I am not saying anything more than this:
My thoughts and condolences go out to the families, teachers and peers of the victims in Connecticut today.
Friday, December 14, 2012
Saturday, October 13, 2012
A Shameful Confession...
So here is the confession: While in the Marine Corps, I never learned how to roll my sleeves.
Yes, I know how to roll up a set of sleeves, I just never learned how to do it the "right" way, which involves flipping the whole blouse over or some shit, but I don't even remember how that went. The only time I was ever made to roll my sleeves up I was for a brief period in '09, so I had my boot's boots (my new guy's new guys) roll them for me.
Image is from "Marine No Longer Allow Rolled-Up Sleeves" which can be found here.
Monday, September 17, 2012
More pictures of Mexico
Just some more pictures of my adventures in Mexico. No stories with these, maybe later though.
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
Cuernavaca, México
The translation is after the pictures.
Lo siento (a nadie, porque nadie leí esto) por no publicé cuando yo dije que estaré todos los días. Sé, ahora, que lo estaba irrazonable. Pero, lo siento por no escribí nada. He estado aquí en Cuernavaca por más que cinco semanas y este mi última semana. Este viajo he estado muy divertido: yo fui en muchas iglesias, me senté en el altar del dio de guerro del Aztecas, comí una quesadilla huitlacoche y una de grillos, aprendí algo salsa (el bailado), y hice chocolate caliente usando un molinillo. Ví las pirámidas y otras ruinas (yo vivo cerca de ruinas de los mayas), compría y bebía cervezas barratos, fui a ciudad de México y ví el museo de antropología. Estoy un poco triste porque no ví el castillo de Chapultipec, la lugar desde la lina primera de himno de los Cuerpo de Marinos. Mi esposa me visitó en la ciudad de México, pero ojala que ella me visite en Cuernavaca. Pienso que le gustaría México si ella me visitara en Cuernavaca.
Excuse my Spanish if it is incorrect.
Translation:
I'm sorry (to nobody, because nobody reads this) for not posting when I said I would be every day. I know now that it was unreasonable. I'm also sorry that I didn't write at all. I have been here in Cuernavaca for more than five weeks and this is my last week. My trip has been fun: I went to many cathedrals, I sat on the alter of the Aztec god of war, ate a corn fungus quesadilla and a cricket quesadilla, learned some salsa, and made hot chocolate with a molinillo. I saw some pyramids and other ruins (I live next to some Mayan ruins [pictured above]), bought and drank some cheap beers, went to Mexico City and saw the Anthropological Museum. I'm a little sad because I didn't see Chapultepec Castle, the place from the first line of the Marine Corps Hymn. My wife visited me in Mexico City, but I wish she would have visited me in Cuernavaca. I think she would have liked Mexico if she visited me in Cuernavaca.
Habrá más aquí. Más fotos y más sobre mi tiempo aquí.
There will be more here. More pictures and more about my time here.
For now, here is a skull to enjoy!
Lo siento (a nadie, porque nadie leí esto) por no publicé cuando yo dije que estaré todos los días. Sé, ahora, que lo estaba irrazonable. Pero, lo siento por no escribí nada. He estado aquí en Cuernavaca por más que cinco semanas y este mi última semana. Este viajo he estado muy divertido: yo fui en muchas iglesias, me senté en el altar del dio de guerro del Aztecas, comí una quesadilla huitlacoche y una de grillos, aprendí algo salsa (el bailado), y hice chocolate caliente usando un molinillo. Ví las pirámidas y otras ruinas (yo vivo cerca de ruinas de los mayas), compría y bebía cervezas barratos, fui a ciudad de México y ví el museo de antropología. Estoy un poco triste porque no ví el castillo de Chapultipec, la lugar desde la lina primera de himno de los Cuerpo de Marinos. Mi esposa me visitó en la ciudad de México, pero ojala que ella me visite en Cuernavaca. Pienso que le gustaría México si ella me visitara en Cuernavaca.
Arriba estan algo fotos de la ruina de los mayas que están cerca de mi casa (above are some pictures of the Mayan ruins next to my house).
Excuse my Spanish if it is incorrect.
