The reason it hurts so much to separate is because our souls are connected. Maybe they always have been and will be. Maybe we’ve lived a thousand lives before this one and in each of them we’ve found each other. And maybe each time, we’ve been forced apart for the same reasons. That means that this goodbye is both a good-bye for the past ten thousand years and a prelude to what will come.
When I look at you, I see your beauty and grace and know they have grown stronger with every life you have lived. And I know I have spent every life before this one searching for you. Not someone like you, but you, your soul and mine must always come together. And then, for a reason neither of us understands, we’ve been forced to say good-bye.
I would love to tell you that everything will work out for us, and I promise to do all I can to make sure it does. But if we never meet again and this is truly good-bye, I know we will see each other again in another life. We will find each other again, and maybe the stars will have changed, and we will not only love each other in that time, but for all the times we’ve had before. –The Notebook
A hero is someone who has given his or her life to something bigger than oneself. Joseph Campbell
Stained- So far away
Chris daughtry, Home
Avril Lavigne I miss you
Monday, November 30, 2009
A long and rambling blog
Ok ok fine, I’ll blog. But only because you’ve asked me nicely. And so many times. I’m sitting in my CHU (containerize housing unit) which has 4 walls, a door and a window. I’ve got a night stand, bed with mattress, a wardrobe for all my clothes and what possessions I brought with me. I have a great roommate, internet that works most of the time and allows me to do most of what I’d like to do online. I’m sitting on the plush rug that I bought, staring at a 42 inch tv (don’t ask how we got it and I won’t have to lie, and we’re going to be getting like 12 channels here in a few days) with bottles of Gatorade and cookies sent by various friends, wondering if I should turn the AC warmer. I live like 75 feet from a trailer that has running hot water and semi sanitary toilets. I get to take hot showers, for as long as I want, everyday. Someone even cleans the showers and toilets, everyday! I can have my laundry washed and folded for me, all I have to do is take it out of my bag and put it away! I go to a chow hall that’s about 100 yards away from where I live. The food there isn’t the greatest, but there’s a large variety to choose from. To drink they have every type of Gatorade, soda or juice you can think of. They feed us 3 times a day, 4 if you want to get up for midnight chow. Even if you miss the 3 hour window for each meal, they’ve got a room in the back that will give you whatever kind of sandwich you want, 24 hours a day. They have 6 flavors of Baskin Robbins ice cream, cheese cake of every type, cakes, pies, cookies, and fresh fruit. I’ve had watermelon for breakfast, lunch or dinner almost every day since I’ve been here. I work about 250 yards away from where I live, I’ve got two computers for what I do, with 3 screens. I have a staff of 2 other guys who do whatever I tell them to. On my desk I’ve got a phone that I can call back to the States, free, whenever I want. They have a movie theater here that plays about 6 movies a week, and a swimming pool. I’m not sure how many gyms we have here, like 6 or 7, most of them within walking distance. We’ve got a store that sells every type of junk imaginable if you want to pay the cost. And a Burger King, something like a Starbucks and Cinnabon, Subway and a Pizza Hut knock off. I get to go to church every week for the full 2 hours, and we have an institute class on Thursday nights. Someone emails me to tell me when I’ve gotten a package or letter. I deal with maybe 10 people for work, and they all are really cool for the most part. I get to sit at my desk, with my bottled water and Gatorade and whatever junk that I’ve nicked from the chow hall (usually Pop tarts or muffins) to go along with my morning hot chocolate.
I have to attend meetings, track equipment, and fill out powerpoint presentations, my information gets briefed to the commanding general every day, and unfortunately, he’s starting to ask questions about what I’m sending up. Honestly I could put whatever I wanted on a slide and nobody but me would know if its true or not. I try and explain my job to other people, and they just get confused. I was confused about it too, until I had to do it everyday for the past month. Now it’s easy. My days are often the same as the one previous to it. Sunday and Monday are the only ones that are different. Sunday I don’t have to go to work till 1, then I leave to walk to church at 130, get back from that at 430, and if I can finish my reports, I’m off by 5. Not a bad day. Mondays are different because that’s the day we all pile into our ghetto van, a 15 passenger van with the rear window boarded up because a helo picked up a rock with its rotor-wash and busted it out. That means a helicopter landed near it and a rock was blown away and broke the window. Anyway, we all get into our van, drive to the other side of the base, and attend what we call “Chicken Sandwich Monday”. For lunch every Monday the chow hall on the other side of the base serves phenomenal chicken sandwiches that everyone here knows about. It’s pretty much the highlight of our work week.
