I received a lot of comments recently, all of them very profound, atleast to me.
One in particular was unapologetic and honest, sympathetic without kissing any ass or pulling any punches. It was a bitch-slap that I was happy to receive. I was relieved that someone would actually have this sort of insight that I needed. For those who hadn't found it yet:
"So, tell me, what did you expect? By now, you must realize you were sent out on a shit load of lies and fabrications. Do you expect assholes like that to possess even a shred of decency? Sorry, kid, they don't. So, no, don't expect a thank you note from Dick Cheney.
Previously, you said, "Deny it all you want, but its the truth. The second day we were back, we went right back to not meaning shit to anyone except our mothers." Which, of course, implies that you actually have mothers that give a shit. But, correctly, accepts that nobody else does. Hey, they're shopping, they're doing their duty. Leave them alone.
Welcome to it, bitch. No, they don't care. Accept it. Deal. Move on. It'll save time and heartache if you do. Oh, you'll always be pissed that a bunch of totally ungrateful fuckers put your ass, not theirs, on the line. That they profited while you suffered. And then threatened you when you objected to being treated like shit.
I mean, sure, "Thank you for your service." hugs and kisses, warm fuzzies and that shit. But you can feel it's not really there. You're dangerous now. For the rest of your life, you're potentially lethal. And, of all the stupid shit these assholes can come up with, a bunch of pogue MPs are going to threaten you with . . . what? Haji's tougher than any pogue. You got through that, didn't you?
Didja ever wonder why the 'Nam vets kept an autoloader around? Why every now and then they just go bust loose on bottles and cans? Same shit.
OK, it sucks. Man up. Deal. Get that education. Wring every cent of benefits out of the government you can. Nobody's coming around handing this shit out. You have to go get it.
Oh, yeah, good luck."
Kudos to this cat, that's all I gotta say about that. Any flavor of wakeup call, I'm glad to taste it. I'm not the type to want to feel sorry for myself. That inhibits PROGRESS. I woke up in the middle of the other night, with the first IraqMare I'd had in months.
The heaviest volume of small arms fire that I could ever fathom was coming down on me and the rest of my squad. This squad was a mix of guys from our company, strangely enough. I heard the zip/zooom/unexplainable noise of passing bullets, and the crack of the rifles firing them, and the smack of the rounds hitting the shitty poorly constructed walls around me.
I saw the tracers streak through the air, and rounds punched holes through the bagginess of my sleeves and pant legs, caught the outter-most edges of my helmet, completely OUTLINED MY BODY with bullets, and all we could do was shout to each other and blindly blast rounds back in the general direction and scramble for cover, dirt kicking up all around us, getting in our eyes, ammo pouches on my body army getting hit and fucking up my extra ammo, everything narrowly missing me, and rather than considering it all a miracle, I just realized that my luck couldn't last much longer and I had to do something to get away from it, and just as I sprinted from the half-cover of one building and tried to make it to a dirt-and-grass birm--
I woke up.
It wasn't a startle and a jump, I didn't throw punches. My eyes just opened.
I looked at my girlfriend, then I looked around the room. Tried to get my bearings. Realized where I was, for the most part. Rationalized it all for a few seconds while I rolled over and faced the window. Looked at traffic through a narrow slit though the curtains.
I closed my eyes again and crashed.
Things are getting a lot easier, making plenty more sense now. Sure, the occasional weirdness pops up, and yeah, I won't really touch hard liquor anymore, for fear of God Knows What, but now I've got my feet on the ground.
That, and I just bought a SICK Schecter Diamond Series Damien-FR with inactive EMG pickups, and lemme tell ya, even on a tiny Fender practice amp, the sounds are astounding. That and GTA4, microbrews, and good company are seeing me through just fine.
Unarmed and Unharmed, signing out.