Getting Home and Realizing You'll Never Be This Awesome Again...

Pictures are worth a thousand words right?

Well this one is worth that and its worth the rest of this...

I personally thought that this picture has a lot of bearing on how Vets...er I feel. I suppose that it would be infinitely presumptuous of me to figure that I could speak for them but its a large part of how I feel.

For a year I was a jolly green giant walking the earth with a gun. (cookie to the first person who names that movie.)

For a year (and this has been stated ad nauseum) I was making decisions everyday that determined whether or not someone saw their next sunrise.

For a year, I was entrusted with millions of dollars of government equipment. Not to mention the lives of my team, squad, platoon, and company.

And here's a new one. Something I have been thinking about lately (especially with this god damned election coming up) For a year, I was shielded and allowed to purify myself of the relentless media onslaught that is American TV. I didn't watch any TV.

First let me define what I mean. Because any soldier reading this will call bullshit right away if I say I didn't watch any video entertainment at all. The sheer volume of porn in Afghanistan right now is enough to sink a battle ship, not to mention the avalanche of pirated DVD's and the endless collections of ripped movies in MP4 or WMV format. If you were to prosecute one platoon of GI's overseas for their pirated movie collections I can guarantee that there would be at least 10,000 years of prison time and a fine in excess of 1 billion dollars. And I'd think those were conservative estimates.

When I say TV, I didn't have to watch commercials. All the TV shows we watched were on DVD's or digitized and minus all commercials. They were stories. We watched Sons of Anarchy, Its Always Sunny in Philadelphia, Family Guy and all that shit. But we got to leave the commercials at home. Plus we didn't have to see much in the way of news. I read plenty of it on the internet, so I guess I'm not as pure as I'm pontificating to be.

Regardless, I was able to kind of shake myself loose from all the celebrity worship and athlete worship and all that shit. I came back with an entirely new attitude about the entertainment industry. And it goes like this...

They're show ponies.

Actors: Act in your movie. Be really hot. Have really big boobs. Dance around looking really sexy. Athletes: Throw the ball. Shoot the basket. Score the touchdown.

And then....

Go the fuck away.

Don't speak. No one cares.

Don't give us your opinion. No one  cares.

And finally on to the news casters. Dear Lord, someone please shut this monstrosity up. I think that the advent of the 24 hour news cycle has doomed our entire way of life.

There isn't enough real news to fill 24 hours.

There really isn't. I know it for a fact. Ask me how I know. Do it. Ask me.

Well since you asked, its because at least 60% of the time of those 24 hour "news" channels is filled with opinion shows. Glenn Beck telling me why the sky is falling. Chris Matthews telling me why the sky is falling. Bill O'Reilly telling me why the sky is falling. Rachel Maddow telling me why the sky is falling. Sean Hannity telling me why...you getting the jist of what I'm saying yet?

Its not news. Its rehashing the same shit from 2 different angles. And anyone who thinks these schmucks are unbiased really needs to have their head examined and their voting privileges revoked. Actually pay attention for 5 mintues and then tell me if you haven't figured out who they're for.

News is supposed to be just that. News. A collection of who, what, where, when and why that a person could use to make an intelligent decision about some event, or issue that affects them in some way. Or they can take the information and completely disregard it.

Its the lost art of thinking. Taking the information you have at hand, and making the best decision you can with the resources you have, and then taking action.

But the way it is nowadays you have 24 hours a day of these shitbirds telling you what to think about this issue and that issue and what to say about this politician and that politician and telling you what to feel about this war and that war.

Bullshit.

Unfortunately its pretty much unavoidable. I mean I love Judge Napolitano. That guys the shit, plus I want him to come over to my house and let me call him Uncle Vinny and he cooks spaghetti. I know its odd, but it is what it is.

Where was I going with this...oh yeah. I got disconnected from that, for the most part, for a year. And by the time I got back my entire world view was expanded exponentially. I saw things differently, I questioned what I saw, I believed less and less of what I heard. I learned to be suspicious of power. Which is something that we all need to learn and live.

Don't be one of those people who blindly follows this news company or that. I mean, I know people who wait for the endorsements to come out from either the Sun-Times or the Trib (Chicago) and then they vote accordingly. Make up your own mind.

Afghanistan disconnected me from that. And I'm thankful to say that I haven't gone back.

Add all that in together and I am thankful for the time I spent there. I'm thankful for those I spent that time with. And it has forever changed the course of my life.

Unfortunately, I will never be that awesome again...

But I can try.

I love you Mom....

Then I found one other picture that I think should be posted in every Air Force barracks the world over. Plus tattooed onto every fobbits door. Good night, and good luck





Who Is Jonathan Raab?

Because he wrote this and I think he's pretty much the epitome of awesome.