Translation:
I'm sorry (to nobody, because nobody reads this) for not posting when I said I would be every day. I know now that it was unreasonable. I'm also sorry that I didn't write at all. I have been here in Cuernavaca for more than five weeks and this is my last week. My trip has been fun: I went to many cathedrals, I sat on the alter of the Aztec god of war, ate a corn fungus quesadilla and a cricket quesadilla, learned some salsa, and made hot chocolate with a molinillo. I saw some pyramids and other ruins (I live next to some Mayan ruins [pictured above]), bought and drank some cheap beers, went to Mexico City and saw the Anthropological Museum. I'm a little sad because I didn't see Chapultepec Castle, the place from the first line of the Marine Corps Hymn. My wife visited me in Mexico City, but I wish she would have visited me in Cuernavaca. I think she would have liked Mexico if she visited me in Cuernavaca.
Habrá más aquí. Más fotos y más sobre mi tiempo aquí.
There will be more here. More pictures and more about my time here.
For now, here is a skull to enjoy!
Monday, July 2, 2012
Why Military Personnel Will Never Take Mental Health Professionals Seriously
A quick memory to share with all of you that don't read this. It will explain the main reason why military personnel will never take mental health professionals seriously.
Between my two deployments we were all made to see mental health "professionals" to determine if we were fit to deploy again as well as to screen for PTSD and depression. Basically every Marine that walked into the makeshift office was told he had PTSD. This could have very well been true (not likely though), but the means of determining if one had PTSD were faulty, at best. For example, one Marine was told he had PTSD because he drank more than six beers a week. Another friend of mine was labeled likewise, only this time for smoking a pack of cigarettes every few day.
To make matters worse, these "professionals were complete assholes. The woman I talked to asked me what company I was in. When I told her she flippantly responded with, "Oh, you guys didn't have it that bad."
WHAT THE FUCK? NOT THAT BAD? What the fuck does that even mean? A deployment either goes well or terribly, not in between. Especially for an infantry company. Three of my friends were killed in one 30 day period IN MY COMPANY! It took everything in me not to just walk out. Looking back, I wish I would have.
This is why military personnel will NEVER take someone in the field of mental health seriously.
If you ever get into the mental health field, do NOT act like these jokers. If you really want to help you will listen to that Marine, Soldier, Sailor or Airmen (Coasty as well, I guess). They will either tell you what you need to know, or they wont. It's that simple. You don't need to patronize them.
If you want to be the most helpful: join the military and then get into the mental health field afterwards. You will be able to relate to the service members and your time with them will be much more effective.
Between my two deployments we were all made to see mental health "professionals" to determine if we were fit to deploy again as well as to screen for PTSD and depression. Basically every Marine that walked into the makeshift office was told he had PTSD. This could have very well been true (not likely though), but the means of determining if one had PTSD were faulty, at best. For example, one Marine was told he had PTSD because he drank more than six beers a week. Another friend of mine was labeled likewise, only this time for smoking a pack of cigarettes every few day.
To make matters worse, these "professionals were complete assholes. The woman I talked to asked me what company I was in. When I told her she flippantly responded with, "Oh, you guys didn't have it that bad."
WHAT THE FUCK? NOT THAT BAD? What the fuck does that even mean? A deployment either goes well or terribly, not in between. Especially for an infantry company. Three of my friends were killed in one 30 day period IN MY COMPANY! It took everything in me not to just walk out. Looking back, I wish I would have.
This is why military personnel will NEVER take someone in the field of mental health seriously.
If you ever get into the mental health field, do NOT act like these jokers. If you really want to help you will listen to that Marine, Soldier, Sailor or Airmen (Coasty as well, I guess). They will either tell you what you need to know, or they wont. It's that simple. You don't need to patronize them.
If you want to be the most helpful: join the military and then get into the mental health field afterwards. You will be able to relate to the service members and your time with them will be much more effective.
Sunday, July 1, 2012
Who is Gun Control Really Directed Towards?
So crime is a young person's game, especially violent crime. Exact numbers: 74.7% of all (reported) crime is committed by a male. 43.6% of crime is committed by an offender under the age of 25.
