What a weird year

This was a weird year for me personally. Emotionally, I've been on the extreme end of both sides of the scale for time periods that exceed the healthy limit. I'm fairly certain that the seething anger I had for the first six months of the year shortened my life span by at least a little while.

New Year's Eve last year found me in New York City, the heart of it all. It was the first and only time I've been there and I walked around with my head craned upwards and around. Thousands of memoirs and novels have drooled on about the awe that New York City inspires in its newest arrivals and I've nothing to add to it other than to say that the feeling hasn't changed much. We were at Madison Square Garden at a Wilco concert when the year ended. I felt part of the world for once, not like I was watching it on TV. We wandered through the city, stopping at bars and getting stuck at Penn Station until 6am when the trains started running out to the 'burbs again. The next day we saw Twelve Angry Men on Broadway, watched a movie at the AMC in Times Square and rode the subway all around town in the futile search for MOMA (turns out that there are FIVE of them and the main one is not in Queens).

But I was sad. This was a few weeks after being informed that I would be in the army an additional 15 - 21 months beyond the end of my contract. Those college acceptance letters were no good. Those plans I had for travels in Europe, road trips across the U.S., fabulous punk rock shows in basements... all gone. I was going back to the middle east with leadership that hated me, no hope for advancement or a pay raise, and all for no reason. Any unhappiness I expressed, I was told, was not because I was being royally screwed, but because of my negative attitude. This trip to NYC was filled with over-the-top greatness, but it seemed to me like a steak and lobster dinner before my execution.

The rest of that first half of the year was a serious of pretty good things on a backdrop of shittiness. I met a wonderful boy who was actually nice to me. I went to a few great concerts - Flogging Molly, Reverend Horton Heat, the Supersuckers. I went to Montreal, and Washington D.C. Parked my car on the shore of the Atlantic Ocean.

I was also a little ball of rage that fought bitter and hopeless battles against the people that considered themselves leadership. I lost nearly every single one of them, but I learned to feel good about it. They were bad people and thus if they said something bad about me, I saw no reason to not take it as a compliment.

April through June I was involved with running a training exercise on how to search Enemy Combatants. Together with a team Military Police we were to teach the entire brigade. And when I say "we" I mean the MPs were teaching - the rest of us were human training devices to be exampled and tested on. Every female in the brigade got the opportunity to shove my face in the mud, put her knee in my back and twist my limbs at extraordinary angles. The male MPs thought this was great entertainment and would come up with a new procedure everyday, usually involving searching the bra area. I hated them. This was, by far, in a career of humiliating experiences, the most degrading detail I had ever been assigned to. It was so spectacularly bad that I couldn't even be mad at my platoon sergeant. I mean, shit, that's impressive!

Then one humid day in July, my platoon sergeant called me into our caged "office" (a corner, surrounded by chicken wire fence, in a concrete room ) and informed me that I wasn't going to Iraq. And just like that I pulled my stuff out of the quadcons and moved units. I left the army the day after they left for Iraq, taking that nice boy I mentioned earlier with them. That was also a strange feeling. I had invested so much hurt and bad feelings into that group that NOT going to Iraq seemed like kind of a letdown.

The rest of the year I've set about doing nothing strenuous, stressing or the least bit army. I wandered around Britain and Ireland for awhile, spending all kinds of money I didn't have on grocery store sandwiches and Murphy's Stout. I drove from New York to Oregon and visited a few National Parks along the way. I stepped on a moutain goat on a trail in Montana. I watched thunderstorms come after me in Minnesota, hoping they didn't decide to become tornadoes.

I now have, for the first time in my life, a place to live that I don't share with anyone else. My boss doesn't live down the hall and can't come in and tell me to clean my microwave or he'll dock my pay. In fact, I don't have a boss at all. Or a job. I have no furniture, hardly any utensils, and no real desire to change that. Occasionally I go grocery shopping and pay the rent.

Ya know what's really awesome? I have no idea what's going to happen next year!

Double Free!

Gretchen and I walked down to Border's this morning to use our Christmas gift cards. She thinks I live in a bad neighborhood. I'd be a little offended, but during the walk I noticed all sorts of things that I never had before - the homeless camp built on a small stream next to the sidewalk (why ON the stream? there's got to be dryer ground around here), the lone car parked behind the abandoned building (most likely up to no good), the creepy old men staring. Usually I only notice the birds - the giant seagulls patrolling the sea of an abandoned parking lot, hunting for small children; the ducks drifting down the dirty canal (right next to the newly-discovered bum city!); the towhees and jays that squawk at me. Maybe I do live in a bad neighborhood. It could explain the police cars outside all the time.

Anyway, free things! I picked up a couple of books and handed the guy at the counter my gift card and a credit card for the excess. "You still have $5 left on here, no need for that," pointing at my credit card. It sounded fishy. Turns out he didn't charge me for the Kurt Vonnegut book! Yay!!! And he gave me a coupon. As my sister said, "Screw 'em. They're a huge corporation, they deserve it."

Then we walked to Starbucks and got free coffee with our other gift cards. Our extended family knows us well. Either that or they're great gift guessers.

Ooo boy, guests!!!

Apparently I have the attention span of a gnat. Just last night I had to turn down an invitation to go snowboarding because my sister is coming to my house this evening. 12 hours later I'm drinking a beer at McMenamin's and my phone rings. This surprises me for a couple of reasons: I have a new ringtone that I put in THIS MORNING and yet had already forgotten about, and my sister was phoning. What on earth could she want? "Uh, hi. You never gave me directions to your apartment." I frown at the phone. "Ohhhhh yeah," it dawns on me, "You're coming up here tonight." There's a slight pause on the other end and I can almost hear her thinking, Ummm, yeah, didn't have this conversation several times already?

So I give her directions, finish my beer and food and start to walk home. I step outside into a DELUGE. "Ughhh. Oregon," I mutter to no one in particular, as no one else is dumb enough to attempt walking anywhere in this climate. I trudge over to the nearest Starbucks (not to worry, there are Starbucks approximately every three feet in the northwest) and get a free chai latte (my aunt gave me a Starbucks gift card! How cool is that?). I'm sipping away doing puzzles on my phone when, once again, it occurrs to me that Gretchen had called about something... an hour and a half ago. I rush home.

It's been two hours and she's yet to appear, but as it's Friday night rush hour and the roads are flooded I'm sure it's just slow traffic and nothing disastrous has happened. I suppose I should be cleaning or something, but then again Gretchen's really not here to visit me, so much as to lodge her bird and maybe herself if she gets desperate enough. I'm really just a launching pad for her fabulous nightlife, apparently. So here I am, old and boring, waiting for my sister and her bird.

And my latte is cold.

Sigh.

Update for Diane S.: She's here, huffing and puffing all the way. Took her out to eat and stuff. Her bird keeps racing across the room to bite my toes. Hmpff.

Hooray!

I'm back, hungry and bored. Hooray! At least I've gotten to change clothes, shower and sleep a bit. Oh, and I found my Reverend Horton Heat t-shirt that I thought was gone forever! This gives me hope that my Guinness tee will pop-up somewhere around here, too.

Off to spend some Christmas money.

Ugh, I'm in Washington

Yes, it's raining, and yes, I got lost in horrible traffic. I should be back in civilization in a few days.

Yawn

Hope everyone's Christmas is going well. I am bored out of my mind. I really think that once the presents are opened life should move on. Thankfully, we no longer do my mom's tradition of opening the presents on Christmas Eve (she tells me it's a German thing) or there would be absolutely nothing to do the entire day!

Once again, happy Winter Solstice!

Thank God! Or..... something

It's the shortest day of the year! That means everyday after this will have at least a little more time of grey gloom before it becomes blackness. It was pitch dark by 5:00. I remember high school as four straight years of darkness. No wonder!

We (my older younger sis and my dad) almost got arrested at the liquor store. After a robust debate about what we were going to buy, we made up our minds and went to the counter. Evil redneck wench asked ALL of us for ID. Older-younger sis, being under 21, backed out and said she didn't have ID. Note that you aren't required to carry ID as a citizen of the US. Note also that it did not say on the door that ID will be required of children of the booze-buyers. "How do *I* know she's your daugher?" redneck wench asked. "Because I said so!" says my indignant dad. "Well, she doesn't look anything like you!" Thus getting to the real reason we were all carded: she didn't like the way we looked. That's all there was to it. What if a five-year-old was in there? Would he/she have ID? Of course not! And she/he wouldn't be required to have such, either! Redneck wench saw my sister and I and decided to card us before we approached her. If we had shown ID and my sister proved underage she wouldn't have sold us the booze, despite the parental influence (and the fact that it's LEGAL to serve and consume alcohol as a minor in one's own home under parental supervision.). Since she didn't show her ID she acted as if it were illegal to not have such identification. In the end, Gretchen went outside and redneck wench sold us the booze with the admonition, "only because it's Christmas." Well, lawdy gee mastuh, ain' we lucky! Dad steamed for at least five hours. "I'm never giving another dollar to this godamn redneck town! They can kiss my ass!!!!"

We bought tequila and rum, neither of which I'm the hugest fan of. Perhaps tomorrow when I'm out buying Asian spices for them, I can talk dad into funding another bottle of Bushmill's or Jameson. I think I've already talked him into funding a trip for the Irish pub in Portland, what with the samplers of all that whiskey - Scotch and Irish - that he can't afford to buy, not to mention the Guinness chocolate cake.

Other than that, home has been as boring as usual. It's too rainy to go for a walk, so the five of us have been fighting over the one (dial-up) internet. Sigh. Is it Christmas yet?

And so it begins

Clothes are packed, presents in the car, dishes in the washer, laundry done, trash taken out (3x), TV unplugged, bathroom cleaned, boxes stuffed in closets, heat off, I'm showered and scrubbed and somewhat presentable. All I need now is to pick out the traveling CDs, sweep the kitchen and I'm off! Back home, down the soggy I-5 to the land of fog, more rain, good food, pets, sisters, crackling cedar in the fireplace and football on the TV (both kinds).

