Reflections

Tomorrow, I stand duty. Again.
This is the second time within a week. Not that I'm complaining (although it does suck), but I can't help but notice that this trend of increasing duty is relevant with the decreasing amount of time I have in active service.
August fifth. By my count, 161 days from now. I have a five year active contract. That's 1827 days (including the two leap years). 161 days doesn't seem like much.
As much as I tend to resent the service from time to time, I will be holding onto each and every one of these days as best as I can. I have a monumental change ahead of me, and I'm not ready. Spiritually, absolutely yes. In any other aspect? Not so much.
Yes, I've gotten accepted into the college I want to go to. That's one piece of the puzzle. But there's still so much more to take care of. I have to get my G.I. Bill rolling, I have to file my disability claims, I have to buy my apartment, buy furniture for said apartment, and move in within a matter of a couple of days after I get out ( I'm not a fan of living in other peoples' houses). The to do list I have is large, and the tasks seem overwhelming at times. But, because I know what I have to do, and because I despise failing with every fiber of my being, all of these tasks will be completed, and with flying colors. The day I leave the Pendleton gates, I will be looking right into my future, and smiling.
But let's take a look at the past five years. What's happened, and how I've changed because of it.

Boot camp. One of the best times of my life. Sure, it was hard. Sure, I hated it at times. But I don't remember laughing as much as I did then. Let's face it, drill instructors are comedy gold. And I felt a sense of pride and accomplishment. November 2nd, 2007. The day I graduated a Marine. A day I will never forget. I will also never forget: my drill instructors, the first time I fired my rifle, the sickly sweet smell of the swamps, the sand fleas, the final hike from the crucible, marching across the deck with the series guidon, so on and so forth. These memories will go with me to the grave.

SOI. Ugh, one of the worst times of my career. Camp Geiger sucked, my instructors sucked (minus SGT. Osbourne), Jacksonville sucked, the field sucked, you get the picture. I was glad to be out of there.

BSG. Without a doubt, the easiest time of my career. Wake up, PT, do a couple working parties, libo until the next day. Lather, rinse, repeat as necessary. Once I finally picked up in a training class, I enjoyed my training. I learned a lot of good knowledge, shot  some different guns, got in really good shape, you name it. BSG was a good time, without a doubt.

Bangor. I'm still undecided about this two year span. The job was easy, yet excruciatingly boring and tedious. As for the people, I either loved them or hated them. This was also the time in my life where I distanced myself from my family. Bad move, Jack, but a kid's gotta learn the important stuff his own way, I suppose. I was excited to leave the place, but looking back on it, I miss it.

California (pre deployment timeframe). Wow, what a letdown. I came to 1/1 expecting to deploy to Afghanistan within a couple months. Nervous? Yeah. Excited? Definitely. I was finally going to do what I signed up to do, be an infantryman, and go fight for my country. All was as it should be. Until, they decide, no let's not go to Afghanistan, let's go on a cruise. But better yet, let's keep training like we're going to Afghanistan, and keep you all miserable for no apparent reason. Constant, useless training. I began to resent the command. If it wasn't for a few good friends, I would have lost my mind a long time ago. All I could I think of was getting this deloyment done with and moving on to the civilian world. Just when I thought it couldn't get much worse...

...deplyment. I have more mixed feelings about this then anything else I know of. On one hand, ship life was easy. On the other hand, it made me lose my mind. Being cooped up with nowhere to go, nothing to do, does not fit with my personality. I eventually withdrew from everyone, and in essence stopped talking to people. I wasn't depressed, I just wanted to get away from ship life. Land life wasn't bad. We did some awesome training, saw some really cool places (Australia!), and all in all, it was a pretty good time. Nonetheless, pulling back into San Diego was one of the most relieveing feelings in the world.

