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kelly the pooh! kelly the pooh! o_O
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[February 25th 2007|3.31am] |
I think far too much to be brilliant.
I wonder what it is about me that gets so hung up over-analyzing things. I really need to overcome that. It's like, my most significant fault, lol. And it affects EVERYTHING.
I totally had so much more of a direction with this post when I thought about starting it, too.
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| Hrm... |
[February 24th 2007|10.48pm] |
So I'm sitting at these computers in Baghdad mainly trying to charge my iPod. For some reason, the computers only seem to detect it like 30% of the time.
That's an odd estimate to choose, huh?
If you haven't seen the movie The Prestige, then I highly recommend it. If it was formerly a classic novel, I'm surprised I haven't heard or read it, because it's most definitely presented as one, and very well done. You really should see it. Or at least research it before you see it, in case you don't believe me. You should believe me. I am awesome.
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| Miss ya, darlin |
[February 9th 2007|5.48pm] |
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mood |
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optimistic |
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music |
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Currents - Dashboard Confessional |
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The air is visible around you, rising up and off your lips in slow currents
And I watch as your face is framed in its slow currents
Drifting curls a trailing path
A long drag becomes a dress of blue and ash
If it is born in flames then we should let it burn
Burn as brightly as we can
And if its gotta end then let it end in flames
Let it burn all the way down
The air is visceral around us
Turning in its simple steps on slow currents
And I watch as it pirouettes and spins in slow motion
A long drag becomes a slow dance and a halo around her
If it is born in flames then we should let it burn
Burn as brightly as we can
And if its gotta end then let it end in flames
Let it burn all the way down, all the way down
And if this is ever meant to end, then I hope it ends where it began
So hot with love, we burned our hands
If this is ever meant to end, then I hope it ends where it began
So hot with love, it burns our hands
If it is born in flames then we should let it burn
Burn as brightly as we can
If its gotta end then let it end in flames
Let it burn, let it burn
If its gotta end let it burn
If its gotta end let it burn
It ends where it began, so hot with love, it burns our hands
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| "Fuck this game! It's 4 in the morning, Grandma! YOU WIN!" |
[December 21st 2006|2.37pm] |
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I'm doing well and fine, sorry for lack of updates (read: SABRINA!). I recieved Jennie's sketchpad and pencils, charcoals, and art erasers and I've since managed to complete a handful of little sketches that I'm particularly proud of, namely because it's really been since like 2003 since I'd bothered to draw and it's all coming a lot easier and smoother to me nowadays.
I'm working at the moment, so I'll try to get more in at a later time.
Love you all
-Me
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[November 28th 2006|7.29am] |
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Okay, that's cool, SOG. Make me do pushups for being late to shift when I'm woken up only 10 minutes before my shift starts. Maybe if you'd have come to make sure the relief was up at 09:30 like we've always done, they could be up and properly ready for work. As opposed to coming in my room ten minutes before the hour. Maybe if I was woken up at the proper time, I'd have had the opportunity to relieve you early, instead of late.
Fuck that. Fuck you.
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| Wow. What a first chapter O_O |
[November 26th 2006|10.44pm] |
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EXCERPT from Gates of Fire by Steven Pressfield
I had always wondered what it felt like to die.
There was an exercise we of the battle train practiced when we served as punching bags for the Spartan heavy infantry. It was called the Oak because we took our positions along a line of oaks at the edge of the plain of Otona, where the Spartiates and the Gentleman-Rankers ran their field exercises in fall and winter. We would line up ten deep with body-length wicker shields braced upon the earth and they would hit us, the shock troops, coming across the flat in line of battle, eight deep, at a walk, then a pace, then a trot and finally a dead run. The shock of their interleaved shields was meant to knock the breath out of you, and it did. It was like being hit by a mountain. Your knees, no matter how braced you held them, buckled like saplings before an earthslide; in an instant all courage fled our hearts; we were rooted up like dried stalks before the ploughman's blade.
That was how it felt to die. The weapon which slew me at Thermopylae was an Egyptian hoplite spear, driven in beneath the plexus of the ribcage. But the sensation was not what one would have anticipated, not being pierced but rather slammed, like we sparring fodder felt beneath the oaks.
