I was called "soldier" in the Dining FACility last night and it took me off guard for a sec. The man who said it was a civilian contractor, making WAY MORE than I do, but he said "soldier". I am just some guy doing a job I said I would in the contract. I don't see myself as a killing machine but as just some guy that walks to his job with his weapon and does what he has to do. To ME, Special Forces, Marines, guys that shoot at people are soldiers. I am but a rear-seat fixxer....hehe.
Just something that happened last night.
I was wanting to write more, but there isn't a reason for it. K.I.S.S applies right now I guess!
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Comrades-in-arms
As this deployment winds down and we start packing up to go home to "the real world" I find myself realizing how many brothers in arms I have. Friends that I have made this past year now mean more to me than others. I have lived with these men and women and I know them more than others do. I never thought I would get that feeling of a brotherhood like that. I am a loner type person that rarely connects with people on this level. I do my own thing and leave others behind.
Now that we are leaving I realize I will bring back with me friends of a different kind. Friends that will have my back no matter what. We have been through things that you don't go through in the normal world. We all ran from the same incoming fire. We saw the rockets streak and the flashes of light. We all heard the same gunshots. We have all seen the same things on a daily basis. We can look each other in the eye and KNOW who cannot hack it, and who knows what we are talking about.
As we talk about meeting up in one location and driving back to base on leave, I once again realize that we will be there for each other no matter what country we are in.
Weird...
Now that we are leaving I realize I will bring back with me friends of a different kind. Friends that will have my back no matter what. We have been through things that you don't go through in the normal world. We all ran from the same incoming fire. We saw the rockets streak and the flashes of light. We all heard the same gunshots. We have all seen the same things on a daily basis. We can look each other in the eye and KNOW who cannot hack it, and who knows what we are talking about.
As we talk about meeting up in one location and driving back to base on leave, I once again realize that we will be there for each other no matter what country we are in.
Weird...
Monday, November 10, 2008
I renounce my hatred of the southern accent.....I am reformed!
I had a bad experience with the south. It took me 10 min. at a TN gas station to get a slurpee.....long story short I got my slurpee, but ended up hating the way that guy took FOREVER to tell me that he was going to the back to get more money and would be "riiiiiiight back in just a second". Ten minuets later I was out of the store with my deteriorating slurpee and an aggrivated mood, vowing that the south and their accent drove me crazy.
I have since hated the way the southern person talked, what with their drawl and slow delivery of the things they have to say.
NOW.....
I have recently learned that I was hating the WRONG accent..........
yup, imagine that!
I now am only annoyed by that twang that follows with ignorance and useless babbling of the PO-DUNK southern yuk-yuk. Spoken correctly it calms and melts the soul. I will explain in Breif:
The southern accent is different from the PO-DUNK one. HOW do I know this now and not before you ask? Well, after being spoken to by a true southern "belle" as you would call her, in her full blown southern comfort voice, I melted. Yup, got the northern boy all mushy on the damn floor. I know, I know. But to hear the voice in its true and unmolested form was mind-blowingly awesome. The way in which the words were spoken and HOW they were spoken got me. Bam, instantly had me captivated.
I'll never forget that. Congrats to you, miss unknown to others, you just gave me my respect back for the TRUE southern way of speaking. Ah, I will wait with baited breath to hear that again.
I have since hated the way the southern person talked, what with their drawl and slow delivery of the things they have to say.
NOW.....
I have recently learned that I was hating the WRONG accent..........
yup, imagine that!
I now am only annoyed by that twang that follows with ignorance and useless babbling of the PO-DUNK southern yuk-yuk. Spoken correctly it calms and melts the soul. I will explain in Breif:
The southern accent is different from the PO-DUNK one. HOW do I know this now and not before you ask? Well, after being spoken to by a true southern "belle" as you would call her, in her full blown southern comfort voice, I melted. Yup, got the northern boy all mushy on the damn floor. I know, I know. But to hear the voice in its true and unmolested form was mind-blowingly awesome. The way in which the words were spoken and HOW they were spoken got me. Bam, instantly had me captivated.
