So, it's been a few months again since I've blogged. Not much has been going on in my life. I turned 23 in December. Started college, finally. And have just been continuing working out. I still drink occasionally but nowhere near as bad as I was when I first started this blogging. Now when I drink, it's to have fun and I drink maybe once or twice a month now. I'm proud of myself.
I did make a connection to a possible start of a music career. A friend of mine started a foundation that helps upcoming artists get recognized and started. It's called the CAD Foundation. It's pretty awesome. He said he'd try to get me set up with a show or two. I can't wait to get started.
Not much else is going on. I started typing but I got nothing. Consider this a useless blog post. Now go ahead and get back to creeping on peoples profiles on Facebook. You know you want to.
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Saturday, November 12, 2011
Couple months in a nutshell
I suppose that it would be about time to update this blog, seeing as how my last post was 2 months ago.
I just got back from a wonderful Army school known as Warrior Leaders Course (WLC). I learned a great deal about the standards I am supposed to uphold, the right way to do things and about how to yell really loud when the guidon is being run to the front of formation. All in all, a good school but I did have some gripes, like yelling really loud when the guidon is being run to the front of formation. Aside from that, I resented being called Sergeant (a rank I don't have yet) as if I was on par with a fresh Private in Basic Training. Y'know what I mean, when someone calls you something that is supposed to be respectful or your rank but does it with a derogatory tone? I'm sure you do. The basic standards of barracks room appearance were also called into question daily, mainly because I don't care how my boots and shoes are set up under my bed, I normally keep them under desk or in a closet in my regular room. Whatever. It was 18 days of great learning and a huge headache when it came to simple things that some of the instructors couldn't seem to communicate on or agree on for that matter. I did finish with a 95.32% GPA and Commandant's List. Hooray me.
Other than that, there hasn't been much going on. I am down to 210 pounds, well on my way to my goal of 205. After 205, I may try to hit 200 or less. I discovered a wonderfully legal version of cocaine called One More Rep. It is an amazing pre-workout that gives you uncomfortable amounts of energy and an unbelievable pump. On Monday I ordered two new supplements. One is called Powerfull and is a natural Testosterone enhancer. The other is called Pink Magic. It's called that because it apparently melts fat away, hardens your muscles and makes your veins pop out of your muscles. It's also a pink pill. I look forward to it. SGT Ginger informed of the stuff and he's a huge supplement head. I can't wait.
Also, Dirty D, Double D, whatever I have been referring to him as is now SGT Dirty D. I applaud him in the effort he put forth to make it. He'll be a great one as long as Leroy Jenkins Jr. doesn't try to "mentor" him too much. Blaisian has some strange illness that may have something to do with a "mass" that was found in his head. I do hope everything goes well for him. SGT Ginger is doing great with HeidiBadger (nickname derived from the Honeybadger because she doesn't give a shit and will take one on you. Heidi is his daughter.)
All in all things have been going good. I haven't been drinking much, except for a couple occurences that included me being blackout drunk and wandering around a military post trying to find an open gate because I got dropped off at a locked gate. It also included me trying to climb under the barbed wire at the top of a fence, falling in a ditch and numerous sightings of me wearing Crocs and PT shorts. I wish I could remember what happened.
I just got back from a wonderful Army school known as Warrior Leaders Course (WLC). I learned a great deal about the standards I am supposed to uphold, the right way to do things and about how to yell really loud when the guidon is being run to the front of formation. All in all, a good school but I did have some gripes, like yelling really loud when the guidon is being run to the front of formation. Aside from that, I resented being called Sergeant (a rank I don't have yet) as if I was on par with a fresh Private in Basic Training. Y'know what I mean, when someone calls you something that is supposed to be respectful or your rank but does it with a derogatory tone? I'm sure you do. The basic standards of barracks room appearance were also called into question daily, mainly because I don't care how my boots and shoes are set up under my bed, I normally keep them under desk or in a closet in my regular room. Whatever. It was 18 days of great learning and a huge headache when it came to simple things that some of the instructors couldn't seem to communicate on or agree on for that matter. I did finish with a 95.32% GPA and Commandant's List. Hooray me.