I do have to tag along for the extended family visit up in the Seattle/Tacoma area. Best brush up on my Afghanistan war stories and definitely my Euro backpacking adventures. Sigh.... Holidays are stressful....

Oh, rub it in why don't you!

Earlier tonight I had to make a quick run into Portland to get my sis her Christmas present. At some point in downtown I suddenly realized that there were entirely too many people on board. And I noticed that they weren't the typical train riders. In fact, they bore a striking resemblance to the aforementioned Volvo-driving, latte-sippers and they all seemed to know each other. This fact wasn't significant in itself as it just furthered my theory that I'm the only person in Portland that doesn't know every other person in Portland. But certainly these people didn't have business in NE? Gangland was no place for this crowd.

"Rose Garden!" someone near the door excitedly shouted, echoing the intercom system. They lined up to get out and I questioned one woman as to what exactly was happening at the Rose Garden. "U2," she replied. I threw my head back, "Ugh, I'm jealous!" I had tried to get a ticket over a month ago. It was sold out, but the ticket price still remained for display: cheapest tix, $90.

After an hour at the mall, I thought I had escaped the concertgoers. Unfortunately, I had run into the early crowd before and now another group was heading in. These guys were all awash in the last time they'd seen U2, how it was "the best concert ever" because it was the last stop of the tour, which tonight was to be as well, and how, "the encore went on and on." When we pulled up to the Rose Garden again, there were people outside, clapping and singing... perhaps the same people who had gotten off earlier and had enough boozing to be this rambunctious.

I got home, depressed that I missed the show and put my playlist on random. Apparently, "random" means 20 straight goddamn U2 songs plus a few other things thrown in at the end. My computer hates me.

What became of rebels who sang for you and me?

--Flogging Molly, "The Seven Deadly Sins"

I was driving around recently, listening to the Dubliners. I like the Dubliners because they can sing the glories of good beer in one song and about serious events of history in another. When I was a kid living in Gettysburg, PA we used to sing old Civil War songs. I've forgotten most of them, but I do remember how they made me feel and the things they made me think about. I wanted to be there, among the canteens and cannons, to sing during the long marches, to fire at those stinkin' slaveholding confederates. You can get places with music that detailed history books can't.

While I was driving a song came on called, "James Larkin" (of whom you can learn all about somewhere else, maybe Wikipedia for a start). This is the line that caught my attention:

And last of all of the seven heroes

I'll sing the praise of James Connolly

The voice of justice the voice of freedom

He gave his life that men might be free

We have no heroes today. Even with all of the blatantly stupid shit going on with our country, there is no one to stand out, to stand up, to lead us all against the tyranny. Yesterday, our president stood in front of the TV cameras and told the world that he broke the law; there was no apology, no remorse and no plan to cease. A little bit more of our national dignity was flushed down the toilet.

So who is it going to be? Who is going to be the one to shout, "ENOUGH!" and take our country back? Are we ready for this? What songs are our grandchildren going to sing?

To go back to the title of the post, I'm not a poet. Dave King of Flogging Molly certainly is, however. What took me four rambling paragraphs to spit out, he summed up in one line, all the while invoking romanticized visions of pirates, Joe Strummer, and merry bands of freedom fighters with their fists in the air, struggling to their last breath for truth and justice. For you. For me.

Oh, and the next line? "Grapplin' with their demons in the search for liberty."

THIS is the shit that keeps me up at night.

Ach, insomnia

It's 5:19am and I haven't slept at all and not for lack of trying, either. I tossed and turned for hours. Dunno if it was the ominous wind rattling the apartments or the chocolate chip cookies I ate at midnight. I didn't burn the kitchen down making them, either! That's one whole week without setting off the smoke alarm! Hooray for me!

You will notice that I have added an email address on my profile. This is in the off-chance that there are shy lurkers about who wish to say something, but would like a more discreet outlet than the comment box. But I will say that if you send me anything mean or hateful, I will do my best to publicly humiliate you, including posting your email address for all the world to see (and the four people who might actually read this).

All I Need is a Volvo

I've really stepped over the line musically. I was toeing it when I discovered that I actually like U2. But yesterday I went and downloaded some Bob Dylan. And I liked it.

Let me explain. Corvallis, OR, the town I was born in and after some moving around, the area I graduated high school in (ok, I did the HS thing in a neighboring logging town) is populated by upper-middle class ex-hippies who drive Volvos, listen to NPR and sip lattes. Fairly nice people, but just way to blase for my aspiring punk rocker taste. Gimme boots, a mohawk and a beer.

I hated U2 with a PASSION from the age of 9, simply because my parents (who, by the way, were/are not upper-middle class, ex hippies. nor do they drive a Volvo. Or listen to NPR for that matter.) and their siblings loved them. Bob Dylan was a staple of the old Corvallis crowd. Even the hippy kids spoke of him in reverance. "None of that, dude! I'm not gonna turn out like you! Turn up the fucking Bad Religion, man!"

Earlier this year I was innocently walking around a bookstore in Kingston, Ontario when a U2 song came on. "Man, I love this song! Why don't I have any U2 CDs? I need to buy one!" And so I did. It was only during the drive home did I realize what had just transpired. "Dammit, I'm getting old!" But I let it go, because, well, they ARE pretty good.

I don't know what happened with Dylan, honestly. Yesterday I read a quote from him and then suddenly I was downloading songs. And I'm sure everyone knows that "Masters of War" has all sorts of applicability for today's issues, so I won't go on and on about it. But DAMN that is some poetry!

It occurs to me that I listen to NPR on occasion, too. And I looooove fufu coffee. But you're not getting me near Burkenstocks! No way! I WILL die with my boots on (or my old Chucks, or a pair of Vans for that matter)!!!!!

Yay for cities of books!

There's this bookstore in Portland - Powell's City of Books, to be exact - that takes up an entire city block. Supposedly, it's the largest new and used bookstore in the world. It's big enough that they offer a map of the place when you walk in.

When asked for a Christmas list, my youngest sister replied, "a book that you like." Great. It's flattering, but also a little daunting. What if she didn't like the book? Isn't that kind of a reflection on me, since I read it and liked it? I really didn't like the implications, so I got her a book that I haven't read. It's something I've wanted to read, but never gotten around to. A lot of important people say it's good. And it was on sale.

Oh and I got myself something, too. There is a pile of books on my shelf that I haven't yet read, so I figured I'd get something that's supposed to sit on a shelf unread: an action figure of Anne Bonny, the pirate. Yeah, told you it was a cool bookstore! She's got removable pistols, a sword and an axe!

Wow, so I woke up at 2 today. Yeah, that's 2pm. I do feel slightly guilty over sleeping in when I know everyone else in this apartment complex works their asses off and I just kinda bum around. But hey, most of these people didn't have to dodge rockets in the year 400 either. (I'm convinced Afghanistan looked exactly as it does now in the 5th century, possibly even earlier.)

Yesterday was pretty damn cool. Portlanders, accustomed to gloom for 9 months of the year, become a little strange when the sun comes out for a whole day in December. First, there was a family wearing kilts on the train. Then, while taking the meandering long way to the bookstore, I turned the corner to face.... who? Darth Vader and a couple of storm troopers. And they were heading right for me. I never thought until that moment that TV really had much of an effect on me as a kid. But something must be programmed deep inside, as I actually did a little fake step dance move in an attempt to run in the opposite direction. Once I regained composure, I thought it was pretty neat. That's a costume someone really could pay me to wear. There was also a parade (mostly union workers), and a man making giant bubbles.

Last night, though, was only so-so. The pipers only played for 20 minutes and then the other band started up again. They might have played another set later, but I didn' stick around. The place was packed and no one talked to me. Well, one guy did ask if I had to show up at noon to get my seat. I'd have glared at him, but I was so happy for the communication that I didn't bother. I had to get off the train on the way home to use the bathroom. The US isn't big on public restrooms, so this is usually a challenge. I got off at a fairly built up stop and found a security guard. He informed me that the restrooms were closed, but upon giving him my most desperate I-have-four-pints-of-Guinness-sitting-in-my-bladder look, he reluctantly opened them up for me. When I got home I attempted to cook something involving potatoes and almost instantly set off the smoke alarm. I'm sure my neighbors love me.

Oh, horribleness!

My internet went out last night! It was terrible. I started doing crazy things, like trying to organize my CD collection, clean out my closet and empty storage bins - ALL AT THE SAME TIME!!!! Of course none of it got done so there's stuff scattered throughout the house. Jeez. AND THEN I decided to take a well-deserved bath. A real bath. See, I haven't had a real bathtub in five years. I was saving this occasion. Turns out the FUCKING DRAIN DOESN'T PLUG.

This morning I woke up to a wrong number from the Ft. Drum area, rolled out of bed and immediately smashed my toe right into the storage bin I had been putting my CDs. Cursing, I hopped out of the bedroom to find that.... THE INTERNET STILL WASN'T WORKING!!!

"GAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!" I screamed. Then I called the cable company. It took thirty seconds to fix. The mess? Still on the floor.

But I did find a subway pass for Seoul; a bag of things labeled, "STRAP, RETENTION, EYE"; a zeroing target for an M16 (all shot up and shit! yesss!); a year's supply of baby wipes, ziploc bags, spiced chai mix, foot powder, and listerine; and a raisin. Ok, I found a lot more than that, but those were the highlights. See, I was planning on going to Iraq and I was planning on that being a lot like Afghanistan - a year-long camping trip hours from a grocery store. Tony tells me I'd have been better off packing hangers and a set of linens. Spoiled motherfuckers. I lived in tents and mudhuts! And those were the good days!

Plus, I was so stressed out about the lack of connectivity that I totally forgot about White Trash Wednesday at the Cheerful Tortoise! So much for cheap pitchers of PBR. Oh well, tomorrow Kell's has a soccer game on TV and pipers on stage so maybe I can get some rowdy Irish guys to buy me some real beer.

*grumble*

Update: Ugh, nevermind, the game is at 7 *AM*. Forget that.

