At this point when I say that drill weekends are the biggest waste of time and money, you shouldn't be surprised anymore.  I'm actually a bit bummed out that our current squadron Sergeant Major is leaving and just got replaced by a new one, who strikes me as a bumbling idiot.  One can argue that they all are, but once in a while you get to meet a cool, non-hostile senior enlisted man.

It also intrigues me that the SgtMajor that is leaving is still single and unmarried after 30 years of service in the Marine Corps.  I was pondering about it for a second, when I realized that being single and the 30 years of service has a direct correlation to each other.  Go figure.

I also dislike the junior power-tripping E-5's running around the Corps you get to meet once in a while.  Granted I'm the same rank and have the ability to tell them to fuck off without any problem, their existence still bothers me.  I'm talking about the Sergeants that pick up their rank with very little time in service, like maybe 2 or 3 years and tend to be overly motivated or have a chip on their shoulders.  Butterbar Lieutenants fresh out of college are the same category too.  To put it into more understandable terms-- say you're 24 years old and need a quick summer job at the mall, and your manager happens to be a 19 year old punk who is a complete assbag, and just happened to never left home before in his/her life.  Basically the same as your E-5 who's way younger than you who loves to bark orders around, or that boot 2ndLT somehow deems himself worthy of giving you unsolicited advice on how the military and the rest of the world works according to "his experience".

Maybe I'm just delving into this too much.  Its quite obvious that historically, I've always had major problems with authority in any shape or form.  But if you're like me in any way, you know that sometimes these authority figures need a rebellious character to give them a wake-up call to tell them that they're not all that glorious as they think they are.

But since I want to be "hip", I'm going to stick to it, despite how confusing it is with all this automated editing stuff with no HTML required.  It seems I can't force you to listen to my annoying choices of music that I've uploaded either with this new layout-- well, maybe more people would read the material without having the urge to rip their speakers out of their laptops.

Once again, drill weekend has crept up on me again, I have my brother's graduation ceremony to attend later, and I still don't have a haircut as we speak.  I sort of resemble a half-assed hippie in all my long haired, unshaven mug of glory.  Logic dictates that I should rectify this situation as quickly as possible.  So why am I still here typing this?

Oh right, I forgot.  I don't really care anymore.  For the millionth time, I'm going to remind myself that I'm not looking forward to getting my butthole pounded by the Green Weenie (Marine Corps), and guess what-- its too late, my asshole is all fucked out.

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EDIT

Congradulations, asshole.

The Newlygrad

Walk the plank, ARRRR!!

PS. yes, I'm sure you just noticed-- I did cave in and got myself a haircut.  Time to shit, shower, and shave!

It occured to me a while ago in a dusty crop of land called Iraq that I realized this.  Dreams are well.... dreams.  It seems like those who are living freely in the US-and-A come to realize their dreams freely and without much thought to their meaning.  But if you left and went over to an unknown destiny halfway across the world, your dreams are probably put on hold.

You can choose to subdue those dreams, or you can nurture them throughout your time there.  Sometimes, a dream is all you have to keep you going.  Its power wouldn't be understood by the others who have never been in your insane situation-- your dreams hold an unknown power to get through the most dire of moments.  You know this, because over there, when you have very little of anything, these dreams of things to come can be the difference between life and death...... even if later these things just turn out to be just that-- dreams.

Your dreams can be realistic and simple, or pure fantasy-- you know, to each their own.  I have my dreams, and you have yours.  But as a member of the armed forces, yours just have to wait until one day rain or snow is the only thing falling out of the sky.

But most importantly, never let go of those dreams until your last dying breath.  And maybe thats what it really takes to make you realize how important your dreams are-- when that sniper's bullet barely hits you, that mortar missed by 200 feet, or if you survived that IED blast.  When all you can think about is how lucky you were to cheat death again, your simplest dream has moved up on the grandeur scale.

Still, thats all it is though.  Just a dream.  A dream you won't take for granted though.

 

Never Forget...

 

Anybody watch that catfight clip of Rosie O Donnell vs. Elisabeth Hassellbeck?    First of all, The View is a retarded show to begin with.  Watching four women talking about politics, war, and the media when they know close to nothing about starts to get boring after a while.  But I love that fat obnoxious pig Rosie and the blonde right-wing bimbo Elisabeth go in their little catfights every once in a while.  I bet if Donald Trump gave them two boxing gloves and charged people up the ass for tickets to watch them fight for 12 rounds, he'd make a killing.

If you saw the clip, its pretty much a video snapshot of how America has gone wrong.  This goes against everything our forefathers believed in.  Our millenium pop-culture is hell-bent on being in-your-face, close minded, and rude.  On public television, it doesn't matter what your opinions are, you shouldn't resort to getting personal, nasty, and demeaning.  However, I myself could give a shit less these days-- people watch that stuff for the entertainment value, and it probably gives them good network ratings.

