Are You Happy?

Hump Day is Over

Quote of the Day:

"The average age of the world's greatest civilizations has been 200 years. These nations have progressed through this sequence: from bondage to spiritual faith, from spiritual faith to great courage, from courage to liberty, from liberty to abundance, from abundance to selfishness, from selfishness to complacency, from complacency to apathy, from apathy to dependency, from dependency back again into bondage." -Sir Alex Fraser Tyler, 1742-1813, Scottish jurist and historian

[h/t to Sarah fer digging this one up]

Wednesday Open Thread: Tell me about your day. Mine was long. And yours?

The Real Meaning of 4000 Dead

Found over at Watertiger's place:

By LT. SEAN WALSH Wed Mar 26, 2:20 PM ET

The passing of the 4,000th service member in Iraq is a tragic milestone and a testament to the cost of this war, but for those of us who live and fight in Iraq, we measure that cost in smaller, but much more personal numbers. For me those numbers are 8, the number of friends and classmates killed in Iraq and Afghanistan, and 3, the number of soldiers from my unit killed in this deployment. I'm 25, yet I've received more notifications for funerals than invitations to weddings.

The number 4,000 is too great to grasp even for us that are here in Iraq. When we soldiers read the newspaper, the latest AP casualty figures are glanced over with the same casual interest as a box score for a sport you don't follow. I am certain that I am not alone when I open up the Stars and Stripes, the military's daily paper, and immediately search for the section with the names of the fallen to see if they include anyone I know. While in a combat outpost in southwest Baghdad, it was in that distinctive bold Ariel print in a two-week-old copy of the Stars and Stripes that I read that my best friend had been killed in Afghanistan. No phone call from a mutual friend or a visit to his family. All that had come and gone by the time I had learned about his death. I sometimes wonder, if I hadn't picked up that paper, how much longer I would have gone by without knowing - perhaps another day, perhaps a week or longer until I could find the time and the means to check my e-mail to find my messages unanswered and a death notification from a West Point distro list in my inbox. The dead in Afghanistan don't seem to inspire the keeping of lists the same way that those in Iraq do, but even if they did it wouldn't matter; he could only be number 7 to me.

I'm not asking for pity, only understanding for the cost of this war. We did, after all, volunteer for the Army and that is the key distinction between this army and the army of the Vietnam War. But even as I ask for that understanding I'm almost certain that you won't be able to obtain it. Even Shakespeare, with his now overused notion of soldiers as a "band of brothers" fails to capture the bonds, the sense of responsibility to each other, among soldiers. In many ways, Iraq has become my home (by the time my deployment ends I will have spent more time here than anywhere else in the army) and the soldiers I share that home with have become my family. Between working, eating and sleeping within a few feet of the same soldiers every single day, I doubt I am away from them for more than two hours a day. I'm engaged to the love of my life, but it will take several years of marriage before I've spent as much time with her as I have with the men I serve with today.

For the vast majority of American's who don't have a loved one overseas, the only number they have to attempt to grasp the Iraq War is 4,000. I would ask that when you see that number, try to remember that it is made up of over 1 million smaller numbers; that every one of the 1 million service members who have fought in Iraq has his or her own personal numbers. Over 1 million 8's and 3's. When you are evaluating the price of the war, weighing potential rewards versus cost in blood and treasure, I would ask you to consider what is worth the lives of three of your loved ones? Or eight? Or more? It would be a tragedy for my 8 and 3 to have died without us being able to complete our mission, but it maybe even more tragic for 8 and 3 to become anything higher.

Bittersweet Symphony

My mood fluctuates between angry, sad and kinda flat. In my angsty-teenage-boy moment I present The Verve, Bittersweet Symphony:

'Cause it's a bittersweet symphony this life
Trying to make ends meet, you're a slave to the money then you die
I'll take you down the only road I've ever been down
You know the one that takes you to the places where all the veins meet, yeah
No change, I can't change, I can't change, I can't change,
but I'm here in my mold , I am here in my mold
But I'm a million different people from one day to the next
I can't change my mold, no, no, no, no, no,no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no

Well, I've never prayed,
But tonight I'm on my knees, yeah
I need to hear some sounds that recognize the pain in me, yeah
I let the melody shine, let it cleanse my mind , I feel free now
But the airwaves are clean and there's nobody singing to me now

No change, I can't change, I can't change, I can't change,
but I'm here in my mold , I am here with my mold
And I'm a million different people from one day to the next
I can't change my mold, no, no, no, no, no