California (part two). This is where your beloved author finds himself now. Came back, broke my ankle, therefore keeping me in the line companies to do more grunt work until I get out. It's not bad, now that I have something to look forward to. The new guys we're getting are exceptionally stupid, all my old friends are gone to better pastures, and I'm still here, typing up blogs trying to keep my sanity in check. I will say that I have completely dropped pack. My infantry knowledge is draining by the day. Some look down on this, but my brain can only hold so many facets of information at once. I don't have time to be worrying about how to conduct a platoon raid when I'm trying to map out my immediate and long-term future. Stick me on duty all you want, you can't stop time.

So when I think about it, my departure will be bittersweet. Do I regret joining the military? No. I will never again be able to do some of the things I've done in these last five years. Am I disappointed with my experience? Slightly. I still wish I could have seen combat, if only briefly. But, I did the best with the hand that was dealt to me, and I have no doubts that I've become a better person because of it. Besides, I got to meet Katy Perry, and I'm in her music video. That's almost worth five years of police call and field day in my book. As for the future, I'm anxious, but I'm excited. For once, I'm going to be in charge of my actions almost to 100%, and I'll be completely free, within reason. Now that is something worth drinking for. Too bad I have duty tomorrow.

Charlie's Tale

With no frown on my face I throw my hands up in the air
All caution to the wind, I throw away my cares
My despair is fading further away
I'm quite aware I don't have to stay
Anywhere that I don't want to go
Any place that I don't want to be

So sit back on your ninth cloud
Open your lungs and let out loud
I am here and I am proud
Of who I was then
And who I am now

Meet me in Eden and I'll take you in my arms
Through the times of love and peace before any harms

Could befall us
Hear the angels call us
With a gentle whisper that pleasantly rings
That reminds us of the songs that we still sing
From when we were still young,
Half kid
Half king
Or half queens if that's how you see it
Whatever you want to be,
Be it

A wise man once said to me,
"If you want to view paradise,
Simply look around and view it
Anything you want to,
Do it
Want to change the world?
There's nothing to it."

So let's cut a slice of this proverbial pie
Jump from our clouds and descend from the sky
Let's share it with the rest of the world around us
And the desperate people that to this day surround us

Tell them to smile and continue to sing
Arm themselves with their favorite things
Give them to the needy and see the joys they bring
For the love that we give can't be measured or seen
And all that outnumbers it is the love we've received
In exchange for a kind heart or a helping hand
Or just a bit of space in this wonderful land

So give me your heart and count to three
Start to fall
Spread your wings
Close your eyes
And breathe into me

END


Writer's block has successfully been kicked in the teeth. This came to me out of nowhere during a Call of Duty game and I just ran with it. It's rough, but I like it. Oh, and that's a total Willy Wonka reference up there. That's why I changed the name. It started off as Angels, but then I started thinking about the movie, and came up with the idea for Charlie Bucket. A child wise beyond his years, having fought through battles of poverty and disease, he maintains a shield of innocence and naievety. Hence, Charlie's Tale. So naturally, here comes the disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, or Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. All respective rights belong to Roald Dahl, and designated personnel. Blah blah blah. Which, by the way, the original movie, while less accurate and true to the novel, is far better. Screw Johnny Depp. Gene Wilder for the win.

A Smorgasbord of Nostalgia

So, I was trying to find some old poems of mine in an attempt to draft some insporation. Little did I know, my Myspace still had some old blueprints. Yes, Myspace of all places. Well, thirty minutes later, I still have no inspiration, so here the old bones, resurrected after years of collecting dust.

GIFT
Oh angels on white wings, may you take your flight
Protect this good soul who wanders tonight
Show her that love can still be found
Show her that life is still unbound
Make her a fire
Ensure that it’s bright
Fill it with warmth
To guide her soul right
For she hopes someday she will find
Love
Happiness
Hearts
That are kind
Oh angels will you bring her back to me
So I can show her how it used to be
And give her hope
And help her cope
And hold onto her old frayed rope
Give her an undoubtable reason to live
For I have a gift to whom I should give
I give her my heart in her time of need
I give her my soul so she can believe
In a time and a place where the pain goes away
Where the corruption is gone and the purity stays
Oh angels on high grant me this wish
So she may live on in eternal bliss

I wrote GIFT for a friend who was going through some rough times. She still has it to this day, and now I'm sharing it with all of you to look upon in your dire times.