Update II: Arrrrrrgggggghhhhhhh!!!!!!!! I can't even read a calendar right! Both the game and the pipers are TOMORROW NIGHT. *throws things* The band tonight wasn't all that bad - a few Pogues covers and some traditional songs - but they weren't pipers and the crowd was mostly college students. I realize that I'm soon to be a college student, but I'm older than most. They make me angry these young, spoiled things. And for no reason, either! I need to mellow out... and drag some friends out with me.

*more grumbling*

A Special Kind of Stupid

Gene of Borscht and Kimchi fame has an entertaining post up about pulling guard duty in Korea, the battle of Chosin and the wimps he currently works with. :P He and I were in the same unit together a few years ago and although I wasn't there for his wintry gate-guarding adventure I had my own later on.

A few years ago some army dudes driving a bridge-layer accidentally ran over two little Korean girls and everyone was up in arms about it. Even by Korean standards, though, the protests were going a little over the top; one camp had molotov cocktails hurled over the gates, and at another camp a guy climbed over the barb wire fence and up a tower where he set an American flag on fire.

Ordinarily I could have given two shits about any of this, but the army being what it is demanded that something be done. In the case of Camp Humphreys, "something" meant a bunch of lower enlisted soldiers patrolling the perimeter armed with whistles and flashlights. Seriously. Some smartass (and it might have been me) asked just what exactly we were supposed to do if we did see someone trying to break in, whistle them to death? Nope, see the whistle is a warning and then.... and then....... well, the plan kind of fizzled out there. World's most powerful army, at its finest.

Did I mention that it's cold in Korea? REALLY REALLY cold? Well it is. And someone hadn't been issued her cold weather boots yet.

My friend Kate and I managed to score the twelve hour night shift! Weren't we happy! As predicted, not a damn thing happened. We did meet a Korean security guard whose shack was in such remote corner of the post that he might not have EVER seen another person out there. Especially not Korean-speaking American girls. We brought him some coffee a few hours after discovering him and I learned about three new ways of saying thank you. I've never seen someone so excited over coffee! Poor guy.

By the fourth night there was a foot of snow on the ground. We had done about two hours when the shift NCO shows up with the van and takes us back to the office. "Look guys, this is a special kind of stupid. No soldier is going to freeze to death for the sake of retardation if I have anything to do with it. I'm putting on a movie." About the time the bigshots were due in we hopped in the van, drove in circles and pretended like we had patrolled all night. The rest of the week continued the same, with said NCO covering for us the whole time. He was one of the first, and unfortunately, one of the last senior NCOs I met that still had one of those backbone things.

Boy, thanks for the memories, Gene. I knew I did something that year other than drink stout at The Wall.

HAA! And yes, I'm laughing at YOU.... Specialist!

A former enemy of mine and a current pain-in-the-ass for Tony has been deeee-moted! AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!! And at the same time, Tony got his Sgt stripes, so yay for him! That plus some other incidents are shaking things up in my former company. The bad men (and women) are finally starting to get what they deserve! haaaaaaaaaaahahahaha!

Ya know... I never used to be the vengeful type. Thanks, Army!

Ok everyone

Walk the Line is fucking FANTASTIC. The concert scenes were just incredible. When they ended I would blink and wonder, "Wait a minute.. where am I? How'd I get here? Movie theater? I was just at a concert!" Joaquin Phoenix has totally redeemed himself. Where did he go wrong, you might ask? Well, he didn't. It's just that the first role I saw him in was the sniveling son of the emperor in Gladiator and he did it so well that I just could not shake my image of him as an effeminate, slightly weird, pretty boy. Johnny Cash? No way! "He'll ruin him!" I told my mom, who is very much in love with Joaquin. "Ugh, but he's so gorgeous! I don't see what you have against him." I explained that he looks like he's wearing eyeliner. He's skinny. He IS hot, but in a sweet and sensitive I-have-pretty-eyes-and-write-poetry kinda way. But ya know what? He was Johnny Cash. He was dead on. I don't think Johnny Cash coulda played Johnny Cash any better. AND they did all their own singing! Seriously! Joaquin Phoenix and Reese Witherspoon sang all those songs!

BTW, I almost didn't get a parking spot and it was only 1:20 in the afternoon! Don't these people have jobs? Ok, *I* don't, but that's beside the point. My particular room wasn't crowded and it had mostly old people. A few of them had a grandkid sitting by their side and occasionally you could hear some explanations going on. I hope this spurs a whole new generation of Johnny fans. Maybe then when they grow up they'll pick up an acoustic guitar and bang out some heart felt tunes. This is a cycle I like to see happening.

A dark day

Ok, I'll admit it, my creativity didn't die. It was suppressed. By me. And by "creativity" I mean the creative alignment of words and expressions - the topic itself is too fucking real. It's something I've avoided for a over a year now and despite yesterday's best efforts, it came roaring back to me today.

Yesterday, while innocently checking in on the music schedule in town, I came across a website for a celtic punk band from Corvallis who are insanely popular around here. At first I was peeved. Nothing cool ever happened in Corvallis when I was there! Not fair! So I browsed their history and found out that they had played at Eric's funeral. The funeral I didn't go to. Witnesses say it was a good one, if that's possible. So I downloaded some of their music and thought about Eric. I considered writing, but found errands to run and beer to drink and bars to drink more at later.

This morning I woke up hungover and slightly depressed over the weather. So I sat down at the computer, read a few blogs and let the playlist run. The band came on and I knew, just knew, that this was one of his favorite songs. And then I realized there were fat ugly tears dripping on my keyboard. I put my head down and cried for a good long time.

After that and some furious pacing I sat down and hammered out the thoughts that needed to be thought. The results I don't think I'm going to post. Certainly not today and maybe not ever.

But I will say that Eric did not "fall" in Iraq as people so politely like to put it. He was blown to fuck by a madman and he died 7,000 miles from home.

Eric, I miss ya buddy.

Arrr, thar's a mutiny, cap'n!

Some good bloggin' going on today. Snag, Charlie, and of course, American Short-Timer all have good posts up. Go check 'em out!

I had a good blog abrewin' yesterday, but then I wasted 2 hours of my life at the post office and the motivation went *woosh* right out of me. Really, I heard it. So did the people standing in line with me. They thought it was just a sigh, but it was actually the sound of creativity dying.

A Train Ride

I hopped on the MAX again into Portland, this time to the airport. It's the last stop on the other line, so I got to see the whole city. I actually went to the airport to go Christmas shopping, if you can believe that. No one outside of visitors passing through the airport wants a Made in Oregon store, I guess, seeing as everyone else was made in Oregon themselves so it really doesn't seem too interesting. But, it is a good place to get smoked salmon, microbrews and coffee.

Riding the train across town can make you learn a lot. For instance, I would never have guessed that the Saturday Market ran on SUNDAY. Who'da thought? I got off there on the way back and it was full of street musicians and people cooking food. I almost gave some money to a group that had an accordion, because I have a lot of respect for someone that can play an instrument that complicated, but then I realized they were playing Rudolph the Rednosed Reindeer and I decided to save my money. What a waste of accordioning talent.

From there I set off to find Kell's thinking it was somewhere in the neighborhood. Turns out you can practically see it from the MAX stop. Damn, if I had known one of the top ten Irish pubs in America was half a block from the MAX I'd have been there more often! It was too early in the evening for music, however, but I did enjoy all the Irish accents around. Heh, funny thing, most Irish pubs in the states are full of obnoxious drunk Americans so the fact that there actually were Irish folk present was kind of unique. I had Dublin Chicken Curry and Chips which was totally not what I expected. I mean, did YOU picture the chicken curry being ON TOP of the chips? Well, I didn't either. It tasted very good though, if a little strange. There was fruit in it. Fruit and curry..... hmm... It was the first time I'd eaten all day so I wolfed it in about two bites.

I got home a few hours ago and decided to try this guitar playing thing again and now my hand hurts. Oh well, I wasn't as horrible as I remember being.

Tony keeps getting on AIM for about 3 seconds and signing off again. Just enough time for me to type a message to it and press 'Send' and have it rejected. Hopefully it's just a minor connection problem and he can get it fixed soon. I seriously can't wrap my mind around another 9 months of him in Iraq.

A note on Iraq "withdrawals"

The Pentagon in the last few days announced brightly and cheerfuly that they would be reducing the number of troops in Iraq by a few brigades next year. This was supposed to make us go, "oh wow, we're trimming down the troops! We didn't even make them do it! They're the greatest!" They made it sound like this was in response to the recent withdrawal talk being spurred by Rep Murtha.

Here's the catch. They were going to do this anyway! Ya see a little while ago, a few poor units were sitting on the airfield waiting to go home when they were told that they would be staying there up to six more months due to the elections. The number of personnel in Iraq was inflated for election security and next year's redeployments would simply bring us back down to normal levels. But it's already being spun as some sign of progress instead. Arrgh. Just thought I'd clear things up.

Back in Portland

Once again drove up the big I-5 to B-town. The drive goes so much more pleasantly with great music. I sang my head off and arrived with a hoarse voice. Today's winners were Johnny Cash - When the Man Comes Around and Against Me! - Reinventing Axl Rose. Yee haw.

Went grocery shopping and only waited in line for 30 minutes! Wow! That's got to be a record or something. I guess all the millions of cars in the parking lot were there for Christmas shopping or the movie theater. Speaking of movies, I want to see Walk the Line badly. Hopefully it's playing as a matinee tomorrow. Maybe I'll hit Jarhead, too!

Thanksgiving was really nice. There was tons of food, wine, pies and leftovers. Everyone was home for once and we didn't have to drive anywhere. There weren't any fights and Dad made a huge fire.

Now the Christmas shopping begins. The Iraq crew will be late in receiving their presents, as the deadline to mail them has passed, but they will get them in January, at least and that's better than never. So far for the old platoon we've got kettle corn, smoked salmon, some fancy shmancy coffee, and candy. Tony is getting... well, Tony might actually stop by here sometime and read this (ha!) so I probably shouldn't mention it.

Anyone have any great shopping adventures coming up? Going on vacation anywhere?