I don’t know exactly why I told you all that. I guess I just don’t want anyone to have misconceptions about what its like and what it is I’m specifically doing over here. I realize that there’s a larger picture to all this, and my unit is directly supporting it, but for me, I play an extremely small role. There are days that I think to myself, “I could stay over here for the rest of my life, earning easy money, avoiding any real responsibility like getting married or raising a family”. I really have everything a human being needs to survive. If I could visit my friends and family occasionally, perhaps be on the same schedule as they are, instead of 10 hours ahead of them, it might not be a bad idea…
I think I’ve had a mental shift this past month. It started on Veterans Day I believe. I got all sorts of emails and stuff from people back home saying thanks for my service and everything. I’ve long since realized that people, upon finding out I’m in the Army, will thank me for my service and sacrifice. I know that they want to express their gratitude to the Armed Forces in general. To be honest, if we all lived around an Army, Naval or Marine base, instead of Hill Air Force Base, we’d have a different view of the military. We’d still appreciate the Armed Forces of course, but our perspective would be different. I’m not about to make a comparison to say that one branch is better than another, but just ponder how it would affect the community that we live in. Navy, Marine and Army families are used to their service member being gone for long periods of time just for training. Air Force, eh not so much. Deployments, Army is usually 12-18 months away, Navy is frequently gone for 6-8 month rotations as a standard, Marines are only gone 7 months, but they usually have the harshest conditions and are placed in slightly more hazardous situations than your average Army person. The Air Force? 6 months in Qatar is their standard. Qatar is where the rest of us go for a 4 day pass, to get a mental vacation, away from Iraq. Think of the effect the lengths of time these deployments have on a family, on a community. Its so different. I have never been comfortable with people coming to me to show their appreciation for the Armed Forces. I was at Sea World with Jason this past spring and at one point they asked everyone who was, or had been in the Service to stand up. I hate things like these, but I grudgingly stood up. I realize that people want something to focus their appreciation on. For me, what I do with the Army is something that I have difficulty explaining. I don’t do it for the thanks of others, for the college money, or the prestige. Not even because some girls think a guy in uniform is irresistible. I do it because I feel it’s the right thing to do. Because I don’t want anyone else to have to go through it, or deal with anything like what I have to deal with.
Not that I’m saying being over here is hard, as I pointed out earlier, I’ve got it better than most of you when it comes to living conditions. The feeling of disconnect, the artificial life that I’ve seemed to have been placed into, is the hardest thing. I talk to my family only slightly less than what I normally would, and some of my friends get to chat with me everyday via gmail. Technology is amazing in what it lets us do. I woke up the other day and had a face to face conversation with a friend of mine who was sitting in her living room. Despite all the things that we have to keep in touch with our families and friends back home, email, skype, phones, there is still the prevailing feeling of disconnect.
When I left Utah, as our names were called off as to what bus to get on to go to the airport, I felt weird. And I wasn’t the only person feeling that way I could tell. I was alone, as were a few others there, in a sea of people and emotions. I was standing by myself as I watched families separating tearfully and unwillingly. It broke my heart as I watched little kids screaming for their daddies and mommies to come back to them as their names were called out. Spouses and parents cried, hugging and kissing each other. I stood there and watched all of it. I was alone. I had had someone there for a while, a friend who stood awkwardly and self consciously of the couples around us embracing and fitting in those last few minutes of affection. She left quickly. I’m not sure if it was because she was so tired, running on perhaps only 3 hours of sleep and had a long drive and day of work in front of her, or perhaps she wanted to get away from what seemed the appropriate thing to do to someone you loved when they were leaving for a far off land. Maybe I was the one who turned and walked away first, to spare her the stress of the situation that I could see in her eyes, or because I wanted to get started on this journey so I could hurry up and get it over with. Did I look back? I’m sure I did. Sitting in Texas for those long months prior to coming over here, and upon hearing of the shooting and deaths of several people I had interacted with there in Texas; made me reflect upon my life, and what on earth would I do if I died. Other than be dead that is. A pervading principle of my life, via my religion and upbringing, is progression. One cannot grow, progress, in solitude. And I was standing in the parking lot alone.
