Solitude

WARNING: GRAPHIC CONTENT AND LANGUAGE

Past the point of “No Return”

Lies a place where fires burn.

Once you’re gone, you can’t come back.

Your little ride is over, Jack.

1

Drip.

Repeating sounds always made me a little anxious. Kinda wanted to make me flip furniture over. Like when someone scratches the back of your neck or throws rocks at you. Not enough to kill, but enough to make you want to maim. This one, though, right now is my only source of comfort in the darkness.

Drip drop.

I lie so still I can hear every breath I blow in and out. Every single twitch of my body. Every other minute sound… Except there are none but the drip. In here, silence and darkness is a wet blanket, clogging my mouth, covering my eyes, pressing against my ear drums…

That is, as long as I can block out the screams and the memories flashing through my mind.

Drip drop Drip.

Here they come. Uncontrollable, flashing images, memories I don’t want to see. Don’t have a choice. Trying to control it just makes it worse in this hole. Silent howls, mouthless screams, and things no one should ever see… Voices telling me to get out, Get Out, GET OUT…

This straw mat is really fucking uncomfortable.

Drip.

Some sort of cushion, anything at all really, would be nice. It actually makes the stone worse. Can’t take the shirt off my body; it’s too cold in here. Sharp pain in my back every time I adjust. What I wouldn’t give for a California King mattress right now. Or any sort of comfortable cushion, really. Shit, a lousy Army cot would be nice.

Drip drop.

Even if my 6 foot 2 inch frame can’t fit all the way on the damned thing, at least I could curl up in the fetal position. Amazing I can even think about that right now. Thought being a prisoner would make me think about philosophy or science or even just be afraid… Mostly I just want to sleep…

What I wouldn’t give for so many things right now. I’d give my left arm for a cheeseburger.

Drip drop Drip.

I’d sell my eyes for some fucking fresh air, just a whiff. Hell, I’d donate my balls to science for a back massage right about now…

Fuck, here we go again. Try to sleep, this is what I get. Here it comes again, here it comes, your fucking nervous breakdown… Just have to breathe. Just breathe. Just gotta breathe, gotta focus, gotta…

Drip.

“GET OUT!! GET OUT OF THE TRUCK!! RIGHT NOW!! MOVE IT!!”

Fires blazing. Eyes burning. Can’t see, but see too much. So much blood. Fucking Everywhere. EVERYWHERE!

“LEAVE YOUR FUCKING PACK, SAL!! MOVE!!!”

NO TIME. GOTTA MOVE. MOVE!!

Drip drop.

Truck’s on Fucking Fire.

Emergency Handle! There! Pull down and push… Not moving… Kick it! KICK!

FUCK YOU, OPEN NOW!

There!! Light!!

Poppoppoppop!!

Shit, gunfire, wasn’t just an IED! Gotta find my target… So much screaming…

Drip drop Drip.

2

Drip.

Breathe. Breathe. Not there. Just here, in this fucking cave. No fire here, just a light bulb. But it’s not on now. That only flares on twice a day. To bring me meals and check my cell. That’s all I get. Maybe 20 minutes of light a day.

Have to breathe now, breathe slowly. Have to stave off the onslaught. All by myself here, in the dark, but not alone.

Drip drop.

20 minutes of light. Every day. Can’t waste it. So much depends on that light. It won’t be on for a while now. Even with the almost absolute sensory deprivation, I know that much. About the only thing I know, though. I have no idea where I am, other than in a cave. I have no idea who is holding me. How long I have really been here. What these people want. Not a clue.

Drip drop Drip.

Other than the initial beating I took when I struggled when I first was aware I was here, I have not been tortured. Interrogated. Talked to at all. Other than bringing me food and inspecting my cell, they pretty much leave me alone. Left to my thoughts.

Left to the screaming.

Drip.

3

384 times. Lights on for a maximum of maybe 15 minutes. Usually about 10, I think. Not sure… Can’t gauge time well enough in here. Just enough time for the routine. Put me in chains, inspect my cell, then exchange food for chains.

It’s always two guards. Same two guards. Huge guys, with black hoods and dressed in blackout gear.

Drip drop.

Carrying what look like state-of-the-art automatic assault rifles. Can’t tell what type, some European make. My only companions (outside my head) in this hellish place. Same chains, same routine, same guys, every time. Come in, chain me up, clean my cell (Did I say clean? How about check to make sure the hole where I squat to shit isn’t full) and then slowly back out, weapons raised.

Drip drop Drip.