'nother day a hunt'n'

Once again I got up at 4:30 in the morning, ate a small meal and drove for an hour and a half further into the mountains to battle hills, rocks and salmonberry. Once again I didn't shoot anything. But it was gorgeous out, again, and we got some great views of some real back country. There were old growth forests and new forests that looked like old forests until you saw the REALLY old forests. There were log trucks barreling down narrow, windy, gravel roads. There were snow-fed salmon rivers, fisherman, hunters and plenty of sunshine.

So much sunshine! This is unheard of for Oregon in November! Unheard of anytime year, for that matter. I can't believe that tomorrow is Thanksgiving and the sun is shining.

Ah, Thanksgiving. I think this has officially replaced the 4th of July as my favorite holiday. There's no stress of Christmas presents and shopping, just food. Sweet, filling, delicious, delectable, delightful FOOD. Mom is baking pumpkin pies as we speak. If we're lucky, we may get apple as well! mmmm, yams..... mashed potatoes..... rolls.... turkey.... cranberry sauce.... more yams.... I already can't wait. Poor Mom. Actually, Mom claims that this is her favorite holiday as well, but I think she's really just overjoyed that all three of her daughters have made it home this year and none of us are in dangerous foreign countries or working dangerous stupid jobs, instead.

This dial-up connection is absolutely killing me. I must disconnect before I throw the monitor out the window.

Small dilemma

Latin or poetry? I've got one more 4-credit class to fill... which will it be? They don't offer any course on radio wave propogation and what a shame too - that's about the only science I know anything about. There was some other neat stuff but it was right in the time slot of classes I've already registered for. Arr, and the American Cinema class was already filled! Boo! And beginning guitar is only 2.00 credits. For three days a week ya only get 2 credits? You mean I can take some bullshit music appreciation class for 4?? Hmm, maybe I'll just get another sophomore inquiry class overwith. This is so much nicer than taking trucks to the washrack. I love being a civilian!

The elk of Oregon are safe... for now

I didn't kill an elk on Saturday. :( I did see some elk, but they were on private property and wayyyy past the time I wanted to start dressing a large dead animal. I'm kind of a fairweather hunter. After a enough time - say, two hours - of "hard work" tromping around the woods, I'm ready for a hot lunch and a cold beer. Dad isn't of that mindset. In fact, Dad didn't stop for "lunch" (I use quotes because one stale pb&j sandwich does not constitute a meal) until wellll after twelve and we'd eaten breakfast at 4:30. Yep, that's a.m.

I almost got one, though. Elk aren't like deer. They're not dainty little scared things that live their life in constant twitching awareness. Anytime you see a deer it's known your were there since the moment you decided to leave the house that day. Elk, on the other hand, make no effort at quietness. They stamp, snort and crash their way through the woods. They're hairy, they're smelly and they grunt when they eat. (Now who in your life fits THAT description?) The sight of a bull breaking into the open - chest puffed out, steam coming from his nostrils, monstrous rack of antlers held high - is enough to cause one heart-fluttering moment to remind yourself, "he east grass for god's sake!"

When one smashed his way out of the field he was chowin' down in ('field' in this case is an overgrown former clearcut - impossible to see anything in.) I actually ran out of the way. I couldn't shoot him from where I was anyway - that silly can't-fire-bullets-down-a-road law - so I snuck around the woods at a snail's pace trying to catch him for the next hour and a half. And let me tell you, if you've never snuck before, it's tiring. My legs just weren't accustomed to balancing on one foot while the other delicately nudged the ground in front to avoid snapping a twig. By the time that little adventure was over and we'd had our snacktime - some grain and dried fruit bar - I was simply there for the scenery.

That part turned out pretty well. I saw a salamander, a few grouse (one scared the holy hell out of me, but that's another story), a giant hole in the ground, some chipmunks and several noisy birds. On the drive home we saw a handful of elk far, far away and a large fire on top of a mountain. Oh, and I learned that the hiring of illegal aliens to harvest salal and other nursery holiday decorations is actually quite a problem in the Oregon woods, and that the mafia is behind it. Who'da thought?

It was nice Oregon day, and best of all, my dad was beyond thrilled that he could take me out hunting again, after so long.

hmmm....

Looks like I did some drunken posting last night. I apologize for both poorly written outbursts. Unfortunately, aside from bad writing there were other consequences. Namely, the booze wore off before the coffee, so even though I went to bed at 2am I was wide awake at 5:15 with the caffeine shakes. It's now 1030 and it hasn't stopped.

Movement

I went for a run today. Ran for a whole 17 minutes. Woooo. Felt good though, I guess. Been hackin' up pollutants ever since. It's the first time I've ran since I've been discharged. But I still think walking about 6 miles in the middle of the night with no clue where I was in Dublin was still a significant workout. I was speed walking trying to get back to my hostel in the dark. I somehow ended up next to a park with a pond so thick with algea that the Garda would never have found my body. Fortunately, I somehow ended up on the street that ran back to the Brewery Hostel. That street has about 16 different names, so I guess I was lucky.

LEAVE!!!!!!!

Please, get my friends out of Iraq! NOW! I sick and goddamn tired of hearing about people I know getting blown up in that shithole! Since when did conservatives give a flying fuck about foreigners' freedom? When did it become a good idea to go into other countries to give them democracy and flowers and peace and happiness?? You voted for Reagan?? THIS IS NOTHING REAGAN WANTED AND/OR DID!! Everyone who voted for this fucking war is either 1) wrong and knows it or 2) is psychologically damaged to the point that no amount of logic is going to change their mind. They'd vote for Adolf Hitler, Ghenigis Khan, and any other shithead that ever promised freedom and delivered tyranny. This is what you get you stupid fucks. I don't wish that you go to Iraq. I don't wish that upon anyone. I hope you figure out what's better for you and the working class and vote that way.

Old Peculiar

Once upon a time, I was in some town in Scotland at a Tesco, or some other chain grocery store staring intently upon the wall of beer. The selection in Scotland and England, as you may imagine, is phenomenal. I mostly picked out my choices because of neat looking labels, hence 'Hobgoblin' was one of the first I tried on my trip. The particular day I must have looked more lost than usual, as an extremely friendly Englishman came out of nowhere to aid me in my decision. This was the beginning of a streak of extremely friendly Englishmen appearing in random places (including Montana). He picked up a bottle of some brew called Old Peculiar. "This is a pretty good one. I'd highly recommend it." He went on to tell me that it's brewed near his home in Yorkshire and that people down there pay £4 a pint for it. The bottle was significantly cheaper than that and it seemed to have a good alcohol percentage and I really didn't know what I was doing there anyway, so I bought it.

That night I stayed at Saucy Mary's, a hostel on the Isle of Skye, which instead of a loung area had a pub. Thinking it would be a little rude to bring my own beer to the pub, I set it under my bed. The next day I completely forgot about it and was on my way without it. I'd thought about it a few times since then, a little disappointed that I didn't get to try this beer that was so good it inspired a total stranger to not only recommend it, but provide background info on it.

Today, I was shopping for other people (I swear!) at a place called Liquid Solutions, which has a lot of fantastic microbrews and imported stuff. Unfortunately, it didn't have the coffee I was looking for and the Strongbow only came in bottles (who drinks cider from a bottle???), so I browsed to avoid the whole trip having been a waste. Lo and behold what do I find but Old Peculiar! It's in a much smaller bottle, but nonetheless, it exists!! So I bought a couple along with some Murphys. So much for Christmas shopping.

So anyway, I'm drinking it now. And it is good. Very good. It's one of those beers that when you sip, you don't have to wait a few seconds to eek a flavor out of it. It's a layer of flavors and they're immediate and strong. Yum.

I'm not a MySpace junky..... yet.

I used to think that MySpace was a silly, trendy highschooler thing to do. Well apparently the rest of the ENTIRE FREAKIN' PLANET thought otherwise. I may very well be the last individual on earth to join. So anyway, now ya know. Look me up sometime.

I bought my hunting license and elk tag today. This weekend I'm going out with my dad to shoot a sweet, innocent elk. But it's ok, because then I'm going to spend the next year eating sweet, innocent elk meat.

It seems that all of my pictures on computer/CD format have disappeared somewhere. Not that I had many, but I really was going to put a few up on here and on my MySpace profile. But, sadly, you'll all just have to wait!

My bed arrived and I bought some sheets to cover it. WHAT THE FUCK IS PLAYING ON MY CD PLAYER??? Strange noises..... I found this CD... it's a burned CD and I have a faint idea who made it, but I haven't talked to him in nearly a year. I'm not sure I've ever listened to this before. I think it's the Flaming Lips. Strange enough to be them.

ANYWAY. My expensive bed arrived and then I had to go out and buy expensive sheets for it. Man, living costs money! Oh, and when the movers say they'll be here between 9-11, they mean they'll show up after 11.

Wow

This guy, Ben, actually put his counseling from his commander on his blog! That takes some balls! Holy shit, I wish I had been brave enough to do that back when I had the opportunity. Perhaps one day I'll put up the Certificate of Achievement they gave me for doing over 35 combat patrols in Afghanistan. Not that I'm bitter about that or anything. Anyway, his rantings give a pretty funny and accurate description of the total incompetence of army leadership, defiance - and even contempt - of logic and the general frustrations of being subordinate to a group of people who seem to operate in a universe where it's always opposite day. I especially enjoyed the spelling errors put into writing by the MI commander.

I really need to get Tony a Christmas present and I'm having a very difficult time deciding on what he could possibly need or use (other than the obvious trip back to America without that whole pesky AWOL/desertion charge). He's a computer goddamn genius, has an infinite number of movies, doesn't like junk food or coffee (I know! I can't believe I'm in a relationship with somebody who doesn't like coffee!), can't drink, doesn't seem to read fiction... He reads non-fiction, but things like stock markets and financial planning and computer programming and I just don't want to go treading into his territory and get him something stupid. I mean, he takes care of his own needs just fine. I can't even get him any clothes because he can't wear anything other than his uniform for the next 10 months! He deserves something nice, seeing as he's in such a not-nice place, but lord I just can't think of anything!

