are spoiled with that. And it's only because we have protected, fought and died for the right to do so! We don't have a gas ration, a food ration because we've worked so hard not to have those inconveniences in our lives.

So we've spent more money, lost fewer lives, and felt it less at home than any other war in our nations history, and we've nearly done one more thing; lost the right to recruit within our own country. This is your America, we're just dying to keep it that way.



What's at stake? Liberty.

Sunrise Tomorrow, No Sunset Tonight

I'm at both a fabulous and terrifying place in my life. I sit on the dock of the bay of living, awaiting the sunrise of life to form on the horizon. It's dark, and cold, but my nerves sit, shaking. Well, maybe not yet. But the idea is certainly one of some consideration. I'm just over 24 years of age now, and practically have my whole life to look forward to. Not only that, but the experiences that I've already had in my life probably have had a bigger significance in giving me some kind of perspective into life as whole than probably many other 24 year olds.

I sit on the perennial doorstep, and I think to myself, I'm glad that I spelled perennial correctly the first try. I have college not only paid for, but will be paid to go to college. I sit here and can look down at myself, and not only feel comfortable with the image that I present, but also proud of what I've accomplished. I'm not in great shape, or the best shape that I've ever been in, but I am in very good shape, or at least appear to be ;)  I have contacts and networking outside of the military that I will always be able to find a back-up job or sleep on someones couch. So with all this going for me, how can I still be sad?

To me, my internal finger, my compass of fault points most directly towards the freedom that I don't have. I can't call in sick, or quit my job, or show up late. I don't have the very luxury that I'm willing to die for. Maybe I realize to some degree the sacrifice necessary to protect such freedoms, and am willing to put my own liberties aside for that reason. But after 4 years of doing so, I'm ready for a much needed break. A long break.

There is so much that I'm interested in doing with my life, that I know that first step is going to be not only a difficult one to take for many reasons, but I also know that it will be a very critical one. I have a lot of time left in my life, and I know that making a mistake or a miscalculation will only be a minor set back in the road of life. However, with so much that I would like to achieve and do, I know that my time is precious and not worth wasting.

I was inspired to start writing again a few years ago, while I was in Iraq. Amazing that that was already two years ago. My girlfriend Gina at the time, told me to write a blog after one of my friends and colleague was killed. It helped not only with dealing with some of what was going on over there, but helped to make me realize that writing is a passion and something that I'm somewhat decent at. The passion, the true passion isn't putting the words on the paper, or hearing the brain relaxing click and clack of the keys under fingertips, but what I'm truly passionate about: the truth. One thing that I am, and that I hope to always be, and strive to be is real. I try my best at whatever I do, and work hard to constantly improve myself with the idea that I can be the example, the exception, the one who overcomes and flourishes. I dare to be real. I dare to be something.

I'm not at all saying that I am perfect. Far from it. I have the laundry list of mistakes and poor choices, hurt and unrepaired relationships. Selfish decision making that has negatively effected others. But the point of the matter is, that I care. I care about others. I care about myself. I care about the world we live in. Days like today, they challenge me, they wear me down, make me think harder than I normally would like. But at the end of them, there's always a sunrise on the horizon. Some horizons are closer than others. I know I'm starting to rant, but on the drive home, in the shower, cooking dinner, all of this flowed better in my head, sounded better than it does now. It was more put together. That's what my future is all about, writing. Getting it right, not only for myself but to deliver the truth to you. To the uninformed. I have a couple of huge projects, sitting waiting for their horizon, for their sunrise. Keep a steady eye on the horizon. Oh, and make sure you got your sunglasses, because my sunrise is going to be bright.


The greatest love of all is to love ourselves