Then they throw me the key. That’s the exchange. I let myself out of the chains, put it on the sliding tray built into the bars, and slide them through. Eyes never leaving me, they set the food tray down (gotta still be in Afghanistan… Rice and kebab every day) on the slider. Then the lights go out. In a cave… somewhere. That’s all I know. 6 months, or somewhere around there.

Drip.

If my count is right. Don’t know how long I lost after the initial capture. Can’t tell. Trapped here. Trapped like an animal, a rat in a cage.

A cage. That’s all it is. 35 strides wide by 46 long, rounded like a church alcove on the wall across from the bars. Solid rock all over. No dirt. Nowhere to dig. Nowhere to run.

Drip drop.

Has to be a pretty significant water source somewhere nearby. Sometimes, when they come in, I hear water rushing. And cries for help. I’m in some sort of prison. Not likely to escape. The darkness really makes hope die fast…

Amazing, only to hear a drip. One drip. It sounds like a river sometimes when the guards come in the cell. 

Drip drop Drip.

But a river in Afghanistan? Where? Maybe it isn’t, though. Can’t be sure. Figured out a long time ago this group isn’t Taliban or Al Qaeda. Way too high tech. My cell is shitty, but the weapons and gear are too high speed. And the way they took over our convoy… Taliban don’t use tear gas. They don’t use nets to capture people. They just kill you. Same with Al Qaeda.

Drip.

Al Qaeda might torture you, but they aren’t this high speed.

Could be wrong, though. Hell, what do I know. I’m just a grunt. Just a poor bastard, in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Very surprised they haven’t interrogated me yet. My Intelligence buddies said that’s the first thing they do, but this group has another idea.

Drip drop.

I would have expected a straightforward beating. Not this silent treatment. Maybe this is how they want to break me. Make me beg? Keep me alone for so long that I tell them whatever they want just to get out? I don’t know.
But I won’t beg.

I’ll die before I beg.

Drip drop Drip.

4

871 times. So many fucking times. All I can do is pace. Endless fucking pacing in this tiny little cell. This God-forsaken place. Well, one good thing: getting stronger. Only way to block out the screams. Work myself to exhaustion… then do it again. Pushups, dips, squats, endless abdominal exercises. Shadow boxing. Anything. Anything to keep my mind occupied.

Drip.

It’s the quiet that’s the worst. I could endure anything if there were more noise. More contact with something outside myself. It’s to the point where I look forward to my guards coming. Just so I have something to do, someone to look at when it all seems like endless night. But they don’t talk. I’ve tried everything. Yelling. Screaming. Reasoning. I even begged. Nothing. No response.

Drip drop.

They both just stare at me, blank sockets following orders. Stare at me like I’m a diseased mongrel. Maybe I am to them. I feel like one. I feel like I’m losing my mind…

Endless drips. That’s my only fucking company. That, and nightmares. Fucking feel like I’m going to die. Want to bash my skull into pieces…

Drip drop Drip.

Tired of waking up in sweat… Tired of the screams… Even the exercises aren’t working anymore…

Gotta make some noise now. Early on, wasn’t so bad. Could rest. Could breathe. Now, can’t even focus. Before, had to fight to get through to the next light. Now, just trying to get through the moment.

Drip.

I can’t believe I didn’t fire faster. I can’t believe I didn’t move quickly enough. I should have gotten there sooner, I should have taken them all down…

Shouldn’t have fucked with my seatbelt for so long… Shouldn’t have volunteered in the first place…

Shoulda fuckin’ woulda coulda…

Drip drop.

All the stupid, endless hours of wasting time at home, getting drunk underage, partying…

Ha. What I wouldn’t give for a drink right now. Something to dim the din I can feel coming on. Here comes the rain again. Here comes the fucking storm. Too late to stop it now…

Drip drop Drip.

5

“THUNDERSTRUUUUUUUUCK!!!!”

My buddy, Gomez, in the backseat, puts on his sunglasses. It’s bright out here in Northern Afghanistan. Bumpy road makes everything in the truck bounce.

“Hey, Sal, what’s the next song, man?”

I look at the CD case and start to answer… but I never finish.

Drip.

BOOM!!

Fuck! IED! Truck flipping over!

“ROLLOVER ROLLOVER ROLLOVER!!”

Frantic voices on the radio, all garbled. Everyone screaming, scrambling.

Sssssssss…

Drip drop.

What the fuck?! Tear gas?! Coughing, can’t see well. Everything a messy blur. Trying to get my seatbelt undone. Long time before I realize I have to cut it.

Truck upside down now.

“GET OUT!! GET OUT OF THE TRUCK!! NOW!!”

Fire. Fire all around. How the fuck did it spread so fast?!

Drip drop Drip.