UNTITLED


Make me…
Beautiful
Forever
Corrupted
Never
Make me something I am not
So all the past may be forgot
Make me deaf and make me blind
Make my mirrors all unwind
I told someone I loved them once so very long ago
She took my heart and took my life and now I'll never know
And when she stepped outside the door surprised was she to see
That another lonely soul was looking back to comfort me
He said make sure you stand up tall and hold your head up high
For as long as its still beating then your heart will never die
So look back in the mirror and tell me what you see
"I see myself and no one else
Are you whats left of me?"
I turn for answers but he was gone
The door was open wide
I crawled back in my hole of black
And let out many sighs
But sun broke through the darkness
Hands outstretched towards me
This place isnt real
Nor is what you feel
Don't trust what your eyes see
But if I cant trust myself alone then what am I to do?
Youll find a way
And see some day
Whats left inside of you
So look back in the mirror and look in for quite a while
Remember your face
Remember your grace
Remember how to smile
So I walked outside the door and found myself a brand new world
Where all is green
And nothing's mean
Where I've never been before
Make me…
Peace


I remember writing this one. I was going through a pretty rough time myself, needless to say. The poem makes it obvious. But, I like happy endings. And like this poem, my life is getting better all the time. Suck it haters.



THE DREAM

Flying...
Falling...
Dying...
Crawling...
You may cry and you may scream...
This is your life, you are your dream...
You make your tale, you scream it loud...
Your thoughts are lost within a crowd...
Without a heart, without a care...
Maybe a dream or just a nightmare...
Will you wake up,
Alone...
Worn...
Scared...
Torn...
Do you dream of your first breath...
Or do you dream of your death...
Will someone wake you or will you wake yourself...
Will you cry for love, or will you cry for help...
For life is never as easy as it seems...
That's why I spend my life within my dreams...
So if you see me passed out on the ground...
Leave me alone and turn around...
You may think helping me is the right thing to do...
But I'd rather have my dream than have you...


For a while, I was obsessed with the of life versus dreams. I made a couple poems regarding the subject, and they turned out pretty well. It allowed me to be more creative with the subject and be less rigid in regards to the structuring. I've noticed I have a tendency to make breaks in my poems with one word lines. I need to break away from that.


Awake

Running through the fields without a single thought to spare
The clouds are pointing weapons and I'm running out of air
I look beyond the cliff and set my ears on golden sea
I turn around and take a glance of what's become of me
I push real loud begin to sway and gently fall to sky
The angels all start laughing as I start to ponder why
I listen to their tears and it's a place I used to know
Where the supper never changes and the lightning never blows
I close my brain begin to sing when does it ever cease
I let go of my sanity as it finds it's new release
I fall to shiny pieces yet the puzzle never stays
But it's not done it's just begun says oyster from the maze
The rainbow must end somewhere and you'll find your pot of mold
But I say wait a decade for I like it in the cold
He says I see you don't remember it for nothing is as seems
You're in your bed you're in your head you're living in you're dream...

Amnesty period. I stole the syllable counts from Shinedown's interlude, "The Dream." I just reworded it to make it more surreal. Not sure if I accomplished it. This is one of my oldest poems. Definitely not my proudest work, but the last two lines are my favorite of anything I've ever written.

Alright, there you go. A little something for you to digest, while I still look for a new creative muse. ETA of said muse: unknown. I'm trying to get a short story started (alliteration, anyone?), but so far, no dice.

