Lies, Truth & Fable

Lost somewhere, my finger couldn't trace the text of life I needed to read. Anxiety built it's formidable defenses, and powerlessly I searched for it's weak spot. Breathlessly, I breathe. Living and surviving not from the functions of life, but because the memory in it. I cry ruthlessly, upon questions I can't even ask, let alone answer.

It's about this time I light the candle of courage deep within, but the light isn't exuberant this time. I search for the exit that isn't death, but get caught in it's spidery maze. I keep rowing, blind as a slave. It's up and down symphony of defeat and victory all in a life lived in a glass half full feels a lie. It's ignorance is in the bliss, but they've taken my bliss away.

Success, my blood beats with it. I find it's calming, slowing effect overtake me. The question marks pile their coagulating way into stopping the pounding of my life beat, of the heart, of the passion. I look at college as a four year way of truly making up my mind. Quarter of a decade isn't the dollar promise I could've made, and there I sit, here I sit, confused and unknowing as the same 18 year old kid ready to take on the world. Thirty before it's all said and done, and it will be.

It's the second that you're playing on the playground that you have woken up and you're an adult. Life, responsibilities are laid before you. Finely they're handled at hand, but you wish they were only pushing a friend on a swing. Sometimes they are. You reflect on yourself, but on the wrong side of the mirror. That man, you're not as proud as you could be, and the only rift is in yourself. You didn't aim well enough to accomplish a hit for yourself, but others are seemingly impressed. Perhaps this is a disease. Stop fooling yourself into believing me. Stop fooling yourself to believing yourself.

Anyone will tell you anything. Lies, truth or fable. It's all a mix up, you just have to believe in yourself or believe that they believe in you. Your perception is your reality or most of it. I struggle being the man I have become, certainly only because I never expected it. I sold myself into believing a lie long enough that that repetition, contrary to Roosevelt's belief, came true. I am who I've become, not who I was.

...no but we were meant to believe they did...

A Sad, Sad Truth

It's something that should have it's own word to describe. It probably does. You spend your whole life growing up, watching the romanticism of it all with John Wayne, Steve McQueen, Clint Eastwood or Robert Mitchum. I could play in my backyard for hours, with a bang bang or a yell at the top my lungs. The idea was something that I fell in love with at a young age, and could only imagine what it would actually be like. Combat. War. The Military. Fighting for one's country, for freedom, for a just cause.

I never thought that all of that glory, all of the cliche sayings and the fight for freedom could ever feel like this. It starts with you thanking me for my service. Unless you yourself are a Veteran, respectfully, stop it. It doesn't mean anything to me. You have no idea what you're even thanking me for. It's something you'll never understand, it's something that changes one whose been there drastically. It changes your views on the world so instantaneously that it often scares you that you could ever have been the man that you were before the experience.

Of course, I could never say that directly to your face. I know your heart is in the right place, but it certainly doesn't do me any favors. The truth of the matter is, you think perhaps when you join, or before or even part way through serving this country, that you're doing something truly special. Truly remarkable. And in a way, you are. But not the way you would think. The problem is, you realize what a bunch of bullshit all of this is. This country doesn't have a sliver, an ounce of understanding of what it is to be free. We have become so blinded by our own ignorance's that we expect that simply because we are American we are deserving of everything. Our entitlement is irreproachable. We inherently believe that our government should take care of us. That all of this, it's safe, it's easy. There's food, water, power, safety.

This is a crock. It's a dream that we are too close to waking up from. The reality will be a nightmare.

As a Veteran, you can't imagine how easily I have become embarrassed for my service to this country. I'm proud to have met the brothers whose bond has been strengthened with me in the harshest realms of sacrifice and hard work. My pride in being 'American' is something that I have started to separate myself from. The vast rift being created is one that leaves me feeling lost. The ignorance runs unshackled, and on days I give more respect to the enemies who have tried to kill me. Because, although they may have been ignorant, they didn't have the option of anything else. And in that consideration, with all that they knew in their lives, they were willing to die for it. Their Freedom was worth dying for. Tom Brokaw would agree, the shouldered weight of the nation is on too few.

The harshest part of all of this is not my separation in pride of being an American. It's the rift that is happening between the so, or now called Americans. This most recent election caused such turmoil in our nation that no matter who would win, no right can be done. There will be such blinded joy from the winning side that all wishes will eagerly be granted by supporters. Conversely, there will be an insurmountable hate from the losing side and supporters that all will be opposed. No growth, no compromise and the Union, not more perfect.

Is it worth defending?

As long as our government is administered for the good of the people, and is regulated by their will; as long as it secures to us the rights of persons and of property, liberty of conscience and of the press, it will be worth defending. -Andrew Jackson

And the Crowd Goes, Meh

Everyone looks forward to returning to the United States. Especially from a place like this. We sit on verge of redeploying, and though excitement courses through my veins, and the small man in my bread dances with excitement, I have doubt of what's to come.

Today, it was brought to my attention that the people in charge of us would continue to decimate what is known as the Army. Normally, I would bite my tongue on such matters, but seeing how I'm already illegally trapped in Afghanistan past the Army Regulations that are chosen to be obeyed or disavowed at a premium of a higher ranking officials leisure, I have quite a leg to stand on. The disturbing fact of the matter is that your sons, the one's who are supposed to be made men from the Army, much as I myself have become, are not being allowed that opportunity.

This might be difficult to understand. In the civilian world, you go to work and your boss doesn't have to know anything about your personal life. You're late to work once and it's a warning or leniency perhaps, but a chronic problem and you're fired. There are consequences for your negative actions at work. But end of the day on Friday and into the weekend, you're off on your own. If you do 8balls of coke off strippers all weekend, but still show up to work and do your job; you're still going to have a job. In the military though, obviously this is 1)illegal, and 2) we have become so devoted to mitigating any kind of risk that our Soldiers have to give us their weekend plan, and be within an arms reach of their phones at all times. At first, this was a ridiculous idea to me. We are all 18 years or older. Men, or at least trying to become men. There is a certain amount of mistakes you are going to make during these years of being free from the folks. You learn from them though.

This recent development in the world of where I work is disturbing, if not sickening, if not damn near diabolical. It is a contract, for every weekend, that you must outline exactly what it is you are doing. Your free-time, the little of it that the Army doesn't own you for, they now will own you. This is certainly not Army wide, or even to the next level of Brigade. But as I mentioned, you must sign a contract explaining exactly what you are going to slave-ily do over your weekend. If plans change, you have to re-work your contract and sign a new one. If you get arrested, or a speeding ticket, or a jay-walking ticket, or even are reported being in a place that you did not outline on your contract, you are subject to persecution at the digression of the unit. Sick to my stomach for the poor boys, and the poor leaders whose lives are literally going to be managed at a level only known to that of 15 year old's at boarding school; I thank every bone in my body that I'm leaving the unit, already somewhat betrayed by it, and leaving the Army.

When are we going to stop this madness? We are going to try and control guys' lives, expecting that that 18 year old isn't going to do whatever it is he wants anyways? Why not try and help him become a man, have is back when he gets in trouble, arrested, or in a fight. Instead we weaken an already weakening Army in a weakening country, simply because we have our careers to worry about, and our own asses to cover. Fuck this place, I'm out.


the shackles are tight, the truth is raw, the pain is resounding

Dusty Brain

The delegation continues in my head with no recess in sight. I'm stuck, perplexed. It's been a tough time away from family and 'home' over the past five years. I guess the hardest part in that is how far I've grown apart from who I used to be, and how people knew me, or how I knew them. My brother is getting married very shortly, and I being the best man of course have to make a speech.

This is difficult. For one, that growing apart and the lack of daily interaction certainly doesn't leave this as easy as my orating skills normally would find it. To my knowledge, there is no etiquette to making a best man speech. It's more than a toast, formal and informal in the same. The other side of this coin, is that I have not attended very many weddings. This is based on the fact that the family I know that has gotten married, I have been off at the great wars or training. And because I don't have many friends who have been married or invited me to wedding. Tear, tear for me.

I've sat, going over story after story. There's a lot to miss in five years time. I think back to when my brother and his fiance met, and though I remember plenty of different times, I don't remember any stories brightly enough to relay in such a manner that would be what I seek; funny and heart warming. During those times I was too young to really remember anything. I have a hard time remembering my favorite teachers names from high school, let alone small details of things that were happening between the two of them.

The common cure for such writers block is a glass of scotch. Currently, an unavailable offer. Looks like I have to figure this one out, down on the upside.

Knowing myself, and pressure... I'm sure to knock this one out of the park.


turning back on me, every thing's easy

The Last Remaining Light

Just fucking give up America. If it's appeasement you want, then surrender all your goddamn American blood sweat and tears Freedoms you so preciously hold onto. Get fucking real! There was a time that people didn't take swipes at America. That killing an American hurt to the very soul of each and everyone of us, so much so that we could turn on the news and watch live as cruise missiles would strike the palaces of foreigners who committed such atrocities to the point they would go silent with truce and fear of us for years.

