I want beer....

I have 50 dollars in my wallet, a life time membership to the V.F.W., and a picture of someone else’s kid. I also keep an old drivers licenses in there to remember what I was like before the Army, and the war. Back then I had long hair, facial hair, and wasn’t kept. I was smart, but never made the right moves. Smoking weed, and waxing politics and current event issues; I never thought I would get swept up into it all. I now have this feeling, a feeling like dread every day. On days like this it’s hard to ignore, but most of the time it isn’t noticeable at all. I have thrown so much away for so little. Mostly love. I constantly think about this, I’m afraid. 6 years ago, I would have still accounted for all of this as teen angst. Today, most would say its Post traumatic stress. I feel like it’s a cold war in my head. Good verses evil, plots within plots. It’s a real Alice in Wonderland up there. So, like the junkies and the alcoholics, its one day at a time, one night at a time. I can still get it up, but I can’t screw. It’s only when I rub one out that I can get off. I have forgotten so much, and I can only think about a few moments in my life. An obsession that grips me; as if saying “one man can change the world, but you would change it back.” I think it all means that I’m still here. That if I changed things, it wouldn’t be real any more. You want to know what the real kicker is. Its that I’m actually happy with a sprinkle of anxiety. I really do think I would change things back if someone set things right. I only wish I could say I was sorry to the girl that was waiting for me when I got back from the war.

crabby pants.

i awoke from a dream, and i ran to the bathroom and puked. there was a little blood in it. i think its the stress. i miss the war. this stuff never happened to me there. but since i couldnt sleep i actually went to church. found no solice there though.

i didnt shave today.

i'm not even going to spell check or nothing today. dont feel like it. i've been on leave for a few.. and its been amazing. i'm looking forward to when i retire in a few and i can just relax. hell i may even work. get a normal nine to fiver. no longer have to deal with the gossip of FRG (thats the military spouses) or other people that cant keep their cock holsters shut. i'm just looking forward to being able to quit if i dont like what i do and look for something new. safety standards that are legally inforced (not saying that getting up at 3am and driving 4 hours to get a recruit to meps so he can join and then getting home at 1030-midnight, and getting up at 6 to get to work, and then getting off late again, day after day isnt safe.. who would say a thing like that.

its an important job i know. someone has to do it. its thank less. and demeaning. and many many other things. but lordi.. i just want the end to come. mostly for the general population.. but for this job, i guess i can live with that.

Hell is a place called Earth. And Heaven is made up.

There are days that if said this and I didn’t know my self I would think I was suicidal. I’m not. It’s just that lately I have been obsessed with the thought of putting a bullet in my head. It’s not like something that you just out right think, kind of a in the back of your mind thing. Up until last night when I was fucking this girl I couldn’t think of a reason that I would be constantly thinking about such a thing. Especially since I don’t have any drive to do that kind of a thing. The thought is more of a scenery kind of thing. Like a sun set only dark and twisted. I have the answer. Well I think it’s the answer, and it’s open to discussion. During the invasion and the first year of the war, it was my job to put bullets in the enemy of America. Those that don’t hold the belief that freedom of choice is above all the greatest gift of our known world were killed. We all did the fighting. I don’t think I like to say killing, sounds unpatriotic. After sometime here in the great land of civilians and working as a recruiter, I have realized that I’m not offering choice, or freedom. But the opportunity to serve and uphold that freedom of choice, by giving it up. I’m out to take that away. Well more importantly I hold service to country as an extremely high value. Very few left that do. To many people in America, the recruiter has become the enemy. I think the idea of a bullet in my head is the idea of self hate and realizing that America is week and ignorant. And it will take violence on a large scale, like 9-11 to bring America and more people to the call to duty.

Still trying to figure out why I’m such a dick to women, even the ones I like. I wish I could say it has nothing to do with the broke whore I used to date. I really do hope she’s happy with that fire fighter. But I was a little like this before her.

Hookers are Free! Pain is expensive.