Other than that, there hasn't been much going on. I am down to 210 pounds, well on my way to my goal of 205. After 205, I may try to hit 200 or less. I discovered a wonderfully legal version of cocaine called One More Rep. It is an amazing pre-workout that gives you uncomfortable amounts of energy and an unbelievable pump. On Monday I ordered two new supplements. One is called Powerfull and is a natural Testosterone enhancer. The other is called Pink Magic. It's called that because it apparently melts fat away, hardens your muscles and makes your veins pop out of your muscles. It's also a pink pill. I look forward to it. SGT Ginger informed of the stuff and he's a huge supplement head. I can't wait.
Also, Dirty D, Double D, whatever I have been referring to him as is now SGT Dirty D. I applaud him in the effort he put forth to make it. He'll be a great one as long as Leroy Jenkins Jr. doesn't try to "mentor" him too much. Blaisian has some strange illness that may have something to do with a "mass" that was found in his head. I do hope everything goes well for him. SGT Ginger is doing great with HeidiBadger (nickname derived from the Honeybadger because she doesn't give a shit and will take one on you. Heidi is his daughter.)
All in all things have been going good. I haven't been drinking much, except for a couple occurences that included me being blackout drunk and wandering around a military post trying to find an open gate because I got dropped off at a locked gate. It also included me trying to climb under the barbed wire at the top of a fence, falling in a ditch and numerous sightings of me wearing Crocs and PT shorts. I wish I could remember what happened.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Never Forget
I remember being 12 years old in 7th grade Family Science class (it was like a mandatory Home Ec class we all had to take). We all had just come into the classroom and began to sit down when Mrs. Rhodes called for our attention. She stood in the front of our class and said "We've been attacked. The Twin Towers have been hit and one has fallen down." I stood dumbfounded like many others did that day. Mrs. Rhodes was close to tears.
Before that day the World Trade Center was a bunch of anonymous objects to me. I never thought about them. I had seen them in a movie or two and a couple TV shows. Big whoop, just a couple of real tall buildings. But then that morning happened. They didn't send us home like so many other schools did. We lived near Chicago and you would think that they might have. Seeing as how Chicago is a pretty big industrial area with all the steel mills. But they didn't
I remember going into my last class of the day. I sat next to a Muslim guy, Sabri. It didn't even occur to me to look at him suspiciously. This was my first taste of paranoia, racism and stereotyping. Another student came into the class. I sat shaking in my chair from feeling helpless and angry at what happened. That other student strode into the class and took one look at Sabri and said "Do you fucking know who did this?" Sabri looked at the asshole and said "Fuck you. Just cause I'm Muslim doesn't mean I did this or know who it was. Fuck you."
I went home after school. My mom picked me up and had the radio on. She was talking about how horrible it all was. She couldn't believe that she had seen this in her lifetime. We got home and sat in the living room until my brother and my dad got home. Me and Ethan both discussed what we should do. We settled on joining the Army and going to war. My dad is a Vietnam Vet. My mom told my dad this and all Root could say was "I don't want them to but I know where they're coming from." I sat up all night watching the footage. I must have watched the second plane strike the tower multiple times. I watched the 3rd tower fall live on TV. The next day at school was the same as the day before. Patriotism ran rampant and everyone was dumbfounded.
My brother turned 18 and wanted to enlist but my parents wouldn't let him. I don't think Ethan would've liked being a soldier. He enjoys his freedom. I love being a troop. A couple months shy of the 6 year anniversary I left for Basic Training. By that time the patriotism and unification the whole country felt was gone. People were jaded against the country. People appeared to be ashamed to be an American. Why? They didn't just attack New York, they attacked the U.S.
On the 8th anniversary I found myself getting ready to deploy. I got home just before the 9th anniversary. I deployed. I was doing what I wanted. I enlisted and deployed because of a day that shook the world. On the 10th anniversary I find myself in Germany. I find myself sitting in a barracks room typing on this. And on maybe a few peoples Facebook statuses have something written about this day. It's like 9/11/2001 is a day that everyone wants to sweep under the rug. Everyone wants to forget it. You can't though.