Delicious Delusions

OK, here we go, back in the groove of things. I've been busy lately/too tired/out of creative flow/who really cares? Regardless, you're not here to listen to my excuses, you're here because I entertain you. With my rambling mind, my sharp tongue, my complete lack of regard for your feelings. See that profile summary right there on the side of this post? Every blog I make, I feel like that is becoming more of a lie. I am not your best friend. I am the words that you're afraid to say. I am the truth you refuse to hear. I am that guy who you tell everyone you know that you want to punch me in the face, but deep down, you know that everything I say is right. Because I am right. Because I am awesome. And because I am extremely cocky. I've done enough in my life to deserve some praise. And since no one else seems to want to give it to me, I'll give it to myself.

That being said, here's a quick summary of what's been going on, before we get into the meat and potatoes of tonight's post.
I got accepted into my first college. It's a little community college that accepts everyone, so it's not really a big deal, but it definitely feels nice to know I have my back up plan if I need it.
I got rid of my robo-boot. Turns out, to my complete and utter lack of surprise, I am now out of shape. That's what I get for the Domino's overload (which, by the way, their chocolate lava crunch cakes? F***ing delicious. Get one).
I got bro married. It's a lovely relationship that I share with Jeff Rodgers, my official hetero lifemate. We troll Facebook all day, and sing together to the Lonely Island. I'm Andy Samberg. Be jealous of what we have.
My drumming skills are increasing exponentially. Go figures. I'm just that good at learning.

And that's about it. The rest of my life has been comprised of work, paperwork, handiwork, and so on and so forth. Real entertaining stuff.
So, now that the niceties are out of the way, what's the next bit? Well, I'll tell you, keep your pants on there Turbo. Tonight, we're going to talk about something very near and dear to me. One of the few things in this life that I actually attach any emotion into. Writer's block. I hate it. I hate it so much. And I have it right now. Obviously, other wise I wouldn't be writing about the damnable subject.

I keep getting glimpses of ideas in my head. New poems, new rants, short stories, old memories, funny daily moments, everything. As soon as I try to scribe it down? Gone like a fart in the wind. Brain scribbles aren't working either. Maybe it's the lack of sleep, free time, whatever. I need to get out of this funk though, and fast. Certain people are clamoring for more of amy creative literature, and I try to please the audiences when I can.

So, to each and every one of my readers out there, I offer you a challenge. The gauntlet has been thrown down. I want you to send me an idea of something you want me to write about. Anything. Doesn't matter at this point. I'll pick the one I like the most and use it in my next blog. You'll get your name in here too, whoop-de-freaking-doo. You can send it to me via comments below, on Facebook, text, e-mail, doesn't matter. This will be a bonding experience for the both of us. It will also give me the opportunity to see who actually gives two craps about this blog.

And that's how it's done. Catch you on the flipside, readers.

Mix Tape

Here we go with yet another rant.

I got a notification tonight from a friend's blog that I used to follow (notice the past tense I used there). It was a shared post about harnessing your creativity. The share-r (not sire if that's a word, but it is now) said that it inspired, and being a man who loves all things inspirational, I dove right in.
Now as a critic, I will tell you that it was a bit boring and dry for my tastes (as this post probably is to you), and the content was nothing that I hadn't seen before.
So, as a friend, I let the share-r know, in a most tactful manner, that although I was glad she was inspired by the text, it did nothing for me. I knew it would probably start a small debate, and I was ready to back my argument, but I wasn't ready for her retort.
I can't quote it word for word, but it went something along the lines of "no one cares that it didn't inspire you."
I was flabbergasted, befoozled, and hoodwinked. For one, if you're going to post something, anything, on the internet, where anyone and everyone can see it, then you have to be able to expect a critical response. Two, to dismiss my critique in such a way is like a blow to the private parts. If you want to be critical of my opinion, I expect and deserve it to be done in a classy way, with some form of thought behind it, versus sarcasm. If you want to go the sarcastic route, then dismiss me from your friends list, and leave your posts to the cretans, who will blindly agree with everything you say. I have no patience for thee forms of shenanigans.
Anyways, that's my personal story for you. Here's a few more internet trends that are starting to get on my nerves:

Ebonics. It's not "hungry iz hell." Or worse, "hUnGrY iZ hElL." Grow up, talk like an adult before I insult you with words that are apparently above your grade level. Pay attention in English class instead of "rolling dat fat ass dope." This rolls into my next point.