I’m not advertising to get married or whatever. Nor am I neglecting the fact that I have many, many good and dear friends who miss me every day and pray and hope for my safety and quick return. I can’t begin to tell you all how grateful and mindful I am of each of you who are thinking of me. I miss each of you as well, and I can’t wait to come home and see you again. I wonder though, how has your life changed since I left? You cannot deny that it hasn’t changed. In some aspects, you’ve moved on past me, in ways that you wouldn’t have if I were still there. I place a great deal of worth on the relationships that I have with other people. Probably more so than I really ought to. The distance, and knowledge that people would move on without me, progress in their own right without me, was the thing that scared me more than anything else about coming over here. You could take away all my comforts that I first described, and I would consider it no more difficult than I do now.
This probably only makes sense in my own head, so bear with me. The last time I was over here in 2003, ice was the big comfort thing, the huge luxury. For some reason, I realized that having ice in my water wouldn’t make me feel any better about being gone. So I never got any ice in my water, I left it for people who would appreciate it, and I think it caused more problems than it solved. My relationships didn’t grow or wane depending on if I had ice in my water or not… Does that make any sense? Maybe if you come back and read this at 3am it might.
So if you insist, as some of you have, on sending me something for Christmas or whatever, send me a picture with something written on the back of it, send me a letter telling me about your life and what you’ve been up to. Tell me your thoughts, hopes and dreams. What are your plans and desires? What do you fear, how are you going to conquer them? I’m not asking for anything personal that you wouldn’t normally share with me, and I certainly don’t wish to pry into your life more than you wish to share. I guess I’m just trying to say after all this rambling, is the best gift for me, is to be involved in your lives, and still be someone you count as a friend. And cookies.
I have to attend meetings, track equipment, and fill out powerpoint presentations, my information gets briefed to the commanding general every day, and unfortunately, he’s starting to ask questions about what I’m sending up. Honestly I could put whatever I wanted on a slide and nobody but me would know if its true or not. I try and explain my job to other people, and they just get confused. I was confused about it too, until I had to do it everyday for the past month. Now it’s easy. My days are often the same as the one previous to it. Sunday and Monday are the only ones that are different. Sunday I don’t have to go to work till 1, then I leave to walk to church at 130, get back from that at 430, and if I can finish my reports, I’m off by 5. Not a bad day. Mondays are different because that’s the day we all pile into our ghetto van, a 15 passenger van with the rear window boarded up because a helo picked up a rock with its rotor-wash and busted it out. That means a helicopter landed near it and a rock was blown away and broke the window. Anyway, we all get into our van, drive to the other side of the base, and attend what we call “Chicken Sandwich Monday”. For lunch every Monday the chow hall on the other side of the base serves phenomenal chicken sandwiches that everyone here knows about. It’s pretty much the highlight of our work week.
I don’t know exactly why I told you all that. I guess I just don’t want anyone to have misconceptions about what its like and what it is I’m specifically doing over here. I realize that there’s a larger picture to all this, and my unit is directly supporting it, but for me, I play an extremely small role. There are days that I think to myself, “I could stay over here for the rest of my life, earning easy money, avoiding any real responsibility like getting married or raising a family”. I really have everything a human being needs to survive. If I could visit my friends and family occasionally, perhaps be on the same schedule as they are, instead of 10 hours ahead of them, it might not be a bad idea…
I think I’ve had a mental shift this past month. It started on Veterans Day I believe. I got all sorts of emails and stuff from people back home saying thanks for my service and everything. I’ve long since realized that people, upon finding out I’m in the Army, will thank me for my service and sacrifice. I know that they want to express their gratitude to the Armed Forces in general. To be honest, if we all lived around an Army, Naval or Marine base, instead of Hill Air Force Base, we’d have a different view of the military. We’d still appreciate the Armed Forces of course, but our perspective would be different. I’m not about to make a comparison to say that one branch is better than another, but just ponder how it would affect the community that we live in. Navy, Marine and Army families are used to their service member being gone for long periods of time just for training. Air Force, eh not so much. Deployments, Army is usually 12-18 months away, Navy is frequently gone for 6-8 month rotations as a standard, Marines are only gone 7 months, but they usually have the harshest conditions and are placed in slightly more hazardous situations than your average Army person. The Air Force? 6 months in Qatar is their standard. Qatar is where the rest of us go for a 4 day pass, to get a mental vacation, away from Iraq. Think of the effect the lengths of time these deployments have on a family, on a community. Its so different. I have never been comfortable with people coming to me to show their appreciation for the Armed Forces. I was at Sea World with Jason this past spring and at one point they asked everyone who was, or had been in the Service to stand up. I hate things like these, but I grudgingly stood up. I realize that people want something to focus their appreciation on. For me, what I do with the Army is something that I have difficulty explaining. I don’t do it for the thanks of others, for the college money, or the prestige. Not even because some girls think a guy in uniform is irresistible. I do it because I feel it’s the right thing to do. Because I don’t want anyone else to have to go through it, or deal with anything like what I have to deal with.