Elisabeth Hassellbeck however, is one serious piece of ass:

I believe her rack speaks louder than words.

I can't make up my mind about her though.  I'd love to tell her how much I want to bend her over her own desk, but the crazy bible-thumping blondie strikes me as the type who might get offended if I wanted a little ass-play.  And she seems extremely childish.  I think she would fare a better career doing pornography than repeating everything that Bill O'Rielly says on FOX news anyway.

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Oh, and have a good Memorial Day weekend.  Stuff your faces, get alcohol poisoning-- come on, how often do you get a chance to go to 4 BBQ's in a row and gain 15 lbs in a span of 2 days?

But most importantly, remember that your friends halfway across the globe in some shitstain on the map called Iraq is getting shot at, haven't showered, most likely haven't had much sex lately, and worst of all-- have no beer.  So load up and eat & drink some more for them, ok?  Pray for them.

Meanwhile, I'm going back to bed to sleep off my hangover.  Me and a certain lady called Tequila (with tabasco sauce added) do not get along at all.  I'm waiting on the pictures, JB.

Earlier when I went to the bank, apparently the people working there called the cops because some very rude customer refused to leave.  In a feat of extraordinary stupidity during the negotiations, the rude guy turned around and punched out one of the cops.  Then the two cops severely beat the living crap out of him.  I know its wrong, but I was laughing so hard I had to sit down for a second.

How come this never happened when I was working at the bank?  And what would drive a person to punch an armed, pissed-off cop in the first place?  This reminds me of the guy that shoved me into a wall the other time while I was waiting for a haircut-- violent people man, geez.

The word "customer" is synonymous with "stupid."  I'm sure you've heard this cliche a million times-- never argue with an idiot-- they will bring you down to their level and pummel you with experience.

Customers, God's lowliest creations.

EDIT

Going to someone's wedding drunk off your ass is never a good idea.  Ever.

 

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I found my last set of desert cammies that I wore in Iraq, kind of brought back a bit of nostalgia.  I was going through the pockets and found some interesting items that cracked me up.

 

 

a.) Lance Corporal chevrons that I wore out in Iraq before I was pinned E-4. 
b.) AAFES pogs that in place of loose change, since nobody carried coins out there.
c.) dice.

The story about the dice is rather simple-- boredom means anything could be fun, even playing ghetto dice gambling games like Threes or Mexico.

I wish I have kept a deck of cards, except we went through decks of cards like nobody's business.  Capt. 'Visine', Lt. 'Pacman', then-SSgt. 'Beaver', Cpl. 'Justin' and myself-- Lcpl 'Fungus', would play Hold'em during our downtime between flights, until the emergency scramble alarm goes off, notifying us of another casualty evac and we'd chuck the milk carton makeshift table out of the flight line, pocket the money, and get back into the fight.

 

Found the other chevron sitting in the cargo pockets of the pants, in pristeen brassy condition.

 

Also dug up my old flight flight badge sitting in the other shirt pocket, before I recieved my combat aircrew wings.  You can still see the Iraqi dust on it, which I carefully preserved in a plastic baggie.

 

Believe it or not, these set of cammies has not been washed and worn since April of 2005.  The same Corporal chevrons that was pinned on during my promotion is still on the collar right there.  Pat it once or twice, there's still traces of dust on it from the Sandbox.  Kind of makes you wonder how my room smells like right now.

 

The deserts and blues, two uniforms in my mind that will always outflank all the other business suits behind them that I'll be wearing for the rest of my life.  Speaking of which, I need to get my chevrons updated to Sergeant stripes soon.  Should have done that months ago.

.........

I always wondered if I'll ever miss being in the Corps again in the future.  Would I get that feeling that have driven other countless men who were unsatisfied with civilian life to go back into the Corps, to be with his brothers again?  As my EAS date is nearing, that feeling of doubt that you always thought was a joke kind of comes back to you again... the uncertainty whether or not to go back into the Suck.

I sure as hell won't miss my command-- in fact I REALLY won't miss my command one bit.  Despite that, I'm definately going to miss wearing those blues out in town during Ball night.... later waking up next morning next to some other Marine's date / wife / paid hooker, who may or may not be dead from alcohol poisoning.  I wonder if I'll ever get that equivocal feeling in the future to re-join the suck again---- or maybe I should stay sane and remind myself how disillusioned and cynical the Corps has made me, albiet the fact that unconsciously, I know I have proudly served my country and did my time already... but its time to move on.  Like the picture above, will I be able to box away and get rid of my old uniforms, or would I keep my uniforms on my suit rack just to remind me everyday where I have come from?  I wonder if I'll ever get this moment of inconclusive conflict of doubt sometime down the road to the point where I actually get depressed about it.

To be honest, I kind of look forward to it.

 

 

...

Despite all the heartache and miserable assraping the Corps has caused me, its photos that capture times like these that outweight just about everything else that has happened.  It was definately worth the trip.