(Well have you ever been down?)
(I can't change, I can't change...)
(Ooooohhhhh...)
'Cause it's a bittersweet symphony this life
Trying to make ends meet, trying to find some money then you die
I'll take you down the only road I've ever been down
You know the one that takes you to the places where all the veins meet, yeah
You know I can't change, I can't change, I can't change,
but I'm here in my mold, I am here in my mold
And I'm a million different people from one day to the next
I can't change my mold, no,no,no,no,no
I can't change my mold, no,no,no,no,no
I can't change my mold, no,no,no,no,no

(It justs sex and violence melody and silence)
(It justs sex and violence melody and silence)
(I'll take you down the only road I've ever been down)
(It justs sex and violence melody and silence)
(I'll take you down the only road I've ever been down)
(Been down)
(Ever been down)
(Ever been down)(Lalalalalalaaaaaaaa...)
(Ever been down)
(Ever been down)
(Have you ever been down?)
(Have you ever been down?)
(Have you ever been down?)

Moving On and In

I want all who read here to know, I do realize my blog was founded on the basis of political discourse from a relative neophyte, but frankly in light of the dramatic life-changing developments in every area of my life, politics takes a backseat to survival.

Since I do claim the mantle of 'neophyte', I might be excused from the expression of emotional dyspepsia in which I find myself currently embroiled. I appreciate the indulgence and reiterate, where to start? What is appropriate to divulge to a worldwide audience while still maintaining one's relative anonymity? Imagine giving your entire life history on a first date. So not cool. But I shall press onward, into a hopefully appropriate chronicle of the incredible adventure of two people in love and where it went wrong.

To begin, I did not see this coming at all. I swear. No red flags, no yellow flags even. I was completely blindsided by the devastating course of events that began with the innocuous act of finding and giving away a stray kitten. Who knew?

Brief synopsis of the events that occurred in late-December, just before Christmas:The previously mentioned found kitten was hopefully going to be adopted by a nurse at the Air Force base (the one I just left). It was a Saturday, and I had errands while the aforementioned nurse was to visit our home and see the kitten for possible adoption. I was gone 3 hours and called home to see if she had taken the cat. My beloved told me, "Yeah it's done wanna meet for a beer?" "Sure," I say and am looking out for the nurse who is to arrive before Doc Turtle to our little local tavern.

The nurse arrives. I approach her and introduce myself. We order a beer. Doc T shows up moments later, and we embark on a festive Saturday evening. Normal getting-to-know- you conversation ensues between the three of us. It is of course clear that Doc T and I are married, our matching rings are commented on, etc. About 30 minutes later, Two of Doc's interns from the hospital show up and we all begin to socialize.

Being Saturday night, the place fills up fast and music, wine and song ensue. The evening goes on and my betrothed and the nurse get quite drunk and I'm informed that she can't drive and will all crash at our place. Okay, no problem, I am the hostess with the mostess. We arrive back at our house (me driving) and I set up the guest room for our "guest." I announce I'm going to shower the bar off me and go off and get a nice, hot shower. My considerate lover virtually always lays out clothes for me after I shower, yet when I'm finished with my ablutions--nothing. Minutes later after I've dressed, Doc shows up and announces that the nurse needs socks. Okay, take these. Ten minutes go by and I'm curious as to how long it takes to deliver foot coverings. I creep up the stairs to the guest room and encounter a stillness that immediately makes me uncomfortable. I see the closed door to the guest bedroom, approach it furtively, and hear the distinct sounds of--you guessed it--sex. Shut the fuck up. No really. I open the door and find Doc Turtle and Nurse Ratched in full bloom. In my own house? In front of me? Are you fucking kidding me?

So as you can imagine the shit hits the fan. After some yelling, I leave. It's 2AM so the only place to go is a casino, where I procede to blow a wad and fume. I leave said casino about 5AM and go home to find a cab in my driveway and Nurse Predator in my bathroom getting ready for work. Did I mention she's wearing Dr. T's scrubs? I tell her she needs to leave my house--now. She does. Doc T and I then begin the terrific battle-for-the-truth session that I would assume follows this kind of behavior. We stay up for several more hours talking about what happened. After much wrangling, it is divulged that after I left, they 'did it' twice (with a short nap in between)and the, "we were really drunk" line is trotted out. Whatever.

Over the next four days, we talk more, have lunch together and have 'make-up sex' every night. It will be the last times there will be any semblance of the last five years of our relationship.

Tune in next time for the "Break-Up." I thought this shit only went on in soap operas. Okay, fair enough, call me naive.

The Day After Yesterday

I caught "Sideways" on a movie channel the other night and was amazed how much I related to Miles soliloquy about the delicacy of Pinot Noir grapes.

