Neighbors

Don't ask, don't tell doesn't apply to my next door neighbor. Well, one of them, anyway. The other kid seems nice enough, and a little appalled at who his roommate is. I've learned that it really doesn't matter. Will the guy next to you risk everything to protect you? Then who cares who gets it up for him? I've met many a man into men who was more a man than most I've met into women.

My neighbor, however, is a woman. He's a parody, a satire. He'd be superficial if there were even a surface there. And doesn't a surface imply depth? I really don't know how that poor boy he lives with can stand it. I think he said his name was <a href="http://brentberkowski.blogspot.com/">Brent</a>. Good kid. Maybe when I feel up to it, I'll tell him a bit about what I did in Afghanistan. He seems interested, but doesn't want to intrude. A good kid. That's the kind of person I'd be willing to share with, when I'm ready to share. I could stand to let it out, too. In its own time.

What I need is a drink.

Classes Have Started

I'm glad classes have started and I can focus on that for the most part, get my mind off my memories.

I like my roommate, which is good. A good Christian boy. Which is good. There were days in Afghanistan when I was glad I had my faith to get me through. There were days when I was certain God abandoned me. There were days when I doubted He existed. In the end, though, I know my faith brought me through. It gave me strength there and afterwards, and I would not be here at school without it.

I finally finished decorating, such as it is. I like to keep it minimal. I have my textbooks, my Bible, a few works on warriors that also helped to get me through -- the Iliad, Shakespeare's Henry V, Gilgamesh. Yes, Gilgamesh, with the story of he and his friend, Enkidu -- warrior friends, who fought together (here Achilles' friendship is relevant too) -- that helped get me through, reminded me I had to keep it all together for my comrades. We, together, would make it through. And most of us did. Most, but as is inevitable (as we also see in the Iliad and the Epic of Gilgamesh), some must fall -- and those who must remain behind are left in sorrow and the need to keep their fallen comrades living in their memories. If I were a poet, I'd write songs about them. I'd write an epic of Afghanistan, to celebrate the bravery of every warrior there, fighting for the misguided goals of ignoble leaders.

College

I've seen enough of war. I've seen enough of Afghanistan. I've seen enough of dead friends and "enemies". The latter doesn't make much sense to me. Are they my enemy? Just because the government over me says they are? And who are they? And why must they die?

You can say, "but you volunteered." You can say, "you didn't have to join." And you would be right. I did join. I did volunteer. I was a patriot. I wanted to serve my county. But I was wrong. I wasn't a patriot. I am now.

In any case, here I am, going to college. Thank God. I have exchanged guns for books -- we'll see which is more powerful.