I had imagined that the dead would be detached. That they would look upon life with the eyes of objective wisdom. But the experience proved the opposite. Emotion ruled. It seemed nothing remained but emotion. My heart ached and broke as never it could on earth. Loss encompassed me with a searing, all-mastering pain. I saw my wife and children, my dear cousin Diomache, she whom I loved. I saw Skamandridas, my father, and Eunike, my mother, Bruxieus, Dekton and "Suicide," names which mean nothing to His Majesty to hear, but which to me were dearer than life and now, dying, dearer still.
Away they flew. Away I flew from them.
I was keenly conscious of the comrades-in-arms who had fallen with me. A bond surpassing by a hundredfold that which I had known in life bound me to them. I felt a sense of inexpressible relief and realized that I had feared, more than death, separation from them. I apprehended that excruciating war survivor's torment, the sense of isolation and self-betrayal experienced by those who had elected to cling yet to breath when their comrades had let loose their grip.
That state which we call life was over.
I was dead.
And yet, titanic as was that sense of loss, there existed a keener one which I now experienced and felt my brothers-in-arms feeling with me. It was this.
That our story would perish with us.
That no one would ever know.
I cared not for myself, for my own selfish or vainglorious purposes, but for them. For Leonidas, for Alexandros and Polynikes, for Arete bereft by her hearth and, most of all, for Dienekes. That his valor, his wit, his private thoughts that I alone was privileged to share, that these and all that he and his companions had achieved and suffered would simply vanish, drift away like smoke from a woodland fire, this was unbearable.
We had reached the river now. We could hear with ears that were no longer ears and see with eyes that were no longer eyes the stream of Lethe and the hosts of the long-suffering dead whose round beneath the earth was at last drawing to a period. They were returning to life, drinking of those waters which would efface all memory of their existence here as shades.
But we from Thermopylae, we were aeons away from drinking of Lethe's stream. We remembered.
A cry which was not a cry but only the multiplied pain of the warriors' hearts, all feeling what I, too, felt, rent the baleful scene with unspeakable pathos.
Then from behind me, if there can be such a thing as "behind" in that world where all directions are as one, came a glow of such sublimity that I knew, we all knew at once, it could be nothing but a god.
Phoebus Far Darter, Apollo himself in war armor, moved there among the Spartiates and Thespaians. No words were exchanged; none were needed. The Archer could feel the men's agony and they knew without speech that he, warrior and physician, was there to succor it. So quickly that surprise was impossible I felt his eye turn toward me, me the last and least who could expect it, and then Dienekes himself was beside me, my master in life.
I would be the one. The one to go back and speak. A pain beyond all previous now seized me. Sweet life itself, even the desperately sought chance to tell the tale, suddenly seemed unendurable alongside the pain of having to take leave of these whom I had come so to love.
But again, before the god's majesty, no entreaty was possible.
I saw another light, a sicklier, cruder, more coarse illumination, and knew that it was the sun. I was soaring back. Voices came to me through physical ears. Soldiers' speech, in Egyptian and Persian, and leather-gauntleted fists pulling me from beneath a sheaf of corpses.
The Egyptian marines told me later that I had uttered the word lokas, which in their tongue meant "fuck," and they had laughed even as they dragged my shattered body out into the light of day.
They were wrong. The word was Loxias--the Greek title of respect for Apollo the Cunning, or Apollo Crabwise, whose oracles arise ever elusive and oblique--and I was half crying to him, half cursing him for laying this terrible responsibility on me who had no gift to perform it.
As poets call upon the Muse to speak through them, I croaked my inarticulate grunt to the Striker From Afar.
If indeed you have elected me, Archer, then let your fine-fletched arrows spring from my bow. Lend me your voice, Far Darter. Help me to tell the tale.
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[November 26th 2006|10.12pm] |
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I know, it's been a little bit since I last posted. I suppose that's the nature of my will-to-write; it's sporatic at best.
Perhaps it's my youth, perhaps it's my growth. Perhaps the understandings move smoother with others. I don't know yet.