He's got two articles in the NYT At War blog. Read them.

Pay What You Owe...

So I was putzing around the house on Christmas Eve and I was listening to the radio. US 99.5 to be exact. Chicago's version of a country station. Now for all you hillbillys and rednecks out there who think that there can't be a "real" country music station in Chicago well...you can kiss my ass. And we'll just leave it at that.

So as I was listening and they were playing your standard fare, "Red Solo Cup, Camoflage by Brad Paisley and what not" they threw a commercial in the middle. A commercial for Make The Connection a website for vets to go and share their experiences with those who do understand. I've spoken before about just what a pain in the ass it can be to hear 'I understand' from anyone other than Vets. Anyways, the commercial has a couple of different guys talking about this, that or the other, but one guy jumped up and kicked me square in the nuts. And like any red blooded American male, I'm not real appreciative of anyone either literally or figuratively kicking me in the nuts. However, if forced to choose I'd much prefer figuratively to literally.

And we're back on topic. So one of these guys was talking about his experience and he got around to saying the words that brought tears to my eyes. Real fucking tears. Out of nowhere. Like a damn little girl who's brother ripped the head off her Barbie doll. And I'm standing there, in the kitchen halfway through making my peanut butter and fried banana sandwich and now I'm crying over the pan. Bananas do not need extra juice!

What did this dude say that turned me in to an emotional wreck?

"You owe it to the guys that didn't come back, you owe it to them to live well."

I haven't always been a big fan of paying what I owe. Just ask anybody who loaned me money between the ages of 16 and 23. Especially, have fun asking those guys who were dumb enough to give me credit cards that exceeded what I made in any 3 month period. I always wondered how an industry could survive when it was willing to give $5,000 worth of open credit to an 20 year old soldier who lives exactly 20 minutes from Mexico. But I guess we've answered that question a few times in the past couple of years.

Now around 23 is when I started to remove my head from my 4th point of contact (aka, my ass!) and low and behold I started paying my bills. Which I've been doing dutifully since. Which has led to a good credit rating, which has led to a recent house purchase, which has led to moving in with the princess, which has gotten me a new dog. So all in all, its a pretty good deal.

I tell you that for no other reason than I know what it feels like to be on both sides of debt, er...all sides of debt. I know what its like to pay what I owe, I know what its like to not pay what I owe and I know what its like to be paid what I'm owed, and I know what its like to not be paid what I'm owed.

Now I don't know about you but its pretty easy for me to pick out which sides of the debt equation I want to be on. I want to be "current" with all my obligations. "Paid in full" would be better, but I don't think that this case has a paid in full.

So now I've been pondering, thinking about, meditating, contemplating, analyzing, and agonizing over that statement. "You owe it to them to live well." Fuck me running. This guy just heaped a giant debt right on my head.

According to an old NYT article (get over it) the average age of combat deaths in Afghanistan is about 25 (Average Age of combat death) then you figure that the life expectancy here in the United States is about 78.1 years. (Source) then you do some quick math. 78.1 minus 25 is 53.1. So that's, on average, 53.1 years stolen from each soldier, sailor, airman, and marine who has died in service to their country. And then you find out how many have died in the War on Terror (Honor the Fallen) shows that 6316 have died in the fight. Then you've got some more math to do. 6316 multiplied by 53.1 years equals 335,379.6 years total. Oh boy, that's a pretty steep bill to pay.

Now maybe I'm being a bit overdramatic with the calculation of the bill, who knows, probably. But it has still been weighing on my shoulders since I heard it.

I owe it to them to live well.

Am I living well?

What the hell is living well?

Two questions that have had me wrapped around the axle for a week. Plus they don't seem to have much in the way of easy resolution. Once, I wish that I could get presented with an easy question. Oh and the above listed questions aren't rhetorical. I want an answer. I'm kind of in the conundrum of not minding so much that I owe, but not quite knowing how to pay the damn thing back.

However, there is a silver lining to my little episode of douchiness. (Crying like a little girl) I'm actually kind of stoked about it because you can't cry unless you have emotions. First and foremost that rules out psychopath, unless of course I can fake emotions even to myself. (I'm not that good an actor) Sociopath is still in the running, but I may have my definitions mixed up here. In any event, the fact that I cried meant that I at the very least have some emotions. So congratulations to me, I might actually be beginning to reconnect with the world. A little sympathy, empathy and good old fashioned concern for my fellow man would be nice once in a while. They warned us when we were coming home about emotional disconnectedness. They of course forgot to tell us exactly how to fix it. I mean, not even a clue. Pricks could've at least pointed us in the right direction.  

