Avatar or Pocahontas? You decide!

White people travel to a foreign land to get a money making mineral.

White people are represented to the natives by good looking white man.

Good looking white man is stalked through the woods by beautiful native girl. Deus ex Machina answer for why they miraculously speak the same language despite being from different worlds.



Oops, she happens to be the chief's daughter!

Beautiful native girl teaches good looking white guy about their connection with nature, most importantly through a spirtual tree.

Good looking white man and beautiful native girl develop a romance while she teaches him about her native ways.

Beautiful native girl might have left out the detail that she's already spoken for by a member of her tribe.


Well, good looking white guy also left out the fact that he's working for the evil foreigners out to steal the land of natives for mining purposes. Deception works both ways, friends.

Native folks don't cotton to deceptive foreigners, so they chain our hero up. (Sorry loyal readers, James Cameron has a lock down on pictures like Fort Knox. Get the DVD, an identical scene is there, I promise.)

Evil invaders decide they're through playing nice with the savages and begin their all-out assault on the land. Poor victimized land.

Evil invaders give up their cause, having been taught a hard lesson by the natives and return to their home world.

Let's not forget some other important scenes:

-Native girl diving off into an abyss, at the shock of good looking white guy who is impressed by her obviously thorough knowledge of the land.

-Native girl has to literally free whitey from the bonds her tribe has placed on him, and save his life in the climax.

-Our handsome hero must face down his evil superior officer in the climax.

-Members of the foreign invading party feel sympathy for the natives and change sides.

-Native girl's betrothed is killed by a foreigner

I could really go on, but I think you get the point.

I'm just gonna say it: Disney did it better!

Stuff I Hear at the MarDet

"She seems about as violent as a box of cookies."

Stuff I Hear at the MarDet

In honor of shitmydadsays.com, I've decided that stuff I hear at the MarDet is pretty darn funny.

"You Marines, you're like...warrior chicklets! You're eggs, ready to hatch and move on to the fleet!" Plt Sgt: "I am NOT your mother hen."

On the questionable hours of the base gym: "My blood was hot, I had lava blood. I said, 'Your hours are not posted anywhere, Sir!' Then I saw this groundhog running around so I started chasing him."

It Seems We Have a Little Girl-on-Girl Crime, Here

The drawn-looking Sergeant darts her eyes sharply around the room, as if to subtly ensure no one is trying to escape. “So, the reason you’re all here,” she begins to the all-female crowd, “is because Gunnery Sergeant and other NCO’s around the det have been hearing things about only you. That’s why there are no males here.”

Things? What things? A few eyes search each other out, hoping for some kind of hint. The Sergeant then begins a monotone “discussion” about fraternization and inappropriate behavior.
The logical conclusion would be that she is referring to inappropriate relationships between females, Sergeants socializing with Lance Corporals and the like. She did say this was only for females, right? Only females are being accused of fraternizing.

But she’s not.

She’s talking about our “behavior” with males. We have been witnessed sitting in common rooms alone together, talking in the stairwells and generally liking each other too much. Our conclusion is wrong. This is about us. The others. The females.

Clearly, our fellow Marines can have nothing to do with this discussion on fraternization because clearly they have nothing to do with it. Expect being the partner in crime. Fraternization requires more than one person, yet this Sergeant seems to think it is the work of mastermind Eves drawing men into their traps.

Before I came into the Corps, I assumed that the sexism I’d heard so much about would be at the hands of men. That assumption has been wrong every step of the way. It was put to me very plainly by a Staff Sergeant at Camp Geiger:

“What do you guys want to talk about today?” he asked in one of our afternoon discussion hours.

“Staff Sergeant,” I piped in, “I’d like to know why the females here get treated so different from the males.”

He arched a brow and shifted uncomfortably, “What do you mean?”

“Well, we don’t have any of the same liberties. They are allowed regular smoke breaks, they get to go to the vending machines, they have unlimited time for chow, they get to take naps during the day. We don’t. Our instructors play games with us and the males are just treated better. Why?”

“Well that’s not us,” he was referring to the male instructors around him, who seldom interacted with the female platoon, “that’s you!”

The realization hit me like a ton of bricks: it’s not male Marines treating females like dirt out of misogyny; females are doing this to each other.