I've been asked a few times, as of late, what I my plan is in reference to my military career. "Fletch, what's your plan?", to which I respond with a halfhearted Well. I'm not really sure, sir/sargeant/dude. And that's the truth, however lackluster a response it is. My plan? I don't have one, but I'm positive that I refuse to forsake the opportunity to explore the myriad of possibilities in my life now. Now that I'm awake. Now that I'm aware. Now that I'm better than who I was when I was doing nothing in California.
I remember when Neil came to my basic training graduation and pinned my blue cord. He shook my hand and said, "Welcome to my corps." Indeed, I find that it's his. I also find that it's a difficult balance, discerning his from mine. As a brother, he's always stood fast with me that I am free to make of this what I wish, that I shouldn't necessarily feel compelled to "do what [he] did". And I feel that way, for the most part. That I'm free here to pursue whatever avenues of approach I choose. But I still find myself conflicted. Seeing as I don't want to pursue this lifestyle outside of my initial term of service. Why? Because I know there's so much more for me to explore. Aiming high in this career is one thing, aiming high outside of this career is quite another. In fact, outside is so much higher. I have no idea where to start. Finish my time in the Army, and go to college is a good start. Although I don't know what I want to do there either, har har. My desire to explore isn't for any negative reasons or experiences here. It's just a need to do more for myself.
Similarly, the harder I try to mesh with a whole, the more I realize that I belong on my own. I've always been more of a solo sort of person, and whether I like it or not, I fear it's ingrained in my nature nowadays. Whether it's *me* not quite meshing with others, or *others* not quite fully meshing with me, I don't know. But I take my securities in what I have, not what I'm missing.
I have no idea what I'm trying to say. I'm sorry I can't be more eloquent or concise. Sometimes, I'm just moved, thusly I do my best to express it when it comes-- In spoken confidence, in written language, or any other artistic output. Sometimes (I concede, most times), I don't feel like I have any sort of understanding of myself. And all-too-often I feel immature and naive for admitting it.
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| I want my missing puzzle piece. All of her. |
[November 3rd 2006|8.04pm] |
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In all honesty, I think I'm finding one of my biggest immediate frustrations to be the fact that my creativity feels so limited here. There's like, no inspirations. And when I might find something that tickles my brain online (usually introduced by my honey), I've got no means to take it back to my personal AO to work with. My creative writing is fickle, as am I about it. My drawings are limited by the lack of inspirations or source material, and the fact that I don't have my books here yet ;s I really am looking forward to practicing my figure sketching, as I've always found the human form to be so fascinating, physiologically and visually. It's really frustrating to feel a keen appreciation for various forms of art, but feel so limited in my own artistic output. Sigh.
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[October 18th 2006|9.58am] |
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Ever so far, it seems that I find myself from you.
Ever so strong, we believe, that we build a fortress of dreams in which we secure the secret futures and memories past.
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| Even if you wanted me to, I can't come down |
[October 12th 2006|3.22pm] |
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mood |
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horny |
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music |
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"Roads" - Portishead |
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It's a beautiful world but everyone's insane ::
Either you swim or either you fade ::
It's a revolution time we're sleeping at the wheel ::
Apocalypse child in a nuclear field ::
We want to change the world but not what holds us back ::
I want to be for you what I've never had ::
And all of this time I was just trying to reach you ::
Through the rain traffic ::
As you float into space ::
Your white eyes hide your face ::
As you float in between - I am with you ::
If you leave ::
Fragile to the waves - vicissitudes of days ::
When I am with you I feel a little brave ::
The madness and the wars the circles that we run ::
Confusion we import look what we have become ::
And all of this time I was just trying to reach you ::
Through the rain traffic ::
As you float into space ::
Your white eyes hide your face ::
As you float in between - I die with you ::
If you leave - I die with you I die with you
----
I'm in love.
I'm in love with my friends, I'm in love with my Jenniegirl, and I'm in love with ideals.
Don't touch me, I'm going to be pissed if you wake me from my dreams :)
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[September 30th 2006|4.09am] |
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We'll do it all
Everything
On our own
We don't need
Anything
Or anyone
If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?
I don't quite know
How to say
How I feel
Those three words
Are said too much
They're not enough
If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?