Doesn’t matter, gotta move. Eyes are burning!! Where is my pack?!

“LEAVE YOUR FUCKING PACK, SOLDIER!!”

Sergeant Howe is right, can’t worry about that. Gotta move. Now.

Look over to help Gomez.

Fuck!!

Drip.

He’s fucking dead. Jesus, he’s fucking dead. Fucking eyes wide open, jaw slack, blood all over his face. Got his head smashed in. Why the Fuck wasn’t he wearing his helmet?!

Thoughts racing through my head as I climb out, gotta get out. Should have checked him, but he was dead.

Drip drop.

There, crawl. Grab the handle. Emergency exit. Pull down and push. Open! Open, damn you! Kick it, kick it! Fuck you, Open Now!!

There! Light!

Out, roll, weapon tucked to my chest.

POPPOPPOPPOP

Drip drop Drip.

Shit! Wasn’t just an IED! Complex attack! Gotta return fire!

Shit, helmet just fell. Duck down!

Scan the area… Breathe…

Fuck! Howe, on the ground! Fucking screaming… screaming his lungs out… Literally screaming for his fucking mother… Bloody, gaping hole in his chest…

Drip.

POPPOPPOPPOP

FUCK!! Right by my fucking head!!

Screams, everyone is screaming. Every truck got hit!

Can’t focus on that, gotta return fire.

Where the fuck… There. Bastards in blackout gear, assault rifles.

Drip drop.

Two of them, dragging someone away in a fucking net… Don’t have a clear shot…

There. Breath, aim, squeeze. BANG

Got him! Got that – CRUNCH

Sharp pain. Back of head. Fuck. Vision fading. Falling back. Can’t move.

Drip drop Drip.

Jesus, this fucking pain…

Oh my Christ… I can hear Howe…

Howe still screaming.

Still screaming.

Screaming.

6

Drip.

1,183 times.

Don’t know why I keep count anymore. Not like the light matters. No hope left, really. Spend most of the day in a fantasy world. Pretend this is all a bad dream.

Just trying to survive.

Drip drop.

Can’t really focus on anything but the routine now. Routine keeps me away from the screaming.

BAM

Ah, light. So much better. Used to love the dark; now, it’s my bane. That and the drip.

Drip drop Drip.

Light is beautiful, blessed and lovely.

Still, I have the routine. My only obligation left in life.

Get up. Face the wall. Hands in front. Bars creak open. Guard takes 30 strides. Stop. Jingle-jingle, here’s the chains. Shackles on the feet. Drop handcuffs. 5 steps back for my buddy. I put the handcuffs on now. Turn around.

Drip.

They never mind me turning around.

Wait.

Something new.

New guard.

Smaller. More slender. Big as I was when I first got here.

Drip drop.

New guy. Isn’t sure of the protocol.

Watch him closely.

Senses heightened.  So much time alone. Pick up everything.

New guy fumbles a little. Searches a little too long.

He knows the routine though. New, not stupid.

Drip drop Drip.

Clean the room. Look in the hole. Back out. Throw me the key. Same routine, just a little slower.

I unlock my chains and slide them through. Get my food.

New guard’s weapon is a little slack.

Relaxed. Not at the ready.

Drip.

I lock eyes with him.

He’s got little doe eyes.

I must look crazy.

He looks away first.

Scared.

7

Drip drop.

Stopped counting. Doesn’t matter anymore. Cabin fever so bad all I can focus on is the new guard. Something about him. Feel like I might be able to over power him. See him when I close my eyes. Know every step he takes, every move he makes, every little flick of the eyes and every movement of his muscles. Have to know everything I can.

Drip drop Drip.

Over and over, replay it. Best time is when he drops the shackles.

He’s still scared of me.

Every twist and turn I can think of gets me shot.

Know the other guard won’t hesitate. He’s a professional. He’ll kill his own to stop a breakout. Can see that in his eyes.

Drip.

Explode back, maybe? No, he can dive to the left or right. Can’t reach back over my head, other guard will shoot us down.

Okay. Okay. Breathe. Think.

Wish I had something to pick the lock with, or anything to use as a weapon. Nothing. Straw mat is too flimsy. They’ll see if I make my clothes into a rope.

Drip drop.

Something… Paperclip, wire, anything… Nothing but stone in here… Stone and time…

Stone and time and screams… And a little hope…

A tiny shred…

Wonder if it will be enough…

Drip drop Drip.

8

Always watching them carefully now. Have to try something. Mind getting worse. Fragmented. Can’t focus.

Desperate to escape now. Don’t care, don’t care about anything, just have to get out.

