A Year Without Banedad

Dear brothers,

We’re all a little bit like him in our own way and maybe that’s not such a bad thing. Some of us drink too much. Some of us enjoy our solitude a little more than is considered normal. Some of us are more brilliant than the masses yet refuse to exploit ourselves. And maybe those descriptions could apply to us all in some way. But if it wasn't for him we wouldn't have each other and I don't know what I would do without you three.

He had a twinkle in his eye. Sometimes it was scary, like a warning sign. But the resident twinkle was a vortex. We were all like crows drawn to silver, we that witnessed it.

A year has gone by and I’m still favoring this wound.

September 22nd 2008. Even mentioning the date makes me want to repress memories and pretend the whole thing never happened. But here it is, the anniversary of a tragedy is ready to greet me in the morning. Maybe I'll be back here tomorrow to approach this subject in the only way that helps me cope. But for now I'm imagining that I will be putting a lot of effort into getting tomorrow over with.

Of God and Satan

Such an obsession of the two. Movies, Hollywood, cults, tattoos, church. A name for good and evil we prescribe. Such a growing culture of idiot numb-nuts wanting to belong to something bigger than themselves. But Buddhists are hanging out in the back trying to be something smaller than themselves. Altruism VS idolatry perhaps. Although an altruistic lifestyle is unattainable because it is the most selfish endeavor to achieve such as it is a constant effort towards self reformation. Maybe the noblest form of worship is to not give a shit. For in the holy act of not giving a shit one is elevated to a consciousness beyond that of the God worshipper or the one whom worships oneself.

Put that in your butthole and smoke it.

It Hit Home

I'm not going to get into this too much right now because I'm tired and a little on edge and the brain power just isn't there. Basically Husband's unit has only been gone about two months and we have been getting regular e-mails and notifications of fatalities and wounded soldiers ever since. So far no one that I have known personally has come through but it's a fear I face every time I check my e-mail.

On Monday a 1st Lt and a Sgt from Bravo company in Husband's Battalion were killed by and IED, Husband is in Alpha company. I know he's been out on patrols for weeks at a time, and from what he's been able to tell me it's been pretty heated. I've been doing good with everything until now. That e-mail made it real to me. Husband is a 1st lieutenant and I can't stop thinking that it could have been him. Every time I hear something from outside of my house I have a flash of fear that it's the Casualty Notification Officers.

Please pray for all of those families of the fallen. It's something that's said a lot, but I just thought I'd throw a little reminder out there.

Update:
First of all, I'm dum. I keep forgetting that Husband is a captain now, but he's still a platoon leader.

Second of all the day after I wrote this post he called me to tell me that he lost his first man. A Sgt. in his platoon was bitten by a tick. I don't know all the details clearly, but there was an outbreak disease or something and he was flown to Germany where his family joined him and he later passed. You go to war and of all the things... a tick. Thank you all for your positive thoughts and prayers. I, for one, am overwhelmed by the situation and when I make the effort to pray to the God that I do believe in I am stricken with the question that maybe my prayers have nothing to do with the ultimate Plan. Or whatever. Men will fight, people will die. Peace is an ever present question and a motive on a horizon that many parched citizens see as a mirage. This, however, does not change the fact that many good men and women are fighting and dying for something that they believe in. Views clash and people die. Maybe it is for this view I hold that I could not be considered the typical military wife.

Oh, God. Make it stop.

To my kids I am Mother
To Husband I am Wife
To myself I am regretful
To you I am a train wreck
To the world I am a curiosity

To this bottle of wine
I am the executioner.

Don't read this shit.

I missed his call today
I am ashamed to say
who said I'd be
at his beck and call
anyway

Fuck. My. Life.

Mil-wife-blogger representin'

wicka wicka wicka-ch (turntable <---)

Drunken Master

Blah blargh bla blog.

Dear Journal.

But seriously.

Nah. I got nuthin.

Ha! Fooled you!

Dur, Maiden writes some deep shit sometimes.

But most of the time she's full of shit.

Please allow me to fade out.

Fuck you I'm faded anyhow.

Blogs are dum, OMFG.

y2k

It was the summer of my fifteenth year, budding beauty confused by the hazy smoke of illegal thrills. I had friends, well they weren’t friends but they were adults and they thought it was cool to hook me up. There was Brent, he lived in our house and had a Rottweiler. He was twenty-nine and a perfect gentleman. Every weekend he gave me a film can of weed and I smoked it up and smoked it out. He rented a room from my mom. She thought he was upstanding, he thought I was a cool kid, and I thought he was just a hookup.

Then there was Chelsea, a college student like Brent. But she was a little bit younger and I was still fifteen. Like Brent, she thought I was really mature for my age, a good drinking buddy and fun to take to parties. She never let her friends hit on me, but she didn’t have to worry much because I had a mouth on me. I remember some wiry fucker trying to get sweet. I remember telling him that he was too short and I was only interested in men that could walk upright. People laughed and thought I was some sort of entertainment but I was still fifteen.

Then there was Angela. Angela had a son who was about five. They rented a room in our house just like the others had. Angela, drunken Angela. She would say she had to go run an errand and could we please watch her son. The next day she would come stumbling into our house fresh from the drunk tank and Zack, I think his name was, would be glad to see his mommy. One night Zack was with his grandparents and Angela decided she wanted to go pick him up. It was midnight, she didn’t have a car and I was still fifteen. We walked. The nights were warm then and the stars shone and I was fearless. There was a 7-11 off of East Ave and we stopped because I saw my friend Jake. His cousin was in town and Angela offered to buy us all booze if they could front the cash. They did and she did and we drank in the playground at the elementary school down the street. Angela drank the most and dragged Jake’s cousin out into the field. Jake’s cousin laid her in the field beyond the playground. I remember seeing his white ass pumping and shining in the moonlight. I remember crying and trying to comprehend that this woman was a mother. Jake shook his head and the cousin came walking back saying Angela was passed out and she’d had the sloppiest cunt he’d ever encountered. I left her and went home. She eventually got arrested down the street from our house with her pants off begging some sixteen year old to fuck her. I knew she was making a scene and I kept Zack on my lap in the house and we played with digital pictures of ourselves on the computer. Digital pictures were new to us back then. He laughed sweetly with me while his mother shamed herself in the worst. The grandparents got custody of Zack. I got stuck with the memories.

Zack would be almost fifteen now. He wouldn’t remember me but I think of him often. I hope that he’s well on his way to becoming a good man even though the last time I checked the odds weren’t in his favor.

Happy Anniversary

Best five years of my life, babe. I love you and don't think that just because you're deployed means you can get away with forgetting. I'm going to treat myself to a nice romantic frozen dinner and cable TV to celebrate.

One of these years we should spend an anniversary together. Actually, nevermind, I hate the pressure of buying presents anyways. And every time you buy me flowers the cats eat em and throw up on the carpet. So I guess I'm good. Hope you are too.

But seriously, if you get to blow something up... think of me sweetly.

Update:
Holy ninja husband Batman! I just got the flowers. Don't know how he finagled it but that's pretty funny.

You know you're a military wife when you've gotten flowers delivered to your door instead of by the husband for Valentine's day, Mother's day, and your anniversary all in the same year. It's better than nothing so I'm not complaining!