We act all innocent as Americans, that we have to be so politically correct and apologize for our own behavior. This nation was built on murder. Don't forget that. Whether you called it manifest destiny or Hiroshima, we have always carried a bigger stick and not been afraid to use it when we've had to. We sit idly by as country after country, nation after nation take their swipes at us. And what do we do about it? Nothing! We sit idly by waiting for the election of our next President, most likely the same one who's too chicken shit to do anything about innocent Americans dying at the hands of mad men in countries that most of the ignoramus American hasn't even heard of.

I get it, you don't support the wars but you support the troops. Well right now you ain't supporting anything except the end of Freedom as we know it. It's a precious thing that nearly everyone takes for granted. The same as our education system which has gone to shambles because of lack of knowing any different, so to will the rights and freedoms that you only can half imagine even one being lost. News to those stuck in the world of non-reality, your life could be very different, very quickly. You are not in a bubble that's all so protected.

It's started, and if it's not stopped, where will it end? Imagine not worrying about making it to your 7 am Yoga class, or blowing on your too hot coffee from Starbucks. There is a serious threat rising, on top of the unforeseen that you don't pay attention to anyways. Imagine worrying about clean water or food for the family. And not your local grocery store going on strike.

If we do nothing, if we do not act now. We will lose everything we have ever fought to gain. Our unshakable worlds, will be shattered.


when they come, will we be ready?

Lies, Lies, Lies oooooh Lies

A wise man once told me, you gotta do everything if it's for yourself. I placed that responsibility in the wrong hands apparently. They weren't my own, and I should've listened.

From where I sit and from what I ponder, I seem to lack control as the affinity of errors mount and pile against myself, my life. I'm not sure how things are going to play out. The ace up my sleeve might mean winning this pot, but has the likely hood of turning into a western shoot-out.

I have every rite in the matter to do what I must for someone I have neglected the past six years; myself. I could've done anything with my life in 2007. I had a job that paid well, a supporting family, a plush field of opportunity to pick from. Instead I decided to dedicate myself, for a small while, to the government. To protect freedoms, to fight for the country, to follow every cliche that I used to believe in back then. I could easily argue that these past six years are some of the best of my life to have given. The sacrifice, well worth it in most cases. The men you meet, the people you help, the boys you can help turn into men.

It's not what you think it would be, the military that is. Your illusions of what and why you're there change in an instant. It can't be explained, but your morals and ethics no matter how concrete, how narrowly or openly you think, transform here. They are shaped only because of the men on your left and your right. The regulations, the machine, too big and expansive that rules in this place can simply be tossed aside, covered by stipulation and exemption. It's a frustrating place, but you end up not doing this job for country, or liberty, or any of the other reasons that I once joined here for. You do it for your brothers.

The organization, I've learned, you never fight back. You do your part, pick your battles and find ways to protect your guys as you conciously see fit. The matter at hand though, threatens the rest of my life and how I will live it. Taking on the machine, it's kicking a hornets nest or getting people in hot water. Surely I will be stung or burned during this process, but the choices have become limited, so much so, they're down to one. Regulation is often thrown to and fro as seen fit by whoever it may or may not help. The rules are so many that they often times contradict themselves.

With the one choice, the one ace left up my sleeve, the hornets nest, I kick and kick and kick until it all comes falling down.


You'll be home shortly...

Diminishing Hours of Rest

Ladies and gentlemen, believe or believe not, we are at an impasse.

The freedoms that we have earned through countless slogans such as manifest destiny and taxation without representation, are merely synonyms with the word murder as much as CNN and Fox News are synonymous with truth, or the president with scapegoat or hero. We are free in every aspect almost to a self destruction in an infinite implosion of what we strive to achieve. The horrifically saddening truth of our nation is that the masses, controlled on the whim of a puppet mastering media, which fully understands how to take advantage of our ignorance. The word journalism and media as honest a trade as that of a comedian or politician. We all have the best of intentions until we find out the ones we intend to be the best for; simply don't deserve the hard work and sacrifices that one would give. Rite, a fall word of great generations.

We fight with the sword to eventually make it the pen, and peace as we know it continues as a whole until our children's children have weapons of effervescence or bubble bath. The hungry wolves look over the flock of sheep we have become, transcended from once the tired wolves of war that we once were. They pounce the same as our ancestors on the British or that of Rome onto Carthage. The truism of life, something the media won't report, but nature will remind harshly, is that the strong survive. They crush or eat the weak just as it always has and will be. The only true answer to peace is world domination by a like people. Which can only last for a generation or few. It's truly a fairy tale, a naive and stringent lie we coax ourselves with in the perpetual hope of human existence.

The rite! The wrong! Native Americans, that we used to call Indians, our sacrificial lambs on the rite for life liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Our synonym for murder, for genocide. Media our righteous staff of truth and peace through the eyes of manifest destiny'ers, slashers, killers. All the time we believe as we want to believe and though we have the ability to stab the beast in the back, or the heart, or cut the thorns from it's every charging head, we simply avert the sharp knife of the internet with bullshit and a lack of sustenance that only dulls the knife that so few of us would rightly hold, or use anyways.The sludge becomes to much for even the most ready of hands to move through. The advance, the attack stymied by those who are just numbers, controlled by the beat and drum of the drooling oligarchy masses of people stupefied by mystic and magic of media.

The kony, the tweets, our cues we place only as perspective in the light of rite, we simply don't see the biggest problem to human existence; ourselves. Pride and ego will be the weapons used in manners known as deceit or to shade the truth or lies as we see fit to protect our all important self image.


divided we will fall

Momma, I'm Coming Home

Dean Martin said it best, "you know the world is the same, you'll never change it." That's true for this war, or for at least now. Afghanistan was a remarkable place to have visited. One that not many other people probably ever will. It's landscape, stunning in it's harshness, was certainly reminiscent of that of Palm Springs California, but seemingly a bit more other worldly. I couldn't help but imagine that I was on a set of some sci-fi adventure.

We did some good things over here, some would say. War is an awkward topic, and one that's turned occupational at best certainly hinges on the door of forgotten and who could careless pulse of our nation. Tomorrow is September 11th, quite a day to be flying, and yet with so much suffering and so many wronged on that day 11 years ago, we all but forget why we are here. We are shocked and surprised when someone shoots up a movie theater. We've forgotten that there is threat in this world, that we are vulnerable. No matter the sacrifices that the few have made for the many in confounded places like the one I sit, it isn't appreciated to the entirety that it should be simply because we fall ill to our own prescribed sickness of ignorance.

It is a nice world, the one that I can never return to. The one that most people still live in. Seeing the harshness, the reality of life and this world is not necessarily a blessing. I will, for the rest of my days, have to carry a weapon. My bubble has burst, it has been popped. The needle, even as big as that of two planes into two towers which ultimately changed the shape of our country as any of us know it, was still not a big enough one for every one's. The thickness of unknowing is robust.

And though I danced my last dance at prom, this will be missed. The attitudes, the people, they can't compare in any realm to anyone. The depth of understanding of the man to my own left and right is unspeakable, and certainly if words could be conjured, they're not needed. The look, a nod or a stare, is one comprehended by all who have been willing to make such sacrifice for a world we will never be allowed back into.


you're nobody till somebody loves you

Just Me & the World

The nerves are biting, gripping and tearing even at moments. It's that time again. It's the same old, but different, but still the same. This job, the hokie pokie of life, one foot in the cradle, one foot in the grave, is exhilarating for the youth in me, and scary for the grown up in me. Aversion to safety is simply that.

It's what we miss in life that we will ultimately regret. If we can't learn to ignore or turn a blind eye to such things we will be shackled by the chains of self admitted want. I feel as I have for the past few months, stuck on the fence looking at both sides, deciding which grass is greener. There's no doubt in my mind that whichever side I jump on, will have the lushes of ferns. But that doesn't mean that I don't want to drill a hole at waist height so I can peak on how the neighbors are playing. Or better yet, build a gate so I can still swim in their pool.

Football season is starting and again, I'm missing it. It seems that even stateside in the military I miss opening weekend. It's the regret that hurts. The east coast isn't the best coast. Other than the fact that east and best don't rhyme scheme as well as west and best do, it simply lacks something that I can only say in French, je ne se quois.

In the meantime, I'll edit the footage of what I will never forget. Reminiscing a beer is a hobby I relish in practicing. It doesn't lead you into the swamp of regret to the land of wishing what could have been. Hope, a dangerous drug to take in such times, is still palatable, still safe for consumption.

Grit your teeth, discern your eyes and ready your blade. It's mind over matter, and it's a matter of your mind. Earn this as you never have before.


easy like sunday morning

Wright's-Rite-Write, Right?

Today I learned that I have been immortalized. I learned through word of mouth that I, in my own rite, Wright, have been given what some could consider an ambiguously confusing gift. My name, and title as it's known to my job, has been inscribed in response on a bathroom wall. This is the first time, at least to my knowledge, that I have been mentioned on a bathroom wall.