You can't forget it because the New York skyline will never look the same. The Pentagon has their memorial erected inside for the fallen. The Shanksville, PA memorial is being built. We've been at war for 10 years. 3000 families suffered that day. A collective heartbreak for all of them. And so many families of troops have suffered since then. God be with all of them. God be with all of us.
Being an American is nothing to be ashamed of. You should be proud of the country where you come from. But somewhere in the past 10 years, people have come to hate themselves because of where they born.
Before that day the World Trade Center was a bunch of anonymous objects to me. I never thought about them. I had seen them in a movie or two and a couple TV shows. Big whoop, just a couple of real tall buildings. But then that morning happened. They didn't send us home like so many other schools did. We lived near Chicago and you would think that they might have. Seeing as how Chicago is a pretty big industrial area with all the steel mills. But they didn't
I remember going into my last class of the day. I sat next to a Muslim guy, Sabri. It didn't even occur to me to look at him suspiciously. This was my first taste of paranoia, racism and stereotyping. Another student came into the class. I sat shaking in my chair from feeling helpless and angry at what happened. That other student strode into the class and took one look at Sabri and said "Do you fucking know who did this?" Sabri looked at the asshole and said "Fuck you. Just cause I'm Muslim doesn't mean I did this or know who it was. Fuck you."
I went home after school. My mom picked me up and had the radio on. She was talking about how horrible it all was. She couldn't believe that she had seen this in her lifetime. We got home and sat in the living room until my brother and my dad got home. Me and Ethan both discussed what we should do. We settled on joining the Army and going to war. My dad is a Vietnam Vet. My mom told my dad this and all Root could say was "I don't want them to but I know where they're coming from." I sat up all night watching the footage. I must have watched the second plane strike the tower multiple times. I watched the 3rd tower fall live on TV. The next day at school was the same as the day before. Patriotism ran rampant and everyone was dumbfounded.
My brother turned 18 and wanted to enlist but my parents wouldn't let him. I don't think Ethan would've liked being a soldier. He enjoys his freedom. I love being a troop. A couple months shy of the 6 year anniversary I left for Basic Training. By that time the patriotism and unification the whole country felt was gone. People were jaded against the country. People appeared to be ashamed to be an American. Why? They didn't just attack New York, they attacked the U.S.
On the 8th anniversary I found myself getting ready to deploy. I got home just before the 9th anniversary. I deployed. I was doing what I wanted. I enlisted and deployed because of a day that shook the world. On the 10th anniversary I find myself in Germany. I find myself sitting in a barracks room typing on this. And on maybe a few peoples Facebook statuses have something written about this day. It's like 9/11/2001 is a day that everyone wants to sweep under the rug. Everyone wants to forget it. You can't though.
You can't forget it because the New York skyline will never look the same. The Pentagon has their memorial erected inside for the fallen. The Shanksville, PA memorial is being built. We've been at war for 10 years. 3000 families suffered that day. A collective heartbreak for all of them. And so many families of troops have suffered since then. God be with all of them. God be with all of us.
Being an American is nothing to be ashamed of. You should be proud of the country where you come from. But somewhere in the past 10 years, people have come to hate themselves because of where they born.
Friday, September 9, 2011
Really?
So, my day started off with a bang. LJ2 who is a Medic, like me, has been in the Army for 17 years. The man has experience, I think. He taught a class today on trauma patient assessment. It was me, Blasian, Dirty D, SGT Ginger, Doc Fresh and a guest, SSG Hungover.
I know how to do an assessment on a trauma patient. I've done it while deployed, done it in garrison, done it in training. I've done it a few times. He decides to do it by EFMB* standards and even hands out a gradesheet from EFMB for us to go by. I get it, he wants to teach the book standard. Everyone knows, when you do things repetitively, you tend to develop your own way to do it but the general structure stays the same.