Anyone have any suggestions?

A Fine Day

This morning I woke up with the intention of making up for yesterday's waste, which was spent waiting for the movers with my bed who never showed. I put on some jeans and a leather jacket, and feeling sufficiently urban, made my way towards food and freedom. I was craving a giant burrito, but the discovery of McGrath's Fishhouse along the way toward Chipotle's made me reconsider. Some healthy seafood might be more satisfying in the long run considering my general sedentary behavior recently, I thought. So I stopped in, sucked down a Long Island Ice Tea and ordered Tombo Tuna topped with crab. mmmmm, crab. It was delicious, even if the tuna was a little over done.

Then I waddled over to the MAX station, noticing all the Korean shops near the shopping center. It's funny to me when the Korean says one thing and the English translation says quite another. For instance, 식품 generally translates to 'grocery store', but in this case it said Oriental Gifts. Hmm. Then there was the bee-dee-oh store, which made me smile, and offered no translation, so it's my guess that they cater strictly to Koreans who want to rent bee-dee-ohs. Oh how I want to walk in and babble something at them and get the talking monkey look. That's just so much fun. There was some other Korean stores, too, but they didn't look that interesting. I need to find a Korean restaurant that delivers. That's important.

DAMN, the MAX is nice! By far the nicest public transport I've ridden on in the US. Smooth, quiet the only problem I have is that no one was checking tickets, so I feel as if I got ripped off buying one and that I'm going to have to pay more taxes because people ride for free. Kinda like how I appreciate it when someone checks my signature on the receipt vs the credit card. But then I get pissed-off when someone checks my ID for buyin' booze. I guess I'm a hypocrite.

I got off in downtown Portland next to the library, which is a beautiful enough old building that people were taking pictures of it. I'm sure it's considered historic, although it was probably built in the 1920's. We have a slightly different scale of history here in the western frontier of America.

Then it was the street car up to the trendy NW section of town. There are some cool furniture boutiques and things up here, but because I have no interest in carrying a couch on the train - no matter how nice it is - I stuck to my original plan of spending money at Music Millennium. This place is proof that the whole "illegal file sharing is killing my record company/CD store!" argument is pure bullshit. This place is thriving. There was live music and people crawling throughout the place. Maybe - just maybe - your label/store failed because you sell shitty music!!!!! Ever think of that??? I picked up four CDs, a DVD, and a postcard. Whiskeytown, Tom Waits, Johnny Cash, the Pogues and the documentary Gunner's Palace. Merry Christmas to me!

All in all it was a fine day. Fresh air, rain in my eye, a walk and train ride through town. Yay Portland!

Nope It's the font

So now you're stuck with this square font, because the old one causes my right sidebar to disappear down to the bottom of the page. And I don't know why there's only half a box around the title. At this point, I don't even care.

Is it the color?

I don't like this. It's hard to read. But for some reason it works. And when I chose this template, I went in and change all the colors back to what they were and ya know what happened? The margin went down to the bottom of the screen. WTF??

And why isn't my new bed here, yet! I got up early to wait for those guys, dammit! And they haven't even called yet!

I'll return the links when I figure out what the hell is happening.

Why is it fucked up?

I even changed templates, which erased all of my links, but it didn't solve the margin moving to the bottom of the screen problem. What the fuck???

*HOWWWWWWWWWWWLLLLLLLLLLL*

I GOT MYSELF A JUG - A JUG - OF JAMESON!!!!! WITH A HANDLE AND EVERYTHING!

I found the remote!

I only destroyed my living room trying to find the channel changer amidst the boxes, but I found it, baby! Plus, when I got the tv setup, the cable strung around the room and hammered into place there was soccer on! Unfortunately, it was women's college soccer and while I enjoy watching them, the cameramen seemed like they were interns or something and it was very difficult to watch. And it was 82 minutes into the game. But, nevertheless, I got to watch a very little bit of soccer. The Fox Soccer Channel is the only reason I would ever get more than the free basic expanded cable, but because I'm a tightwad, that won't happen. Oh well, I'll just have to use that as an excuse to take the train up to the Cheerful Tortoise, down a few Guinness and watch all the English Premier League, MLS and internationals I want.

Wow, speaking of careful wishes

Apparently someone threw a pipebomb near my parent's house two nights ago! Terrorist activity in Philomath!!!! Good thing I wasn't there, I think I would have grabbed a gun and gone chasing after anyone in the area. Loud booms and projectile explosives make me a little jumpy nowadays.

The annexation was defeated by 78%!!!! YAYYYYYY!!!! I feel like I did some good in the world. Now, I have to register to vote up here and learn about all the local politicians and initiatives in this area. I did see the Libertarian party headquarters downtown, but I think I'll be skipping that experience. Not that I don't support the libertarian party - they take votes away from those stinkin' Republicans - but they really just aren't my thing.

Careful what you wish for

I wish I had something to blog about. Then again, I'm glad I don't, as the usual things to be blogged about involve some sort of crisis. I did set the smoke detector off for the second time, if that counts for anything. Oh yes, and traffic is insane around here. Oh, and I dragged a hundred pound box up the stairs and then spent 5 hours putting together this piece of crap computer desk. By the way, the authors of the Athena Computer Tower assembly instructions are sadists. I have TV! For free! Watched a rerun of Family Guy last night. The scene where Peter gets his library card revoked for reading while intoxicated makes me giggle uncontrably every time.

Tony is on his way back to Iraq. *sniff* Poor guy! Ten more months of monotony.... oh well, knowing him he'll probably come back with a Master's degree, a business and a pilot's license.

I've got to drive back down to Corvallis to see my sis's soccer game. They're playing some snotty team from Portland and as it's the playoffs, it could very well be their last game. Next year they'll rearrange the leagues and most of the snotty Portland area and private schools will be in a bigger league, leaving us with just the evil Marist to rally against. Ugh, I'm so sick of I-5!!!!!

I HAVE INTERNET!!!

AAAHAHAHAAHAHAHAAAA!!!! I have internet again, a full week earlier than expected. And oh god does it feel good to have a cable connection again! My parents' dial-up was slowly depriving me of the will to live.
Hmm, I just noticed that it's really dark out. I thought, "oh shit! I wasted half the day playing with my new high-speed connection!" but no, it's only 2:35.... it's just about to dump massive amounts of rain and doom upon the hapless citizens of Beaverton. Crap. Time to shut the windows. It was nice while it lasted!

Chillin' like a Willy

That's a quote from one of the local 'terps at at Shkin. I don't feel like explaining so go look it up. More than likely you'll just find some story about an ambush or a rocket attack... just as in-depth as anything else, I suppose. My buddy Tom said hi to this guy and he replied trying to use some slang, but Tom just didn't understand, "Uh, I don't speak Pashtu."

It's Halloween and I'm finishing up the bottle of Jameson my dad so generously bought for me and then drank most of. (NEVER END A SENTENCE WITH A PREPOSITION!) I sign my lease tomorrow and I'm hoping that if I'm all out of whiskey that my dad will buy me one more bottle before I have to be a boozehound on my own income. I wonder if the government knows that the majority of the money they give me is gonna go towards booze n' beer.

They sent me an email today! 'They' being a sergeant for the IRR, reminding me to update my address if I move. hahahaha. Just seeing it in my inbox made me frown, but when I opened it, the bold and italicized phrase caught my eye "you have already received mobilization orders" and I choked on my coffee. After catching my breath I read the rest of the sentence that said, "If you have already received mobilization orders, please let us know," and gave a huge sigh of relief. Appropriately, it arrived on Halloween!

Time with Tony was wonderful and entirely too fast. Those five days were over in an instant and now he's in Texas to spend time with his family before he heads back to Iraq.

The Johnny Cash movie is coming out soon!!!! And two -- TWO -- from George Clooney are due out in the near future as well. Suh-weeeeeeeeeet!!

Injustice

Daniel Goetz's blog has been shut down. Not because he was violating opsec, but because he expressed one of those.... shudder.... personalities. I can see them now, miserable TOC workin' fuckers gathered around this display of their ineptitude realizing that all their faults were there to see for anyone with half a brain, "Oh god, we can't let the public know that some soldiers don't believe in the mission!!!!!"

To the officers of the 3rd Infantry Division: You goddamn traitors. Your actions are un-American and should (and likely will) be scorned. Know that when you finally get home (again) that the parades and accolades shouted upon your troops will not be directed at you, but at your hapless soldiers who are the true embodiment of American values. Those you seek to squash are Americans who know honesty, integrity and honor and just aren't fucking seeing it in this shithole you constantly glorify.

I'm tired and this is not well written. I apologize, as American heros deserve better. In the meantime, link your site to everywhere you can and get the word out. Also, his fiance Holly, has her own site. My best wishes go out to all who are somehow involved in this debacle.

Negligent Discharges

Great name for a band, huh? Apparently, and my source shall remain anonymous, my old brigade has been having some problems with negligent discharges. In case you're confused, a negligent discharge is army-speak for accidentally firing your weapon. It used to be called 'accidental discharge' but that wasn't an accusatory enough phrase, so it was changed to 'negligent' to emphasize the dumbassity of such an action. The number one excuse for a negligent discharge? "I was cleaning my weapon and..." Right. The first thing *I* do when cleaning my million dollar gadegtry enhanced M4 is put a round into the chamber, flip the safety off and pull the trigger. I mean, that's the fastest way to clean a weapon, right? Anyway, my old brigade was experiencing a string of these incidents and the BDE commander was fed up and declared that everyone would receive a class taught by a commissioned officer. I guess it takes a college degree to explain to the underlings why firing bullets at things you didn't intend to shoot is a bad thing. However, the BDE commander must have missed his own class, as recently he himself - the INFANTRY COLONEL - had a negligent discharge of his M9 pistol. What a tard. How fucking glad am I these people don't run my life anymore?

On the short list of people in Iraq that I do like, Tony is back in the states! Woohoo! He called last night to inform me that he was 3 Guinness into a layover in Ireland and that he had another hour before his flight left for New York. Lucky for him, he bought me a gift of some sort of Irish moonshine. Hope he managed to stumble onto the plane.