Some people wouldn't consider this such an honor. Normally the Sirly Sue-Sue's are one's that would write something nasty or haneous, or embarrassing or untrue on the wall. Some would consider what was written about me slander. I don't find it all that much offensive, but alas I am an infantryman, and such insults are welcomed to a warriors ear. If you can't have a sense of humor about oneself, you truly have nothing in this job.

The inscription of course was entirely false in nature, and actually not specifically written about me. However, the mere idea that someone thought of me when they read about the accusatory quote of one's sexual exploits and the rendering of a disease transmitted in some way not entirely disclosed, was to say the least, flattering. The ink was mostly in black, covering the juicy facts of a SSG giving a bump to someone. Another tagger asked who may have been the culprit. The third graffiti-ite, a possible oner as Brad would say, etched my name neatly as possible through the red paint, exposing the white that once was there, with the undeniable lettering spelling SSG WRIGHT. I'm honored.

I of course am not a rule breaker. I bend them occasionally, and smartly, but when it comes to things as juvenile as writing in a bathroom stall, I put it beneath me. This kind of excitement though had me childish. I couldn't not help but add to my legend, small but growing in the fifth stall of a 'shitter-trailer.' So then, for such an amateur as myself what would, what could I write? It had to be poignant, it had to be clever, it had to be both satirical and thought provoking.

The military traditions of jesting one another with somewhat cowardice on a wall only read by the occupant currently taking the king's throne is as similar to the war bush or gallon challenge on a deployment. I for one, enjoy the amniminty of such things. Like a fifth grader I read the inscription over and over, doing my best in my favorite think tank to come up with a great line. As I broke the rules in the sense of adding to my own fallacy now covering the stall wall, I couldn't help but continue the jest at myself, whilst also jesting the perpetrator. The brilliance flowing through the felt of the clickable Sharpie I carved the new punchline to the old joke. I opened the door for my own immortal future.


sleep now in the fire...

Ways to get Higher

I can't say what I'm understanding, but I'm sure you'll talk about it one day.

I've been thinking about getting a tattoo. I was never one that could be decisive on such a big decision. Well, unless there was some kind of pressure on me to do so. Hold a gun to my head, and I seem to perform better. A fact that I admire about myself is the ability to perform under pressure. If I elevate whatever it is that I'm doing when I get the pressure, the heat, the fire from the kitchen; how then do I turn the heat up on myself?

That question is about as easy to answer, or figure out as the age old cliche of 'why are we here?' I'm not sure that I'll ever figure out that level of self motivation, but it doesn't mean that I won't try. As far as tattoo's are concerned, I don't think I'll be throwing them on the burner anytime soon.

This black holed sun, though, it rotates, sleeps and dives deeply into something I cannot grasp. It slips through the cracks between my fingers. The clock, ticking away in the corner of the bright room, stares straight through me. I swallow knives of anxiety. It stops, reverses and speeds up. The room cascades through morning and night, light and dark and I sit vacuous.

I could be slumbered over the side of the prison I call a chair. Things have stewed for years to a point. It has to be done, and the timing could be worse. The ambiance mounting it's offensive, I rotate slowly towards the reflection of myself. I splash cool water of reality onto the vacuumed expression casually laying down on my face. What's something that will transcend the generations of my life to come and still connect my youth to my elderly self.

The argumentation within the forum of my brain constantly results in a parlay resulting in no action. Obedience betrays something sweltering deep inside, but the disobedience isn't worth the risk which I always calculate like a Julius in battle. The thoughts come and go. Some stick through a few days, but as my grandfather would say, nothing oatmeal's against my ribs. It's so hard to swallow, but I think one day, I will have a drink.


Take it easy, but take it.

Green Light, Go

I'm at the door, the green light is on and I'm ready to jump out. I've done it a thousand times, or nearly thirty. This time though, is different. Instead of four seconds of free-fall ended by the security of a parachute deploying from the pack on my back, and a twenty feet per second descent--the same scary speed you reach when you leap from a three story building--to the ground now nearing just as fast a speed. My life, an airborne metaphor. I've nearly reached the end of Army life. The last feet of my jump. My feet and knees are together, chin tight into the chest but I'm not landing on a DZ of Fort Bragg. I'm landing on the sands of time in the land of reality.

It's exciting in the same way, sort-of. The leap, the exhilaration can take your breath away. But every paratrooper knows it's not the fall to be afraid of. It's the landing. The ground. How hard is it going to hurt, and where will I land? This exit, my most important, a contrast to the others.

I look forward to going home, a decision that I've almost entirely made concrete. If for at least a semester or a time to sleep on the parents couch and figure out what's really best for me. When the dust has settled from a quarter career in a tough profession. It's exciting to think about, living back at home. Parents and family that I've sparsely seen over the course of training, living in a distant state and two deployments in defense of what you might call this great nations constitution, and which I call brotherhood.

With so many relationships built over the course of the last five plus years, I can't help but feel like a traitor moving back to the west from the east. All of these relationships, some close enough to consider 'like' family. My adult life had been built around these people. They're part of me. I've taken a piece of each of them and learned plenty about myself in the process. It's been a tormenting thing for me. The consideration of leaving all of what I've had in the past few years is something that terrifies me. All the friends that have left over the course of an Army career, they do it so seamlessly. They don't seem to have regret about leaving dear friends. Of course, the plus side is astonishingly greater wherever they move to.

The options have weighed heavily on my shoulders, and to be honest I'm still not totally decided on what happens next. What the next act of my life is, or where it will take place. There's plenty of upside regardless of the question marks stabbing its premeditated beginnings. I've always lived my life best through spontaneity and have yet to live a regret. Perhaps the mystery, the open doors are just a symbol of what has constituted my life. The only for sure choice in the near future, is college. California, Texas, NC, or Florida. So many choices, so little time. Oh, how I wish we had more than one life to live.


one thousand, two thousand, three thousand, four thousand

Ghost Protocol

The sweat of anticipation wrestles into the collar at the neck and the sleeves at the wrist. The breeze cools your nerves and whispers affirmation of your confidence. Working hands rest easy but ready. You shuffle from foot to knee and back again. The things you think about yourself are all put on the line. No redoes. The feelings you might have always envisioned in such a moment, surprise you when they don't come. They're stifled by preparation.

Fear doesn't set on your horizon today. You couldn't explain the feeling and don't have to as training entirely takes over. You assess what you don't even see. You've sized it up, drowning your certainty in the water of confidence your senses take the hose from your mind. Everything elevates, like an important at bat in a childhood game, but at a level that can't be understood except in the moment. It's a drug, latching on it's high. Too much and you're addicted. Not enough and you strive for more, a junky of consequence and suspense. 

Every sense screams to your instincts, your next step stopped. Eyes squint, vision tightens and the colors, shapes, shadows, natural and man-made objects seemingly move to reveal, display themselves on the beat of your heart pounding in your ears. The game is risk versus reward and often these two hands are played together. Lay it down or play it isn't necessarily an option you have but if you're skilled enough, outcome can still be ruled by you.

Left and right you sweep frantically, but no one would ever know. Your presence, attitude, a rock. Steady and boldly you move your feet to destiny, forcing it's wicked hand. Instinct applauded, you guessed right and moved left. It's a higher power known as coincidence, if not God. Wondering wastes your time at the moment, so you mark the page of life and promise to reread, rethink it later. One day one will rehash, rethink all that could've been, and like a ghost, trapped in the depths of night of one's mind, it rests uneasy and ready to haunt. 

Yea it's fine, walk down the line

Tell it to me Slowly

Somewhere, out of nothing, comes everything. The rush, the feelings criss-crossing beams of emotions like lights moving in the midst of a roistered fireworks night. The rock falls to the pit of my stomach like, and I'm enthralled, perpetuated by hope and visions of futures seemingly concrete in their determination. The muscles pull tight with the excitement my breathing produces. Idly, impatiently and boldly I sit in my own created suspense. Powerfully I create through an immense imagination an impossible scenario of happiness that only a self full-filling proficiency could produce. My life continually changes, and the confusion becomes greater and lesser with it's own dancing of somber life lessons learned and forgotten. I'm a conundrum of myself, hypocritical to no end and know end.

There's much to do, and little time to do it. The time flies. The flies bite. August, my favorite month and my last hoorah. It's my Mohican's last ascent, my game 7, the bottom of the 9th. The all-in of a lifetime lived in nearly six years. I'll have nothing to regret, nothing left to prove. Lived more than most ever will, and willed more than most ever live. It's the pain and agony that's never to be lived by most. The simple life, a lot simpler. The way things were, were never meant to be for most, and foremost the way things should be. The sheep, the flock protected. The ignorance. The bliss. Life as uncomplicated as you can make it, or complicated as you can.

Clarity becomes clearer, despite the constant growth. The leaves of my life provide the shade of understanding. That understanding ultimately blocks the light of the coming sun, and you realize the plant has to die, birth new leaves, new beginnings, new understandings. The same is different, but mostly the same. I'm the birth of a star, the generation of excitement. The world is my pawn and I it's chessboard or the exact opposite. It's perspective with retro but mostly intro and we realize we are small, but huge in everything or every way that we may or may not be. Vastly our horizons stretch, and we're wired, addicted to the game that we call life. We don't comprehend most of what we do, or why, how we do it, but the promise I make is to do it to the best of my ability or at least the best I think I know how. Often, the drop of reality stings like the dumping of ice water, shocking and shivering the soul. It's refreshing.

