Aging?

An earnest evaluation of the past year.

Signs of my aging:

1.  I just bought a Men's Health magazine
2.  I like documentaries, Animal Planet and the
    Discovery channel
3.  Sometimes I spend a Friday or Saturday night in,
    of my own accord
4.  I read Scientific American mind
5.  My receding hair line
6.  My forever aching lower back
7.  I don't relate to the people my age in my class
8.  I can relate to my father
9.  College seems like a long time ago
10. I have this weird paternal urge
11. Nose hair
12. Didnt the 80's just pass?
13. I like peace and quiet sometimes.
14. I'm no longer Little John, but Johnny
15. I realize how crazy some of things I've done in
    the past were


Signs I need to grow up:

1.  I continue to do crazy things.
2.  I color in a coloring book when I'm upset
3.  I pull all nighters on a regular basis
4.  I watch cartoons
5.  I am driven to any and everything rebellious in
    nature
6.  I'm deathly frightened of ceremonies ie. weddings,
    graduations etc...
7.  I feel more comfortable at the kids' table
8.  Sometimes I play hide and seek with the sales
    people in clothing stores... without them knowing
9.  Farts are funny
10. The girls I always end up dating
11. My un-virtuous impatience
12. I like to annoy people
13. My quickness to strip, whatever the purpose
14. I play video games
15. "I don't see anything wrong with calling you at 3
    in the morning and yes I am drunk"
16. Sometimes I make prank calls
17. I still refer to myself as a kid or boy
18. Yesterday I tried burning a locust with a
    magnifying glass
19. I still have crushes
20. I hate to dress up
21. Sometimes, twirling around in circles is fun
22. I'm so anti-trend that I'm trendy
23. Dr. Seuss was a genius
24. "Lalalalala I don't hear what you're saying"
25. Three speeding tickets last year
26. "Mom, I'm broke"
27. Elephant shoe
28. My blatant disregard for regulations
29. The only thing better than loud is louder.
30. I still feel like I have the world by the balls

I started this list because I felt old but after
writing it I started to feel a whole lot better.

Superfly

I've been dwelling on this image that was recently burned through my retina and into my cerebellum or cerebral cortex or whatever part it is that processes this stuff.  The image is of the fat fly that I found in my box of sugar a couple of days ago. 

It's not so much the image of the fly itself that I have been dwelling on. It's the circumstances that
must have led up to the fly's death.  He probably entered through the front door, which my roommate
leaves open constantly while he takes his smoke breaks during the day, not realizing what it was that he was entering.  After entering and finding no food after flying 17605 laps around the room landing briefly on a table or my leg or a window he hi the jackpot.  An entire box full of the substance that make his life worth living.  That white grainy substance that makes him feel like Superfly.

And who wouldn't want to feel like Superfly?  I know that I try to feel like Superfly as much as possible.  If I could feel like Superfly every second of the day without any chemical substance, I would.  I mean isn't that the plight of every single male, to release his inner Superflyishness for every woman to relish?  So what does this fly do?  Like a heroin addict in a poppy field, the fly gets greedy.  he eats so much of it that he explodes/ implodes/ overdoses, whatever you'd like to call it.  The precise cause of death has not been determined by the coroner yet, but that doesn't matter.  What matters is the humanistic characteristic that this fly displayed in his ever-loving greed for a white grainy substance.

This fly wasn't just a fly to me.  It was something more.  This fly was like a representation of something.  It could be like some of my friends from high school who haven't even journeyed outside the box long enough to see that there's so much more to life than the white substance that they find in abundance in Hilton.  But it goes beyond that.  It goes beyond any situational metaphor that I could apply to it and represents the more holistic sense of greed which appears in all of us.

This came to me at a weird time.  I had actually considered extending my tour here.  The money is good and I don't really do any work.  By the time I go back I'll have my car paid off, a ton of money saved and even a few new gadgets.  So why push it right?  Why would I ever consider limiting the chances of more life experiences by staying deployed at a base that I cannot leave at any point due to terrorist activities? Greed.  These green eyes of mine can't see outside the box sometimes without a dead fly showing me the way.

They Know...

"Hey there soldier how is everything going?"

"Oh it's going good, good, just fine sir."

"That's great, that's great.  Hey, what unit are you with soldier?"  The major leaned in and crinkled his brow with a look of concern when he said this.

"Spitfire sir."

"Ah Spitfire".  The returned to the upright position and maintained a smirk on is face that let me know
that this was not just a friendly hallway conversation.  The sly grin and the knowing tone of his voice told me that this was a probe.  The Major was searching for an answer from me that he thought I was keeping from him.

"What are the numbers that go along with that
Specialist?"

"There are no numbers with it sir.  We're attached to
the 115th but only for service and support"

"Oh. okay", the major looked in the sky and plucked the question "Where are you coming from?  I was told you're coming out of Colorado?"

"Yes, yes that's correct sir.  I'm coming from 63^rd MI..."

"MI what?

"Battalion, battalion, MI Battalion sir."

"Oh, 63rd MI Battalion.  So that's your unit?"