I'll never forget that. Congrats to you, miss unknown to others, you just gave me my respect back for the TRUE southern way of speaking. Ah, I will wait with baited breath to hear that again.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Just something i wrote one day.....it's OK....nothing special.
I sat there typing in the laptop, keys clicking away as I write to people form afar. As I type, my mind sees something glimmer in the light of the halogen ceiling lights. It’s a grey-sheened stamped aluminum-bodied case, with its stamped shape and semi-curved nature distinct from anything else. It’s laying among my socks pants and boots. A green boot sock lays partially covering it. My tan suede left boot nudging it ever so slightly as it sits on the cold tiles of my coffin-sized room. It must have fallen out of my pants pocket. I thought I heard it clatter to the floor earlier…….
This small holder of death goes everywhere with me. It’s never far from my side. I check for it before I leave in the morning and at night. It annoys me, but I have to have it. It may help save my life one day. A holder of death that SAVES lives. Imagine that. It contains thirty small cylindrical copper machined cases that hold the dealers of death. On the end of each one a small brass formed pointed killer sits. Each one with a green painted tip. Time has worn on these small death holders; their outsides dull and tarnished from the elements and time. They lay waiting for the only time they will be used to save one life and kill another at the same time. They are the only items in the world that can do both jobs at once.
Laying packed tightly in that metal case, they can’t harm a fly. They lay dormant and still, under pressure from below. The day will come and I will take that case and remove all of those brass objects and hand them over to the next person who will do just what I have done with them.
I can’t wait till I can pull those rounds out of that magazine and turn both of them in!!!
I sat there typing in the laptop, keys clicking away as I write to people form afar. As I type, my mind sees something glimmer in the light of the halogen ceiling lights. It’s a grey-sheened stamped aluminum-bodied case, with its stamped shape and semi-curved nature distinct from anything else. It’s laying among my socks pants and boots. A green boot sock lays partially covering it. My tan suede left boot nudging it ever so slightly as it sits on the cold tiles of my coffin-sized room. It must have fallen out of my pants pocket. I thought I heard it clatter to the floor earlier…….
This small holder of death goes everywhere with me. It’s never far from my side. I check for it before I leave in the morning and at night. It annoys me, but I have to have it. It may help save my life one day. A holder of death that SAVES lives. Imagine that. It contains thirty small cylindrical copper machined cases that hold the dealers of death. On the end of each one a small brass formed pointed killer sits. Each one with a green painted tip. Time has worn on these small death holders; their outsides dull and tarnished from the elements and time. They lay waiting for the only time they will be used to save one life and kill another at the same time. They are the only items in the world that can do both jobs at once.
Laying packed tightly in that metal case, they can’t harm a fly. They lay dormant and still, under pressure from below. The day will come and I will take that case and remove all of those brass objects and hand them over to the next person who will do just what I have done with them.
I can’t wait till I can pull those rounds out of that magazine and turn both of them in!!!
The floor is so cold.
That’s what is going through your head at the moment your cell phone starts ringing. It’s vibrating and ringing on the sink. Slowly you reach up and grab it. It’s your friend Dave.
“Hey man, I haven’t heard from you in two days, what’s wrong? You know we were supposed to meet up at the lake yesterday morning right?”
“Yeah, I…….I know” You say in a sullen voice. “I just need some time right now” the phone is uneasy in your shaking hand. You try to focus on what your friend is saying.
“What’s going on man? You haven’t been yourself lately, are you ok?”
“I……I just have something on my mind that I need some time to think about. I gotta go.”
You flip the phone closed and place it on the floor next to you ever so softly. You want to tell him what happened, but you feel so alone that not even your best friend can help you. No one can help now. It's too late for that.
The water slowly drips from the stainless steel shower head, falling like a rocket and smashes onto the base of the hard shower floor like a shot in the dark. It’s loud and rythmic…..slow and steady. The sound is super-exaggerated in your mind like a huge clock ticking away the time left in your life.
Sitting there on the cold tile floor of your bathroom in a towel you realize that this is it for you. This is where it all ends. The events in your past have been ingrained in the stone of your mind. Hindsight is eating at you every second you sit there. Wallowing in your mistakes that cannot be undone. What do you do………what can be done? Can I wake up from this nightmare? Tell me I can re-wind this part of my life......