Maya and Miles are alone, getting to know one another, when Maya queries:

MAYA:Can I ask you a personal question?

MILES:(bracing himself) Sure.

MAYA:Why are you so into Pinot? It’s like a a thing with you.

Miles laughs at first, then smiles wistfully at the question. He searches for the answer in his glass and begins slowly.

MILES:I don’t know. It’s a hard grape to grow. As you know. It’s thin-skinned, temperamental, ripens early. It’s not a survivor like Cabernet that can grow anywhere and thrive even when neglected. Pinot needs constant care and attention and in fact can only grow in specific little tucked-away corners of the world. And only the most patient and nurturing growers can do it really, can tap into Pinot’s most fragile, delicate qualities. Only when someone has taken the time to truly understand its potential can Pinot be coaxed into its fullest expression. And when that happens, its flavors are the most haunting and brilliant and subtle and thrilling and ancient on the planet.

Maya has found this answer revealing and moving.

I must profess I do have a bit of Cabernet in me as well.

Transform

Not that you would know this, but this Sunday is my birthday. Our Lulu was dropped today at the airport in New Orleans where Dr. Turtle is right now with new girlfriend. I know cause I got a phone call asking about Lu.

We (the married couple) were supposed to spend this weekend in NOLA for my b-day. Full moon and all, I'm just feeling a little sorry for myself. Music to move on from Gnarls Barkley, a much under-rated song, Transformer:


I, I, I, I, I, I
Know how to transform (I can do it)
I can transform (I can do it)
Ill transform (I can do it)
I'm a transformer
I, I, I, I, I, I
Know how to transform
I can transform
Ill transform
I'm a transformer

I'm just being myself
Plus I gotta be me too
Silly of me to think that
I couldn't bring myself to be you
Ah but behold there is benevolence
Behind this but don't stare though
Be careful cause I'll kill you
With kindness
That why I'm dressed quite neatly
Cause Its easy and discreetly they seek me
And when they reach me and see me
they believe me completely
I'm a real live wire I ain't lying
If its between me and you I ain't dying
I can transform, I can transform, I can transform
Without even trying wow

Now I'm someone else
Now someone can be me too
Behold the beautiful and bold
everyday I
Wake up to be new
Oh but its simple but they still can understand why
I think I can, I think I can, I think I can or can I
I'm a microchip off the old block
You know not but I was a robot
And I sold Rock and you would get
For sho shoot with a gold glock boy I rode pac
Something that you won't see again
What the hell might as well be a friend
I can transform, I'm a transformer
No telling who I will have to be again

Frick and Frack Ride Again

Georg in the spoils of the move and Lu waiting to exhale

Well almost. But first things first. Our 'son' Georg has weathered the trip, though is somewhat depressed and confused. He misses his 'sister' Lulu, our other rescued Jack Russell Terrier. Good news is that Miss Lu is on her way from Mississippi at the end of the week.

The old Southern couple will be reunited.

I plan on giving more details about my personal drama, as this blog has temporarily morphed into a personal digest, given the current situation in which I find myself. Thanks for hanging with me, It's most appreciated. Much love to you guys.

Hope Arrives in California

No, not the democrats, me. I shall attempt to drag you away from Super Tuesday results and rehashing to tell of my cross country odyssey. I have arrived in California from Mississippi, and let me tell you the trip was anything but uneventful.

I picked up the U-haul truck on Sunday last and had scheduled movers later in the day. The movers didn't show up. I called Monday morning to get other movers and couldn't get anyone to come before 5PM. By the time the movers finished loading, it was 9PM and too late to pick-up the auto transport. I had to wait until 9AM the following morning (Tuesday, Jan. 29) to get the transport hooked up. Drove back to the house and proceeded to load my car, the animals, my luggage, etc. Finally, left at 11AM, about 4 hours later than planned.

The first leg was to Austin Texas, where I met friends who had made arrangements to fly my 2 cats to California in a few days (you try driving across country with two cats...)Because of my late start, my arrival to the 750 mile away Mecca of Texas was going to be sometime in the midnight hour. About 40 miles from my destination, one of the straps came off of the tire on the auto transport. I got out, re-secured it and coming around the large, truck and trailer, smacked my knee (my service-connected disabilty knee) on the solidly metal trailer hitch. I saw stars and a knot swelled up the size of citrus fruit. Tired and in pain ( did I mention emotional?), I limped into Austin and the loving arms of my waiting friends.

They convinced me to stay over an extra day, rest my leg, my battered soul and sore body. It was a good decision. I took my sweet dog to doggy daycare so I could rest, and spent the next few hours sleeping and taking hot showers to ease my soreness. I need to really acknowledge my friends in Austin who took such good care of me. I don't think I could have made this journey without their help.