And finally, I want to say something that's most likely been said before but it bears repeating. Did anyone even notice that the Iraq War is over? Operation Iraqi Freedom has come to a close? Is it just me or was that the least dynamic end of a war ever? You know that the country might have a problem when the end of a motherfucking WAR!!!! doesn't even get anyone's pulse up a little...but I could be wrong. Just seemed to me that around here, nobody noticed. I'm pretty sure that this should've been a big deal.

So I shall bore you no more today.

Answer my questions and we'll see what we can come up with.

Later,

I love you Mom...

1%ers...

“Everybody wants to support the troops until they have to share in the hardship and sacrifice,” I said. “Then all of a sudden that bumper sticker or that flag pin doesn’t mean anything anymore.” (Quoted from this ARTICLE)

Just got me to thinking. Of course, we all know where that leads. Oh and by the way, I think I am going to take and put to full use this time I have at work on the midnight shift to start writing again. I've got the time so hopefully they've got the money.

There are so many things that, if you were able to see the world through my eyes, would make you want to either puke or laugh. First thing I'm going to talk about is the whole "sharing" thing.

Americans don't do it well. Think about it for a few. When was the last time your neighbor swung by to borrow some sugar? Or when was the last time you drug your snow blower across the street to hit the driveway of the guy that doesn't have one? Or when was the last time you actually did something for charity? I'm not trying to get you riled up or piss you off...well maybe I am but whatever. The fact is that Americans once WERE the most generous people in the world. Now there's a very select few of the population that elect to give of themselves for the greater good.

They're the real 1%ers. Fuck the bikers. Bikers are like hipsters and high schoolers to me. "We want to show how non conformist and special we are by getting together and all doing the same things and wearing the same clothes." Absolute fucking brilliance.

I'm talking about the military and the fact that only about 1% of the population has served in the US military. There's statistics on this somewhere but I'm not about to go and dig them up, this isn't a term paper. So if I'm off by a couple points here or there, I'll betcha I'm pretty damn close. One out of every 100. Line up 100 people aged 18-35 and only one will step forward. Well a few more would step forward but they'd be found wanting for medical or mental health or what have you.

In any case, I think we should go to a Starship Troopers style society. The right to vote and hold public office should be reserved to those of us who served. Everyone else has all their rights, save for those two. In this day and age, with the stupidity/ignorance/lack o' common sense factor rising exponentially, I don't think that this is particularly unreasonable. Obnoxiously, I have created a society that benefits me. But hey, its a start.

So back to the beginning of all of this blather. "Everybody wants to support the troops until they have to share in the hardship and sacrifice." Its the truth. I've bitched about this before but truthfully speaking, what has America and the Americans in it (other than service members and their families) been asked to sacrifice? What hardship have they been asked to endure?

Now I could go on and on but the idea is pretty simple. All the hardship, sacrifice, work, blood, sweat and tears of the past decade have been borne and paid by 1% of the population. Everyone else has spent the past decade either at the mall or in front of their Xbox.

So what do we do about it? I've been asked about the whole compulsory service thing in the past and I'm not a big fan. In my mind it breaks down like this. I don't want to have to deal with soldiers that don't want to be there. It was hard enough dealing with the volunteers. The ones that signed up are a big enough pain in the ass, I can't imagine what the ones who were forced to be there would be like.

That's out.

What could be done to push people to pick up their share of the slack and pull their fair share of the weight?

Take something from them.

And make them earn it back, or live without it.

You want to pick your leaders? Earn it.

You want to be a part of the political process? Earn it.

You want to run for office? Earn it.

You want to have a say? Earn it.

You don't want to be told what to do by those above you? Earn it.

Its a thought.

Later,

I love you Mom...

P.S. (December, 21, 2011): I was thinking about what I had written, actually I was reminded (politely) by my girlfriend, that not everyone can serve in the military. A point I alluded to in the previous post. Some people for whatever reason, be it a medical issue or otherwise just simply cannot serve, and it is through no fault of their own.

Well one thing that a lot of people don't understand is that I don't think these posts through before I write them. That would actually defeat the purpose of writing them for me. I write for therapy and to get shit off my chest. So you'll have to forgive me if my arguments seem knee jerk and poorly thought out...mostly because they are.

Some cannot serve in the military, fine. Everyone can serve the country. There's the US Army, US Marines, US Air Force, and US Navy, US Coast Guard, National Guard and Reserves, which are unavailable to some. So I say there should be an extra one. US National Service Corps. (or something like that) and they should be afforded all the same benefits accorded to the military. GI Bill, and all that good shit. The National Service Corps should be like a community college, they take everyone. Because with a component like that. I would like to see compulsory national service served by all kids in the US.

How about this, every single man and woman in the US (starting immediately) serves 3 years in some component of the National Service, military or otherwise and they are entitled to a 4 year college education courtesy of Ole' Uncle Sam. They'll be fed, housed, and paid (shit) for the duration of their service but when its over they've got a few years of maturity under their belt and they don't have to start their lives with a crushing student loan debt.