LJ2 begins the assessment by starting on the second page, saying fuck the information on the front page. Doc Fresh has been in the Army for 3-4 years. Doc Fresh didn't have to join the Army to pay off med school loans. Doc Fresh has been a doctor for a long time. Doc Fresh has done this a few times but he doesn't know how the Army has taught us lowly medics how to assess a patient. Doc Fresh can't comprehend that the Army would have different acronyms for the same things he knows. He thinks it's stupid. Well Doc, guess what, you're gonna find that in charts all over the place from us lowly medics. Doc Fresh is lost in the class because he doesn't know the Army way. LJ2 can't explain because LJ2 is using a gradesheet from a course he has failed 4 times. SSG Hungover, myself and SGT Ginger decide to step in. SGT Ginger has his EFMB, SSG Hungover has been deployed, as have I. We know what we're doing. (That is not to say that people who deploy automatically gain ultimate enlightenment. LJ2 has deployed a couple times. Get my drift?)
Doc Fresh gets frustrated because no matter how well the three of us explain the clusterfuck unfolding before our eyes, Doc Fresh can't seem to grasp the Army does things different from the civvie world. Granted, Army way may not be the best but it works and we save lives. LJ2 goes on to complete the class while I give SSG Hungover an IV.
At noon we have a formation to hold a moment of silence for Sept. 11 since we won't be at work on Sunday.
First Sergeant tells the NCOs afterwards that the barracks our unit is in charge of is completely dirty. I don't see how they can let their building get dirty. I don't live in that building. That building's only common areas are hallways, stairwells, kitchens and a day room. They have their own bathrooms in their room. How the hell can they let it get dirty? Beer pong tournaments on the weekends where no one cleans up afterwards, that's how.
Because our unit is supposed to be in charge of that building (even though people from all over this post live there. And the majority of barracks personnel from my company live in the same building as I do) we get told to go clean it. Like finding out who lives there and hold a 1900 formation on a Friday night for GI party would way too easy. Make people who are married and live in Married Soldier quarters and people from a different barracks cleans makes perfect sense. That being said, we cleaned the damn building, all the while doing what soldiers do best...complain while we work.
Afterwards I went to the gym and worked out for two hours to get rid of my frustrations and because that's my normal routine. And this weekend will mark my first completely sober weekend. I foresee lots of boredom between playing guitar and trying to ignore my roommate having sex with his girlfriend. She's a screamer. When I say roommate, we live in the same room. A row of wall lockers separates us. I hear everything. This whole has really just made think "Fuckin' really?" all damn day. From LJ2 fucking up our basic task of being able to assess a patient for injuries to having to clean a building I never go to and definitely don't live in to coming back from the gym to hear "Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh yeah!" Fuckin' really? She has her own place, I'm sure they could go over there.
*EFMB-Expert Field Medical Badge. A two week long course consisting of everything a medic should know plus a couple other things. It ends with a 12 mile ruckmarch that must be completed in 3 hours or less with a 40 pound rucksack. Don't quote me on the weight, I can't remember right now. It's a coveted badge (read: I don't want it but I'll try for it.) Most people in the Army use this badge or the CMB (Combat Medic Badge) as a gauge of how great a medic you are. If you don't have either one, you're a shitty medic or brand new. If you're like me and have been in 4 years and deployed and I don't have either, I'm apparently a shitty medic and everyone seems to need to question me as to whether or not I know my job. I think they can all go suck a dick or two.
I know how to do an assessment on a trauma patient. I've done it while deployed, done it in garrison, done it in training. I've done it a few times. He decides to do it by EFMB* standards and even hands out a gradesheet from EFMB for us to go by. I get it, he wants to teach the book standard. Everyone knows, when you do things repetitively, you tend to develop your own way to do it but the general structure stays the same.
LJ2 begins the assessment by starting on the second page, saying fuck the information on the front page. Doc Fresh has been in the Army for 3-4 years. Doc Fresh didn't have to join the Army to pay off med school loans. Doc Fresh has been a doctor for a long time. Doc Fresh has done this a few times but he doesn't know how the Army has taught us lowly medics how to assess a patient. Doc Fresh can't comprehend that the Army would have different acronyms for the same things he knows. He thinks it's stupid. Well Doc, guess what, you're gonna find that in charts all over the place from us lowly medics. Doc Fresh is lost in the class because he doesn't know the Army way. LJ2 can't explain because LJ2 is using a gradesheet from a course he has failed 4 times. SSG Hungover, myself and SGT Ginger decide to step in. SGT Ginger has his EFMB, SSG Hungover has been deployed, as have I. We know what we're doing. (That is not to say that people who deploy automatically gain ultimate enlightenment. LJ2 has deployed a couple times. Get my drift?)