The promises to keep in this life are to yourself, and those who you love.


Angry Bear would say of that, "Deployment Weird"

Born Dumb, Die Dumb

Why, with all we have available to us, do we allow ourselves to be stupid, ignorant and close minded? It seems that we all fall victim to this constant in life. We refuse to believe that history will inevitably repeat itself with ourselves being the offenders. At first, I believed that we were all created equally. With a chance at doing whatever it was that our heart desired. Brilliance in any facet of life. This is a possibility to only fewer people than I could imagine. Perhaps it begins when we are young, how we're raised, what we are led to believe. Seemingly though, this might only curb your natural born handicap in a few ways.

I remember the day, not exactly, that I instantly made up my mind on the way that I felt about everything. It was the worst day of my life. I had accepted ignorance into my life by slamming the door of my open mind, closing it. I was probably close to sixteen. The time when everybody has it all figured out, the black and white so clear. As I grew, visited a different country, faced death or at least the constant threat daily, I realized how out of touch I really was. The worst part, you could've told me this till I was blue in the face, but pride, ego, my best defenders would've kept your words at bay, no matter how true their tides could've been.

I look around, the men I've met in the military. They are from everywhere, have all kinds of ideas on the way things should be, and how they can best serve not only themselves, but the world. The ideas are vastly different though they fly under a common American theme. We are broad in our spectrum and ever so right in our own minds. The men in the military are some of the best I've ever met. We all share one thing at least in common; selfless-service. It's not a theme in today's America, but certainly in the minority that plans to keep an America going. Despite the similarities that we may all share, there are differences that cannot be overcome. Someone, someplace, something failed them at an early age. Closed doors, closed minds, and no matter what can be said or shown to some, the idea will just not settle. It will not even be pondered. We are not all meant to be great. The responsibility needs to be placed in the hands of those capable and responsible. Both slim numbers that rarely coincide with one another. Inevitably, we all are stupid. Unwilling to learn from the mistakes of others, and so sparingly will learn from our own. Or worse, won't.

We continue to do stupid things at an increasing rate. DUI's, teen pregnancy, war. We don't even realize that we are digressing because we refuse to believe that anything is our fault, our responsibility. We've made everybody an equal when we all are not. We cannot all be created equal, will never be so. It's a sad fact, but a true one. Social pandemics, class, fairness, all just excuses we play to hold ourselves from achieving whatever potential we have, or simply the players in the game that make us realize what we are. Just a thought, not right or wrong. Something perhaps to just think about. Look around, what's going on? Do we really know? Have we lost that much touch.


Don't know where you are

Dance of the Dead

heard too much, know too much

Places to go, people to see, the normal hustle and bustle of everyday life keeps us rapped in this world of constant kinetics. We stand in line for coffee, text or talk on our cell phones. Our universe ultimately spins around us and we worry not about so many things that we previously would have to. Today's here and now is just a tangled spider web of the who's who and the what's what that we find ourselves consistently wrapped up in.

if the system had one neck, you know I'd gladly break it

Along the road, after flat tire, broken radiator and cracked windshield we seemed to lose focus on what and why we do what it is that we do. There is a dull essence in life, a pursuit of instantaneous gratification that leaves us never earning for more, yet we yearn for it. We often don't realize our zeal for this quick and painless process of getting what we considered owed to us, and to be quite frank; it has really screwed us. Technology has become to convenient for us, and we simply can't absorb substance in the thirty second news coverage stories that simply brush upon the surface of facts they have yet to confirm.

know the deal, the way we feel-those of us who care

The Quran or Koran, or however you prefer to spell it burning in Afghanistan was the pinnacle example of this sort of thing. America, it's half a glance answer so definitely resound that when the real story came out, there was no way that you could convince the now common nonfactual knowledge that it wasn't the fault of U.S. Soldiers what so ever. Just the same as the KONY video that became more viral than whatever Christina Aguilera has been carrying since 2003. The short term is ignorance across a growing nation that has so many warning labels on everything, and enough lawyers to boot, that we have kept a group of people alive, and irresponsible that the long term affect can only be pointed in the direction of Idiocracy.

constant pain, the endless strain becomes too much to bear

The truth, the sadness that someday we may have to face as a nation, is that things will revert, go back to the way that they once were. We will decline by way of causes done by ourselves, others or nature. The absurdity of the situation is that where this will be a huge adjustment for a lazy human/American population, most of the world already deals with things that you don't even consider a worry or bothersome. Raw sewage in the streets. Trash piled up everywhere. Bugs, insects, animals that are not domesticated. We are truly the spoiled kids of the earth, with our big lollipops, complaining about why they can't be bigger.

there's no answer in the end, live free, fall or fight

If we are to continue to be the number one in the world, we are going to have to readjust our attitude. Firstly, there is nothing wrong with being a winner. Secondly, c'mon people what happened to our work ethic? We try and find short cuts, and lack the pride in not only ourselves, but we as Americans. Compassion... we must realize that this is our greatest flaw. We punish criminals with titles that allow them the right to not learn from their mistakes. We take it easy on them. We forget of our military and the fact that they sacrifice everything so that you don't have to do a percent of the work that they've done. We allow our congress to operate freely and without accountability for their actions. They take pensions that an NYPD officer couldn't accumulate in 40 years of service, yet they just have to serve one term. We are naive, we don't look at ourselves to fix first, yet we spend plenty of time worrying about how to fix others. These next ten years, they're vital. They're vital to our success as a nation. We cannot let ourselves fail. History will repeat itself, and if you're so optimistic about us, and don't think things are all that bad... well you've been tricked by the system and you don't stand a chance.


end their idiot prance

Bleeding Blue & Cool A Coos

You run back into the house frenzied. You're already late and you forgot your jacket. Good thing dad said something. You can't wait to get in the car, get on your way. The sun is that perfect spot in the sky that makes everything orange. It's a beautiful day, even a tripled would be okay. You're excited, but on your best behavior.  You knew you'd been blessed with the gift of going, but the promise of soft-serve, or maybe a Cool A Coo, kept you as cautious as ever. No mistakes.

The highway, the scenery, the hills all stream by without notice. You're too busy being mesmerized by Monday, or making last minute checks of leather straps, ensuring your success at any chance of a souvenir. A best friend compliments the folks and sis, and even for just a moment, life could get any better.

Traffic always compiles neatly nestled nearest the exit where all lanes converge. It's busy, and the audience cars surrounding in a stadium way. You're a veteran, not a chump and stay left to go right. You pass through the crowd and swim past a cop the shark-way and you've snuck up on it. You're parked, you won't remember where when it's dark, but you've arrived. The gang, excitedly wades through a sea of blue. You're lost and found two or three times. You wait in what seems a line for no reason, and Farmer John gives you a smile a whole foot long.

You're seated on the edge, the entire universe below. The only place to be. The seat, hard but perfectly comfortable. The sun, it's last stand you see through the eyes of waves. It's shadows, ever creeping further. The breeze, the soft breath of pacific resting for the night. For hours, that seem like minutes, you're captivated, excited, ever-fixed on the next pitch, at-bat, inning as you vicariously live or die with the ups and outs. You're down after the stretch, but with some luck and a bloom, you're sprinkles on vanilla capped. "You rally," I scream and it works again. You laugh at impossible, but can't help question if there's a higher power known as Superstition. You love El and Eh enough to put your windows down. You inch through the marsh of metal and red lights, and can't wait to do it all again.

It's ugly, but you're finished, or; gore done. It's a mop on your head but still well kempt. You don't know what you are, either this or ethier that. You could take a stream known as River A. Perhaps ride behind some reindeer, though on that, there is billing sleigh.  

It's time for Dodger Baseball...

Everybody Wants To Rule The World

You touch your left toes. You touch your right toes. You twist. You turn. You're a million excited fans waiting on the show your body is about to put on. You're scared, and saying words of inspiration. And if you're not, you should be. 

You lip synch lyrics that pull you into the black hole of readiness. The volume increases on your iPod, effluxes through the corridor of headphones and reverberates through the passageway of your ears and you appropriate it accordingly. To this muscle or that, you prepare for battle. Your eyes are closed, focusing on the moves ahead. You quiver, but only for a second. You're now steady with resolve. The beat in your body, now assimilating to the one in your ears.

You leap, grasp and pull. You jerk this with poise and the polish of an action conducted thousands of times before. You've trained up to this point, and you're not going to let yourself down. The muscles, they began to fight back, stinging and burning you where you exhaust them. They're a car engine losing coolant. You keep going, feeling a pounding from inside your chest. You can hear your breathing over the noise of distraction. You push, harder now as you combat a third villain in your lungs. 