I think I’m afraid to write in this thing. Not for fear of getting in trouble with the command, though it’s not like I’m writing the doomsday of recruiting. But I just don’t think I want much to remember the last 2 years. Well almost 2 years, with one to go. I found out the ex girlfriend (hooker/whore). Is dating a fire man named Tim. part of me wants to warn him about her, but I wont. It’s up each person to see out the pain of mistakes. I’m currently man whoring it up with 3 girls. I’m not saying I’m a saint. After all the hell I’ve been through. It’s my way of karmic revenge.

I wish I had died in Iraq some days. I wouldn’t have had to bare the burden of recruiting in a country that’s so self centered. I wouldn’t work for a disconnected from reality command. Or for that matter I wouldn’t be out of shape. I wouldn’t be ashamed of putting on that recruiting patch. Until recruiting, I had never felt any shame about my uniform. The way people look at me after they realize I’m a recruiter, it’s like every retarded asshole verbal expression they have about anything must be thrown down on my shoulders. It’s not like I have to put on a smile every day and listen to it. Smile to the people that come up to me and shake my hand and tell me how proud of us (troops) they are, then tell me how this war is dumb and we should just quit. JUST QUIT! I just want to scream at these people that I should just quit too. That no one understands why we do what we do as soldiers. Hell, its people like that who make me think twice about it. I think it was Rambo that said, “I just want my country to love me as much as I love my country..”

I’m a drunk, a womanizer, a little over weight, late for work; ignore my family’s phone calls out of fear of having to talk about anything with anyone. All I want to do is go back to Iraq and fight. Take all the anger I have built up here and take it out on them over there, I blame them for all this. If they would just fuck off and let the people of Iraq live and go on with their lives I wouldn’t be here have to defend the basic ideas of America, and how they should be available to everyone every where, regardless of what flag fly’s over their streets. Rome fell for a lack of patriotism and for comfort. And by the grace of God here we go…

Drinking is fun.

Well, for me it’s a must. At least after working. It’s like I hardly smoke when I’m not working. And I only drink during the week. Total opposites of everyone else. Stuff is getting really retarded at our office. Our station has been the saving grace for over 6 months in our company. A shinny little light. And we are now near the end of our recruiting month and it’s not looking so hot. The one guy I had any hope of getting is a total turd. Has a 2 yr degree, lives with mom still (remind you he’s like 26 years old) and does odd jobs to scrap up money. Well I freaked out on him when, after talking to use recruiters for about a year now, did pick a job. What kind of loser wants to be 30 years old and live with mom until she croaks, and do nothing in life? I just lost it. I started yelling at this guy to man up and get the f*** out of my office and when his balls drop and he no longer wants to suck the milk from moms titty. To check out the air force. That’s where all the girls go. Because he will all ways be a nurtured momma’s boy.

I want to hurt people.

Turd a la King

Work is getting more retarded. It’s obvious to me when they start treating an E-7 like crap. Standing at the position of attention and parade rest for several hours while lecturing to him about something he had almost no control over. We got word, or my station commander did, that we had a DAT loss (pissed hot for drugs). We even had a clean test before he was sent down to join. One of our recruiters also just got back from an Education tour. That’s where they send teachers and college professors to an army base so they can see the benefits of military service. He said it was like baby sitting 45 adults, but he also said that I was a nice break to be back in a real army environment. Not this bullshit recruiting army, where the chain of command hasn’t been in the real army in 10 years or more. I’m just waiting, if not for myself, for one of us out here (as many of us are war vets) to snap on someone and go to the pen. At least we would get treated a little better. Even if it’s out of fear and not actual respect.

Sorry I haven’t written on this thing in a while. Been busy breaking up with my girlfriend and doing a little man whoring. It’s good to be single. No more emotionally entangled bull shit. Let alone the pain in the as of always getting asked if I want to talk about my PTSD issues. I mean, why would I bother going to see shrink if I wanted to talk to you, right?

I’m tired of turds, that are so unmotivated they can’t see the shinny bright future in the army over the pathetic I’m never leaving moms basement until I’m thirty three future they have now. I just can’t believe that after all the service I’ve given my country I have to let some fuck nut be in the driver’s seat of my military career. I hate people. I can, for the most part say that my friends here are the ones I hate the least. I miss the war. If you didn’t like someone you shot them or you beat them. The rest of the time. Smile and keep walking.