All of my friends have been going to Iraq lately. And in a way I'm jealous. In a way I'm not. But in a way I'm jealous that they are going to this place where they will have stories to last a lifetime. When I go out places and people thank me for being in the Army I feel ghoulish. i feel like a liar, a cheat, a fiend. Here I am in an Army at war and I'm in Colorado working on computers. It's like being in the Army during World War II or Vietnam and spending your whole time in Florida drinking with your buddies.
We complain about the snow that falls on the ground and the cold weather and the unfair treatment at the chow hall and the fact that they make us do things we don't like on our days off here because that is what we have to complain about. I'm sure it's better than doing physical training at four in the morning in Kuwait but it still sucks. It sucks that I'm only allowed to take three beverages at a time and only two of them can be water. It sucks that they won't let me get triple orders of steaks and they want me to go to do training at least twice a week at 3:30 in the afternoon. It sucks that they don't offer high-speed internet in the dorms and that I have to live in them in the first place. But worst of all It sucks when talk to my friends and I hear that they are going to fight this war and knowing that I will never get sent there.
When 9-11 happened, I wished I was in the city and not safe in my house in Long Island suffered. I felt like someone in my family had died and it should have been me. I almost quit school and enlisted because I knew that the Army was where the action would be. I guess wanted revenge of some sort, for my dead brother. But, I waited until I graduated to enlist. By this time the fire in my eyes had burned out a bit. I enlisted because I needed more time to figure out what the hell I wanted to do with my life. I took the cushy job instead of the parachute rigger. I decided to take back my application for airborne school instead taking the cushy assignment with the cushy chairs in the cushy Air Force Base. And now here I am, comfortable, enjoying life and a little jealous of all of my miserable friends on their way to, or already in, Iraq.
I guess I have always wanted to be where the action was. When I was in high school I never wanted to miss a party. I involved myself in as many things as possible because I was scared I'd miss out on something valuable. I wished I was in California when they had their huge earthquake, and in Florida recently when they had their tornadoes. I went to Woodstock and burnt myself to a crisp and almost died of dehydration drinking alcohol in that 100 degree weather with no shower and my friend and his girlfriend moaning like dogs right next to me just to say that I was there. Just to experience it.
It's my belief that every experience, bad or good, is something that you can grow from and take with you everywhere you go. It's been my experience that the tough moments in life are the ones that are most memorable and worthwhile and offer the most learning from. Sometimes it's hard to remember that when life hits you like a brick wall and you're forced to deal with the gunshots in your direction and the mortar attacks but when they cease and you lay down at the end of the day is when you realize, it's when you realize...
I know I have it good and I wouldn't take back my choices for anything but I can't help but be a little jealous of my friends chasing the action and I can't help but complain about the small things that I have to endure here. If I didn't complain about anything then I'd be completely happy. And if I was completely happy then I'd be miserable because I'd have nothing to complain about.
All you Iraq-bound are in my thoughts every day. Go out there and make it happen and make sure you make it back so that we can drink some pitchers of beer together someplace warm.
We complain about the snow that falls on the ground and the cold weather and the unfair treatment at the chow hall and the fact that they make us do things we don't like on our days off here because that is what we have to complain about. I'm sure it's better than doing physical training at four in the morning in Kuwait but it still sucks. It sucks that I'm only allowed to take three beverages at a time and only two of them can be water. It sucks that they won't let me get triple orders of steaks and they want me to go to do training at least twice a week at 3:30 in the afternoon. It sucks that they don't offer high-speed internet in the dorms and that I have to live in them in the first place. But worst of all It sucks when talk to my friends and I hear that they are going to fight this war and knowing that I will never get sent there.
When 9-11 happened, I wished I was in the city and not safe in my house in Long Island suffered. I felt like someone in my family had died and it should have been me. I almost quit school and enlisted because I knew that the Army was where the action would be. I guess wanted revenge of some sort, for my dead brother. But, I waited until I graduated to enlist. By this time the fire in my eyes had burned out a bit. I enlisted because I needed more time to figure out what the hell I wanted to do with my life. I took the cushy job instead of the parachute rigger. I decided to take back my application for airborne school instead taking the cushy assignment with the cushy chairs in the cushy Air Force Base. And now here I am, comfortable, enjoying life and a little jealous of all of my miserable friends on their way to, or already in, Iraq.
I guess I have always wanted to be where the action was. When I was in high school I never wanted to miss a party. I involved myself in as many things as possible because I was scared I'd miss out on something valuable. I wished I was in California when they had their huge earthquake, and in Florida recently when they had their tornadoes. I went to Woodstock and burnt myself to a crisp and almost died of dehydration drinking alcohol in that 100 degree weather with no shower and my friend and his girlfriend moaning like dogs right next to me just to say that I was there. Just to experience it.
It's my belief that every experience, bad or good, is something that you can grow from and take with you everywhere you go. It's been my experience that the tough moments in life are the ones that are most memorable and worthwhile and offer the most learning from. Sometimes it's hard to remember that when life hits you like a brick wall and you're forced to deal with the gunshots in your direction and the mortar attacks but when they cease and you lay down at the end of the day is when you realize, it's when you realize...
I know I have it good and I wouldn't take back my choices for anything but I can't help but be a little jealous of my friends chasing the action and I can't help but complain about the small things that I have to endure here. If I didn't complain about anything then I'd be completely happy. And if I was completely happy then I'd be miserable because I'd have nothing to complain about.
All you Iraq-bound are in my thoughts every day. Go out there and make it happen and make sure you make it back so that we can drink some pitchers of beer together someplace warm.
No comments:
Post a Comment