 

I can't think of anything good to write, especially when I'm supposed to be studying.  I'm going to list a few sites that any of you Asiaphiles or anyone wanting to get in touch with the far eastern street culture, here's a few good sites that I like to go to.

Kansai Scene (western Japanese underground reppin'):  www.kansaiscene.com
Supreme (NYC street fasion, brought to you by Japan):  www.supremenewyork.com
Beinghunted (e-magazine, several nice interviews):  www.beinghunted.com
Superfuture (virtual tour-guide of several 'hip' cities): www.superfuture.com
Metropolis (another virtual tour guide, focusing on Tokyo) : metropolis.co.jp
XLARGE (street clothing brand): www.xlarge.com
A Bathing Ape (street clothing brand & underground culture):  www.bape.com
CLOT (Edison Chen's Chinese underground, under contruction i think):  www.clotinc.com
Jazzy Sport (my favorite indie DJ label, all their beats are a fusion of jazz + soul + hip hop):  www.jazzysport.com
Klein Dytham Architecture (cool photos of modern architecture in Japan):  www.klein-dytham.com
Keikaku (website promoting indie Japanese artists and bands):  www.keikaku.net
Yesasia (Asian version of Amazon.com):  www.yesasia.com

There, have fun, Asiaphiles.

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Speaking of Japanese street scene, how the hell do those Asian celebs pull off half the shit they wear all the time?  I'd post pictures but I'm using a library comp right now.  I only mention this now because two tables away there's a group of FOBs dressed like Asian popstars but they look flippin' ridiculous to the point where I feel like severely hurting them with the chair that I sit on right now.  Severely.

I always thought they look cool in photos and TV, but when normal people try to emulate, that's a whole different story.  Japanese fashion is as exactly what it sounds-- you can probably pull it off in Japan (I still don't know why), but in America, you might get robbed, raped, and stabbed on sight with no mercy.

People, just stick to Gap or Banana Republic or K-Mart or something. 

You know, I still remember a few years ago while out in MCAS Miramar (San Diego, CA), talking to my mom for an hour on the phone the night before I was to ship out to Iraq on my first combat tour.  Ok, more like trying to stop her from crying so much, even with my dad sitting beside her the whole time trying to shut her up.  At first I felt like I was disappointing my parents, but as I kept in contact with my parents for the remaining months in Iraq, the more I realized that if I didn't make it home alive, I would REALLY let them down.

I called Mike's parents this morning to wish his mother a happy Mothers' day, and sent a card out to them yesterday.  I had a good chat with Mr. and Mrs. Starr about whats been going on in my life, just general stuff like school and the reserves, and they wished me luck.  I told them I'll call them back on Fathers' day.  Mrs. Starr thanked me, in tears, and told me to get off the damn phone already and study for my finals.

And she thanked me again for being Mike's best friend in the world, and to stop blaming myself for his death.  We weren't even in the same unit out in Iraq.

.......

My point I'm trying to make is...... I know there are some of you out there who may dispise a parent or two, and you may be justified in your reasons for doing so.  But just for today, just remember that you are still their son/daughter, and you could at least say something nice for the person that brought you into this world.  But of course, if you do get along with your parents, don't worry about it then.

Because some mothers out there don't have that opportunity anymore.  And it hurts them more than anything they have ever been through in their life.

...and finals are next week.  The hard part is over, at least I don't have to stay up the night before tests.  However, being the genius that I am, I had no sleep whatsoever last night while cramming all three papers due today (procrastination? what the hell does that mean?), fueled by Monster drink after drink and by the time I was finished, went to class, and returned home around noon, the fumes I was running on finally gave out and I passed out on the couch.  I honestly was trying to make it to my bed, but didn't get that far.  One flight of stairs and I'd be good, but now my neck hurts from those ridiculously rock solid so-called "pillows" that accompany the living room couch.

As a victory sign, I was planning on taking a giant swig of scotch out of a flask during class, and streak down the hallways of the Stevenson Building naked, wearing only a Christmas hat around my waist.  However, I'm still trying to convince Jen, the cute girl sitting next to me in speech class that I'm not the dirty drunken pig that everyone assumes that I am (despite smelling like the bottom of a beer keg every morning).  Running down the halls with nothing but a "funny hat" on would not be beneficial to me at all.

Now its 9pm, I'm finally awake, and I missed my 5pm. happy hour appointment at Padonia Station that I was looking forward to all week, and nobody else wants to answer my phone calls at this time either.  Most people know better by now that after a stressful week, me calling them at this day at this hour could only mean that I'm desperately hunting for a drinking partner that is willing to drive my unconscious body home after several personal attempts at alcohol poisoning.

So someone please ANSWER YOUR FUCKING PHONES before I'm forced to drink by myself in front of the TV all night.

...................

Mothers' day is approaching, and I'm not going to give any patriotic or sentimental speeches about it.  Jason already helped me write one.  "Dengk you come agaiin!" said Apu.