Too many nights, too much darkness, too few hours without screams…

Drip.

Rage is bad. Can’t see through the dripping. Have to focus now, have to breathe. Fury boils like an angry tidal wave…

Noise.

Light.

Stand up.

Drip drop.

Turn.

Bars.

Steps.

Shackles.

Handcuffs.

Drip drop Drip.

Put them on.

Turn around.

Guard searches.

Finds nothing.

Backs out.

Drip.

Closes gate.

Reaches in pocket for keys.

THERE!!!

Stay calm. Stay calm now. Have to stay as cool as ice. Don’t look, don’t look at anything but the guards. Keep the routine.

Drip drop.

Lock eyes. He throws the keys.

Unlock myself.

Heart beating so fucking fast.

Slide chains over.

Sweating, just stay calm.

Drip drop Drip.

Get my food tray.

Lights off. … Wait. WAIT.

There. Doors are closed. Scramble on the floor. On my knees, searching.

There. Finally.

Ballpoint pen. It even has a metal tip.

Drip.

9

No time now. Have to fashion a lockpick.

Feel my way through it in the dark.

Know the dimensions exactly. Can feel them every time I put on the cuffs.

Scrape the clip across the stone. Make it square.

There. Perfect.

Drip drop.

Now… gotta wait.

Gonna stab him with the pen.

Hope I can get a good blow to the side of the head.

Good thing, too. One more day and I won’t recognize myself.

Last conscious thought before the screams start again.

Drip drop Drip.

10

A hand, resting on the floor. Dripping blood.

“Stupid bastard shouldn’t have tried to escape. What do you think, Doctor?”

Doctor Carl Simmons, PH.D in Neurophysiology, studies the corpse. His nostrils flare as he takes in the smell of iron, urine, and fecal matter. The smell of death.

“Did he beg at all during his time here?”

Drip.

One of the guards shuffles his feet. “Yeah, about 6 months ago. Then he stopped.”

“Any clue as to why?”

“We switched guards about six months ago. After that, he became silent and much more watchful.”

Drip drop.

Dr. Simmons nods. “Of course.”

The shift leader is curious. “What was the goal here, Doctor?”

Simmons frowns, making a note on his clip board. He is frustrated at this latest incident. Similar to the last dozens. Apparently, no human will be beaten into submission with silence and darkness.

Drip drop Drip.

The solitude only makes them more desperate to escape.

“Double the guards on each cell. Be extra vigilant. We can’t waste anymore prisoners.”

“Yes, sir.”

Dr. Simmons strides quickly to the elevator.

Drip.

He can’t abide the smells, much less the sounds.

Dear God, he can still hear the dripping of the man’s blood. Somewhere, deep in his subconscious, he feels it is on his hands.

He dismisses the thought, as the elevator to the underground prison opens to his office in downtown Denver, Colorado.

Drip drop.

He walks quietly back to his office to input notes on his computer. His notes will be disseminated to the Director of Human Psychoanalysis for the Department of Human Services. He has been head of his department for ten years.

In all that time, he has never actually stood in one of the cells. This was his first.

As he types, he can still hear the drips.

Drip drop Drip.

A Cup Of Cocoa, Some Disjointed Thoughts

Fallout 3 just simply is not working at this particular moment in time. Something about running through wastelands killing people is just... not cheering me up.

Which is strange, because it almost always does.

What does that say about me? I enjoy playing video games, all alone, wandering through wastelands or forests or cities and using weapons to kill the bad guys... And that is almost always the tack I take. I almost never play the bad guy. It just isn't in me. I can make the ambiguous decisions to get me ahead in the game, sure, but for some reason my morals always win out.

Even when I don't want them to do so.

Damn, this hot chocolate is good.

Watching reality television makes me want to run through the streets, screaming how awesome I am. These people literally make me sick.

I should be writing my book. Maybe this will do.

I've had a twitch in my eye for over a month and a half. I think it's connected with me being in the army, still. I want desperately to be out of limbo.

Don't get me wrong, I don't regret my service. I understand the sacrifice I made, how important it was, how I saved lives, how it made me stronger as a person, etc. It's not that. It's just... I have felt for some time that it is time to move on and see better things.

Images in my world have a strong tinge of gray right now (ha, unfortunately, that horrendous book has spoiled even the suggestion of that color), and it should not be that way. I am young, 22 years old, vibrant... I should *feel* much more than I do now. Yet, I feel... disconnected.

Is it due to my weight?

Is it due to my position?

A friend of mine told me to get in touch with my feelings and write about them. Is it just because I have not done so?

