exit strategy

GIS for frantic?
Too tired last night to write. Didn’t feel like it either. This month looks pretty sorry in that little calendar over on the right, so many non-blue days… nothing written. But look below, I’m proud of it again. That means that I was happy with every entry I wrote this week – nothing too crappy. That’s good, because that means I’m getting back into the swing of things. I hope this upcoming Taiwan trip doesn’t wreck me. Charge!

Got a brief e-mail from my mom today, saying simply that my brother had finally got his orders to Iraq. They told him he’ll leave for the sands December 15th, and will probably be deployed for about 18 months. To me, it seems awfully early to be informing troops they’ll be leaving in December. Not because of logistics, I can certainly understand a military deployment being planned 6 months in advance. I just guess it seems like a lot can happen within 6 months, but I understand that the military minds most likely have this planned long-term. I mean, we’re talking pretty long-term I guess, if my brother ends up going he won’t be coming home until sometime in 2007 – which tells me we’re planning to maintain a presence there at least that long. I guess only a simpleton would believe that we could realistically get out of the country much sooner. I read the other day that Rumsfeld said we’d be cutting our troops throughout 2006 – which tells me that it’s likely that my bro’s unit will be replacing more soldiers than they themselves number… kind of an unsettling thought. I think the whole thing really gets to my mom. For my part, I actually don’t worry that much. Perhaps it’s naive, but if I were in my brother’s position I’d be more pissed about having to go into the desert for more than a year without my wife than I’d be worried about being blown up by insurgents. Then again, it’s easy to say that from my comfortable couch in my comfortable house.

I can remember when I was younger, this would probably somewhere around 5th or 6th grade, I would do a lot of thinking before I dozed off to sleep. Mostly I thought of strange stuff… like trying to figure out how to pronounce words if they were read backwards. Yeah I really can remember doing that. I’d also imagine all sorts of things. That my bunkbed was a cave I was stranded in. Sometimes, for whatever reason, I’d try and see if I could force myself to genuinely cry. Not fake tears, which can be conjured up quite easily, but real tears for real sadness. I don’t know why. It will sound morbid and perhaps a bit askew, but I had this “exercise” I’d go through to make it happen. I’d clear my mind, and try my best to imagine the real emotions I’d feel if someone had told me one or both of my parents had died. Sure, your brain knows it’s not real, so it doesn’t have much effect. But if you give into the thoughts, and really try and put yourself in that place… the tears will come. And so, just to see if I could cry, I’d imagine what it would be like to learn of my parents’ demise. Now, as a semi-adult (am I one yet?), I know one day I’ll really have to deal with that emotion. Hey moms and pops, stick around a while, will ya? I’ve got stuff yet to show you.

In gradeschool, we had a trash incinerator near the edge of the playground, at least, that’s what I always thought it was. It was a squat, square brick building with a rusted brown-red roof angled in towards a small metal chimney thing. There was large metal door facing the street, where I guess you put the garbage in and burned it or something. I used to fantasize about taking girls behind it.

Goodnight.


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