Why is this important? Research has proven that young males will not be deterred from carrying firearms by legislation. Essentially, all gun restriction legislation passed is supposedly directed at deterring criminals from carrying a gun. In reality, however, 33% of the criminal population doesn't care what legislation is passed or how restrictive it is or how much time they are going to face, they are still going to carry a gun during the commission of a crime or into place where they should not, not to mention the fact they these people are usually not allowed a concealable firearm due to age restrictions.
So why is there so much ant-gun legislation when it has been PROVEN that is has no effect on whether or not a criminal will carry a gun? Because YOU have not done enough to educate yourself, your brother and your sister, because YOU have not written your representative, because YOU allow people to write or say whatever they want about guns and gun owners and YOU just dismiss it instead of addressing it.
These statistics are taken from a criminology text book, Crime and Criminology, 13th Ed., Reid, IBSN 978-0-19-978318-2
Why is this important? Research has proven that young males will not be deterred from carrying firearms by legislation. Essentially, all gun restriction legislation passed is supposedly directed at deterring criminals from carrying a gun. In reality, however, 33% of the criminal population doesn't care what legislation is passed or how restrictive it is or how much time they are going to face, they are still going to carry a gun during the commission of a crime or into place where they should not, not to mention the fact they these people are usually not allowed a concealable firearm due to age restrictions.
So why is there so much ant-gun legislation when it has been PROVEN that is has no effect on whether or not a criminal will carry a gun? Because YOU have not done enough to educate yourself, your brother and your sister, because YOU have not written your representative, because YOU allow people to write or say whatever they want about guns and gun owners and YOU just dismiss it instead of addressing it.
These statistics are taken from a criminology text book, Crime and Criminology, 13th Ed., Reid, IBSN 978-0-19-978318-2
Monday, May 28, 2012
Please Take a Moment of Silence Today to Remember
Please take a moment of silence today to remember those that gave everything for this country and our way of life. Regardless of how you feel about the war on terror, or past wars, some Marines, Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen and Coasties have given everything for a cause. That, in the least, deserves a minute of respect.
Never forget. Lcpl Crass, PFC Patton, PFC Pietrek, Sgt Washington, Capt Terhune, Lcpl Whitacre, HA Burnett, Cpl Robles, Lcpl Howey, Lcpl Windsor, Lcpl Timberman and all the other Marines, Sailors, Soldiers and interpreters of 2/7, Operation Iraqi Freedom, Operation Enduring Freedom and the Global War on Terror. I miss all of you. Thank you for your sacrifice.
If you knew a member of the Military who served with 2/7 and sacrificed his or her life for our freedom, please comment with their name.
Never forget. Lcpl Crass, PFC Patton, PFC Pietrek, Sgt Washington, Capt Terhune, Lcpl Whitacre, HA Burnett, Cpl Robles, Lcpl Howey, Lcpl Windsor, Lcpl Timberman and all the other Marines, Sailors, Soldiers and interpreters of 2/7, Operation Iraqi Freedom, Operation Enduring Freedom and the Global War on Terror. I miss all of you. Thank you for your sacrifice.
If you knew a member of the Military who served with 2/7 and sacrificed his or her life for our freedom, please comment with their name.
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
Mexico
I don't have enough time to be posting on here frequently right now. I'm going to Mexico this summer to learn Spanish. While I'm there I want to make at least weekly updates. I'll try to do it all in Spanish and write out an English translation below it.
I'm pretty damn excited.
I'm pretty damn excited.
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Don't spit on me and don't cry for me.
So a few of my friends have pointed out the way the America as a whole is treating veterans of the global war on terror is very weird. It used to be that a returning veteran was someone that employers looked for, people looked up to and if people didn't like the veteran they would just leave them alone (WWII era).
Then the veteran became a focal point of blame. A veteran was a baby killer, suicidal and homicidal, generally thought of as crazy. People looked down on veterans, spit on them and excluded them. Many veterans threw away or burned their uniforms because they were tired of being treated like shit (Vietnam era).
Today veterans are looked at like we are broken. Employers don't want to hire us because we might be a liability, thanks to movies like "Home of the Brave." Every time I tell a professor I was in the Marine Corps they get misty eyed and tell me they are sorry. I don't want your tears. I don't want your damn apology, I want people to be fucking thankful and I want to be treated like a fucking person, not damaged goods. I'm not saying I want a parade in my honor or that I want everyone I meet to say thank you, that's not what this is about. This is about actually taking care of veterans.