Next morning I start of bright, early and fairly well-rested with the goal of making it to New Mexico. If only I hadn't been stopped by a State Trooper and rerouted nearly 80 miles around the huge fire that closed I-10, I probably could have made it. I did manage to get nearly that far, and stayed in El Paso that night.

The following morning I awoke early with debilitating menstrual cramps. Sorry to be so graphic, but the necessity of mentioning my malady is the accompanying hormonally-challenged emotions that come with them. Not to mention the vomiting...
I dragged my on/off crying ass into Tucson. I was supposed to stay in Phoenix that evening but because of the extra night in Austin, and the Superbowl, the price of my room tripled. It had been a relatively short day, so Tucson it was.

Morning brought the welcome hopefulness that today, I would finally make it into my beloved California. Fifty miles over the border, in the middle of the Mohave desert, I had a blowout on the moving truck. I found the last chance Texaco and waited there for the repair truck to arrive. Being the trooper I am, I soldiered on after my repair determined to make it over the I-5 Grapevine.

As I wended my way through the greater Los Angeles Basin, I received a phone call from one of my posse members who had been following my progress across the country. She warned me of the advancing winter storm warning that threatened to shutdown the Grapevine but that if I hurried, I could make it.

I did indeed make it to the treacherous highway hauling my tonnage. Unfortunately, coming down the steep 6% grade on the other side, I had my second blowout of the day(!). Have you ever heard of two flat tires in one day? Whatever. As I crawled into the first gas station at the bottom of the Grapevine, and it began to snow. I waited in the cold night for yet another tire rescue. After completing the tire-swap, I drove the 40 miles to my final destination for the night.

My saga ends the next day uneventfully, thank God, with pulling onto my mother's street and a cold beer during the Superbowl with my family. You may want to finally know the why of my sudden pulling up of stakes, rush back to California, and the traumatic experience that brought it all on. If you've been checking on me here at DeepCon, you may have been able to surmise that my marriage has ended unexpectedly and suddenly. It's a saga in itself and I'll save it for my next installment.

I want to thank everyone who encouraged me through the last weeks as it has helped tremendously. Thank you all.

And for good measure, just to let you know I haven't given up the ship, a video courtesy of reader Mary that speaks to the abuses of power the Bush regime has inflicted upon our great republic. I add that in no small part, this war/occupation in Iraq has played a definite role in my break-up.

Somersaulting Home

somersault:
1. A movement (as in gymnastics) in which a person turns forward or backward in a complete revolution along the ground or in the air bringing the feet over the head; also : a falling or tumbling head over heels
2. A complete reversal, as of sympathies or opinions.

This speaks for me. I'll explain this more over the weekend. In the meantime one of my favorite bands Zero 7 singing Somersault:


You're the prince to my ballerina
You feed other people's parking meters
You encourage the eating of ice cream
You would somersault in the sand with me

You talk to loners, you ask how's your week
You give love to all and give love to me
You're obsessed with hiding the sticks and stones
When I fear the unknown
You feel like home, you feel like home

You put my feet back on the ground
Did you know you brought me around
You were sweet and you were sound
You saved me

You're the warmth in my summer's breeze
You're the ivory to my ebony keys
You would share your last jelly bean
You would somersault in the sand with me

You put my feet back on the ground
Did you know you brought me around
You were sweet and you were sound
You saved me

You put my feet back on the ground
Did you know you brought me around
You were sweet and you were sound
See I had shrunk yet still you brought me around
And 'round and 'round

The Turmoil Within

Dennis Kucinich withdrew his bid for the presidency today. Sad. He says he has a bigger cause which is to introduce a house resolution for articles of impeachment on Chimpy and resecure his house seat in the upcoming election.. His cause is true, but I'm sad I'm unable cast my protest vote for him. I will support and promote his house resolution, and vote for John Edwards in the California primary, absentee, of course.

The turmoil in my own life mirrors the absolute idiocy of the race for the White House. I'm stunned at the twists and turns my life has taken over the last month. Nothing beyond what lots of people have been through, and it's certainly not the end of the world, but soul shattering and life changing nonetheless.

How blessed am I to have the support of near strangers on this blog and from avenues unexpected. A good life lesson for the power of the human spirit and our true desire to be part of something we care about and believe in. I thank you all for your words of encouragement, it helps tremendously.

So my response is continue to "follow your bliss" and fight for what you know is right. Don't let the bastards get you down. Today is tomorrow's yesterday and nothing will exist in the future that is not created now. Carpe diem and stay true to yourself no matter how difficult.