Not that I’m saying being over here is hard, as I pointed out earlier, I’ve got it better than most of you when it comes to living conditions. The feeling of disconnect, the artificial life that I’ve seemed to have been placed into, is the hardest thing. I talk to my family only slightly less than what I normally would, and some of my friends get to chat with me everyday via gmail. Technology is amazing in what it lets us do. I woke up the other day and had a face to face conversation with a friend of mine who was sitting in her living room. Despite all the things that we have to keep in touch with our families and friends back home, email, skype, phones, there is still the prevailing feeling of disconnect.
When I left Utah, as our names were called off as to what bus to get on to go to the airport, I felt weird. And I wasn’t the only person feeling that way I could tell. I was alone, as were a few others there, in a sea of people and emotions. I was standing by myself as I watched families separating tearfully and unwillingly. It broke my heart as I watched little kids screaming for their daddies and mommies to come back to them as their names were called out. Spouses and parents cried, hugging and kissing each other. I stood there and watched all of it. I was alone. I had had someone there for a while, a friend who stood awkwardly and self consciously of the couples around us embracing and fitting in those last few minutes of affection. She left quickly. I’m not sure if it was because she was so tired, running on perhaps only 3 hours of sleep and had a long drive and day of work in front of her, or perhaps she wanted to get away from what seemed the appropriate thing to do to someone you loved when they were leaving for a far off land. Maybe I was the one who turned and walked away first, to spare her the stress of the situation that I could see in her eyes, or because I wanted to get started on this journey so I could hurry up and get it over with. Did I look back? I’m sure I did. Sitting in Texas for those long months prior to coming over here, and upon hearing of the shooting and deaths of several people I had interacted with there in Texas; made me reflect upon my life, and what on earth would I do if I died. Other than be dead that is. A pervading principle of my life, via my religion and upbringing, is progression. One cannot grow, progress, in solitude. And I was standing in the parking lot alone.
I’m not advertising to get married or whatever. Nor am I neglecting the fact that I have many, many good and dear friends who miss me every day and pray and hope for my safety and quick return. I can’t begin to tell you all how grateful and mindful I am of each of you who are thinking of me. I miss each of you as well, and I can’t wait to come home and see you again. I wonder though, how has your life changed since I left? You cannot deny that it hasn’t changed. In some aspects, you’ve moved on past me, in ways that you wouldn’t have if I were still there. I place a great deal of worth on the relationships that I have with other people. Probably more so than I really ought to. The distance, and knowledge that people would move on without me, progress in their own right without me, was the thing that scared me more than anything else about coming over here. You could take away all my comforts that I first described, and I would consider it no more difficult than I do now.
This probably only makes sense in my own head, so bear with me. The last time I was over here in 2003, ice was the big comfort thing, the huge luxury. For some reason, I realized that having ice in my water wouldn’t make me feel any better about being gone. So I never got any ice in my water, I left it for people who would appreciate it, and I think it caused more problems than it solved. My relationships didn’t grow or wane depending on if I had ice in my water or not… Does that make any sense? Maybe if you come back and read this at 3am it might.
So if you insist, as some of you have, on sending me something for Christmas or whatever, send me a picture with something written on the back of it, send me a letter telling me about your life and what you’ve been up to. Tell me your thoughts, hopes and dreams. What are your plans and desires? What do you fear, how are you going to conquer them? I’m not asking for anything personal that you wouldn’t normally share with me, and I certainly don’t wish to pry into your life more than you wish to share. I guess I’m just trying to say after all this rambling, is the best gift for me, is to be involved in your lives, and still be someone you count as a friend. And cookies.
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