Why do veterans need to be taken care of? We did a service for the citizens of the United States at less than minimum wadge, making literally 10 times less what I would with the same job in the private sector. And now active duty personnel are being asked to do just as much for less money. The Veteran's Affairs is constantly trying to restructure the Post 9/11 GI Bill so that they don't have to pay veterans as much. I gave up four years, some give two, others twenty, and some gave everything.
How can the problem be fixed? Two things. The first thing that should be done is that the Veteran's Affairs should be restructured and doctors, psychologists and other medical personnel should be held responsible for not diagnosing veterans with PTSD when they have it as well as being held responsible for diagnosing veterans with PTSD when they don't have it. And second, employers need to be reasonable, being a veteran should be a selling point. We have discipline, good work ethic, and generally know the limits of our capabilities. To hire a veteran with an honorable discharge is to hire someone that you know can stay out of trouble or at least out of the limelight. You also know that they can be committed to something for an extended amount of time. I don't know what is bad about those qualities.
Then the veteran became a focal point of blame. A veteran was a baby killer, suicidal and homicidal, generally thought of as crazy. People looked down on veterans, spit on them and excluded them. Many veterans threw away or burned their uniforms because they were tired of being treated like shit (Vietnam era).
Today veterans are looked at like we are broken. Employers don't want to hire us because we might be a liability, thanks to movies like "Home of the Brave." Every time I tell a professor I was in the Marine Corps they get misty eyed and tell me they are sorry. I don't want your tears. I don't want your damn apology, I want people to be fucking thankful and I want to be treated like a fucking person, not damaged goods. I'm not saying I want a parade in my honor or that I want everyone I meet to say thank you, that's not what this is about. This is about actually taking care of veterans.
Why do veterans need to be taken care of? We did a service for the citizens of the United States at less than minimum wadge, making literally 10 times less what I would with the same job in the private sector. And now active duty personnel are being asked to do just as much for less money. The Veteran's Affairs is constantly trying to restructure the Post 9/11 GI Bill so that they don't have to pay veterans as much. I gave up four years, some give two, others twenty, and some gave everything.
How can the problem be fixed? Two things. The first thing that should be done is that the Veteran's Affairs should be restructured and doctors, psychologists and other medical personnel should be held responsible for not diagnosing veterans with PTSD when they have it as well as being held responsible for diagnosing veterans with PTSD when they don't have it. And second, employers need to be reasonable, being a veteran should be a selling point. We have discipline, good work ethic, and generally know the limits of our capabilities. To hire a veteran with an honorable discharge is to hire someone that you know can stay out of trouble or at least out of the limelight. You also know that they can be committed to something for an extended amount of time. I don't know what is bad about those qualities.
Saturday, March 3, 2012
Team Rubicon
A friend of mine started up a volunteer organization that teams veterans up with doctors and sends them to disaster areas around the world. The organization is called Team Rubicon. They have recently responded to the tornadoes here in the United States and have deployed to numerous countries around the world (Turkey, Haiti, Japan, Chile and more), not only helping in crisis situations but also on general humanitarian missions.
Check them out by clicking here. Donate by clicking here or if you are a veteran or work in the medical field why not volunteer.
If nothing else show your support for these hard working people by following them on twitter or liking them on facebook.
Check them out by clicking here. Donate by clicking here or if you are a veteran or work in the medical field why not volunteer.
If nothing else show your support for these hard working people by following them on twitter or liking them on facebook.
Thursday, February 16, 2012
I miss it.
It's been a few years now since I was in the deserts of Afghanistan. My time there sucked, I'm not gonna lie, but damn do I miss that shit. I miss patrolling after you just got back from patrol. I miss not being sure what was going to happen on the next patrol. I miss being covered in sweat because the humvee has no a/c and probably never did. I miss looking over and my driver and teasing him, saying that he would one day be the Sargent Major of all this shit. I miss yelling at my boot in the turret because he is a dumb ass.
