PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Well it's been a while since I've sat down and blogged about really anything at all. Joining the military (Army, HOOAH! Yeah... Motivated, motivated, damn right motivated? Sure, we'll go with that) has a lot to do with that. In case you don't know me too well, but randomly decided to read this tagless note I've posted up, I'm a 68 Whiskey, or a Health Care Specialist, formerly and more formally known as a Combat Medic. Pretty self explanatory job, right? You'd be surprised..

Let me give you a rhetorical example: I'm on a patrol with a good friend of mine. We'll say his name is John. We're going down the streets of Kabul, saying hi to the kids and helping out the civilians, since we LOVE looking good (don't you?), and we come across a building that we need to clear. If you don't know what that means, that simple means we get everyone out of there, and if they refuse, well we shoot them. So we stack up on the door, with our other soldiers, and bust down the door and go to town. A native member of Taliban, we'll say his name is Ali Muhammad, he shoots my friend John, and kills him. AK round directly in the center of his forehead. From green status straight to black, my friend that I've lived with, that I've slept with, that I've bathed with, that I've cried with, that I've laughed with, that I've fought with, dead right in front of me, and before I even THINK of anything to do as a medic, or even worse, a human being, my first reaction HAS to be to raise my M4 (or M-16, or if I'm just so blessed, my 9-mil) and put a hole in the man who shot my friend.

Now you may be thinking, "Well yeah, Chase, that's what I'd do too. Duh, he killed my friend." Of course you would, any normal human being with any sort of emotional waves would. However, let me add to the rhetoricalness... Let's say I shoot Ali Muhammad, and it doesn't kill him. No. Let's say I pierce his lung, give him a sucking chest wound and a large exit wound out of his lower back and cause tension pneumo-thorax right there. Now this guy who just killed my friend becomes a casualty on the battlefield, and as a United States Army medic.... I HAVE to save his life. No questions asked, I stop what I'm doing (once the area is safe) and I try to get him stabilized again. Would you be able to do that? Not so "Well yeah, Chase, that's what I'd do too. Duh, he killed my friend." anymore, is it?

Basically, this blog is going to be based upon my belief and standpoint of "Why", on an emotional level more than anything, because I'm just an estrogen filled kinda guy.

When I was in Basic Training, I entered in a rather chunky 250 pounds, 18 years old, out of shape, no college past, no college present, and no sight of the future within my range of vision. All I did for 11 weeks was think. Think, think think think think. I looked deep within myself. Not so I could find my "inner strength" and climb the rope ladder or jump through the tires on the ground, no. I looked deep inside to get past that parasitic doppelganger of ourselves that we, as a society, always let guide us. We wear masks to hide behind, because we feel so long as people cannot see US, cannot touch US, and thus, cannot truly connect with US.... we're safe. But would a roller coaster ride be as fun if it went in a straight line? Or, better yet, if everything you ate were a hologram projection? No, it wouldn't. Because everything, there on out, would be fake. Which is what these "masks" enable us to become. Fake. Afraid of the truth of the world bearing on us, because let's face it; we're so much more insignificant than EVERYTHING around us. And damnit, we're all scared. But that's fine, I'd rather be truthfully afraid than ignorantly appeased, and the more you start thinking that way, the more independent you allow yourself to become, the more free you'll be. A dead thing can go with the flow of the river, only something alive can go against it.

With that said, I tapped inside and pulled out the "me" that needed to be there. And with that change, I grew in so many ways, you wouldn't believe. I connected with God and I connected with myself. I'm not going to sit here and debate or even entertain the topic on which one is more important, that's not what this is all about. It's weird, because before I dated Tia, I used to be a rather nice guy. A MUCH more secure individual. I knew I was funny, outgoing, boisterous, all that good stuff people like to hear about themselves. When I dug, I re-found myself, and I've since eliminated that mask. However, since finding myself buried deep within my shell, I also resurfaced old thoughts and old feelings... I've "refound" a true appreciation for an astonishingly wonderful person, one that I'd pretty much do just about anything for without even thinking about it. Simply due to the fact that anyone who knows me or her knows who/what I'm talking about, and that this woman makes me incredibly tongue tied and sweaty palmed and all that other cutesy stuff that's embarrassing, that's all the detail I'm gunna get into, hehe. But I do have a point as to why I brought all that nonsense up. Truly I do!

There's always an up and a downside to every decision you make. You just need to scale it out and see which one outweighs the other. That's really it. Do I do what's legally followed as opposed to morally right? Do I wear a mask and keep myself protected, even though I'll lose myself in the long run? Do I eliminate old fears and embrace the warmth of a true love, even though I've been scarred...?

More and more questions, but never any real answers, eh?

I'm going to wrap up this blog, mostly because it's most likely no longer entertaining, but also because it's 12:14 in the morning at this point and I have to wake up in about 3 and 1/2 hours to start my day haha.

In life, you're going to have to do what you need to do, and trust me, from the little experience I have, I know it sucks. A lot. To have to be stuck here in the Army when all my life and wants exist outside of it. I want to pick up this person in my arms and hold onto her and never let her go, and just give her life all of my love. I want to be there for my little sister as she starts High School and goes through some things she can't even begin to understand as a freshman. There are things that happen in life that I can't control, none of us can. The world may be supremely more catastrophically larger than any of us, but our actions, our feelings and words, are what give us a little say in this Titan creature called life. Then, and only then, can you find the masks you need to wear. I'm her big brother. I'm the other one's protector. I'm a Soldier. I'm a man. I'm a son. I'm a best friend. I'm wearing more masks than I have room for on my shelf I like to call self-knowing, but damnit I'm going to do my best to learn each part of the play on life, this masquerade, perfectly. Even if I do things I don't want to do, I'll do them just because I have to and it's what's expected of me. Besides, I'm sure the moon doesn't want to be banned to the shadows of the Earth and forever dependent on the rays of the sun for it to glow, but it does it anyways. Who knows? Maybe you're the moon, and you only see how you truly are after the clouds clear up and you look deeply into the waves.