This morning Mom and I footed it through town leaving fliers explaining all the doom a new ugly development in our little town will bring. It was quite fun to be doing something for my community for once. I even got to wear a button!

Two days until Tony is here!!!

...Cuz you've gotta have goals

American Short-Timer made me realize today that I'm not drinking enough. He describes his flight towards basic training, which he managed to share with a bunch of soldiers headed towards civilian-land freedom and describes his fellow passengers:

They drank their asses off, shirts untucked, jackets open, cunt-caps askew. Wild-eyed and intoxicated from those first tokes of freedom. The freedom to go be a burger-flipper. The freedom to sleep in hungover or drunker-than-fuck. And get fired for it. Free to tell the boss to shove it where the sun don't shine and walk off the job whistling. To not give one indecent fuck-all about any of it and less. To wake up in the middle of the afternoon without a single commitment. Without a single coherent thought. Penniless.

What the fuck happened to me? I used to dream about this shit. Before I was stoplossed. Back when I had a modicum of respect from both superiors and subordinates alike. I used to get shaky and drooly over thoughts of back to back shows and waking up to alcohol for breakfast.

One day after a weekend of driving and daydreaming and staring at maps to plot my destructive path of madness and freedom, my friend told me that we had an early-morning battalion formation. "We're getting deployed," we both chuckled uneasily. Sure enough, that was the gist of it. December 15 was the fateful days the news was broke. August was to be our departure date. Funny thing is, it was also my ETS (ie: day one gets the fuck out of the army). 14 extra months in the army. Too bad for me though. Nobody cared that I had already been to Afghanistan (the REAL and forgotten 'War on Terror'), nobody cared that I went to Korea, that I'd never be promoted again (someone finally figured out they don't speak Korean in Iraqistan and stopped promoting those lowly Korean linguists. Won't kick them out though, oh no.). Our platoon sergeant had the audacity to chuckle at the miserable faces of my platoon mates and I screamed at him. He was genuinely taken aback. "Are you really mad?" he asked incredulously. "WELL YEAH I'M FUCKING MAD!! THESE ARE PEOPLES' LIVES HERE AND YOU THINK IT'S A FUCKING JOKE!!"

I seethed. I went from silence to screaming. I had fights with platoon sergeants, first sergeants, captains, any shithead who dared accost me with some comment about a "negative attitude." But the good-natured part of me wanted to teach - to help those that would be in this mess for even longer. I tried teaching them the things I learned in A-stan - the reality of things, not the bullshit officer-speak they have you memorize and regurgitate. That got me in trouble. Standing up for my soldiers got me in trouble. In fact, nothing I did was ever fucking good enough for them ever again.

But gradually and very VERY slowly, I started to get over it. My screaming had turned into subdued snarling under my breath. I went out drinking with the new guys to try and make friends with SOMEONE before I went to get shot at with them, to make them feel like someone understood what they were about to go through. I guess I even came to acceptance. Reluctant acceptance, but acceptance nonetheless.

And then, suddenly, I wasn't going. Three weeks before departure, they had me pull my stuff out of the quadcon and move units. I moved, outprocessed the army, did some backpacking in Europe and now I'm at home with the parents, waiting for my first apartment all to myself.

Did I burn out? Did all that hate, anxiety, anger cause me to lose my dream of being a drooling-drunk, scenester punk? I wanted to go to every show and drink myself into a stupor. Run into the mosh pit and not even feel the blows delivered.

Then why the fuck am I at home typing on my stupid blog?

November 1 is the day I move out on my own. From November 1 on, I vow to be beligerently drunk for as much as possible in each 24-hour time period.

Flogging Molly!!!!!

I've yet to be disappointed with this band, even when Bridget (the violinist/tin whistler) was gone for a show. Last night was no exception and in fact, may have been the best performance yet. I haven't been to the WOW Hall in 5 years, and I haven't totally forgotten how awesome the place is, though I was due for some reminding. I remember in awe my first few shows there. Looking back I thought that it was maybe due to youthful exuberance and I was afraid that the novelty would wear off as an adult. Thankfully, that didn't happen. The short, ratty stage with the crowd jutted up against it, the "backstage" area actually outside next to the stage - all of this makes you feel like you're posing for a MRR photo. "This is what punk rock is supposed to be!" you think. What I really love about the WOW Hall is that bands enjoy playing there. You can tell just looking at their faces and it results in a better show. While Flogging Molly is usually a happy band, they were all smiles last night - way more than usual. It's a small crowd, but wayyy louder than it should be for its size.

Which brings me to my next point: the crowd definitely had some obnoxious shitheads in it. Whatever happened to mosh pits being about fun and dancing? Eugene was known as being the opposite of Portland, in that the moshers were not out to hurt people and looked out for one another. Last night the drunken frat boys decided that since the band plays Irish music, they were going to live a stereotype and be rowdy bastards at the expense of everyone around them. The whole point of the show to them was to see how hard they could shove each other into the crowd - if they hit a section of girls, even better because they could knock more of us over. I got kicked out of my front row spot about 3 minutes into the show - no big deal, I've seen the band a number of times and I'd rather have room to dance anyway. But the above mentioned rowdy bastards would find the sections where people were trying to dance and actually see THE BAND instead of some sweaty t-shirt in front of them, and they would start a shoving match in the middle of it, just to see everyone fall over or get smacked in the face. If you were at the show last night and participated in any of the above activities with glee, fuck you.

On the other hand, some punishment I kind of enjoy. When I wasn't getting pummeled on purpose, I was getting pummeled benignly by other dancers/friendly moshers. Here it is, 12 hours later and I'm still finding bruises. At least I can bend my elbow again - that was a bit of an issue trying to drive home last night. These injuries I don't mind. I enjoy showing off my battle scars and every twinge of pain brings back happy memories.

So! Now that I've had my non-alcoholic happiness dose (THANK YOU FLOGGING MOLLY!) I can go on with my life of doing absolutely nothing and enjoying the hell out of it. I'll post the next time something mildly exciting happens.

...And the boredom sets in

Knew it was going to happen eventually. I actually got a lot of stuff done today, but I feel like I've done nothing. Tony's not online and I didn't get an email from him today either, so I'm lonely too. Sigh.
The pitfalls of being unemployed and living at home are pretty minimal, I guess. No more First Sergeants who hate their lives and try to ruin everyone else's; no more Colonels gunnin' for a star who send us out on shitty "movement to contact" (ie: "get ambushed on purpose") missions; no more ruck marches in the snow or radio checks all by myself in the driving rain; no more slipping on the ice and falling on my face/ass while walking to the motorpool for the 30th fucking time; no more listening for whistles and exchanging knowing looks or determining if that 'boom' was incoming or outgoing; no more showering in the dark with a water bottle; no more digging holes in the rocky ground at night for my bed (and my interpreter's); no more ice crystals forming on my eyelashes during a 5-mile run when it's -20 degrees; no more peecho; no more 250 sq ft concrete room shared with a person that I didn't pick out and heaps of equipment I'd rather not have; no more carrying 3/4 of my body weight in gear around at 8,000 ft; no more gut-wrenching Chinook rides with pilots screaming obscenities; no more hoping a bus would hit me so I wouldn't have to get Stoplossed and go to Iraq.... in short, no more army = way less shittyness!
It wasn't all bad today, I guess. Aside from not getting rocketed, I got some good couch time re-Oregonizing myself. My parents have a split-level and the living room downstairs at the front-door has no television or stereo or anything like that. It almost seems like a waste of the only good furniture in the house, but I beg to differ. The simple setting, couch, love seat and chair, around a large stone-heart, wood burning fireplace and a view of the mountains is all ya need - that and a good Oregon brew like one of the Rogue Ales. I seem to remember enjoying the view here as a kid, but as I only lived in this house for a year, I don't think I built quite as much of an appreciation as I have for it now. Everytime I look out the windows, both upstairs and down, I am amazed. With the clouds and fog moving in all the time it constantly changes things. Hills and trees appear, new lighting turns a stand of trees a different color. I'm making it a point to spend some time downstairs everyday just staring out at the view, sipping on a beer, enjoying Oregon and enjoying my life again.

"Cuz baby, I'm an anarchist"

No, I haven't done anything anarchist today. In fact, I paid my bills, filed a claim with the VA, and worked on my apartment application. Against Me! is much more fun to listen to when it's blasting out the open windows of your car on a military base. Especially if you're singing along to "Baby I'm an Anarchist." Nope, sitting in the family room looking at the street just isn't the same atmosphere.
I'm trying a stress-free day today, as I think I've found an apartment. Problem is, everytime I look at the behemoth of an application I feel my blood pressure rising. Army bureaucracy meets VA bureaucracy meets civilian bureaucracy. None of it meshes and it always ends up with the little guy losing. I can't prove how much money I'm going to get in January or even if I'm going to get it at all. It's especially hard to prove how much if even *I* don't know! GI Bill is pretty well spelled out on the VA benefits page, but the Army College Fund isn't a VA program, thus it has no explanation on that page. The Army of course, offers about two completely unhelpful sentences on it. Methinks I'm going to get ripped-off. Won't be the first time, Army.

Everything but the Kitchen Sink

The grizzled vets who have been living on their own for quite some time - and yet are probably younger than me - may laugh at my ignorance, but today I discovered just how much goes into a kitchen. I was mainly concerned about dishes, silverware, and pots and pans. As I pushed my cart through the rather small Target in Eugene, I ran across all sorts of gadgets that I would imagine are absolutely essential to cooking anything other than coffee, oatmeal and frozen pizzas. Things such as measuring cups, spoons, glasses; spatulas, tongs, flippers (is there an official word for those things?); cheese graters, mixing bowls, salt and pepper shakers; all of these things I recall using at one time or another when cooking with mom - and all I ever made were cooking and french toast! I'm gonna starve.

In the good news section, Tony got a 145 out of 150 at his promotion board and was recommended to Sergeant! Woohooo! Let's hear it for the sexy beast!

