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The "what if" trap

Once in a while, someone close to me says something about how things might have been. My brain loves those statements because then it jumps into figuring out an alternate timeline. The trap is the emotional response those thoughts generate. Regret, sadness, frustration, and discontent are common followers to the sense of happiness that hearing someone wishes she could have chosen me.

I have a decent amount of ex-girlfriends. I have a few ex-fiancés as well. There is plenty of room in my brain for the what if game. The difference I am learning as get older is that our brains treat fantasy and reality as the same if you keep reinforcing the fantasy by repetition. So it really is self inflicted torture on yourself and the person you are with to keep comparing what IS against what IF.

It doesn't diminish the love I feel for her or my wife. Love doesn't automatically translate into a need to act on desire. Sometimes, really loving someone is why you don't act on that desire. Their happiness is more important than any lust.

I guess that I really am an older, wiser me.

Posted via LiveJournal app for iPhone.

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My world is what it is

My world, or the world I perceive, the I world I behold is a dark world. It is punctuated by isolated flashes of brightness and small, persistent glows in the deeper grays of a mundane twilight. It is a world of magic, but that magic is inconsistent, and often falters before it reaches crescendo.

My world knows evil and Evil. It sees Good as a worthy cause, but one that will make you either live to become the villain or the martyr.

My world is senseless, chaotic, and filled with incomplete systems of being, manipulation, justification, and illusions of truth.

My world is beautiful, contemptuously familiar, and frighteningly strange.

Of course, my world isn't even mine. But the owner hasn't come to claim it yet in my lifetime.

Posted via LiveJournal app for iPhone.

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Simply curiosity

I wonder if this iPad thing is going to make it easier to start writing again. Honestly, I have no idea. The novelty is what's driving me right now. I think I just recognize how little I care for my tendency to get overly introspective when I start journaling. I guess we'll see.

Posted via LiveJournal app for iPad.

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SOMETIMES...just sometimes, you get to unplug from everything. When we choose to do it, it can feel artificial. The option is still there. The connection is silent, but persistently waiting for you to come back to it. When power is taken away, when it is not by your choice, you can't go back. You can't cheat yourself of the opportunity. Your laziness works in your favor. It would take too much effort to find a source, a connection.

That is when you get to reconnect with human stories. Your story. Our stories are not well crafted things. Neil Gaiman wrote about that. When the unusual, or peculiar, enter our lives, we don't get to know the reason, the arc to the story. It can just sit there. Out of place, it leaves us wondering, maybe frightened because we have nothing to anchor it to. It remains undeniably "Other".

We don't need the strange to make our stories. We don't need anything but ourselves and the world around us to have something to think and dream about. We make our world strange. We make our world into a place where we claim dominion through logic and willful ignorance. Yet, we have no dominion. No real logic. We barely have instinct. Most of us have a slumbering will, a latent determination of ourselves and the world beyond our skin. We let others tell us what our story is. We accept the values of systems that start off as theory or speculation, but with the weight of time and repetition behind them grow into foundations and frameworks. We get used as bricks and mortar, steel and glass, components of a shared assumption growing large in a world we see as ever shrinking.

Our stories are small but precious. Drops of water that flow into a great ocean of humanity, salty and full of life under the surface. But we don't like to really tell our own stories. We like to tell the stories others want to hear from us, that we want to give to them. We don't know how to tell our stories anymore. We don't know how to bridge the gap between ourselves and the world we are part of.

I do not know my own story. I know the story I tell myself. I know the story I tell others. The story changes. The story grows. It winds its way close and distant to the true story, but I wonder if I (like everyone else) will ever learn how to tell a real story. A real truth. All I have are fragments reflected in distorted lenses, cast in lights by others around me. Because even though I know the story I tell you, I do not know if it is the story you hear.

I wonder what you hear. I wonder what you see in my looking glass.

Not quite two years later...

The random update made for no better reason than because I can't quite get to sleep yet.

Mom died on Christmas 2008.

My marriage is in the crucible right now.

Deployed for the third time in my career, but not to the sandbox for once.

I'm putting on E6 in a month.

I'm back in college again, this time working on my Psychology degree again.

I turned 30 in a place where I had to be the one to call folks, because they couldn't call me here and I didn't have internet at the time.

My job is surreal. Really, it is. The best part, I can't talk about it... ever. At least, not with enough detail for it to ever really matter or make sense.

Who knows? I may even start updating again.

Another post out of nowhere...

then again, if you have been able to stay up to date on what's been happening, you know why I don't post very much... I guess this one is for everyone else.

Just so everyone knows, my mother is still alive, but we don't know for how long. As of a few weeks ago, the focus has shifted from treatment of the cancer to palliative care. I am now stationed at a base much closer to her, and continue to work in Mental Health.

I have been married about 6 months now, and my wife is getting used to the military way of life. Really still getting settled into the area while coping with the emotional fallout of knowing my mother won't be around in the near future.

Looking at geting back into martial arts, but the debate is do I go for Aikido and Iado, or do I go more towards the familiar with Wah Lum Kung Fu... there is something to be said for both, but it will shape me in definitive ways based on what I study so it is not a rushed decision.

Maybe I will get better at this posting thing and try to keep the rare few of you who still read this a chance to be kept in the loop.

Be safe and take care.

Because Cobaltamber made me curious

You are a

Social Liberal
(61% permissive)

and an...

Economic Moderate
(56% permissive)

You are best described as a:

Centrist




Link: The Politics Test on Ok Cupid
Also : The OkCupid Dating Persona Test
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Just wondering...

How many people out there have wondered what happened to me...

I posted from Iraq a few times. I came home. I got engaged. I'm feeling very normal (in that my life is oddly mundane now while I am actually quite happy with my fiance, its not who and where I really expected to be).

There has been so much that's happened.

My mom has cancer.

Any timelines or assumptions I had have gone out the window.

Sometimes the banality and depersonalization of it all is crushing.

But right now I have to even wonder who cares...

En Route

Alright, we're done. Well, almost done. Still actually have to make it to American soil, but we are so close to done that barring some serious cruelty of fate, I will be home before New Year's Day.

Looking forward to sleeping in my own freaking bed, not having to get dressed to go take a shower (that is 1/4 mile away), and not keeping an ear out for incoming fire. Hopefully I will get a chance to see many friends, and I am looking forward to having Megan out with me when I get back.

Everyone, stay safe and enjoy your holidays.

I'm coming home.

Recognition, humility, and isolation

So, I got an award today. The Red Tail Top 3 (it's the Senior NCO Professional Organization for Air Force personnel at Balad AB, Iraq) selected me as the "Unsung Hero" for my work in Force Protection. I just got recognized for doing my job and simply having good timing when it came to things blowing up. I put barriers around a storage site two days before it blew up. I'll admit that it saved lives and property, but that's what putting barriers around things is for. I don't feel like it was worth being singled out and recognized for. I guess that's why they pushed the whole "unsung" aspect.

I don't like being given awards for just doing my job. Somehow telling people that you don't deserve an award makes them think you are humble or something. Ask my ex-girlfriends, I'm not terribly humble. Arrogant was a word attached to me by many an Ex.

Internally, I'm trying to hold on. I start volunteering at the clinic tomorrow. Most people ask to do patient movement, but I asked to do Mental Health. I figure its the only way to do anything related to my real job while out here.

There is a growing sense that I will be redefining my self image over the next little while. I know I have drifted far from my old definitions, but that its not a bad thing. I still wish for things I can't have, but strive towards being someone worth remembering fondly.

In many ways, that makes me feel very alone in my office. Not too many introverts in the office.

I feel like I am on the edge of something...
I can almost see it in my dreams...