You try to think of something better, something fun. Your view shifts from the tarnished tile floor up to the open bathroom door. It’s painted wood surface peeling and yellowing with age. Your eyes travel from the door across your living room. You look to the open window of your apartment. The curtains are blowing ever so slightly in the soft breeze. You try to focus on the sounds of the street below, the cars, the people and the bustle of life, where everything is all
WHAM!
The next water droplet slams onto the shower basin. You are back on the cold tile floor. Back to your current state of stress and shot nerves. You sit and let the events start eating at your soul again. “Why me? Why did this have to happen to me?? Why NOW? I just got my life back on track. I had a plan. This can’t be real. I want another chance. I want a do-over!”
You grip onto the towel wrapped around your body, holding on for dear life. Rocking back and forth trying to sooth yourself isn’t doing any good. You try to think of what to do with your
WHAM!
Back in the real world again…….The sound of the water hitting the hard marble floor makes you wince with terror. You have nowhere else to go. You feel like the apartment is your cell. Everywhere you go you cannot hide. Your mind cannot run away fast enough from the truth. Nothing can take your mind off what you did. Nothing. Every time you get a second of clarity the world lashes back and reminds you of your fate.
That hot shower definitely didn’t help.
God this floor is so cold…
That’s what is going through your head at the moment your cell phone starts ringing. It’s vibrating and ringing on the sink. Slowly you reach up and grab it. It’s your friend Dave.
“Hey man, I haven’t heard from you in two days, what’s wrong? You know we were supposed to meet up at the lake yesterday morning right?”
“Yeah, I…….I know” You say in a sullen voice. “I just need some time right now” the phone is uneasy in your shaking hand. You try to focus on what your friend is saying.
“What’s going on man? You haven’t been yourself lately, are you ok?”
“I……I just have something on my mind that I need some time to think about. I gotta go.”
You flip the phone closed and place it on the floor next to you ever so softly. You want to tell him what happened, but you feel so alone that not even your best friend can help you. No one can help now. It's too late for that.
The water slowly drips from the stainless steel shower head, falling like a rocket and smashes onto the base of the hard shower floor like a shot in the dark. It’s loud and rythmic…..slow and steady. The sound is super-exaggerated in your mind like a huge clock ticking away the time left in your life.
Sitting there on the cold tile floor of your bathroom in a towel you realize that this is it for you. This is where it all ends. The events in your past have been ingrained in the stone of your mind. Hindsight is eating at you every second you sit there. Wallowing in your mistakes that cannot be undone. What do you do………what can be done? Can I wake up from this nightmare? Tell me I can re-wind this part of my life......
You try to think of something better, something fun. Your view shifts from the tarnished tile floor up to the open bathroom door. It’s painted wood surface peeling and yellowing with age. Your eyes travel from the door across your living room. You look to the open window of your apartment. The curtains are blowing ever so slightly in the soft breeze. You try to focus on the sounds of the street below, the cars, the people and the bustle of life, where everything is all
WHAM!
The next water droplet slams onto the shower basin. You are back on the cold tile floor. Back to your current state of stress and shot nerves. You sit and let the events start eating at your soul again. “Why me? Why did this have to happen to me?? Why NOW? I just got my life back on track. I had a plan. This can’t be real. I want another chance. I want a do-over!”
You grip onto the towel wrapped around your body, holding on for dear life. Rocking back and forth trying to sooth yourself isn’t doing any good. You try to think of what to do with your
WHAM!
Back in the real world again…….The sound of the water hitting the hard marble floor makes you wince with terror. You have nowhere else to go. You feel like the apartment is your cell. Everywhere you go you cannot hide. Your mind cannot run away fast enough from the truth. Nothing can take your mind off what you did. Nothing. Every time you get a second of clarity the world lashes back and reminds you of your fate.
That hot shower definitely didn’t help.
God this floor is so cold…
Main Purpose of this...
Here I will post my thoughts on things, stories I write, and other general items of particular interest to me. Hope you enjoy and maybe learn something from all this ;)
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