The rain is here. We'd all been wondering when it was going to show up. It's unusual to have so many beautiful, sunny days in a row here in the Willamette Valley. I don't mind the fog and rain, but it makes me sleepy and unmotivated. I seem to spend most of my time on the couch downstairs watching the clouds roll in from the coastal mountains. heh, just a short time ago I'd have killed to have been doing exactly that! Tomorrow I will take Harper for a walk. I didn't tonight and the past two nights have just been around the neighborhood. There are lots of good trails around here, some that are particularly beautiful now that the leaves are changing. There is no reason to get soggy walking around the neighborhood when I can get soggy with much better scenery just down the road.

Mysteries

Last night, 4:45 am to be exact, my phone turned itself on. Funny thing is, it was already on. It's been in the back of my mind all day and tonight we watched Donnie Darko which got me thinking about strange things. To top it off, my dad says that his phone also turned itself on this morning; all the buttons and lights came on while it was powered down. I can't figure out what would have caused it. First off I would say it had something to do with the Verizon network, but how does the network control the power of the phone? If you go out of a reception area your phone doesn't turn itself off. The power shouldn't be connected or even related to the information the phone receives; they're two separate systems. Was there a power surge? Again, the phone shouldn't turn off just because the charger did. Then again, if there was a surge it might have produced enough energy to shock the system into restarting. But maybe I'm underestimating the power of the cell phone provider and maybe Verizon can send a signal to its phones that causes them to turn themselves on, even if they already are. Or maybe Dad is right and the CIA is spying on me.

Home

Home home home. Well, somebody's home at least. My parents think of it as home, as well as my youngest sister. It's enough of a home for me that I actually swept the floor yesterday to clean up the dog hair. Cleaning, in case you didn't know, isn't something I do regularly. My mom even asked me, with genuine concern and curiosity, "What are you doing?" when I had the broom in my hand. Perhaps she thought that I had spilled something everywhere and I was trying to hide the evidence. I also bought a pet hair roller, which is a slightly more sturdy version on a lint roller. As much as I love my pets and love to pet them, I HATE having fur all over me, so I've rolled my clothes and linen through two sheets of sticky already. Perhaps today I'll vacuum! (I HATE VACUUMS!!!!)
Today is one of those dangerous times where I could simply do nothing at all, like a day on summer vacation in middle school. However, that's a trap I feel I could fall into all too easily. I need to be looking for apartments in Portland so that I can settle in and get on with my life. It's just so beautiful out that I want to go for a bike ride, take the dog for a walk, read a book in the sun, help out at soccer practice, have a Murphy's on the porch, cook myself breakfast again... anything but actually sitting down and doing what I need to do. Tell me to get crackin'!

Road Trip

Sorry for no updates in awhile. I've been on the road, traveling on 90 from New York back to Oregon. There have been a few interesting pit stops along the way - Chicago, the Badlands, Montana, etc - but I'll have the details later. Right now I'm at my sister's apartment in eastern Washington and we're about to go and eat dinner at our aunt's nearby. Woohoo!

Malted Barley

I keep meaning to post something about Dublin, about the smell of malted barley drifting in through the windows in the morning, about how cool this hostel is, but every time I sit down to do so I stop by the news sites, read about Katrina and get depressed and pissed-off and forget to write in my blog. So yes, I'm at the Brewery Hostel in Dublin which is next door to the Storehouse and across the street from the St. James Gate Brewery... the GUINNESS storehouse and brewery, that is! It's a magical feeling, knowing the you're breathing the air that is making the greatest form of liquid since water!
I really wish I was traveling with someone, though. Hanging out in a pub by myself isn't much fun and a little scary at times. I have to walk back alone and Dublin's streets are confusing, slightly dangerous and swathed in creepy yellow glow of the street lights. The first night I was here I must have walked 6 miles just trying to make my way back from downtown. All the streets in the British Isles have a tendency to fork or hit a traffic circle and come out facing a slightly different direction on the other side and aren't labeled very well. Dublin is no different and in fact the streets change names every block! For instance, I'm on Thomas St, but at some point about 50 feet from here it becomes Cornwall St and then High St and then I'm not quite sure what happens to it, as it then hits a busy intersection and I'm too preoccupied with not getting hit by a bus to pay attention.
My feet are throbbing at the end of the day and I'm developing shin splints. It's mostly my own fault though, due to my stubborn refusal to carry a map with me. I guess I keep thinking that if I get lost enough times that I'll have mapped out the whole city in my head anyway, and I'm partly right, except that I keep underestimating the sheer number of little unlabled roads that drift off into a direction I didn't think they were going to go. Turn around and the road I came from is gone. Fairies playing tricks on me, I tell ya!
Tomorrow I have a good long walk to the bus station and even though I was there today, I'm not sure I trust myself to get back there again, so I'm going to give myself about an hour and half to get there. There's a bus every two hours though, so I'm not too concerned. The ticket they gave me is the most archaic slip of paper ever issued officially. It makes no mention of time, the date of issue is off by a month and doesn't say when I'm coming back. All of this is printed in faint Xerox blue-purple. If I were a bus driver, I sure wouldn't accept it. And this is the most major bus station in the biggest city in the country! I shudder to think of what the station in Killarney will be like.
Yep, that's where I'm off to next. It's in the southwest corner so I'll get to see a good deal of the country on the ride over there. I'm contemplating taking a train back even though I've already bought a return ticket. It's not very expensive and it's much much shorter. Might take me through some other scenery as well!

Ha ha!

I'm in Dublin and you're not! Neener-neener-neener!! Off to get some Guinness and enjoy the rare sunshine.

Feeling guilty

I just plopped down a hundred bucks to the Red Cross and you should too. Does anyone know a way to volunteer hands-on, rather than just sending in money? I'm still young and able-bodied enough to fill sandbags (and oh lord am I practiced at that!), carry jugs of water and dodge bullets. Thought that whole dodging bullets thing was over with, but with America sinking faster and faster I should be grateful that I'm at least experienced. You could say that I have a headstart.
This sucks. While wandering around the British museum today and reading about lost civilisations I kept thinking about what I would do if MY civilization were to collapse (a reality made increasingly possible with each passing day). What would my band of survivors be like? Where would we settle? What would our specialties be? What would my place in the tribe be? What is my place in the tribe now? Sigh. Too much deep thinking today. BTW, the British Museum has a great book shop! I think I spent as much time in there as I did in the whole rest of the museum. Tomorrow I'm going to try and hit the Natural History museum. Not that it's anything significant compared to the other museums in London, but Natural History is something that has just always interested me, so I must go. Hopefully I won't do as I did today and walk around London for 2 hours trying to find the damn place.
I almost bought a t-shirt today that read "BUSH & SONS: AMERICAN BUTCHERS est 1989," but the £24.99 price tag and the XL size stopped me. Virgin music superstore was the single most expensive CD store I've ever stepped into. At first I was appalled with System of a Down and Green Day's CDs being £13.99 ($26.20, roughly), but then I saw Flogging Molly's Drunken Lullabies for £16.99 ($30.00) and I turned around and left. Franz Ferdinand was also £13.99 so it wasn't an issue of import/export, as Franz is Scottish.
I've been looking forward to my drive home when I return, until recently. The thought of extremely high gas prices has got me thinking that I should get home as fast as possible and maybe camp along the way. Cripes, that trip is going to cost me more than my 3 weeks in Europe!
Well, that's all for now. Remember, DONATE!!

This may be my last vacation... ever

I picked up the Evening Standard today on my way back from sightseeing in Westminster and apparently, while I'm on holiday the world is ending. A great American city is wiped off the map and there is rioting, gun fights, and mass chaos. The troops that are supposed to be there for exactly this kind of scenario are dying in that unwinnable debacle known as Iraq instead. China warns of impending nuclear war with the US. CBGBs is closing due to an asshole landlord. Gas prices are skyrocketing with no end in sight. Sigh. I'm gonna have to sell my car, walk everywhere, and live off of carrots I'll have to grow in my window sill. If I have a window sill.
I'm trying to enjoy myself and make the most of my last vacation ever, but food is so goddamn much money here that I'm getting stingy. I'm supposed to be off at the pub every night, but instead I'm eating two meals a day consisting of supermarket sandwiches and orange juice. I'm thirsty, it's hot, it's even hotter in my room and I'm whining like a little bitch. I am enjoying London, though. I could have done without the security guards following me throughout the museum today, but that seems to have happened to me all my life and I may as well get used to it.

Back in England

Back to the land of the cute and quaint. People are friendly, I can understand most of them and everything is labeled with directions. London so far has been worlds easier to navigate than Edinburgh and much warmer. I think that if I were to live somewhere on this island it would be on this English side. If I got sick of all the perfect gardens, paved footpaths and people everywhere, I'd head up to Scotland, walk some hills and soak up all the space and openness. Over crowding is certainly not an issue in the Highlands.
I am, however, unimpressed with the prices of things around here. I'm going to have to live entirely off of carrots and premade sandwiches from the grocery store since a meal is, at a minimum, $10. Oh well, at least the museums are free.
Off to do some laundry!

Isle of Skye

Scotland is pretty harsh, kinda like bagpipes when you first hear them. It's very windy, very cold and it sounds like everyone is yelling at you. But after you adjust a bit, you realize that it's GORGEOUS and the people who seem to be yelling at you are just trying to be heard over the wind. I can't believe how many pictures I've taken. I know that I'm going to be pissed at the results of them, too. The whole allure of this landscape is the great openness and hugeness of it. As soon as you put it into a frame you've lost that. Gotta go, running out of coins.

Blimey! (England Day 5)

Finally heard someone say, "BLIMEY!" and I did giggle at them as I suspected I would. Oh well, call me an American. Today I went to Knaresborough castle, admired the huge list of thedead for WWI, and bought BRIGAND beer. Brigands! was our mascot in Bravo Co, so Tom and I got a huge kick out of it. I peeled thelabel off for Tony and Tom is ssending Rob his own bottle. Yay Brigands! I, however, drank most ofhte beer that was bought and now I'm quite drunk. good night and nest time you'll hear from me, it'll be from Scotland!