I had been filled with hope and a sense of closeness when female Sergeant G had gruffly told all the females in our platoon to come to her with any problems we might have. “Don’t go to the males. They don’t know what to do with you and they’re just going to laugh at you.”

Cut to a week later-
Me: “Excuse me, Sergeant…”
Sgt. G: “What.”
Me: “I was supposed to get my meds yesterday and…”
Sgt. G: “WHAT THE HELL? I DON’T CARE GO AWAY.”

An hour later I approached the affable and charming Sergeant P, a male who reminded me of my brother.
Me: “Sergeant, if I need to get meds, what should I do?”
Sgt. P: “Did you tell anyone?”
Me: “Yes, Sergeant.”
He thinks for a moment then smiles and looks down, literally biting his tongue, “You told Sergeant G?’
Me: “Yes, Sergeant.”
He nods, smiling broader, “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.” And he did.

Was this the male I wasn’t supposed to approach with my problems because he would laugh at me and turn me away? Was she the female who would be there to support me like an older sister?

I’ll never forget the constant reminders my drill instructors gave us at recruit training: we are not female Marines, we are Marines. No qualifier. It came as a great shock to me upon arrival to this Marine Detachment (det) when I was informed that we have “females only” values discussions on a regular basis. One of the biggest topics in these discussions (called “PME’s”) is about how our male counterparts view us as something “other”.

How exactly is having little girl-talks to which other Marines are not welcome going to help dispel the sense of otherness that plagues female Marines?

Ladies, you’re doing this to yourselves. You’ve made a special club with secret meetings and secret codes. There is nothing that an NCO should say to me that she should not say to a male Marine. If there are special health concerns that are unique to females, then males need to understand those as well. One day these male Marines may have one or two females in their charge. What are they supposed to do when such a female has a problem and they have never had any mature and in-depth discussions with females?

As long as females continue to consider themselves to be something other, then male Marines will follow suit. If you want to be one Marine Corps, then it starts with inclusion. A Marine is a Marine. We don’t have short Marines only meetings, we don’t have Hispanic Marines only meetings, and we shouldn’t have female Marines only meetings.

"They (Women Marines) don't have a nickname, and they don't need one. They get their basic training in a Marine atmosphere, at a Marine Post. They inherit the traditions of the Marines. They are Marines." - LtGen Thomas Holcomb, USMCCommandant of the Marine Corps, 1943

Two Step

I could feel Craig’s gaze slicing into my back from across the bar.  “I have a boyfriend,” I had told him, “I can’t do this.”  His response had been a burning, “Well, where is he?”  I knew where my boyfriend was and why he wasn’t there with me, but under Craig’s scrutiny it seemed like a failure.

            Roger was stocky, lighthearted and not much more than a big kid.  Roger was never fully aware of me as anything more than a playmate, and I was losing patience with him daily.  For so long I thought: I have to make this work.   Craig was the one who asked why. 

            Craig was tall and sinewy with shadowed eyes that always knew what I was thinking.  I’m not a cheater, I told myself, I don’t do this.  But then I made eye contact with him.  I could see the muscles in his jaw flex from tension and he took a forced swig from his beer, never looking away.  I knew what Craig wanted.

            Without preamble he pushed himself away from the bar and marched to me.  “Just dance with me, that’s all I’m asking.”

            I stared at his outstretched hand, frozen and suddenly deaf to the noise around us.  My mistake came when I made eye contact with him again: Roger would never look at me like that.

            I slipped my hand into his and let him lead me onto the dance floor.

I Bleed Green (You Know You’re out of Uniform, Right?)

The days will bleed together,

Long and steaming.

Thick cammie material will make you puddle.

 

Mud and green war paint will infect your pores.

Kevlar is unnecessary,

your regulation hair is a suitable antiballistic shield.

 

Never, under any circumstances, admit pain.

Run until you vomit.

Run until bone breaks through skin,

no other injury is acceptable.

 

Do not waste free hours with useless sleep.

Use the time to IP, polish, prep and study.

 

Your weapon is your life.

Know every part of it.

What is her serial number?

How do you clear her chamber? (TAP RACK BANG)

How clean are her working parts?

 

Make no mistake:

Your weapon might be female,

but you are not.

You are Candidate.

One of approximately 70.

If found passable,

you will become one of approximately 40.

Only the Spartans survive that long.

 

You will learn to live with hairy legs

And athlete’s foot

And upper respiratory infections

And sleeping at the position of attention

And wading through face-high mud.