Doc Fresh gets frustrated because no matter how well the three of us explain the clusterfuck unfolding before our eyes, Doc Fresh can't seem to grasp the Army does things different from the civvie world. Granted, Army way may not be the best but it works and we save lives. LJ2 goes on to complete the class while I give SSG Hungover an IV.
At noon we have a formation to hold a moment of silence for Sept. 11 since we won't be at work on Sunday.
First Sergeant tells the NCOs afterwards that the barracks our unit is in charge of is completely dirty. I don't see how they can let their building get dirty. I don't live in that building. That building's only common areas are hallways, stairwells, kitchens and a day room. They have their own bathrooms in their room. How the hell can they let it get dirty? Beer pong tournaments on the weekends where no one cleans up afterwards, that's how.
Because our unit is supposed to be in charge of that building (even though people from all over this post live there. And the majority of barracks personnel from my company live in the same building as I do) we get told to go clean it. Like finding out who lives there and hold a 1900 formation on a Friday night for GI party would way too easy. Make people who are married and live in Married Soldier quarters and people from a different barracks cleans makes perfect sense. That being said, we cleaned the damn building, all the while doing what soldiers do best...complain while we work.
Afterwards I went to the gym and worked out for two hours to get rid of my frustrations and because that's my normal routine. And this weekend will mark my first completely sober weekend. I foresee lots of boredom between playing guitar and trying to ignore my roommate having sex with his girlfriend. She's a screamer. When I say roommate, we live in the same room. A row of wall lockers separates us. I hear everything. This whole has really just made think "Fuckin' really?" all damn day. From LJ2 fucking up our basic task of being able to assess a patient for injuries to having to clean a building I never go to and definitely don't live in to coming back from the gym to hear "Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh yeah!" Fuckin' really? She has her own place, I'm sure they could go over there.
*EFMB-Expert Field Medical Badge. A two week long course consisting of everything a medic should know plus a couple other things. It ends with a 12 mile ruckmarch that must be completed in 3 hours or less with a 40 pound rucksack. Don't quote me on the weight, I can't remember right now. It's a coveted badge (read: I don't want it but I'll try for it.) Most people in the Army use this badge or the CMB (Combat Medic Badge) as a gauge of how great a medic you are. If you don't have either one, you're a shitty medic or brand new. If you're like me and have been in 4 years and deployed and I don't have either, I'm apparently a shitty medic and everyone seems to need to question me as to whether or not I know my job. I think they can all go suck a dick or two.
Monday, September 5, 2011
Well...
Since I explained myself in the previous post, I thought that I might as well begin to write about every day stuff. Y'know, the kind of stuff the indie kid behind the coffee counter gripes about because his hair isn't swept over his eye just right and the customer who ordered the double mocha, triple swirled, low fat, frothed, quadruple sugar cinnamon regular coffee stressed him out.
I don't want to go into work tomorrow. It's not that my job here is stressful. It's not even that I dislike it. It's some of the people there. We have them everywhere we go. The people who make dust hills into Mt. Everest. "You missed one hair while you were shaving! You are out of regs! UCMJ!*" Stupid, truly meaningless bullshit like that.
One member of my section loves to play games. I don't mean that he wants to break out the notepads and keep a running spades score going. He plays games that should've ended when he became a Private First Class, at the least.
Here's a typical conversation between this individual and our OIC. "Staff Sergeant, were you able to talk to the people about getting a couple new chairs?" Please keep in mind that myself, Blasian, D-man and SGT Ginger have no idea that our OIC wanted new chairs. Maybe it should've been an implied task, not sure. Staff Sergeant's reply "I told Vic and Blasian to do it two weeks ago. (Looks at us confused) Why the hell wasn't that done?" Now Blasian and myself look like assholes in front of Doc Fresh. Doc Fresh looks at us like we are shit-heads. SGT Ginger and D-man look angry and confused. Blasian shrugs it off while I seethe with anger at Leroy Jenkins Jr. for dumping his fuck-up on my lap.