The cavalry flanks you unsuspecting, as the bar now cuts into your fingers, your palms ripping open leaving their mark on where they can. You dismount, change the exercise. The new battleground is refreshing for the moment, and then you're on to the next thing. You pant. You pant harder. You pick up the bar, battle new parts of your body. Your back, your legs flank aggressively on your mind with painful calls that sever your concentration. You almost submit, but pride holds your lines together. You counterattack while you still have the mental strength left to do so. You finish set one, two, three in this way, unwavering from the goal of victory. You're strengthened by accomplishment through the hard work. Victory, once only a spec on the horizon, now a mocking child in the backseat of the car in front of you. Hit the gas, crush the kid. You forge your mental toughness through the beats of physical pain.

The last set nearly kills you, knocking you off your feat from the word go. You tell yourself you can't breath any harder, you can't sweat anymore, you can't go on. You fight the battle of body and mind with a brave heart, but you find yourself failing. You nearly stop, you want to quit. The body has won, defeated the mind in a battle of spirit vs.  You take a deep breath in, sweat trickles and falls from all spots on your face. You're smoked, almost done. Courage sounds the horn, you rally for one last charge. To fail, you're a robot not programmed with the subroutine. You're a workout nerd, the option; simply not available. To succeed, once again, rule the world.

Just one more.

welcome to your life, there's no turning back

You Live till You Die

Careful pursuing your dreams, they could end up being your nightmare.

Sometimes we think the light at the end of the tunnel is what we're after, until that light turns into a train. The problem, I see with hard work, is that you only can do so much of your own accord. You rely heavily on the will power and often the judgment of others. This can be a tough situation for most, especially when those around you, or above you don't have a grasp on their egos. You see it in every work force, in every place. There is no perfect job, there is no place to go work and be 'happy.' You are are the mercy of those around you.

I've worked a handful of places, and generally I find that perception is reality. The spotlighters, those willing to sell their souls at the expense of others generally move on, get promoted and become in charge of you. This isn't always the case, as some good tends to slip through the cracks of corruption, but it's merely luck that this happens. There is a constant struggle in any work environment between those who manage, and those who actually lead. I'm sure your boss has been a real jackass, but you have a buddy in the office who is able to put things into perspective for you, help you understand the true worth of what you're doing, and how that it may appease anyone higher. This person is brilliant enough, understand enough, uses enough common sense daily, not only to accomplish tasks, but actually elevates the team and helps them accomplish their tasks. He could run the company if he were to simply fall victim to the system.

You're worth is usually replaceable.

This is a sad fact. Often, the behind the scenes that is taken care is never credited. As we progress, grow in the ranks, we tend to forget the fact that we had been in the shittiest positions before. We always, as human nature would allow, had it worse than the next guy. We did it better and worked harder and got treated worse. It's the age old story, that I'm sure has some sense of truth, but perhaps only in multigenerational gaps. I'm sure I didn't have as rough of a childhood as my grandpa did, but someone only a few years older than me didn't have it any worse, or to a point where there could be contention in the stories. 

With this being said, it's almost seemingly obvious that we tend to forget who actually gets things done. The worker bee, not the queen is responsible for making the hive successful. They merely rely on her ability to influence. Anybody at the top, will automatically assume through ignorance and ego that they have enough influence to lead anyone to be successful. That makes you instantly replaceable. It's a word where attitude is everything. Bow at the feet of those in charge, and stand up to those below you regardless how righteous you may be and you will go far. Admit you're wrong and you shall fail. Ego, greed, arrogance. 

That statement is untrue. You are not easily replaced. There are plenty of ways to manage and lead people. In my experience, people act how you treat them. If you pull the reigns tight, they become stubborn as mules, unable to walk on their own. If you let go the reigns, they sprint like wild horses. So how do you influence people to do what you want them to do and act with initiative? You can't oppress people. It's against human nature, and especially American ideals to be oppressed. Treat them as a jockey treats his race horse. The jockey wants to win, the horse eager too. The jockey doesn't have reigns, doesn't pull from the front. He slaps from the rear and side. Digs his feet in and leans over the shoulder. Encourages the horse forward, and only holds him back from burning out or letting loose too early. It's both a science and an art.

It takes the right amount of the jockey's skill, mixed with the pushing of the talent of the horse to pull off a victory. It's not an overabunance of one or the other, but the perfect mixture of both that allows them to be successful, just as you and your team must be. These are lessons seen in every sense of history and sports. Team efforts, not just that of an individual will create a championship team. That means every member, no matter what short comings they may have, you have to find what they are strong at, and allow them to at least flourish in that department. At any workplace, you all work towards a common goal. You are a team whether you think it or not. As a manager, it's putting people in places where they need to be. As a leader, it's putting people in places they should be. The difference is understanding that we all are motivated differently, and most are not motivated with idle threats. Remember, we are not a people that like to be oppressed. 

Cap, I'm a peacock, you gotta let me fly!

The Night Man Prophecy Cometh

It was just as normal a night as any other. I had just returned from a refreshing shower and was readying for bed. I had just flipped up my computer screen and put on some music that could soothe my sunburn. The shadow passed over me quickly, as I stood hunched over my computer. I was startled. I wasn't alone in being scared, as multiple people in the tent saw the movement from above.

The lights flickered, and then went out. Only computer screens kept enough light to see the intruder sail by. Two of us grabbed flashlights, luckily placed conveniently close. We staggered back to back, seemingly surrounded. Pim and I grabbed what we could for weapons. Unfortunately only shoes. Now equipped with some kind of self defense mechanism, and flash lights in the dark expanse of the tent, we began the hunt.

As soon as I stepped away from his close cover, I was struck in the face, nearly taking me off my feet. I dove into cover across my bed, and he was ambushed too. They I scrambled back to feet, rolling and tumbling over my bed and to his help. By the time I got there, the attacker, retreating to a corner of the tent. He began maneuvering in the shadows where I lights would not reach, knocking over equipment seemingly all around us.

He flew past us, but wasn't precise enough to stun a counter attack. We rushed after him towards the corner, where like hound dogs trapped in the fox. We fixed our lights upon him, and Pim, with the hand of mighty Zeus, let his hammer of a shoe slam into the beast which had haunted us. The first blows were insignificant, though malicious on our part. We continued, like an African drum band to pound blow after blow upon our attacker.

Blood was everywhere, ours and his. He had caused much agitation inside the small tent. But we had defeated him, before he was able to suck our blood, or carry us off. The moth we killed lie there, still and crushed. We, unwaveringly gave a sigh of relief. We would be able to sleep safely tonight.

A swooping sound flutters by angrily. Perhaps a second intruder, possibly a third show themselves briefly in the dim light. I grab my size ten and a fresh set of batteries. Pim, the Dominican Devil, and myself; we hunt late into the night!


Fighter of the Night Moth-man, oooh whoa ooooh!

Bum, I am

The drive is the adventure. It's the fleeing that's exciting. It's the company that's stupendous. It's the beach that's the destination.

It seems like this time of year was a constant norm for me as long as I can recall. We would pack up in a car, cooler and towels where they would fit between anxious legs smiles that threw little caution to the wind. The windows would have to be down, even with the valley heat pouring past. Out of the valley and into Calabasas and through the grass desert mountains spotted with gandering oak trees. It was breakfast with the Beatles, if it were Sunday, or the Beach Boys to ride shotgun up the 101.

The canyon could be the scariest part, but only to my sister. I loved to imagine flying off of the cliff to the left and climbing the rocks to the right. The conversations were always so meaningful, even if they were about who liked Coke or Pepsi better. Hold on, raise your hands and hold your breath two or three times and look for the naked lady in the rear view. Or just turn around. Sliding through the passes rolling over the peaks, the ocean seemingly always cutting the valley even wider in it's awesome display of blue.

PCH was the end all, right or left. Too many choices, and with the correct one, would soon see Zuma. You'd pay to park, or nearly get killed by the flying cars out on the road trying to find a gap between the other bums. Too excited to have started the day, you forgot your sandals or to put them on. You skip across the asphalt playfully, but dangerously into the even hotter sand. As a kid, you'd run from your mom holding the sunscreen and be in the surf before the umbrella was even unsheathed from it's carrier. As a teenager, you wouldn't waste the time either. The waves, glistening and calling for a Hasselhoff sprint into the offshore break.

All day, your plans would change, and one idea would become better than the other. When you weren't scoping out the babes walking to and fro, or swimming out further past the waves, you'd be fighting over PB&J's or control of the boom box. You'd toss a football and regret sliding in the sand. All day, from start to finish, your energy endless. No one would ever want to leave, and much as the rise of the day you'd fight your mom or responsible member of friend for five more minutes. A cold shower to knock off as much sand as you could, but still knowing whose ever car used would still need vacuuming.

Your nap would last only as long as the swerving and ear compression would allow as you climbed back through the three virgins' canyon. You knew you'd be stopping and getting a shake, somewhere, someplace, even if it were going to be a quick In n' Out. You couldn't recount the fun that you had, no matter how you concentrated. But you'd sleep well in the night, and do it again tomorrow.

Nothing like anything else. Paradise, defined.


... the west coast has the sunshine, and the girls all get so tan...