 

Marines eat mud.

And babies.

Oorah.

Get some.

Kill Kill Kill.

 

Remember these terms:

Head. Rack. Deck. Bulkhead.

Squared away, good to go?

PT (gimmie some).

 

One. Two. Three. Four.

I LOVE THE MARINE CORPS.

Asphalt (redux)

I am a mustang in a box stall.
I am a saguaro, gone ten years without rain.
I am a rider on a lame horse.
I am a biker without a Road King.
I am a Chevelle on blocks.
I am a Comanche in a trailer on barren California desert.
I am Frank T. Hopkins in the Wild West Show.
I am Glenn Frey with no strings to pluck.
I am Annie Oakley in a corset.
I am the cowboy watching his range shredded by barbed wire.
I am the map dot circumvented by the highway.
I am the desperado told to settle.
I am the mustang in a box stall.

I don't update this thing like I used to.

Now, I'm supposed to be writing a paper right now for my political philosophy class. Naturally, this is more interesting.

One day, I'd like to have a love like this:

In the Hills

I'm stuck in this room
with florescent lighting.
Outside it's bright
the sky is blue
the trees are green
the air is clear.

I miss that place
in the mountains.
Open plains
rolling hills.
The way the air touched my skin.
The ocean in the distance.
The freedom all around me.

For days I could wander
and never be found.
But i know where I am.
I see the deer
the cattle
the bobcat crouched in the tall grass.
No houses.
No cars.
Just freedom.

I miss
that place.

If Only in my Dreams

I have this fantasy life where:

I feel completely comfortable in a bikini having my picture taken.

I'm the girl on the arm of that guy.

I don't have to worry every time I run my debit card.

I don't have to wonder where my boyfriend is or who he's with.

Running is a challenge, but not an insurmountable one.

I have the time to go to the beach.

My biggest worry is that my highlights are growing out.

I can travel. Just somewhere.

I can get a decent night's sleep.

My decisions are easy.

I don't do anything just because it's necessary for survival.

I don't feel like everyone I know is leaving me behind.

I can sit back and just enjoy every day.

Buying requisite books for school and uniforms for work isn't going to put me in debt of any kind.

I have a should to lean on.




I just want to rest. Just for a little while.

1,000 Ships

I've had a hard time finding the motivation to write as of late. It's hard to find things worth writing about anymore. That which is worth the effort is too personal to be published here.

I finished reading Margaret George's "Helen of Troy", one woman's imagined account of Helen's life, from her childhood in Sparta to her death of old age. Since there is no historical record of Helen or even of Troy, this is pure fiction based on what we know of Mycenaean culture at the time and the other writings about the Trojan War. Few ever really delved into Helen herself, and even fewer explored what her life was like after the fall of Troy. Naturally, that's the part that has always intrigued me. To scratch the surface of the story, you have a woman who has been trapped her entire life by her seemingly unparalleled beauty. Then for no apparent reason she shirks her crown, her husband, and her daughter to run away with a man half her age. She brought brought with her destruction on literally a legendary scale.

While I disagree with George's portrayal of Helen as a hapless victim of the god's wills, it does at least give credence to the fact that human control only extends so far. We can only control so much of that which surrounds us. According to the story, the Trojans assumed that no one would actually make a war over a woman, let alone a war that lasted over ten years.

The novel touches on several issues, the most glaring is of child-parent relations. Helen questions her lineage to Zues and distrusts him, while Aphrodite claims Helen as her daughter in spirit, though Aphrodite repeatedly abuses Helen and sends her on a path of destruction. The characters are constantly working to right their parent's wrongs, to avoid their parent's fates, and to generally separate themselves from their parents. It is in this constant effort that they lose themselves and tumble along the paths set for them anyway.

More interesting and more subtle is the implication, especially in the end of the novel, that there are two kinds of people in this world: The first is the most common; people who live ordinary, happy lives interspersed with brief moments of sadness and trial, but otherwise their days are peaceful and unexceptional. Then there are those who live lives of tragedy; these are people who fight their entire lives for few fleeting moments of peace and joy. Everything is a trial, a test. Nothing can be simple for them as it is for the first people. They labor for just those brief moments, and those moments have a sweetness the first people cannot fathom. And then the moment is gone and it fills them with an emptiness that only they can understand. They can never get these moments back, no recreation will suffice. Their lives are a series of tragedies interspersed with shining moments of triumph, but the shine quickly fades.