Whenever I try to actually get in touch, I tend to psych myself out. And give myself dialogues such as this. I feel as though I am sitting in an empty auditorium right now, and you all reading this aren't actually there. I'm just talking to myself. Which, granted, in the past has been effective.

Also, how do you fail high school? Seriously. How do you get anything below a C? You really have to try to do it, and that one would make the effort to do so boggles my mind.

Anyway, back to the point.

There are just so many things I want to do. I've tried listing them out, but it then just seems overwhelming. It's exhausting, really. I've spent years (literally, years) battling inner demons, trying to change not only the world around me, but the world inside. And for what? For the realization that objectivity is my most powerful tool...

Back up. Maybe it is that, right there.

I do feel disconnected, disjointed, just like this post. But maybe the reason for it is because... I finally found my answers. And now, without a reason to constantly battle things inside, I have simply grown stagnant...

A week is not long enough to change the minds of people, folks. It really is not. Whether it is a week for screw up kids, or two weeks for an entire family, people don't change overnight.

That relates to all this as well.

Leah's hair looks really good purple.

I keep wanting to develop a symphony, smooth and concise, but all I can wrestle from my mangled mind are a few screaming notes, flying desperately into the night, looking for an ear to fall on where they will strike a chord in the heart of someone who understands.

Wouldn't living in ignorance only be bliss up until the point where you realized there was more to the world than your backyard?

Or maybe that is why they live there? Because they can't see beyond their nose?

I'm great at solving problems, but distract myself from my own. Why?

This is a pretty good picture of how my mind is right now.

My wife is eating a lemon. And craving chalk. This baby is going to be so weird.

A Good Man Died Today.

 

I honestly have a hard time believing this is true. It does not seem real.

I did not know Zach Booher very well. In fact, my first thought of Zach in high school was that he was a stoner. I don't think he was (although he was in a band :P).

Zach was one of those people who was on the periphery of my vision. I saw his posts on Facebook, kept up with some of the movements of his life (breakups, bands, random stati). But... I Knew Zach. I went to high school with the guy. I counted him as someone that I would want to catch up with if I ever spoke with him.

I realize, of course, that I am not the first to experience death in this way. And I honestly cannot fathom what his family is going through. This is not even the first time I have lost someone I knew. But it feels different.

From what I understand, Zach tried to bring joy into people's lives. He tried to be a good friend and be there for others. It is really very touching to think that one person can have an effect on so many people (the outpouring of grief for this man is overwhelming... it makes you feel as though you knew him for years). And it... really gets me thinking about all that will happen when I die. Oh, I know, it's Psych 101 stuff to internalize events and make it feel as though it happened to you. But... What if I did get in a car wreck tomorrow? What if life was gone, in the blink of an eye, with no preparation. In all the hundreds of millions of words that have been written on the subject in the vast expanse of human history, I do not think anything can really prepare you for such an event. It's like witnessing a lightning strike... Only in reverse. Suddenly, a gleaming, shimmering, brilliant light is blinked out of existence. And afterwards there is nothing left but the scorch marks on the souls of the people left behind.

I mourn for Zach's loss. I hope his love for music and for life spreads to other people. I hope his family's pain eases after a while. But most of all... I hope I never forget to live life to its fullest. I don't need Zach's death to remind me to do so. But it sure is eye opening.

Rest In Peace, Zach. You will be missed.

End of Leave. Sad Panda.

First off, I am watching The A-Team. Badass movie. If you are not tracking, WATCH IT AND CORRECT YOURSELF.

Also, I have a minor headache.

Sooo.... Leave. Yeeeeaaaaah. It was.... Long. Eventful. And for the most part just not relaxing.

I don't really have much to say on the matter beside this: I got to spend a lot of quality time with the love of my life, we got to see a bunch of crazy things together, and we had lots of bonding experiences.

I want a surround sound system for our apartment.

Okay, there really is nothing more I can blog right now. I go back to work tomorrow. I'm nervous and excited for it. But I have no idea what to expect. Yay, new adventures!

A Rant.

