I started writing this post, and was called out on an aircrew run right after starting. It left me thinking on this subject for a long time before being able to come back and finish writing it. The result is a completely scattered rand of thoughts and emotion. A long winded one at that. Read at your own discretion.
So, after getting an unexpected flashback into my past I starting thinking of what I’ve become… There is always the age old question “who am I” that people struggle with at various times in their life… Philosophical junk I guess. Or it’s just a mood. Whatever it is, I just spent an hour sitting in a bus waiting for a damn aircrew to board, just to be told they didn’t require transportation. So, mood or not, it’s definitely me hating my job and wondering what cruel god touched fate to grant me this life.
So to try to keep on topic…
Back in the day I was filled with creativity. I loved to write poetry. I never really questioned what type of program to write… my problem back then was taking a break from coding or writing to see the rest of the world. Back in high school I was definitely a nerd… in both appearance and definition. Well, my grades were definitely not the best, but after the whole hacking thing and being booted and restricted from every computer in my high school, who can blame me for casting my high school classes to the wind? But what about now? I’m constantly told I’m the best student in my classes. I’ve been asked to help teach the ethical hacking and will be helping with the Carolina Con (hacking/security) convention. But that’s all book-smarts. I’m very not life-smart. I’ve made a BUNCH of stupid decisions that continue to affect me even today. I can’t regret them, however, since it is those decisions that have made me who I am. To deny my mistakes would be to deny who I am now, and that would be unfair to myself. So now I am me… good or bad.
So, what happened to that creativity and excess energy I used to be full with? Clint and Steve are still friends, but they’re across the nation. Both of them are parents, one thing I can’t claim yet. No longer able to hang out each day and skateboard or cause havoc. Our conversations are short and sporadic. I still have both my guitars in my ‘office’ at home, but I haven’t really sat down to play in forever. I even pulled out the keyboard a little bit ago… but it still sits mostly unused. I’ve thought about poems lately, but never put them to paper. My energy has diminished and my creativity is dying due to lack of use. It makes me sad. Perhaps I don’t have enough free time to myself to sit and watch the stars and think. Or, perhaps I don’t have any stars to look at anymore. Back in Utah I used to go out many times a week to watch the stars. There was my favorite spot in the park where I could sit by the water among the trees and just watch the sky. A spot I haven’t seen since joining the Air Force years ago. Pete’s rock was nice as well, if you could handle the occasional couple or group of people also looking for a scenic escape. I don’t have any real escape. Games are starting to lack the immersion I crave, and I haven’t found a good book to read lately. I’m still waiting for a select few to be published when I should be exploring new places. Then again, maybe I should be exploring myself instead of looking for an escape….
Doesn’t that mean you want to run away? Do I want to run away? Maybe from the military. I’m not sure about my life. I definitely hope not from myself. Despite my “I’m immortal until proven otherwise” jokes, I’ve met my mortality in Iraq. I still find myself thinking back to those days on nights when Fort Bragg has their soldiers doing the heavy artillery drills. The explosions are real enough. My house shakes sometimes, much as my room did back in Iraq. Only difference is that here I know I’m safe, when out there you always knew the next boom, or the next road, could be your last. … Well, I guess I can’t really say that. While it’s definitely true… it was never something that one thought about out there. We did our job, pure and simple. No reason to think about death. It was displayed to us every time another soldier or airman got hurt, but it was always others, and I was spared that fate. A merciful god?
So now this post has degenerated to a rant with little meaning… and no direction. Much like me, I suppose. I live, completing tasks presented to me without searching my own path. How utterly ironic since I was reading Frosts The road less traveled earlier today. My favorite poem, one I read often, and one it appears I so delightfully ignore. So many choices, and I don’t search for that less traveled route, just the one before me. The easiest….
What do I want? Rhetorical question, maybe, but one I need to answer soon or else I might end up somewhere I would rather not be.
The worst part is… I remember writing something much like this… asking many of the same questions… back in High School. Back when this ghost of my past was much more than a ethereal image from my memories, and I had many choices laid ahead of me.
I guess I don’t learn…
Just book smart… somewhere I missed the whole lesson of life.