But the latter are strong, they are the survivors. They experience unparalleled joy and unparalleled sadness. The former live in a happy ignorance of what they're missing.

At the end of the novel, Menelaus prays that his grandson never becomes a hero and lives a simple, peaceful life. Helen prays the same. However, it is not what either wished for themselves. They both surrendered great things to live lives of tragedy. Helen voluntarily walked away from her own daughter for just a wisp of the kind of rapture she instinctively knew she was missing. Menelaus sat on the beaches of Troy with his countrymen while doing so plunged his nation into depression for over a decade for one day to triumph, to be a hero. These people wish simplicity on others, but not on themselves.

And so I sit here looking out over a cloudy bay and at pictures of a place in the woods I will probably never see again, and I think about those I have loved and lost. I think back on a life I used to have and I wonder if there is anything I could have done to keep it. I wonder what steps I could have taken to maintain those relationships, to keep that happy ignorance. But I look in the mirror and I know I was only ignorant for brief flashes, that I've always known it would be this way. Like Helen, I prefer the struggle because I know on some level there is a greater prize for greater hardship.

If I can just get over this next obstacle, I can see what awaits me on the other side.

Movie Review: Stop Loss

I'm taking a stand and doing this review without having seen the movie. And I don't intend on seeing it, either. I just feel the need to lay out exactly why this movie looks so horrifically off-base I was, for possibly the first time in my life, fighting the urge to throw something at the movie screen and yell. Because Ryan Phillippe can hear me yelling, you know.



The premise of this film is that an army war hero returns from Iraq and is set to go into the IRR (Individual Ready Reserve) after his active duty contract has expired. Most servicemen and women consider the IRR "getting out" of the service because most servicemen and women are never called back to active duty. Phillippe's character is more than ready to return to civilian life. However, at least according to the movie trailer and IMDb website, he is almost instantaneously recalled to active duty upon returning home. This is what some people call being "stop lossed"- prevented from going off active duty in a time of war. Kerry called this a "backdoor draft". Phillippe's character, like some servicemen and women, apparently didn't read his contract and decides that this act is a "breach of contract" (I'm quoting the trailer here) so the next logical step is for him to go AWOL so he can get legal help for this matter.

Let's ignore for a second the fact that this movie is asking for you to have sympathy for a soldier who is more than willing to let his buddies get the big green weenie and go back to war while he runs away. Let's even ignore the fact that this is a soldier (and there are more like him) who thinks that all deployments are voluntary actions and you shouldn't have to go on deployments that you don't like. I'm going to go into the legality of this issue as why this movie, and the idea that it is making people that something completely illegal IS legal, makes me want to stab myself in the eye.

From the DD Form 4/1, The Standard Enlistment Contract (every soldier, sailor, Marine and airman reads and signs this before he or she can join the service), Section 9(c): "In the event of war, my enlistment in the Armed Forces continues until six (6) months after the war ends, unless my enlistment is ended sooner by the President of
the United States."
Section 10(a-c): a. FOR ALL ENLISTEES: If this is my initial enlistment, I must serve a total of eight (8) years. Any part of that service not served on active duty must be served in a Reserve Component unless I am sooner discharged. b. If I am a member of a Reserve Component of an Armed Force at the beginning of a period of war or national emergency declared by Congress, or if I become a member during that period, my military service may bextended without my consent until six (6) months after the end of that period of war. c. As a member of a Reserve Component, in time of war or national emergency declared by the Congress, I may be required to serve on active duty (other than for training) for the entire period of the war or emergency and for six (6) months after its end."

It actually goes into even further detail about these practices so that there is NO WAY a serviceman/woman can enlist without knowing that their active duty contract may be extended. But then you get soldiers like this character who agree to it only on the condition that they never have to fulfill their obligations.

According to Wikipedia, only one person has one a suit about this. The National Guardsman had already completed his STANDARD EIGHT YEAR CONTRACT THAT EVERYONE SIGNS including his agreed to IRR time, so he was granted clemency. Because, unlike the character of this film, he actually did fulfill his contract and "uphold his end of the bargain."