Forget what we're told
Before we get too old
Show me a garden that's bursting into life
Let's waste time
Chasing cars
Around our heads
I need your grace
To remind me
To find my own
If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?
Forget what we're told
Before we get too old
Show me a garden that's bursting into life
All that I am
All that I ever was
Is here in your perfect eyes, they're all I can see
I don't know where
Confused about how as well
Just know that these things will never change for us at all
If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?
I love you. I miss you. Wait for me, and I'll come back for you.
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[September 23rd 2006|6.37pm] |
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My platoon sergeant passed out some letters we got from various little kids that we're supposed to respond to.
I wrote little six year old Georgie back :) He told me that he plays with army men and pirates. I said that I played with army men when I was his age too... And now I am one XD I also told him that our platoon sergeant makes us clean our rooms too, so he should listen to his parents because they don't make him do pushups XD
Take care, little Georgie =p
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[September 23rd 2006|4.44pm] |
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Just got back from a decent workout @ the weight room. My arms feel all tight and shit.
It's slow-going trying to get back into some sort of 'routine' when I've got a sorta unpredictable schedule, but it's nice nonetheless. I've been really missing a solid workout the last couple years, and I'm trying to get back into that mindframe after having been so relaxed. Even moreso now that I'm in an environment with limited distractions. WTB iPOD, PST.
I look forward to shaping up for Jenn, and I think she'd like it as well.
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| I must be some sorta assbackwards o_@ |
[September 22nd 2006|6.57pm] |
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mood |
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listless |
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music |
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"Away" - Breaking Benjamin |
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So they gave me a "day off" today. Meaning I won't be put on missions or details. My time is mine.
Good God, who would have thought a day off would be so fucking BORING. PLEASE get me back on missions <______________>. Or get me a good laptop. I'd prefer the latter, kkthx. Might post/edit later if I've got more to say.
That Nicholas Sparks book At First Sight isn't working for me.
[SEMISPOILERS]
The two main characters bother me, because they got engaged after only six weeks of knowing each other. And the locals in the place that they live are really annoying. Really annoying. I don't care if that's the way it's supposed to be for the story, I find it aggravating. I'm also not really a big fan of the concept of 'love-at-first-sight'. It always struck me as so naive and brash. And yes, I realize that this story is about how their love (despite brash decisions) grows. I have to admit I skipped to like, halfway through the book just to make some progress. And I still don't really like the book. I keep criticizing the two main characters in my head, lol. Maybe I'm just an asshole :D!
kekeke ^__^
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[September 22nd 2006|11.33am] |
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Booo!! Everytime I visit the MySpace of a friend of mine, I wish I could access my 'old' one (ie: the one that was created on a false email addy, thus I can't retrieve any account info for it, hawhaw). MySpace is so clique, and I'm jealous. Haha. Lj is far more personal, MS is more social (IMO). It's where all the cool kids are at, yo.
Pfft.
Maybe I'll attempt to do both. Like that'll happen xD
Ah well.
In other news! How fucking cool is that? "The finding is the most complete hominid skeleton ever found in the world," Zeresenay Alemseged, head of the Paleoanthropological Research Team, told a news conference.
He said the fossil was older than the 3.2 million year old remains of "Lucy" discovered in 1974, and described by scientists as one of the world's greatest archaeological finds.
[...]On the shores of what was formerly a lake in 1967, two Homo sapiens skulls dating back 195,000 years were unearthed. The find pushed back the known date of mankind, suggesting that modern man and his older precursor existed side by side.
Random education is always a  thing in my book.
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I've noticed that SGT MacLaughlin and I are getting along really well. I'm betting that a similar sense of humor, music, opinions, and age (he's 22, I'm 21) is what's working out so well. It's nice. I'm fitting in really well, it seems. Quite a difference from the initial few months when I was a lot quieter, even though everyone's been pretty cool to me anyways.
Maybe I'm just more comfortable with things in general thesedays.
That is all. You may go.
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| I'm feeling totally yoga right now. Whatever that means. |
[September 22nd 2006|2.51am] |
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satisfied |
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music |
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"Autumn Effect" - 10 Years |
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I'm so fucking in love.