I Gotta Try

Still in somewhat transit, though at my final destination for the next few months, I finally had a chance to catch up on some of the news from back home. My sister-in-law had pointed out a certain story that has been floating around, and in fact gone 'viral' as they say on the internet. It was the incident in which the older lady on the school bus was being berated by kids.

We are shocked, for some strange reason, at the vulgarity and direct display of disrespect from the youth of America to this elderly woman. Of course society will blame the media and reality TV shows, hip-hop and Eminem. The media, will blame other media and of course probably race or social differences in the poor and rich. It will be a disgusting mixture of pointed fingers and misappropriated blame.

The hard truth to all of this, is that it isn't the fault of what's on TV. It's not the fault of social classes. This time should not be the normal American way of things, to find and place blame on other things. Find a scapegoat for the problem and then attack it for all it's worth, or until we are disgusted or interested in the next best thing. The problem is greater and more influenced by more problems than we can even comprehend. Of course, the obvious problem here is the youth of our nation. The truth of that matter is not only in parenting and lawyers and the ability to place blame on everywhere but where it needs to be; on each and everyone of us. Personal responsibility for one's actions, words and existence has all but been lost in our society.

We as a society can obviously point our finger at the parents of these kids. And shake our fingers and change our tone and light our torches, and call for justice. Of course, any good lawyer, as well all pretend to be in this country can simply place the bad parenting blame on plenty of other society factors; video games, Lil' Wayne, food stamps, Ritalin. The excuses pour out of every crack in sanity. We eat it up like dinner after no lunch. We are a product of our own compassion. We are have sympathy and compassion for this woman, who certainly is deserving, and then we will be just as compassionate to victimize the perpetrators and the reasons why they are the way they are. The cycle is never ending, and sickening.

So how do we change our society? It starts with you, and I. We have to be willing to take responsibility into our own hands. We have to be able to punish the guilty. We have to be willing to step out of our comfort zones. How many times have you seen someone doing something wrong, and simply turn the other cheek, walk the other way, and go about your day? How many times have you seen a kid walking through the grocery store being a complete brat, his mother too busy or ignorant to deal with him. We say nothing, do nothing. We're too afraid to get sued. Too burden our day, with something that we consider, not our problem.

We are too afraid that what we will say will be seen as tyranny or oppression in our free world. Lest we forget, your rights end as soon as they infringe upon other's rights.

The good news from the story, is that the social media, something I somewhat consider a contributor to the laziness and downfall of our country allowed for the good people to at least raise a pen, sign a check and contribute in the best way we Americans know how to help; from a distance.

They say it's a hopeless fight, but I say...


It is incumbent on every generation to pay its own debts as it goes- President Thomas Jefferson

Why We Fight

The Speech

If you haven't listened to the link posted up ahead, you're not doing yourself any favors. The Speech as I have labeled it is something that spins my head around every time I hear it. It's certainly something that seemingly could change every bone in your body to the opposite spectrum of what you may consider reality.

This day, the day of days, is one that I will remember for the rest of my life. It's a seemingly normal day, with a bright sun, and a cool breeze. No more or less ordinary than any other day. Yet, as I sit here, the wheel of life is being turned by the hamster of destiny. I listen to the speech, over and over again until my lips sync it without hesitation. I was barely alive when the words said rang out, and yet they still are ringing true today. 

Before we left to arrive in this country, our last holding place before getting into the alien space ship looking airplane we rode in, there was a beautifully painted mural. It wasn't breath-taking or astonishing by any work of the imagination, but it was American, and something I too almost looked over. It was a picture of the New York skyline, pre September 11th, along with some other FDNY helmets and other very normal things to be seen in a 9/11 mural. After a slight glance, I thought that I had realized all of what the mural was, and certainly knew what it was about.

We continued, in the terminal, to watch the movie that was being projected onto the wall, until it was our time to leave. I stayed behind the majority of the group, ensuring that everyone was where they were supposed to be, and we had everything. As the line formed towards the door, I marauded in the back. I took more note of the mural as I stood waiting. Suddenly it struck me, there was a roped off area just in front of the mural that I had overlooked. It's humble, yet powerful presence struck me in every way. In an instant, all my trepidations, my worries, my fears were answered with a simple piece of metal. I was taken back by the reddish metal sitting on a wooden stand, with an inscribed plate labeling it's worth. 

From Tower II of the WTC. 

The bolts into the metal that sat before me, the reasoning for all that we have done for the past year sat there in front of me. I reached out, touching it gingerly and instantly having my breath taken away. It's not the first time I've touched a piece of the Towers, but never so close to ensuring that we won't have to have murals and monuments to such catastrophes. At Fort Bragg, there is a large piece, far bigger than the one at Manas AFB. I run to it on occasion, stand in it's twisted and deformed shadow, and remember what it is I've chosen to do this. No matter how frustrating, how painful this job could be, it's so that there isn't a piece of metal with the souls of thousands cast upon it to touch. 

It consumed me, and in the moment of contact and the precious one's to follow, I could've cried. 

...you and I, have a rendezvous with destiny.

Welcome My Son, To The Machine

The scenery is somewhat familiar to one's I remember years ago. White and green and tan tents thrown up and placed like a sand castle constructed by a toddler. Rigid, yet verging on failure in the wind. The gravel is flat in the high traffic areas, melted into the sand with the soles of boots, sandle's, feet and the heat. Concrete barriers, different sizes and shapes, but all the same. Walls not to be permanent, made so by time. Everything worn in together for a perfect fit.

It doesn't feel foreign, but I've spent a year with it before. To a new comer, and American, it's a foreign planet, an unknown way to live. It's grunge, it's dirty, it's desert life at it's most Roman style. Assimilation.

The lingo, you learn from day one changes. You're bathroom, a latrine, your mouth a cock-holster, your underwear, non-existant. Then, in an instant, you're not that shaved head pip squeak that wouldn't listen to mother, you're a boy in a man's world, the immaturity, the touch of immortality fits the warfighter you've become well, and in the waiting for it now, you think, Gyllenhaal narrated it so well, got it so right that you're astonished by the honesty that only Hollywood could bring you. To paraphrase; Clean rifle, masturbation, discuss religious differences, further masturbation.

This time for me is a little different, but it all feels the same. You're cocky because you're trained to be. You haven't fully let go of all of your childhood, couldn't happen to me innocence, even though you prepare yourself for the worse, you're still hoping and expecting the best. It's not just me anymore, there are men below me, charged to me. Their safety, their ability, there safety, there danger, their safety, their danger. I will imagine it's like most things with combat. You don't feel the change, don't see the change in yourself until you're home. Until you're free and away from it all. There's no PTSD while you're in country, and those who claim it, never have been outside the wire.

You talk through your experiences, hoping that the recollection you have of them will be enough to pass on at least one thing that could help the new guys, the fresh boys, the FNG's to key in on something that could save their lives. They play video games, and grab ass. Clean weapons and masturbate. Eat chow, sleep, workout, trade pictures of girls who sent them nude pictures. Their lives, in the near future, in an instant; will change. Their lives, my life, it's already changed. We're just to ignorant to realize it, to realize the depth of change that we have already made.

The mountains here, reminiscent of those in Palm Springs, or Vasquez Rocks, or a little of both. The snow caps still sitting, but obviously melting. The heat, not hot. They tower around in seemingly all directions. Starkly complex, and strangely beautiful and mystic. They're real places, and Mordor. It's not T-walls and metal containers. It's harsh and surreal. It's new. It's different. It's eerie and somewhat sinister.


... have a cigar, you're gonna go far...

Back Again

Five days, three continents and four countries later I have arrived. Not nearly at the final destination on my itenerary, but at least in the same region. I found that instantly away from the distractions that home brings, I've slipped back into a cool and calm stance on what must and has to be done. I'm enthralled on the plate of readiness and certainly itching as ever to get on with it.

Being home only a week ago, around family was a great send off. I can't believe how great of a family I have. So caring, and so close in ways that I rarely see other families. I didn't get to see everyone I wanted to when I was home, but that's the way it normally goes. With so many good people in my life, I struggle to find time to visit with all of them.

But here I sit, surrounded again with infamous smells and culture. I realize how different my attitude has adjusted, and how idly ready my mind, soul and hands have become. Work ethic will be unmatched along with my determination. Ready is a word that only resembles what it is I truly am.

I will write as often as I can. Submerged in myself once again, free for thought and opinion expression.

The Same is Different

The feeling in my stomach, makes me a little queezy. I've gotten off track, allowed my mind to start hoping again. It's returned emotions that I haven't felt in sometime, and for the first time in the age old cliche, I'm scared. It's not a feeling that I'm too familiar with, an otherwise oak I am floundering with this emotion I can't lasso.

There are many reasons that this could be brought about, I'm sure my upcoming deployment is one them. It's hard to be honest with myself, and with you. It's not easy to admit, in this word which has seen the fall of a man's stature abolished within the ethics and code. I strive to remain unyielding to this demise, and yet hear I sit afraid. A future, I had seen in the near horizon. A finish line beaming with opportunity and beginning. Perhaps while I was simply biding my time, so was I biding my emotions.