I am utterly aware I need to get up to date on my "30 Days Of Pictures" blogs. Believe me, it will be explained in further posts why I am so behind. However, because I am a passionate, busy, distracted man, I tend to get built up with emotion about things and then burst out in rants, which pretty much sound like "Ihateallyoufuckingpeoplewhyareyounotdeadyetgetoutofmywayandletmelivemylife!" Which is not the right answer. I do not enjoy being frustrated, but due to the world we live in, it happens all too often.
Now. I know I have posted rants before. Anyone who knows me knows I rage quite often at the stupidity of the human race. However, as of late I have begun to examine why I feel as though everyone is running around in a rat cage. Do I have a superiority complex? Am I arrogant and conceited? Do I simply suffer from an overactive imagination and an unclear view of how the world works? No, no, and no.
Did you know there is a simple system which allows us to examine a set of statements and determine whether they are valid? It is called logic. No, not reason, which I will get to in a moment, but logic. I have not realized I have not been using the term "logic" correctly until recently (when I started reading "Logic for Dummies"), and I now understand just why exactly my use of logic can help me to conclude why I am so frustrated at the world at large.
See, the majority of my problems lie in what are called unsound arguments. Wait...Whaaaat?? Let me explain.
1. An argument is basically a set of finite premises that lead to a related conclusion.
This is a valid argument.
Premises:-All men are mortal.
-Socrates is a man.
ConclusionSocrates is mortal.

This is an invalid argument.
Premises:-Socrates lived in Greece.
-If Socrates lived in Greece, then all primates are left-handed.
Conclusion:All animals are left handed.

As you can see, the premises and conclusion in an invalid argument have attempted to have a relation, but they do not. This is where the first problem arises. We can turn an invalid argument into a valid argument easy peasy:
Premises:-Socrates lived in Greece.
-All animals are primates.
-If Socrates lived in Greece, then all primates are left handed.
Conclusion:
All animals are left handed.

If you accept the premise and the conclusion follows the premise then the argument is valid. BUT THAT DOES NOT MEAN THE ARGUMENT IS SOUND. An argument is sound only when the premises are factual, not just when you accept them to be factual. Therefore, we get such arguments as this:
Premises:-Science cannot explain everything in the Universe.
-If science cannot explain everything in the Universe, science is wrong.
-Science cannot explain God.
-God is the creator of the Heavens, Earth, and Everything Else. He is omnipotent and benevolent.
Conclusion:God exists, is benevolent, and omnipotent, and science is wrong.

THIS ARGUMENT IS NOT SOUND YET IT IS WIDELY ACCEPTED BY PEOPLE EVERYWHERE. Why, you ask? Because people want to believe it. People want to believe that there is a greater power watching over them, guiding their actions, protecting them and teaching them life lessons. And this is the crux of unsound arguments. People can, do, and will believe unsound arguments because if you accept the premise, and the conclusion logically follows the premises,  then the argument is valid. And most people stop their thought process right at that point because they believe that is all they need. My argument does not need to be sound, because I have faith and we don't all know God's plan.
This is where I begin to want to claw out my own eyes. People,  THINKING, INTELLIGENT PEOPLE, come to conclusions such as this. They believe that there comes a certain point where the only thing which guides you is a) faith, b) trust in a higher power, or c) the understanding that the Spaghetti Monster will bless us all with Parmesan cheese if we all just pray a lot. Exaggerations, of course, but reductio ad absurdum works here. I will grant you: no one is perfect. But, goddamnit, when did we stop trying to be? When did we just turn over our lives to whatever is the most prevalent power of the moment? See, because it manifests itself in every way:
-People don't trust the government, yet they still allow it to make decisions for them  
-People don't know anything about God, Allah, etc, but yet turn their lives over to them on a Daily Basis
-People don't trust other people (i.e. family) but yet allow them to run their lives and cause them massive amounts of grief

And on... and on... and on... and on....

They believe these things and act this way because society tells them this is how they must act. Extremely convoluted and basic causality chain: philosophers hundreds of years ago decide that everything is relative and we cannot tell what is real in life, so the woman who gets high all the time and nearly dies in a car wreck blames her lot in life on God, her family, and the government for not doing enough to help her get out of her bad habits and end her misery, then she teaches THAT to her four illegitimate children. Because society has told her not to believe in what is real, factual, and right in front of her eyes: it has told her that everything is relative, so why shouldn't her problems be everyone else's fault instead of her own failure to reason?

People are losing their reason. It is Reason which tells us whether a set of premises is sound. It is Reason which tells us we cannot run out into a busy street and stand still and still live because A FUCKING CAR WILL HIT YOU AND YOU WILL DIE. It is Reason which is allows us to analyze our world and interpret our surroundings. God does not do it for us. The government does not implant processing equipment into your brain so you can survive. Your family does not act as a proxy through which all your decisions can be made and which your life revolves around for its entirety. You Are The Sole Arbiter Of Your Destiny. And the only thing which separates you from a snail is that gray area between your ears. A snail has no control over its destiny: it only knows pleasure and pain. Turn off your reason, and you are a snail. Yet this is what society teaches us. Accept valid, unsound arguments because it doesn't matter if your FACTS are correct, it only matters whether your FAITH in what you BELIEVE is right, but which you have no PROOF for, is strong. Kill those Muslims, boys, because they are all Anti-American, and they don't believe in the Bible, apple pie, Chevy, and the American way of life. Murder those infidels, sons of Allah, because they are corrupted by greed and sin, immersed in a consumerism culture, and have no faith in anything anymore. CAN WE PLEASE JUST FUCKING GROW UP AND STOP JUMPING TO CONCLUSIONS? For the love of all things holy, it's like we give two children blindfolds to block their sight and bats with spikes, put them in a confined room, and tell them to start swinging. It's asinine and ridiculous.