"When I go back home, yes, yes it is sir"

The lean and crinkle came back.

"That's my unit in the states but when we're here we're not a part of them sir", I replied before my nerves took over.  "Technically we're attached to some unit over in Fort Belvoir but they aren't deployed or anything so we're not really attached to any unit here. We're our own unit.  The unit of Spitfire, Spitfire is our unit."

"Oh okay, some unit on Fort Belvoir.  I know the one you speak of."

"Shit" I thought, he's figured me out.  "Well that's what colonel... colonel..."

"Yes, yes, Colonel whatshisname over in some unit at Fort Belvoir.  I know of him."

Now he definitely knew.  "I'm sorry sir, I really can't recall his name."

The major just nodded at me and stood with his arms crossed in front of me waiting.  I didn't feel comfortable and started to back away towards the door but he followed so I blurted "Is that what you were looking for sir?  Was that a good answer?  I'm just telling you what I was told.  I don't understand why we're here either.  I just know that the army said "hey you, you go there" and here I am."  I found myself trapped in the corner of the stairway with the major still standing in front of me nodding away as if he was not listening to a word of what I had just said but was contemplating his next strike.  The foot of space between the major and the wall gave me a glimmer of hope to escape so I made a go at it and said, "have a nice day sir", while slipping by the major and down the stairwell.  The major remained towering over me as I walked down the steps and towards the door.  I could feel his gaze burning a hole through my DCUs as I bolted out of the building.

I had narrowly escaped.  But now he knew.  I didn't like the fact that he knew.  I never liked anyone to
know.  The less people that know the better things are for me.  But there was no doubt in the recognition that I saw in his eyes.  He completely understood, that I have no clue what I'm doing and that I don't really belong in the army.  I knew that he understood my military plight in those few moments that we spoke and I just hoped that he wouldn't tell the rest of them. 

I've been pretty fortunate to somehow have slipped "under the radar" since I've been in the military.  I've gone unnoticed.  I haven't done anything great to draw positive attention to myself but i haven't done anything wrong to draw the negative attention either.  That's the way I like it.  The less I have to deal with the army the easier it is to forget that I'm in it.

It's not that the army is such a bad place to be.  It's actually been a great couple of years since I've been in.  I've made a ton of good friends and seen some cool places and made decent money for doing hardly anything.  But that's because I've made the best of every situation that i've been in and flown steadily under the radar.  But times they are a changing.

My company commander back in Colorado is pushing me to become a sergeant.  Now a promotion seems great and all and will be to a certain extent but it will also change everything.  That radar will hone in on me and everyone will find out the truth.  They'll all know that I have no business being in the army.  They'll all know that I'm just doing my time and that I see the army as an escape from the real life that I intend to start once I separate.  The life that does not resemble the highly technical world that the Army embraces.  They'll realize that their brainwashing didn't work and that my creative spirit still thrives inside of me.  They'll try to capture me and send me to the dreaded PLDC (Primary Leadership Development Course) and give me responsibilities and ruin the last two years of my sideways journey that this army has been for me.

But then again, I do like the sound of Sergeant Dianni, not as much as I like the sound of Doctor Dianni but it could be pretty alright.

Home

Sometimes home seems so close I can smell it.  It smells damp and sweet like honeydew.  It's summer.  I can hear the birds chirping when I wake up in the morning and feel the humidity brewing in the early dawn of day.  The lazy morning floats by with television and sunbathing.  Everyone in the house has their own agenda for the day but it all seems to be for the same purpose.

One of my sisters stays upstairs listening to music.  The other goes downstairs to use the computer. Sometimes they switch and sometimes they join me in watching the television.  My father is off at the gym. There is always something to be done at the gym.  My mother is either cooking or off running some sort of errands that we never know about.  Often times, the errands are really garage sales that she needs to get to early to see the good stuff.

Sometimes I read instead of watching the television. Sometimes I do both.  The mornings pass fast and there is always a sense of meaning or purpose in our actions or lack-there-of.  The days seems to be building towards a climax, a climax that we are all involved in.  Dinner.

Lunch will usually be something quick, a hot dog or hamburger on the grill.  Some leftovers.  But dinner, dinner is always something a bit bigger.  A salad, a steak and some maccaroni salad.  Maybe a baked potatoe. Maybe some yellow rice with gondules, or salchicha. 

Dinner is the uniting force.  It's the climax of the summer days in my home.  After dinner we all head in different directions;  We all go our own ways. But for those moments where we are eating, the phone does not get answered the girls don't stay on the computer or in their room and we all eat together at the table.  Most of the time we don't say much to each other, that is not what it's about.  It's about us being there as a unit.  Weare united in our eating endeavors.

I never understood this when I was growing up.  My father would always be upset with me if i wasn't therefore dinner.  I always thought that he was just trying to give me a hard time because that was what he did. I thought it was kind of his purpose in life to make me miserable, to keep me from hanging out with my friends as much as possible.  But now I see that it was just his way of trying to keep things together.  It wouldn't be long before I'd go off to school and become a man and these moments would be left as a treasure.