A whole 'nother issue that I foresee with this film is that it seems to portray a solider coming home from deployment and being told he will immediately be redeploying. I'm not going to go off on this too much because in all fairness, I haven't seen the film! I have no idea if that's how they will cover it, but that's how it's presented in the trailers. Not including the leave that soldiers get after a deployment and the fact that deployment preparation, or "work up", takes months, unless an individual soldier is being sent on a special assignments, entire units don't deploy and redeploy back to back. I believe there's a "rest" period they all take in between. And unless they are a quick reaction force, or some other unit that is on stand by, no unit is somehow sucker punched by a deployment. They know well in advance, as in years in advance what the deployment rotation is slated to look like.

To sum: every military man or woman agrees to being stop lossed before they ever even go to their basic training. They sign the contract.

And despite what some little "shit birds" as they are commonly known will tell you, you can't pick and chose deployments either. You agree to follow lawful orders. That's why these lawsuits don't work.

Friends (Caution: There's Emo Ahead)

Throughout the course of my life, I've had a small handful of real friends. People who are there when I need help, a willing shoulder when I need support no matter what. No matter how long it's been since we last spoke, we will always be friends.

And then there are the other friends. People who claim to be like "a sister!" to me. These are the people who weren't there for me when my brother had his accident. These are the people who, when I undertook the creation of a charity organization, have turned up their noses at supporting it. And by supporting it, I mean doing something as simple as clicking the mouse. I am willing to support them in their endeavors, but they can't be bothered to support mine.

For all the times you've claimed to be kin.

For all the times you've claimed to be there to help when I need it.

For all the times you said you cared.

Thanks. No really, thanks.

Ah the bridge.

"So, is that chow hall still named after Lieutenant Bobo? Yeah he was a great Marine...he killed A LOT of people."

The bridge to Bobo Hall, as seen through a candidate's eyes:

CodeGREEN

This is perhaps a product of too much free time spent on the internet contemplating stuff, or it's brilliant.

I agree with some of the pretty ideas that CodePINK has come up with, specifically about better care for our veterans. I don't agree with their method. Organizing sit-ins outside of Walter Reed and telling Marines they're war criminals just doesn't do a lot in terms of veteran support. Instead of sitting here and being mad, I thought perhaps I could lead by example.

About two times a year I donate to some sort of Marine charity, whether it be Toys for Tots, anymarine.com, or the Semper Fi Fund. Last year I encouraged my sorority to adopt a group of Marines in Iraq, and we put together specialized care packages and sent letters and pictures and the like.

CodePINK claims they support our troops, but they don't DO anything to support our troops.

If you're on CodeGREEN, you support the troops and DO IT. This isn't about words, it's about action.

www.myspace.com/compassionincombat

This is one of several small organizations dedicated to sending care packages to Marines serving overseas.


The Injured Marine Semper Fi Fund

This is a personal favorite charity. They are dedicated to providing financial and quality of life assistance to Marines and Sailors and their families in their time of need.

Fisher House

Fisher House helps military families live near the hospital where their loved one is, suffering from illness or injury.


anymarine.com

AnyMarine is a source of addresses for Marines and Sailors serving overseas who need more mail and support from home.

All of these charities are easy. A simple monetary donation can make the difference between whether a Marine gets a phone card to call home or not. A short letter can boost a spirit after a rough day in Iraq.

These men and women deserve better than CodePINK's two-faced support. They deserve real support.

Want to improve life for our military men and women? This is where you start.

I'm a firm believer in ductus exemplo, lead by example. If you want to stand head and shoulders above CodePINK, go CodeGREEN and check out these charities. Then tell your friends and family about these charities.

It's not hard, it's not a huge commitment. It's as simple as passing the link to one of these organizations on to a friend, or penning a brief message of support, slapping a stamp on an envelope and dropping that envelope in the mail.

Be better than them.

Code Pink

Code Pink describes itself as a grassroots women's peace organization. That's all well and good, I guess. Who doesn't want peace? The main web page for Code Pink claims that they want to not pull military funding, but reallocate funds to veterans aid. Again, who doesn't want this?

It's the Bay Area Code Pink that we really need to worry about. http://www.bayareacodepink.org

They have made it their personal mission to "SHUT DOWN recruiting in our town."