I would like to say that was a one time occurrence. Sadly, it isn't. Evidently I should be able to read LJ2's mind and know what he wants me to do before he thinks of it. Sometimes all you can really do is facepalm and wait for 1700 to roll around.
*UCMJ-Uniformed Code of Military Justice. This acronym is normally used when people are threatening you with non-judicial punishment in the form of an Article 15. Meaning they want you to lose rank, pay and do extra duty because they found out their spouse was cheating on them last night and they needed someone to take their frustrations out on.
I don't want to go into work tomorrow. It's not that my job here is stressful. It's not even that I dislike it. It's some of the people there. We have them everywhere we go. The people who make dust hills into Mt. Everest. "You missed one hair while you were shaving! You are out of regs! UCMJ!*" Stupid, truly meaningless bullshit like that.
One member of my section loves to play games. I don't mean that he wants to break out the notepads and keep a running spades score going. He plays games that should've ended when he became a Private First Class, at the least.
Here's a typical conversation between this individual and our OIC. "Staff Sergeant, were you able to talk to the people about getting a couple new chairs?" Please keep in mind that myself, Blasian, D-man and SGT Ginger have no idea that our OIC wanted new chairs. Maybe it should've been an implied task, not sure. Staff Sergeant's reply "I told Vic and Blasian to do it two weeks ago. (Looks at us confused) Why the hell wasn't that done?" Now Blasian and myself look like assholes in front of Doc Fresh. Doc Fresh looks at us like we are shit-heads. SGT Ginger and D-man look angry and confused. Blasian shrugs it off while I seethe with anger at Leroy Jenkins Jr. for dumping his fuck-up on my lap.
I would like to say that was a one time occurrence. Sadly, it isn't. Evidently I should be able to read LJ2's mind and know what he wants me to do before he thinks of it. Sometimes all you can really do is facepalm and wait for 1700 to roll around.
*UCMJ-Uniformed Code of Military Justice. This acronym is normally used when people are threatening you with non-judicial punishment in the form of an Article 15. Meaning they want you to lose rank, pay and do extra duty because they found out their spouse was cheating on them last night and they needed someone to take their frustrations out on.
Direction of the Wind
Suppose I should say why I started this. I began this as a way to keep myself motivated and focused on what I need to do. I just recently decided to quit drinking. It's been two days and I can only surmise that sobriety is insanely boring. I made some poor choices and said lots of things that didn't need to be said while drinking. I've come to the point where I hate waking up feeling like shit and sweating out booze. Plus, working out hungover isn't fun. I realize Germany isn't going to be the easiest place to quit drinking but it's either that or wait til it becomes a real problem. I love drinking and I love being drunk. At what cost?
I won't say that I have a drinking problem. The problem really is what I do while drinking. From relieving myself in places I shouldn't, insulting my friends, dragging up bad memories and being obnoxious to the point where no one wants to be seen with you. All of it happens. And quite frankly, I'd like to be able to remember where I put things the next morning.
With all that being said, this isn't going to be about me piss-whining about how much I want to drink but won't allow myself. I'll include anecdotes from the day. Funny embarrassing stories. Events happening in my life that probably wouldn't matter anywhere else except for the internet.
Really, if you don't look at porn all day or watch stupid YouTube videos, you browse through people's Facebooks, Twitters, Myspaces and other various forms of the social networking machines and wonder how you ever kept in touch with people. With that being said, let the blogging that I have always made fun of begin.
I won't say that I have a drinking problem. The problem really is what I do while drinking. From relieving myself in places I shouldn't, insulting my friends, dragging up bad memories and being obnoxious to the point where no one wants to be seen with you. All of it happens. And quite frankly, I'd like to be able to remember where I put things the next morning.
With all that being said, this isn't going to be about me piss-whining about how much I want to drink but won't allow myself. I'll include anecdotes from the day. Funny embarrassing stories. Events happening in my life that probably wouldn't matter anywhere else except for the internet.
Really, if you don't look at porn all day or watch stupid YouTube videos, you browse through people's Facebooks, Twitters, Myspaces and other various forms of the social networking machines and wonder how you ever kept in touch with people. With that being said, let the blogging that I have always made fun of begin.
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