And it manifests itself here in America as well. I used to despise Colbert and Jon Stewart because, being raised uber-conservative, I found them to be "destroying the American way of life". Now that I am all grown up into a real boy, however, I realize... they are simply pointing out all the stupid ass decisions the people in this country make hour to hour. And, disorganized as I sound over here, passionate as I may be, I do have a point: we need to pull our heads out of our asses.

I am a soldier in the United States Army. I joined to serve this country and protect the citizens of the United States and the Constitution. I swore to uphold the law and to obey the orders of the officers appointed over me. And no matter how stupid and foolish those orders get, as long as they are not unlawful and immoral, I will follow them. I do this for a reason. My premise is this: if I do not serve in these positions, a person of questionable character may and most likely shall serve in such a position, and possibly allow the people and country I love to come to harm. I cannot allow such a catastrophic failure of responsibility. Because I have a mind, because I can use my reason, I must (for now) serve the people of the United States. But in order for this to work, it must go both ways. PEOPLE NEED TO START THINKING. People need to stop operating on false premises and take a look at why they behave the way they do. I get that y'all have differences of opinion. I get that most everyone has different cultural, religious, and political backgrounds. However, there comes a point when the positive and negative forces of this universe become absolute. One cannot escape death. One cannot ignore reality and evade destruction. Destruction is the effect of ignorance. The laws of physics and reality cannot, in fact, be ignored. You can immerse yourself in whatever virtual world you like, you can live off liquid food and hide yourself away from the world... but you still have a body. You still need oxygen. You can still be killed. Seem intensely off subject? Think about it. When you get good grades in school, have a good home life, work hard for what you get, then thank God or Allah or the government for providing you with the opportunity to allow you to do these things... aren't you evading reality? Aren't you ignoring the ever present reality in which You Accomplished What You Set Out To Achieve?

I'm not saying God is not real. I am not discounting or disproving anything because I CANNOT. I have no evidence. I have no premise on the subject of God. I know the Universe exists. I know there are things in this Universe I cannot yet explain. I BELIEVE that a Supreme Being of some sort created the Universe and dictates its rules. But, and this is the most important part of this rant...


My belief in the existence of a Supreme Being, which I call God, does not have any bearing whatsoever on my views about human behavior, my desires for my own life, or my interaction with any other human being. I cannot, and will never, to ANY degree, ask another person to believe what I believe simply because my belief exists. 


My only way to convince another person that I am right is through reason. Extrapolate the above statement to any degree, substitute your own facts and circumstances and then use it as the baseline, and you will discover that people everywhere, to some degree, ask/demand/intimidate/persuade/seduce others to believe what they believe simply because their belief exists. And this throws sound arguments right out the window and into the rain to die. When we operate on these types of emotions, we can no longer behave as sensible human beings, because we are no longer using sense. And, in a world in which a falling object will hit you if you stand in it's path, if you decide to ignore that falling object, ignore logic and reason, and believe that everything will be okay just because you want it to be, then you are in for a big surprise when that object hits you directly in the head an knocks you unconscious.

...

Okay, Eric, breathe a second.

...

My final point in all this is I am tired of human beings running around this planet, operating on emotion and not reason, giving in to passions simply because their society tells them to, and treating other human beings as less than such because they believe that they are right simply because they believe it. It is circular, it is destructive, and it is so prevalent now that it is almost impossible to determine which causes in this world are just and which are not unless you sit down and draw out an engineering schematic leading back to every decision a person has made in their life. We have reason for a Reason. It is there, it is a tool, it is the only tool which we can use which will allow us to interpret the world. We use our five senses to receive data; we interpret said data; we break it down into valid and invalid data; we break it further down into sound and unsound data; and we act on the sound data and discount the unsound data. To do otherwise is, by its original definition, insanity.

And I am now exhausted.

Because I Cannot Truly Live Without It

Day 07 - A picture of your most treasured item



And I do not just mean that in a biological sense. I love my mind, I love reason, and I treasure my mind above all things.