The feeling is a very uneasy one. Sickening really. It's immortality decreasing, becoming further from grasp as I grow and become more of an adult. It's truly understanding the weight in which I bring to the world, and how scary a concept it is that I do indeed have impact on a world I would otherwise consider to be without contact.

Harms way, is all perception. Placing myself in it, or an exponentially greater idea of it is simply creating a false reality of the sense of that phrase. I am in as much harms way now and resigned to my fate as much as any other time in my life. Life is a strange thing, no matter who we pray to or what we believe, we will never know what outcome will come of our choices and whether or not that if we were to take a different path if we wouldn't arrive at the same place we never intended to go, but instead destined to be. Of course we all point our finger of the road of life always ending with the dead end of death. But this is a narrowing point of view with all things considered.

My religious or spirtual beliefs are not coinciding or aligning with one specific stereotype or another, but I seem to have a keen sense that we are not alone. That the world isn't magnificent. That life, and death are not the end all be all. I suppose looking forward I have an infinite amount of possibilities. There are some great things that I can do in life and really my biggest fear is; will I be humble and content enough to stop when I reach my goals. So that I may live in happiness, not yearning not reaching for more and never feeling truly accomplished, even with all that I have. The perspective seems at least difficult to voice and certainly confuses me. My fear from death is what I will leave behind. What legacy? What of me will stick with others? Who will I leave behind that I will no longer be able to affect?

Those questions, so broad and not very direct. But they're so truthful in their essence of what we think about death. We spin our catch phrases and cliches and even almost believe them. You're in a better place, you're with God. We buy them like the Wal*Mart rollbacks we become infatuated with commercially. I can't say for sure what happens to us when we perish, but I am certain that it could happen at any time. So why this sudden trepidation? This sudden fear? This overwhelming, sickening feeling that has haunted me, made me older the last few weeks? My immortality, peeled like the skin of a snake and left. Gone, like dust in the wind. Life is suddenly real. Death, no longer a falacy.

Who's to say what we are to say, when we are to say it?

You're Just a Number

The sands of time quickly drain through the holes of life. The calendar dates literally crumble making me suddenly aware of a youth slowly fading. I'm sore mostly every day and the things I used to be able to do easily, devastate me. This life has been intense, and though I realize this, I can't complain.

My job has had me busy, and losing the time to think and to write has been painstaking in my ability to address what I consistently compartmentalize; the stresses of life and adulthood. I dreamt a marvelous past last night, and had wished that when I woke up it had been true. Summer, my favorite season until I spent a few in the North Carolina heat, was it's normal California bright. The way the sun playfully bounced off of every piece of beautiful leaf, flower and garden in the backyard of my Sylmar house brought me the loins of joy I once knew. I was in our pool, around my brother and sister, my cousins and the summers we used to waste away in laughter and smiles. The dream, that scrawny kid I was, the family close by and all the endless summers we spent; they're merely just a memory of the past.

I find it hard sometimes to think about those times, without responsibility, without worry. They seem distant and often foreign compared to what adulthood I have taken on. I constantly strive to get better, to work harder and be a better person. A better adult. I've realized that buying into whatever it is I'm doing or trying to do is the most important part of changing. I've changed plenty about myself that I thought would be tough. It's always tough at first, especially when you come to the realization that you are not exactly who you thought you were. Some people just accept the fact that that is who they are and that they cannot change that. Others, like myself, see those weaknesses, or dislikes about ourselves and we work hard to change them.

These changes don't come easy. Mostly I have found that I have been stuck in the pattern of doing things a certain way, and when 'set in those ways' it becomes difficult to break those patterns. But using that excuse is a contradiction of the very thing that I want to do; use excuses, reasons for why I couldn't change. It starts small. I tell myself that I want to change this, and the reasoning why. Most of the time it's through a new perspective that I've realized my short comings, whether that's my own perspective or someone else's. It's the ability to change perspective that helps you to realize what it is you want to change, and then it comes down to one thing, and really one thing only; self-discipline.

Self-discipline is a huge part of changing yourself. It's getting the mixed vegetables instead of fries. It's a commitment, and one that is so easy to justify breaking anytime it's convienient. If you had the self-discipline to do what was right everytime, eat healthier foods, spend your money on only what you need, exercise daily, you would live a great life. Unfortunately I fail myself almost daily in at least one area of my self discipline. I take the easy way out, and constantly reprimand myself later for doing so. But overtime, of wanting to do the same thing, buying into what I need to do, instead of what I want to do. Maybe why I scrutinize smokers who say they're quitting, but just weening off with the occassional here and there is because I recognize this fault within myself. That I simply can't be disciplined enough to not eat candy, to not drink beer, to not drink soda, to not eat fast food. I bow to the convience of life, walk the easier road, break my own rules.

I have to realize my life isn't running around in the backyard and playing hockey with my cousins. It's not about carelessness and doing whatever I want. Not without sacrifice, not without hard work and commitment. Putting in my time now, getting in good shape, eating right, learning new things daily, pushing myself to constantly be better. With all this understood, and all this being said there is still one big question mark in the many that float around my life. What direction do I want to go? What direction do I need to go?


May the fourth be with you...

Losing in Let's Remember

I realize more and more that one thing in life is a truth we believe to be a lie; we were not all meant to be great. There are role players in our world, a game of sorts, but with a real outcome. We've been lying to our kids recently, that they are inherently great. They were born winners, that we ourselves are winners. We don't keep score and hand out trophies to our kids who come in even last place. We 'Occupy' streets in the resentment, the shame that we haven't done as well.
Hard work is a semantic argument that I'm not sure how to make. Success is in the same degree, and it all comes back to perspective. Do what you love is a cliche worth repeating, and how wonderful it is to find that. Not everybody does, not everybody can. We all have our roles to play, but in some cases we can make our reality what we want. You must work hard to do this, and where perhaps my opening statement and the one I'm conveying may seem contradictory; they aren't. Not if you are one who understands the difference between being fed the silver spoon, and working hard enough to earn that spoon.

A common quote that I always here is, "I want to work hard enough, be successful enough, that my kids will never have to work." That's a sad philosophy pitched in the cast of a positive one. Where the idea isn't flawed until the end, you have to realize how hard work, how sacrifice, how the payday of accomplishment can give you more growth then you could ever imagine.

Wear your heart on your sleeves. Realize at least that others might. Being to quick to judge or be opinionated on someone else's lifestyle may cause more enemies than friends. What's the point of a heart if it's not on your sleeves? Be real, dare to be. Real people, people who are comfortable being themselves. You have to dare yourself daily to be something, to be somebody, to be immortalized in your accomplishments for others. Be selfless and service your community. Don't allow yourself to live in a place that isn't best for your kids and your kid's kids.

You can accomplish whatever you set yourself out to do. Understand two things: One, that you have to work hard for whatever you wish to accomplish. Secondly, that you must put yourself in the right capacities to enact who you want to be. Sacrifice in the here and the now, and set yourself up for success in the future. Caution to the wind should only be in the live life now in moderation as well, for today could be your last. The only definite in life is that nothing but death is a definite.

Be honest. Be honest with yourself about yourself. Introspective and a good self awareness are key to becoming a better person and a leader of men. Take insults with a grain of salt, but do not ignore them, and the same with compliments. Be humble, but hungry and confident as well. Work hard to pass up others that you are better than, but do not be the warrior who stands over his defeated; if you push others to be better, make those around you better, you will reap the benefits, you will become better. Be honest to others. Your word isn't a fallacy like our society believes it to be. Say what you mean, and do what you say. This takes self discipline, thoughtfulness, effort and sacrifice.

Do not be afraid of death. Live your life to the fullest without the fear of perishing and you realize a different kind of life that can be lived. Fear nothing. When you come face to face with death, do not wish that you had lived life any other way. Ensure that you have lived life, effected others in ways that you do not regret. Live life exactly as you saw fit to live it.


...I was keeping the faith...

I'm Somebody That I Used To Know

The power is more addicting than I could've imagined. I didn't think it would be, and the resistance of it is even harder than I'd like to admit, but so far I'm managing. I seem to have more discipline in empowering and letting what be shall be then the discipline in other parts of my life. It was nice to get off of work before the sun went down today, and I was only a little perturbed in the fact that I didn't have the normal sunglasses in my car like I would on a weekend. The fact of the matter is that I hadn't been out of work when I needed them in so long, I didn't think I needed them.

I can see how easily one could lose sight of the purpose of being where they are. Rapidly and without warning, you're hit with self image and protection of your new found power. The one's underneath of you become a stepping stone to push you further up or at least keep your head above water. You can't allow yourself to think this way, and yet it seems only natural at times to do so. I resist. Hard. None the less, I have already made decisions that wouldn't be comprehensible to a recently past self. My empathy, my sympathy fades and I see myself stepping into the hard shells of predecessors.