Think of the shit we could get done with a veritable army of dumb ass kids.

And rich kids gotta go too!!!

Another Day, another 16 hours...

That's what I'm right in the middle of doing right now. Working a 16 hour shift. Started at 10pm and it'll be over at 2pm...Good times.

Haven't written in a long time simply because who wants to listen to some disgruntled GI who hates the life he came back to, bitch about how full of rage he is most of the time? I mean really, who the hell would want to do that?

So what have I been doing? Working. I bought a house with my girlfriend and we moved in there. And that's about it. Oh, and I started going back to the shrink again to talk about my "issues" we'll see if he can make any headway. Because I certainly can't. They've got me taking Ambien and Wellbutrin for sleep and mood problems.

Sleep problems = I don't.

Mood problems = I have a piss poor attitude about life and I hate everything, and I'd just really like to pour gasoline over all of it and light it up.

Its been fun observing the assembly line that the VA is. Come in, sign in, wait your turn, tell your problems, sign the paper, pick up your medications.

Pretty simple process really and you're on your way out into the wild blue yonder with a fresh supply of government issued happy pills. I even manage to get pissed off because of the pills. I actually get mad at them because I resent the fact that I need to take them just to get close to being normal. Actually, normal isn't the word. I have to take them just to not be in a constant state of extreme rage. And yeah, I hate the fact that I need them just to do that.

Then there's the Ambien that they give me. Its nice, but not in the dose that they're giving me. They let me take a half a pill a night. Or actually in my case a day, because I work all night, and sometimes all day too. But half a pill won't do it. Now a whole pill, that works just fine. Knocks me out for the duration. I can even sleep through the dreams/nightmares on this shit. However, I am given enough to take a half every night, not a whole. Which means I've kinda got to pick and choose which 15 out of the next 30 nights I want to sleep, until I can get back to the psychiatrist and ask him for more. We'll see if he gives them to me or if he starts to think that I'm turning in to an addict. Which I probably would, if the VA would give me enough to pull that off.

Then there's my wonderful job which doesn't help any of this. I mean, I suppose this would be a bit easier if I had a regular, "normal" job. But I don't. I get locked in a cage for 8 hours per day with a bunch of child molesters, drug dealers, and other assorted animals. I'm pretty far down the seniority list so my days off normally suck. About the best I can usually do is get one day of the weekend off. Perhaps a Friday/Saturday or a Sunday/Monday. But an actual weekend is probably another 6-10 years away. Plus, every 3 months I have to change shifts, and change days off. With the random 16 hour day thrown in for good measure. Plus, I volunteered (big fucking mistake) for an extra duty that I thought at the time would help me get a different job (because when you do this, different and better become synonymous.) I normally end up working one day shift per week. So I get 4 midnight shifts and one, sometimes two day shifts. Oh yeah, this is going to be wonderful for my sleep and my mood. My circadian rhythm or whatever the fuck they call that is going to be shot to shit.

Now I'll bring up the end with the thing that pisses me off the most. The thing that drives me absolutely fucking bonkers. And unfortunately for me and everyone around me its something that I hear over and over from so many different people that it makes me sick. I hear it from my mom, my brother, my aunt, my cousins, some friends (if I have any left), and my girlfriend.

"I understand"

I swear to God they say it just to drive me nuts.

I'll bitch about something, anything. And invariably somewhere in there, they say "I understand"

Fuck you! You don't understand. You can't understand because you weren't there with me. Maybe I am bitching about something that's going on here but do you understand that my head and my heart are in Afghanistan? No, you don't fucking understand that shit because while I was hip deep in Taliban shit and Afghani sand you were bouncing around here doing whatever the fuck. You think that I'm whining about things going on here, when I'm actually whining about the fact that I'm not with my buddies which is where I belong. You think I get this mad over shit that happens here, I'm mad because I know that there's guys over there right now that are hitting an IED. They're getting lit up from the mountaintop. They're dealing with another fucking round of rockets at night. And I'm letting another day slip away when I do nothing of value.

But I'm supposed to be nice and polite about it. They don't mean anything by it. They're just trying to help. So I bottle it up the best I can. Which isn't very well since I spend about 85-90% of my time seething with rage and hate.

So now I'm stuck. I've got my rage on one side and my hate on the other. And the only thing that can yank me out from between them is that stupid fucking pill that I'll take when I get home in the morning...oh wait, I shan't be home till the afternoon.

People have asked me why I stopped writing. I stopped writing because you don't want to hear this shit anymore than I want to write it.

To hell with it, I'll be following it forthwith.

Later,

I love you Mom...

The Cowboy In Me...

Explanation to follow...

I love you Mom.

How I Feel Every Damned Day...