England Day 4

Charge This

Scarbourough castle is pretty formidable. That cliff is huge and incredibly steep. It's not too surprising that it's been used since the Romans as an outpost and fortress

Scarborough yesterday was pretty neat and did indeed have a castle, the North Sea and really good fish n chips. Today we walked to town, but since it's Sunday nothing is really open and I couldn't find anything I needed. Oh well, I guess I can get a phone card tomorrow.

Some funny things:
- a warning on a pack of cigarettes says, "SMOKING CAN CAUSE A SLOW AND PAINFUL DEATH."
- a lot of menus list a desert called "spotted dick." Seems to be pretty popular.
- the route on our train tickets yesterday said simply, "NOT LEEDS." No guesses as to what would happen to us if we DID end up in Leeds.
- people really do say stereotypical British phrases like, "ta," "cheers," and, "tally-ho!" Haven't heard anyone mutter, "bollocks!" yet, but when our train was cancelled someone did say, "bloody hell!" I suppose it's rude to giggle at people when they say things like this, but the grocer yesterday kept laughing at me and I hardly said anything. Although I did give her a funny look when she gave me 7 pounds in coins. Which brings me to the next point...
- there are *8* different coins. I would totally fail working at a cash register here. In fact, everytime I pay for anything I have to pick up the coin, squint at it and figure out what denomination it is before I hand it over.

England Day 3

Spent the past couple night in Harrogate, England which is northeast of Leeds in the countryside. A lot of neat things are a short train ride away. Yesterday we went to York, which was founded by the Romans. Yes, the ROMANS. So it's old. In fact, Constantine was named Caesar there in 306. That was nearly 1700 years ago. The terms 'old' and 'historic' are definitely at a new level here. York Minster, a giant cathedral, has a crypt in the basement, but it's not a typical crypt in that it's mostly old Roman Legionnaire barracks and Norman artifacts. It also had the Doomstone, which is just cool.

It feels nice to be walking all the time. I feel like I can eat and drink all I want without getting chubby. Hopefully this will get me ready to hike around Scotland next week.

I think we're going to Scarborough today which has a castle, the North Sea, and some really good fish and chips.

Off to Europe

Well folks, I'm off to a well deserved vacation to the British Isles that will take me to England, Scotland and Ireland. Fuck yeah. I leave tomorrow at some ungodly hour that starts with a 3, and I don't get there until about 18 hours later, real time. Hopefully, I'll be able to update this fairly regularly along the way. Most of the hostels seem to offer internet service, but we'll see.

Tony called from Kuwait for an update. The Sergeant Major is this a never-been-deployed MI troop who feels he needs to make up for his lack of tactical experience by having his soldiers do ridiculous, unnecessary activities to compensate. For example, even though local SOP requires soldiers to remain indoors during the middle of the day, due to the extreme heat, CSM decided that the best way for soldiers to acclimatize was to wear their gear on the bus rides to and from the ranges. Not such a bad idea, except the AC breaks... in the middle of the day. The heat and the gear caused soldiers to vomit on the bus which then caused a chain reaction of puking, which are common on airborne missions, but even then you have at least airsick bags. So instead of acclimating, now you have a bunch of heat injuries. And as we hear year after year, getting a heat injury causes one to become MORE likely to suffer from one again. So now they've regressed. Way to go, Sergeant Major. Too bad there aren't any more promotions in the enlisted branch for you.

Off to finish some last minute details. Bye everyone!!

Bittersweet

My last full day in the Army happens to be the day Tony leaves for Iraq. It was surreal watching my unit put their gear on and gather up into formation without me being a part of it. I could never imagine this moment happening without me and I certainly can't imagine what it's going to be like for a whole year without Tony and without my support group of friends. A year is a long time. Those 12 months I spent in Korea seemed like eternity and I wasn't even homesick! Hopefully we'll all stay busy enough in our new, very different lives that time will pass quickly.

All I want to do is have an air conditioned room to myself, watch tv in my underwear and get drunk. But alas, all the hotels are booked for tonight and tomorrow in Watertown, so I have to return to my sweatbox with the roomate who talks too much with nothing to sleep on. I'm thinking of spending the afternoon at the bowling alley drinking away my sorrows and then just walking home. It is a whole two blocks, afterall. No one walks on this post, though, and the place is crawling with cops who, because of their overabundance, desperately need something to do - a lone drunkard would make a perfect target.

It occurs to me that I've had nothing but oatmeal to eat today and even that was long time ago. The bowling alley it is!

Adventures in Bathrooming

Ever since my little excursion to Afghanistan I've told myself that if I ever wrote a book about my life that it'd be entitled Adventures in Bathrooming, due to the varied and interesting toilets and procedures involved in the simple act of peeing.

I'm currently living as a fugitive in Tony's room, as I'm not supposed to be here when he's not, but since he has cable, an internet connection and air conditioning he gave me his key while he's on leave. However, out of respect for his suitemates (the dudes who share a bathroom with him) I don't want to use his bathroom and draw anymore attention to myself than need be. My room is down the block and my roomate thinks that it's perfectly normal that the toilet backs up when flushing three squares of paper, so I avoid that place as well. As a result, I've been having to make do with the local public facilities, namely the library and the 24-hour shoppette. Perhaps I'll expand to the bowling alley next week. At least it's not a squat-pot on a moving train or a stone pedestal that drops into a tin bucket (see Platoon and the scene where they get caught stealing beer and are punished by emptying out the shit-buckets. I think those might be the ACTUAL ones we used out there). It's also quite a bit nicer than having to put on your peecho to cop a squat while a bunch of infantry boys stare at you.

Ah Christ, it's raining again. I thought I saw that vile humidity cloud heading this way. There's this scary blue-colored wall Ft. Drum develops in the Northwest that makes it look like the world is about to end and it's where all the bad weather comes from. It's been so nice and not-muggy the past few days too. Ah well. It's this strange bucket-like rain, too. It's not calm and drizzley make-things-green rain; it's a violent, pull-the-car-over-I-can't-see sort of rain that even sounds painful from inside the concrete building.

So borrrrrrrr-ing!

I could bitch about everything today - my laundry smells like pond water after taking it out of the washer and I have no dryer sheets to freshen it, I missed dinner so I had to eat chowder out of the can, I'm so bored that I've taken to wandering around the mall and playing Party Poker online for entertainment. But really, I just miss Tony. He's been gone for nearly two days now and I'm going crazy. Sad, I know. It doesn't help that there's no one around either. I mean, I haven't talked to anyone all day long. We "talked" through text messaging today and he's coming home a few days early so we can spend some time together before he deploys. Man, I'm really out of it without him around. After so many years of not feeling that way about anyone, I don't find it at all pathetic. I actually like being completely captivated by him.

I have to move

Even though I'm working a whole two buildings away from where I used to live and work, someone deemed it necessary to make me move. When one moves from one duty station to the next - say, from Korea to New York - the army sends professional movers and lets you have the day off to wait for said movers. If, however, you are moving down the street, you are on your own and usually have about 2 days to do it..... after work. So that's the position I'm in. It's my last weekend to spend with Tony before he goes on leave and I may not be here when he gets back, and even if I am, he'll be in Iraq shortly after. But instead of spending time with him, I get to haul my belongs around post. What kills me is that I'm going to leave the army soon and all of my stuff is getting shipped home anyway. What the hell is the rush?

My new Chief says that she's confident that she'll get me to reenlist. BAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!!

Been surfing the net in an attempt to find apartments/jobs in the Portland area. I don't really want a job, but it's probably going to be necessary. The army has done nothing for my problem with authority - in fact, it's worsened it. I simply cannot stand an insecure douchebag on a powertrip making up for a total lack of competence by berating what he sees as his "lessers" for something either trivial or simply made up. I've been in the position of middle management for the past year and I know the stuff they come up with for your subordinates to do is ridiculous; there's no need to make it any more unpleasant than it already is or make up MORE meaningless and tedious tasks.

Tony suggests that I go to bartending school and then work at some cute little pub like the ones I always drag him to in Canada. It's not a bad idea and I'm sure I'll make some bucks, but isn't the point of working when you're in your 20's to pay for your nightlife? So how am I going to do that when I'm working during the prime hours? Sigh. I suppose a little compromise is necessary.

London's Burning

...And the people are at the pub. I love the Brits. If this were in America, there'd be hysteria, finger-pointing and probably a bombing campaign underway. I wish them all the best of luck and I can't wait to get over there soon! I had a layover at Heathrow once and that just doesn't count as actually having been to England. Now that I'm getting out of the army (keeping my fingers crossed!) and have a friend stationed in the north, I'm definitely going to spend some time there.

I don't know why I'm so outrageously tired this morning. I have things to do - iron and shine, which I thought I'd never do again with the new uniforms, but this unit I'm moving to hasn't receive those yet - and I know someone's going to pound on my door and demand to know why I haven't moved out yet, and then they're going to come in and see how disgusting this place is and have a coniption. God, I can't wait to live someplace where my boss doesn't have the authority to come over any time he pleases and tell me to clean my microwave.

Question: Is it considered ok in England/rest of Europe to have a pint at lunch? If I were to get caught having a drink at lunch, after the screaming and pushups I'd probably have counseling, referrals to therapy and be forced to give the annual Army Substance Abuse Prevention class. We Americans are entirely too uptight about alcohol.

It's about time, eh?

I finally left Xanga after nearly 5 years over there. They don't allow comments from non-Xangans, pictures are hard to upload if you don't have premium, and if you browse through the members, the median age is 15. I wasn't interested in high school when I was in high school and I sure as hell don't care about it now.

My old site (as if you really care) is http://www.xanga.com/beatpunk.

The nightmare is over!

I did it! I outprocessed the company!!! I shook 1sg's hand, we said goodbyes, wished each other luck and that was it! I still can't believe it really happened. And I found a way out of the division run tomorrow! I rock. Well, we all do. I forget I'm not the only one leaving this place.