"CodePINK found out last September '07 that Marine Recruiters had invaded our peace-loving, anti-war town of Berkeley and set up an officer recruiting station targeting youth from U.C. Berkeley, Berkeley City College, and other colleges in the Bay Area. We have been holding "How Berkeley Can U BE" (see the Calendar) daily and weekly events and actions in front of the M.R.S.* (Marine Recruiting Station) to halt business as usual at the station."

That is directly from their website. The wording of it tells you just how little they know about the people they are protesting. It's called a Selection Office, ladies. As is: applicants work very hard to apply for the Marine's officer programs and if they are fortunate they are selected to begin training. This is not an enlisted recruiting station, and if it was, so what? The wording throughout the site is eyebrow raising, to say the least. They act like the Corps is out snatching children off the street and giving them rifles. Not so much. On the enlisted side, a person must be 18 (the age of legal consent) or 17 with parental consent. They may be young, but they are still adults. They are old enough to vote, own a car or house, have children, get married, buy tobacco, and do just about anything short of get drunk. But they aren't old enough to decide to join the military?

That's just the enlisted side, and OSO (Officer Selection Office) is another ball game. These are older applicants (nope, not recruits!) who cannot complete the program until they have graduated college. These are college educated individuals who, according to Code Pink, are too weak minded and young to sanely decide to join the military. I personally find that insulting. I had to hunt my original OSO down, he did not find me. Candidates pursuing the officer routes are usually self-motivated individuals who have decided to pursue this life path without the influence of a "recruiter."

So Code Pink, you're missing your own point.

The main page for the organization professes many good goals, one of them is anti-discrimination. However, the Bay Area Code Pink seems to think (with the support of the majority of city council) that the military is one life choice people shouldn't be allowed to make in Berkeley. From the people who claim a desire of equality, they say military service is not a viable option for Berkeley residents and all military recruiters need to leave the city. So city residents who want to join the military either out of a sense of civic duty, family tradition, a need for college funds, economic hardship, or a need for discipline are out of luck. This is one lifestyle choice the city of Berkeley simply cannot abide. If the hypocrisy of this is still lost on you, then, well...perhaps you should join them.

Code Pink advocates civil disobedience (thank you Gandhi for teaching them big words) but makes a point of instigating arguments with candidates attempting to enter the OSO. They are disrupting local businesses and trying to prevent American citizens from exercising their right to join the military. To make matters worse, the city council is corrupt enough to back them.

This is the link for the city council, http://www.ci.berkeley.ca.us/council8/ if you would like to give them a big hello. Councilman Wozniak is one of the few who stood against the mob. Two others did as well, but their names haven't yet been released.

Contact your local Congressman and let him know of your displeasure. Code Pink isn't quite bright enough to take that step, let's show them we have above average intelligence.

Quantico

I officially began talks with the Florida OSO today, to begin the process of building a strong relationship and seriously get myself back into the program. Naturally the eager Lieutenant immediately pushed for having me sign a PLC contract next week for this coming summer.

When I returned home in defeat in June, I felt like an idiot. Really, I knew when I signed that contract that I would not be physically ready to complete OCS in time. And I know it now. Beyond the shadow of a doubt I know I could have a first class PFT by the end of this month, but that isn't the point. Having a first class PFT does not a ready candidate make. It doesn't make me better able to hump 40 pounds of gear, it doesn't make me better able to be on my feet all day every day bearing weight, and it doesn't make me better able to run at a pace faster than a 9 minute mile. It just means I can complete a first class PFT.

The Lieutenant's desperation increased when he realized that OCC slots are 20 deep in a wait list for the summer of 2009 and PLC slots haven't been opened yet. Basically, if I don't go this summer I may not end up going until 2010. Frankly, I can wait. To me, this is almost like trying to be sane about getting a tattoo. If you are really serious about the tattoo, then does it matter if you get it tomorrow or five years from now? No, because in your heart of hearts you know it's the one for you.

If I go this summer, I will see a repeat of last May. I don't know if I will recover from that kind of failure again. However, if I wait, for years if necessary, and go when I am athletic enough to compete, I won't fail again. As Tristin said, I need to do this on my terms now. I went on their terms before, and it backfired. This time I'm going to go when my body is ready to handle that kind of punishment. I can put off my degree and go next summer as a PLC candidate, or if those slots fill up too fast (no reason they should) I can simply wait. OCS isn't going anywhere. It's what I keep saying, it's the advice I keep giving. It's time I listen to my own advice.