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[September 21st 2006|8.58pm] |
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Nnnrrrgggaaaarraaaghhhnnnuuunnfff.
That's me forcing myself to make an entry (specifically because I'm like 'naaaahhh there's nothing to say!'). Like I was saying to Nicky (Zelatizzle!) on AIM a few minutes ago - I used to do a strong amount of creative/personal writing within the last ~5 years. Then I got like, an emotional blockage and stopped towards the last 3 years. Stopped writing, stopped really staying in touch with friends, stopped doing anything really all that positive for myself. Boooo, I was so drained of vital signs back then. But you know what? FUCKTHATNOISE.
I feel far more optimistic about my life ever since I got up on my feet and took a leap for something. Feel-good movie of the year, muhha fugga!
It's weird/surreal how normal this environment becomes to a soldier. Maybe it's the fact that you have to accept it for what it is, otherwise you lose your emotional functionality if you're always like "holyfuckingshit" everytime you hear gunfire, or everytime there's a blast that missed our compound (but meant to hit). I can't count the times I've been chillin on the net, or reading a book, or listening to my mp3 player and relaxing, only to hear a-- "getyourfuckingshiton we gotta roll!" - Meaning insurgents opened fire on the Iraqi Police, or an IED/VBIED went off somewhere in our AO, or a mortar hit, etc and we've got to respond/hope we find the badguys so we can relieve them of their mortal burdens. At any rate, that's a bunch of shit none of you need to really worry about.
So Jennie and I are having this convo right now, about how we miss our "high-school mentality". I suppose the convo itself explains it better--
[Jennie] : [...] I don't know. I feel socially ill equipped for the most part. Mainly because I liked how I used to dress and I was secure with myself. Now I try to dress "normal" and end up feeling insecure
[Jennie] : worried about how people view me. Its like middle school all over again
[Jennie] : i wish I had that aspect of my high school mentality back. I didn't give a flying fuck what anyone thought and I was happy and spunky and outgoing
[Jennie] : i miss being like that.
Funny how such things really affect you, isn't it?
So Jennie, are we going to learn how to dance together?
I'm serious about that, I'll have you know...
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| Mellow day personally, albeit the most chaotic day in country thusfar... |
[September 20th 2006|8.32pm] |
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mood |
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calm - Thank you, hookah! xD |
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Walking On Clouds - dj Tiesto |
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So I've always been a sucker for love stories. It's the sort of thing that really moves you, because you're like, "Omg, I know how that feels!" when the characters are going through heartbreaks and rough times. But then, because it's a love story, it all works out in the end and then you get a warm fuzzy in your tummy because you secretly hope it works out for you too.
That said, I started reading At First Sight by Nicholas Sparks - author of The Notebook - Zomg, that's such a good movie (and book!). I miss you, Jennie. My sweet little love story in motion.
PS: I love how you did my LJ, darling. You just earned +++kissy points =)
-----------------
The day’s deadliest attack took place in [...], where a suicide car bombing outside a Sunni tribal leader’s house killed 10 and wounded 38.
Back from today's action... While I had my truck cordoning off an adjacent street, there were these two young boys that sat down @ a nearby fence, facing me. They would smile at me and give me the thumbs up, to which I returned both. The two boys were really funny, because they'd get these huge smiles whenever I'd react to them. So (while dilligently paying attention to my job), I drew a big happyface on my notepad, and held it up against my window. The two young boys saw it and got these huge smiles and started giggling while giving me the thumbs up XD!!
Just before we left the area, I cracked open my door just a smidge and held out a brand new pack of gum by the floor, just under my door so they'd see it. Their eyes lit up and they smiled wide trying to contain their excitement. They started to get up to come get it, but I held up my other hand to stop, and put my finger to my lips in a "shh!!" gesture, to which they sat down, knowingly (Still beaming!). Then I dropped it, and smiled and they sat there excitedly until we left. I didn't get to see if they got it or not, as I had our other trucks behind me as we rolled out.
It was an interesting day. By far the most chaotic. The blasts around the city claimed the lives of at least 20 people, I heard (in real time, on comms).
But I like to think the two boys got a brand new pack of gum from the soldier who drew them a big smiley face amidst the chaos.
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