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
Thursday, September 20, 2012
Monday, September 17, 2012
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
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
Friday, September 14, 2012
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?
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?
Thursday, September 13, 2012
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...
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...
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
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
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
Monday, September 10, 2012
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
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
Monday, September 3, 2012
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
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
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