I remember one night we were on a patrol to a place that I couldn't tell you the name if I remembered. I had a big dip of grizzly wintergreen from God knows where in my mouth. We were the second to last truck in the patrol of four truck. My driver, for whatever reason, couldn't see through any NVGs. His eyes just couldn't handle it or something. We were driving probably 25 or 30 mph and I was having to tell him every move he had to make. We were driving for about and hour and we started to fall behind so I told him to speed it up. He reluctantly did so. I continued to scan the route ahead, not for IED's, but for big rocks or bumps in the way. Ahead I saw something on the ground but I couldn't really tell what it was. We started getting closer and I realized it was a Soviet fighting hole left unfilled and weathered since the '80's. As were were going my driver started to go towards it so that we could go in the general direction as the rest of the patrol. When he started to do that I yelled at him, "Stop." He kept up the speed and the direction and simply yelled back, "what?" Humvees are loud, lets just get that out there, but I am even more loud. So we are still flying towards this hole and I start realizing the immensity of the situation: We are driving a vehicle that has 5 people in, it's dark and my driver can't see shit, the original vehicle was meant to be about a ton but it has 2 more tons of armor on it, we are traveling at about 40 mph and still headed towards a giant hole in the ground that nobody has bothered to fill in for the past 25 years. I yell at my driver again. "Stop. Fuckin' stop dude. FUCK DUDE, STOP THE GODDAMN TRUCK!" My driver slams on the breaks and we stop less than five fucking feet from this piece of shit hole. Even though one of us might have died that night we all laughed about. I still laugh about it, its one of my favorite stories. But its something I will never be able to do again. Even if I went back in right now my education would at least get me promoted, which means I would be in place where I couldn't fuck around anymore. If I went back in as an officer it would be even worse. Fuck, it's like I'm having a midlife crisis.
Right now I'm sitting in a library typing this up on my laptop. I got out of the Marine Corps nearly three years ago and now I miss it every day of my life. I'm happy though, I am a college student and I'm doing well. I am happily married and have been for over a year. My wife doesn't understand why I miss it or what I miss or any of it. I don't try to push it. It seems like living with the part of my life behind me though is almost like retiring or sending kid off to college, where a part of your life is gone.
I remember one night we were on a patrol to a place that I couldn't tell you the name if I remembered. I had a big dip of grizzly wintergreen from God knows where in my mouth. We were the second to last truck in the patrol of four truck. My driver, for whatever reason, couldn't see through any NVGs. His eyes just couldn't handle it or something. We were driving probably 25 or 30 mph and I was having to tell him every move he had to make. We were driving for about and hour and we started to fall behind so I told him to speed it up. He reluctantly did so. I continued to scan the route ahead, not for IED's, but for big rocks or bumps in the way. Ahead I saw something on the ground but I couldn't really tell what it was. We started getting closer and I realized it was a Soviet fighting hole left unfilled and weathered since the '80's. As were were going my driver started to go towards it so that we could go in the general direction as the rest of the patrol. When he started to do that I yelled at him, "Stop." He kept up the speed and the direction and simply yelled back, "what?" Humvees are loud, lets just get that out there, but I am even more loud. So we are still flying towards this hole and I start realizing the immensity of the situation: We are driving a vehicle that has 5 people in, it's dark and my driver can't see shit, the original vehicle was meant to be about a ton but it has 2 more tons of armor on it, we are traveling at about 40 mph and still headed towards a giant hole in the ground that nobody has bothered to fill in for the past 25 years. I yell at my driver again. "Stop. Fuckin' stop dude. FUCK DUDE, STOP THE GODDAMN TRUCK!" My driver slams on the breaks and we stop less than five fucking feet from this piece of shit hole. Even though one of us might have died that night we all laughed about. I still laugh about it, its one of my favorite stories. But its something I will never be able to do again. Even if I went back in right now my education would at least get me promoted, which means I would be in place where I couldn't fuck around anymore. If I went back in as an officer it would be even worse. Fuck, it's like I'm having a midlife crisis.
Right now I'm sitting in a library typing this up on my laptop. I got out of the Marine Corps nearly three years ago and now I miss it every day of my life. I'm happy though, I am a college student and I'm doing well. I am happily married and have been for over a year. My wife doesn't understand why I miss it or what I miss or any of it. I don't try to push it. It seems like living with the part of my life behind me though is almost like retiring or sending kid off to college, where a part of your life is gone.
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