Movie Review: I am Legend

I had the opportunity to see "I am Legend" last night, and unfortunately I was left with more questions than answers. It was definitely entertaining and at times stressful enough to have me pressed into the back of my seat, but it should have been split into two movies. A mini-series, perhaps.

Getting to see New York City as a natural wonderland is fascinating, as is watching a lone man survive in the forest that once was Manhattan. It's especially interesting to see how he has used all of the abandoned junk to live almost as he would have in a normal situation, and to wonder if I could be so clever as to make an entire townhouse run off of car batteries and pump gas straight out of the tanks. It would be unbelievably cool to steal a brand new Mustang and shoot stuff out of it with a semi-automatic rifle I snaked from the local armory.

Will Smith is great, but they should have gone deeper into just how crazy he was going. The german shepherd carried the movie, let's be honest. Who knew dogs can act? What they did show of Smith's decent into madness was gripping.

Now for the negatives. This should have been split to give the story decent play. The back story is shown through flashbacks, which is creative for an apocalyptic-zombie thriller, but it was darn confusing. How did the virus mutate? Why did it have the vampire/zombie effects on humans? How long did it take to build up? Were the darkseekers really devolving, or were they in fact evolving? And why exactly did they keep the "I am Legend" title when the entire point of that title was lost in this film?

At any rate, it was highly entertaining, if the ending was a bit of a deus ex machina.

They need to cast more German shepherds in movies.

It's Howdy Doody Time!

I guess some things will never change. C and I will never stop periodically checking up on each other, most likely to see what we periodically say about each other.

Speaking of misinterpretations, there is a difference between quitting and simply never trying. Despite more adversity than most people have ever even imagined, I am still finishing my degree. I don't view my desire to live in different places and try new things as a negative. I may have bounced around a lot, but I am still reaching my goal. I just don't see any reason to limit myself.

I knew before I even signed the paperwork that I would not finish OCS if I went last May. I knew it. I was not physically ready. It would have been easy for me to stay on light duty for the entire first 10 days I was there and be sent home right off the bat. I had the opportunity to just pack my trash and walk out within the first two days. But I stayed. I stayed until I was literally falling apart at the seams. I stood up to my recruiter when he asked me to take the less than honorable way out. And you know what I got for it? Out of some odd 50 candidates, I was the only one invited back to OCS. And I will go back. As soon as this is published, I'll be out the door for a three mile run. I am no runner. Out of all physical activity, running is the most difficult for me. But I want to be a Marine, so I force myself to do this. I am not going to take the easy way out, I don't want the easy way out. I may not have finished OCS (I was on crutches and not even able to drive a car I was so broken when I got back, by the way) but at least I had the intestinal fortitude to try. And after receiving a serious beating, I genuinely want to go back. I have been face to face with the uglier side of the Corps, and I still love it.

I am not going to simply accept what life hands me. Ever. Life is too short to waste. So no, I don't see a whole lot of reason to stay at one school just because it is the common thing to do. I have no desire to pursue grad school and that doesn't make me a failure or a quitter, it makes me someone who is ready to dive into the real world. There are too many glorious adventures to be had for me to stay on one road.

I may have failed OCS, but at least I tried. And I'm trying again. I am putting myself through school to finish my degree. Doing things the traditional way is boring and easy. I'm going to take the untraveled path.

It's not that I have the potential to be more than a cashier, it's that I am more than a cashier. I am not the person who will be bagging your groceries any time soon.

And I don't work at Marbella, thank you.

Santa is Infinitely Cooler than Jesus

Since someone decided to blame all their problems on Santa (no joke), I think the old dude deserves a break

Santa's punishments are much less severe than Jesus's. Seriously: eternal damnation or a lump of coal and the opportunity to spend a year righting the wrongs?

Santa encourages betterment and giving. There is no time of year where charities get more donations than Christmas. And that's the only time of year we see much of Santa. Coincidence? I think not.

Santa encourages personal responsibility. *You* messed up, now *you* need to fix it. *You* are responsible for the giving. If your gift sucks, it's your fault.



Santa set absolutely no regulations on what defines "naughty" and "nice". It's really up to you to decide and place judgement. Everyone decides what Jesus says is bad or good anyway, at least Santa is up front about it.

Santa gives presents to everyone, regardless of religion. Giving is universal. Hell is for the nonbelievers.