It's a battle, and one that perspective has changed in me; allowing one side to grow stronger than it had been previously. I try to verbalize it, but none of it makes any sense to me when I hear it out loud. It might be only something that can be conveyed through the experience that eventually leads to institutionalization. I fear that, and on this current path could reach that. Think 'make sense,' outside the box is a foreign concept. It's not necessarily one that can always be achieved though. The values, the ethics of every individual are so vastly different in the youth of America, and I'm so amazed at how many problems and 18 year old kid can have, one's that I can only imagine their parents were dealing with before.

My world is one that is like none other. It's a young man's game in it's need of arrogance and immortality, yet the responsibilities that these young crusaders undertake is comprensible to the stress levels of some of the top CEO's in our nation. The physical and mental aptitude can sometimes only be conquered with a push for greater and harder achieved things. And alcohol.

I watch the bubbles run from my lip and wonder how I've been able to now compartmentalize my days so well. I don't have a dog or a wife; no real hobbies during the week. I like to be off of work, but similarly miss it when I'm gone. Thinking of the war I left, I hated and loved; I miss it. Headphones coarsing with music while I drink beer or scotch has been a great way to escape my loneliness. I enjoy it at times, and despise it at others. People are unpredictable, and shallow. I hardly relate anymore, and hate myself because of it. I'm reaching what most men do at sixty, or perhaps never come to realize. Life is balance, life is short, life is cliche. We are what we make of things, and those things are what make us. We can choose to set our boundaries and hold firm, never to cross them and hope that they never cross us. We prepare for the future and live in the past. There here and now was then, and you just missed it.

Stepping back from the cliff of reality I get a good view of how close to the edge of understanding I am. I shrink, my lungs gasp for air, and my stomach curls. The likelihood that I'll learn more in the coming years is futile. The age old question enters the mind, and I wouldn't have a clue how to answer it, or know someone who could. It's these things you dismiss if you ever want to feel like the center of the universe, and sometimes that exactly where we want to be. I ignore it this time; there's not enough scotch left in the bottle to unlock the door to that answer in my mind.

I'm lost and found. I'm inside and outside. I'm open and closed. I am who I think I'm not, I am. That's what I say, but most people just say 'confused.'


... so lonely in my own company...

Truth in this Life

I didn't feel like myself today. That doesn't seem like a very fair statement lately, as I am not to sure who myself is. I was feeling more glum than my chipper self and couldn't seem to place my finger on a reason why. A lot has been on my mind, but nothing more than the normal plate full. This weekend I was made to feel like Richard Cory, and for reasons that don't seem all that obvious or foreboding.

I scratch my head and try and force myself out of the strange funk I've fallen into. Nothing seems to work and all day I can't wait to get home and do some laundry. I try to stay busy and not think about what's going on in my life, but dismissing my problems has been one of my problems; so I just don't think about it. I start to realize who I want to be, and am constantly disappointed with myself when I fail to muster the courage of self discipline. Life is short, but being happy now isn't always the best happy you could have in the future. The balance in it's perspective is one that my young stomach can't contain and like a ship on rough waters I find myself heaving the intricacies of life as I yet to understand it over the bow.

I choke at my youth as well as at the tip of the spear of responsibility that is thrust upon me in my current job. It's not a job that should be given to a man only a quarter of a century old. It's making me grow up fast. It's not that difficult of a job, but certainly one where more life experience and understanding of the way things go would add such intangibles into making everyday that much more successful. Is it fair? No. Should I bitch and moan? Sure, but to what avail? None. Sometimes you just have to do things that you are not qualified for, and you fake it until you make it.

Responsibility is, simply put, terrifying. The definition you find in a dictionary is one that could make you quiver. There has been a steady decline in the world, or perhaps a balance of responsibility that hasn't risen with the world's population. I'm sure there is a scientific word for that, but research yields no results.

The state or fact of being accountable or to blame for something.

Who wants to do that? The courage necessary to charge that duty is one that is seemingly dying. Especially in our youth. I promised myself no sidebars, but when you're not sure what you're writing about, everything seems to be one. I try and maintain self aware in my endeavors, but sometimes I become unaware of my own plight. As I've learned through leadership, you have to constantly be self critical in order to grow and develop. I strive daily to achieve heights and feats that I hadn't previously accomplished. It's through this constant seeking of improvement that I can't help but find one common theme in all of it. We can achieve whatever we put our minds to. We are truly limitless. It's not easy, and the worst friction point we face is not one of outside influence, but from within. Our own self discipline is a brutal divider of ourselves. Subsequently, it can also be a multiplier of our strengths. That takes mastery of ourselves. Not the easiest things to come by.

How do we increase the rate at which we learn about ourselves? Then, how do we discipline ourselves correctly to line us up for the capacity in which we want to be. We are who we are, but we could be who we want to be. It's a dangerous slope to climb up. Self-improvement, the unlocking of the unimaginable becoming something to be imagined. The unforeseen, now seen and conquerable. You start to push your boundaries further and further, wanting more and more. Greed is a dangerous card to be dealt, but is usually in the hand of success. It's one you have to learn to fold, or you will never be happy. Life is a balance. We have to recognize that the scales of victory through our sacrifice have to balance with the scales of happiness through our contentment. The toughest part about finding that balance, is that the teeter totters fulcrum is merely our perception of the reality of our perspective. That perspective we can change as we see fit to our needs. That allows us to cut corners and ultimately make excuses, make us complacent. Leave us no longer yearning for more, but sometimes, regrettably yearning for less.


The cake has grown mold, but the memories are sweet...

Heading into a Fourth Point of Contact

The stories being recollected from another time, an era I was too young too know about in this place I call a job, seem to scratch like a vinyl unattended on a turn table. It's the same old song and dance, but with a little more of the dance I think now. I question, how long has this place been in disrepair? and whether or not it can be fixed. I'm sure I'm not the first one to think that it surely needs to, that it must to survive. But like a sickly being, it's learned, adapted to what it is and may never be able to go back, or go forward for that matter. It stops itself from changing, and keeps itself from staying the same. Probably no different than any other large organization.

I dive in the dirt and scramble carefully close to the ground. Weight shifts easily in the wet cold sand, and I make hand gestures that most American's wouldn't understand, but the few behind me do. I point my laser to and fro and listen to the symphony of heavy metal chamber it's explosion after explosion. This is the place to be, nothing better than this at the moment. I watch the fireworks fizzle through the air in the green hue through my night optics. It's as beautiful as any Rembrandt, and awe striking in it's destruction. Beauty in the eye of the beholder, but every beholder would certainly be in awe. I control it, and though it's only my third or fourth time doing so, I pull my experience together and use past examples to help make the right decisions. Lethality is a word I would never associate with beauty, but this symphony of death is a painted picture of perfection that would make Charles see and Beethoven hear.

It can't get any better in this moment. It's such an easy thing in the moment, but in the every other aspect of this job, we are failing. This won't last forever, and the struggle within has to recognize it's purpose. War is sometimes a necessary evil, but one that I hope we don't have to necessarily use. Only ignorant people who haven't gotten out of this bubble of a world globalization pushing America thinks that there could be no war. The best Army is a prepared one, prepare to go to the lengths necessary to destroy the evils that threaten our very way of life. We can't continue to allow public influence to make decisions in our military, because the 1% of people willing to die for this country, to go that distance and do the unthinkable do exactly that. The unthinkable, the unimaginable, the undesirables that are necessary to kill.

I see the uproar of a video, that we're supposed to be better than our enemies- and we are, but the judgement placed upon these men who have probably no doubt lost a friend or buddy, fellow American to an unseen explosive device that they could then only pick up pieces of him to send home to his family- the get ostracized for urinating on men responsible for that. Those Marine's, who are constantly getting in trouble for being a little less than what our society says is normal, should be getting praise. Praise for doing a job that so many of the rest of this America is not willing to do. How dare you have an opinion on the matter when you can't even cast a stone, let alone live in your glass house. You wouldn't even have a glass house to live in if it weren't for those men over there, losing brothers in arms to these Muslims who act only out of jealousy and shame of a better way of life.

I'm told a story of a man of faith, spending a year in Afghanistan giving aid to the men women and children there. A year dedicated to helping out a nation that we have been at war with, that we have done much for infrastructure and the freedom of those people. He said after a year there, he returned to the states, and all of his efforts, he felt that they were not appreciated, that the people there were a form of evil, a form of human being that could not be classified as recognizable for what we know. A people that are stuck in a time and a value system that doesn't apply to the rest of the world, that can't relate, can't fit into our world so much that the only thing they care about is tearing down the rest of the world to their level, starting with out nation. That man joins the Army, becomes an Infantry officer so that he may go back to Afghanistan and kill the very people that he had tried to help for a year.

This makes me proud. Proud that an outsider realizes that whatever we do, however we are judged by our own society, that those judgements are hollow. They hold no water, and that if the people of America would just allow us to do our damn job and not worry about how we accomplish our mission, just that we accomplish it. Unfortunately the years of public and political opinions in the military have led to us needing serious reform. A microcosm of the United States in general, we must reverse our trends and work to preserve what we have. If you can't see that the end of the US is close, than you're not looking, you're just living and seemingly just for yourself.


One shot, one kill