Facebook nicknames. When I want to look at my news feed, I type in facebook.com, not myspace.com. So why is it I see names like Mz Holdyamoneyup Smith? That's not your name, and if it is, you should really get it changed. No one will respect that name. I already don't. If you have a cool nickname, put it in your info, not as your name. I like to know exactly who I'm insulting.

Sports related status'.
I get it. Your team won. Whoop-de-doo. Everyone knows it already. And if they don't, there's thirty other updates saying the exact same thing to make sure we're in the know. Thanks for your public news announcement. And now as the Super Bowl draws near, I'm seeing a smorgasbord of updates about how people are bandwagon fans, and they're not real fans. Get over yourself. I'm not going to stop watching football because my team didn't make it to the playoffs. I'm going to cheer for a team regardless of my team's standing. Just because I don't know the whole Giants' roster, doesn't mean I can't cheer when they dominate Green Bay. It's sports, calm down.

Lovey-dovey status updates.
Announcing your love for someone, or that you're missing your significant other is perfectly fine. On occasion. When every status you have regards the apparent love of your life, that's when we have a problem. Let me cut to the chase here: no one really cares. "I talked to my hubby today, he makes me so happy! I love him so much it hurts!" One, you're only fourteen. Calm down Juliet. Two, and most importantly, I DON'T CARE!

"Arrow to/in the knee" jokes.
If you're a Youtube-aholic like I am, you know exactly what I mean. This meme needs to die. Fast. I don't even know how it got as big as it did. I thought it was stupid from the beginning, like most memes I come across. Hey look I can make a joke! I used to (insert video subject here), but then I took an arrow to the knee. Sounds stupid the first time. But when it's spread like HIV across the Youtube comment board, internet suicide. And then it evolved into something worse. "I used to think arrow to the knee jokes were funny, but then I took an arrow to the knee." And so on and so forth. There should be a Youtube ban on these things, but the admins probably took a coma to the brain.

Well, that's all my brain has to spew right now. I really don't care for this post, so I might not advertise it to the masses. I'm still waiting for my next literary masterpiece. It's coming, and soon, I promise.

A Revelation

Sorry I've been away guys. Been busy doing nothing and cleaning out any semblance of motivation I have. But, today I'm back, and I now have another goal to throw on my long list of resolutions.

Become the best troll I can be.

This is going to be a labor of love. For anyone who follows my Facebook, you might recall me mentioning my winning on Terminal Lance. It was an amazing feeling. I got a complete stranger banned from that page. Now that is some subtle power right there. For some unknown reason, I love being a dick on the internet. Maybe it's the sense of security, or the fact that I can get away with pretty much anything I want.

Either way, it's an amazing feeling to be able to manipulate emotions. I recommend everyone to be a complete dick, if even for just one day. It'll make you feel better about your mediocre lives, believe me. How do I know your life isn't great? You have nothing better to do than read my blog.

Other than that, I'm working on new material to vomit up on here, hopefully the light bulb will turn on soon before everyone loses interest. In the meantime, you can catch me on Facebook, being a dick.

The Oddysey

Today, I will be resting.

Today, I will be trying to figure out all the details from last night.

But, my memory is serving me fairly well so let's see how much I can scrounge up about last night's debauchery.

(I apologize in advance for any spelling/grammar errors, I'm still drunk. At 12:56 P.M.)

Anyways, it starts like this. HORRIBLY. In terms of planning and figuring out what we were going to be doing for the night, I give it two hearty thumbs down. Wait a second, let's back up a tick. The whole purpose of last night was to celebrate my new friend Sam Guyre's 21st birthday. Turns out I drank WAY more than she did. Go figure.