Double Blog (Had No Interwebz Last Night)

Day 05 - A picture of your favorite memory


Yes, yes... I know, it's cheesy, it's dumb, it's cliche. I. Do. Not. Care. The day LW and I got married... It was wonderful, as in Full Of Wonder. As I have said before, I am not much for being single. I don't enjoy spending nights alone with myself unless I am doing serious introspection ( and I do that all the time). But even for me, getting married was a big step. It is something that is pure, wonderful and true. Most people say they cannot explain how they felt on the day that changed their life forever. I can. It was the most amazing feeling I have ever known... To truly love someone and know you are loved truly enough back to spend the rest of the time you have in existence with that person. I don't tell Leah that nearly enough. She is the most amazing woman I have ever known. And the reason the day i got married was the best memory I have is Not because it was such a grand, wonderful day, a celebration of the end of my single life... It is because the day I was wed to my lovely wife was the Start of my true life, the start of every great memory I will ever have because I have the privilege to spend it with her. There is a lot more I have to say on the subject... but a) it is late and b) I want to say it only to her ;) No offense, y'all, but romance letters are not something I will blog.



Day 06 - A picture of a person you'd love to trade places with for a day

Yes. Myself. Because I am awesome. I have never felt jealous or desirous of trading places with people. This is my life to live and I intend to live it as myself. Now, I have Always wanted to achieve the greatness I have seen in others. But I always wanted to be the one who achieved that greatness. So... who would I trade places with on any given day? Future me. Because I know future me will be even more awesome than I am now. ... Which is why I have a tinfoil hat on in this picture, because I know future me is trying to read my thoughts and I don't want him to do that.

MOVING

Day 04 - A picture of your night

This is the face I get whenever I try and do something right when cleaning our house so we can get ready to leave New York forever.

"I hate you." -LW

She thinks her pictures are disgusting. I think she is lovely :D

This is my night. Sitting in my house, on my computer, blogging about moving. Yaaay!! Two day left. I have finaled out of Fort Drum and come Saturday Night I am going to SIGN OUT ON LEAVE. Woot!

How do I feel about moving? Hmm... Well, let's throw some words out: nervous, excited, giddy, slight trepidation, awesomeness, exultance, and mostly just peace. I am looking very much forward to this move, mostly because I get to spend a month on the road with LW. It's going to be strange... I have never moved with anyone before, except my family, and I was much too young to notice the feelings that are involved in moving your body, self, and stuff. It's a very emotional experience.

You can see how emotional I am. 

Anyway, my night will consist of staring at my empty living room

Mostly empty, anyway. Filonius Filiberto Theobold Tinyballs Wrightson and Hughbert Dumbeldore Ignacius Wrightson are coming with us.... Vurgdar Amadaeus Mozart Wrightson II is not :( Sad day, but every young beta fish has to grow up and leave the house one day. Plus, I doubt he would survive the trip.

I know, we aren't supermodels. But we are awesome, so all y'all can suck it.

Sittin' Back, Watchin' Tube...

Day 03 - A picture of the cast from your favorite show

There are 5 shows. Call me immature, but they are all fictional TV shows. I'm not one of those people who watches Discovery Channel shows religiously... and the ones I do watch, I don't watch because they have people in them. I watch the Discovery Channel to hope to catch glimpses of cheetahs chasing down gazelle, birds eating sloths, and other such awesome nature things. In all honesty, I need to start watching Myth Busters more... They have some pretty awesome stuff on there. But, for now, I'm sticking with my entertainment.






#5: Seinfeld

Do I even need to say anything? Really. If you have not watched the show about nothing, you have not learned the secrets to life. NO SOUP FOR YOU!



#4: HIMYM

Now... A lot of people find this show distasteful, vulgar, and way too modern. I, however, find it to be an ironic yet truthful commentary on our era. Which is a fancy way of saying it rocks. WHAT UP, Wrightson, Out.














#3: The Office\

One of the best, most original shows ever made. The humor is subtle and so easy to miss that you cannot walk away for a single moment. However, I have only seen up to the 7th season. Haven't had the heart (yet) to watch after because of Steve Carrel leaving... :(






#2: Burn Notice

This is a toss up for #1. Really. This show is so near and dear to my heart (almost illegally show... some of the stuff they show on here...). Michael, Fiona, and Sam... heroes and awesome actors, every single one.




#1: The Big Bang Theory

I have to rate this Number One. Every joke, every look, every plotline means something. This is not just a show about a relationship between Leonard and Penny. No, no. This is a show about the complexities and events in the life of nerds. And, myself one of them, I watch this show over and over again. Although what is up with Sheldon's hair in the new season??