And we're back to the story. So we do a bunch of last second planning, and in the midst of the chaos and confusion, I buy a bottle of UV Blue and begin to drink it straight from the bottle (shows how much of an alcoholic I am). We end up touching base in the hotel room we have set aside for us if push comes to shove. Sam starts getting ready, I start socializing with some new people and chugging said vodka.

Finally, Sam is ready.

After a bit more debate about the itinerary for the evening, we decide to drive down to a local club, Club Inferno. The place is dead. But that's alright, I'm there, so of course it's going to be amazing. It's what I do. Anyways, I make friends with a guy named Bobby (I still don't know where he is or if he ever made it back safe to...wherever), who seems like the perfect guy to buy all of Sam's drinks. Boom, just hooked Sam with a one way pass to the toilet for the rest of the night.

Drinking continues. I eventually convince Alexis to dance with me. She was right, she does suck at dancing. It's ok though, I had enough moves for the both of us.

More drinking, probably up to 6 or 7 AMF's within an hour. I am feeling good. Me and my new Asian best friend Ken Tran, along with Bobby and a few others, are having a great time looking at beautiful women and getting absolutely drunk.

We move to Graycie's, a small bar down the street. By the time we get in though, it's almost time for the joint to close. I pound two more AMF's in an attempt to get me really going. It works.

After Graycie's, we go to someone's house, and problems start popping up. Mainly, a lot of people end up leaving, and it throws a wrench in whatever crappy plans we had at that point. We discuss ideas for a tick, and decide to head to Alexis' house for an after party. Mind you, I am gone at this point. Anyways, I decide to go in the car that's going to the hotel, so I can pick up the remains of my bottle of course. That doesn't happen.

INTERMISSION

Ok, so we're driving back to the hotel, and I am blasted. I decide, even though I don't need to throw up, I'm going to force it on myself, something my buddy Zach G taught me. Well, I get out of the car and proceed to vomit up a substance similar to an anti-freeze slushie. It tasted amazing with the added bile. I do this for all of ten minutes. And since it is Utah in the heart of winter, I am freezing. Literally. So I decide to go inside to the saferoom and warm up while the rest of the crew is finishing up. Worst mistake of the night. As I go in, they go out. And then they leave without me (I'm not blaming anyone, it was just bad timing). So I walk back outside and try to figure out what the crap just happened.

Mind you, it's in the 20's outside, and I'm pacing back in forth in nothing but jeans and a hoodie. I am not ready for this arctic trek. I'm outside for what seems like half of forever, and manage to get some friends to head my way to pick me up. In the meantime, Alexis calls Lauren and tells her to open the door so I can get out of the third ice age happening outside. While I'm waiting for the door to open, I witness a drug deal, or a murder, I'm not sure. I don't even care at this point. My brain has shut down. Finally, I get in the room, and I decide to do what every person does when they're completely faded, text ex's. Bad choice, but I needed to stay awake, so I didn't care.

Eventually, my rescue party arrives. Short story shorter, we decide to go to a house party. I am a little sobered up at this point, so of course I'm down. We get to the residence, and I am ready to engage my hyperfun drives. I get reunited with Ken Tran, who is more than ready to pass out, and a couple others from earlier. Everyone seems to be more drunk than me, which I am proud of, being the alcoholic I am (Mom, Dad, if you're reading this, I'm not an alcoholic, no worries). Anyways, we start playing some card games, and continue to drink. Heavily. I throw up in the bathroom, and of course, keep playing the game. Eventually, I win like a boss with a hand that NEVER happens. Ever. Seriously. I am ready to pass out at this point. So I find Alexis, who is also a bit intoxicated, and I pass out on her shoulder for all of who knows how long.

This pretty much ends the night. We organize a ride back to Alexis' house, I arrive, I flatline until about two hours ago. I am still drunk. I am still amazing. This is my life, and it's getting higher by the minute.