Walking away

Your embrace is just a memory now, like a passage read long ago, the details and context are lost to me. I go through the pattern of my day hardly even remembering that I was, not so long ago, in love.

Whether you are evil or just thoughtless is no longer important to me, so I will waste no time in trying to figure this out. I just know that I'm relieved that you are fleeing from my mind, and I gain distance from my broken heart every day.

At first I wished you well and honestly wished that we could be reconciled, but now am glad that the hole you left in my life is filling with other things. I miss you, but I'm glad you're gone.

Husker Paean or Haka

In the battles that we go through in life
We ask for a chance that's fair
A chance to earn our stripes
A chance to do and to dare

And if we should win
Let it be by the code
With our faith and our honor held high
And if we should lose
Let us stand by the road
And cheer as the winners go by

DAY BY DAY
WE GET BETTER AND BETTER
A TEAM THAT CAN'T BE BEAT
WON'T BE BEAT!

GBR 2009!!!

A word about warfare in the modern age

Warriors.

Piss on warriors.

Seriously? Honor? The only honor a Soldier requires is the victorious accomplishment of his mission. Go ahead, stand across from me on the field of battle and raise your sword in salute. While you're looking at me engaging in your bullshit gesture I'm smirking back. Because I know that my men whom I've trained and disciplined to the peak of their skill are lying, cheating, stealing and sneaking their way around to your flank. In about 30 seconds they're going to fuck you in the ass while I watch, and you'll be dead before you ever know what happened. And as we roll over you and your men I will walk past your corpse and my salute will be to roll my eyes at you as we consolidate on our position and hope you brothers back behind you try some other honorable warrior tactic to try and knock us off this hill. Why? Because fuck you, that's why.

Professionalism. Disciplined, pragmatic brutality. Take your 19th century romanticism and embrace the shit out of it for all I care. This is the 21st century and I owe my country victory and my absolute best effort. Everything else is for fairy tales.

Vote!

It's becoming so effing cliche'd anymore. Some celebrity or another standing up their on TV encouraging everyone to vote.

"Whatever your stand on the issues may be, vote!"

Ever seen any of them get up their and talk about what a citizen's responsibilities to their society and their government might be? Duty, responsibility, accountability. None of these things are sexy or entertaining. But they're vital to the health of our nation.

Pay your taxes, find a job, don't be a drag on the economy or your culture. Get an education, and go be useful with it.

Better yet, raise your right hand and put your own precious body between your home and war's desolation. Fewer and fewer people are doing it, and so the necessity becomes greater than ever.

Whatever you do, don't just vote, don't just stand there...do something!

MTFBWY

A Barbarian Looks at 40

David Byrne famously asked "Well, how did I get here?" I know exactly what he meant.

Oddly enough forty isn't as frightening as I thought it would be. I'm as healthy as I've ever been, although my fitness has declined a bit that's due to post-war laziness. Financially I'm in good shape despite a turbulent economy. I have lots of friends and they are, without exception, some of the finest people there could be.

You live your life each day, it would be nice to say that each day you'd done your best, but most days I try not to screw up, and make an honest effort not to let down the people who depend on me. Maybe I'm pacing myself? Either way, one day you look at the calendar and see that a milestone is approaching. They sneak up on a person. Milestones carry only what importance each individual chooses to attach to them. I've always believed that the way you live each day is more important than the manner in which you commemorate milestones. But, to quote Ferris Bueller "Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around, you might miss it."

So friends, family, acquaintances and admirers. Tip back a glass of your favorite whatever on the 7th. Murf is 40 and still going strong!

For those of you who haven't received an e-vite for the fiesta on the 25th drop me an e-mail and I'll make sure you get put on the list.

Oh, and whatever wealthy benefactors might like to enhance my celebration, here's my

Why are you still single?

I didn't know it, but apparently this is a commonly asked question. Especially when a guy gets to be my age. One of the first things a woman asks about him, or asks him directly, is 'Why are you still single?'

Where does this come from? Why is being married the default condition, the departure from which we must explain? WTF is wrong with you people?

Maybe I should start asking why someone is divorced or a single parent? Maybe I should inquire why someone is continuing in a loveless relationship? Oh, wait. I shouldn't. Why shouldn't I? Because it's rude as hell!

OK, thanks for that rant. Move along, nothing to see here.

This is Maryana. She's on her way from the Ukraine right now. After buying the house I had a bit of spare cash left over, so I thought..."What else do I really need? New TV? New pipes on the Ducati? New optics on my rifle? Hmmmm, why not a wife?" I called this company in New Jersey and ordered up Maryana.

Apparently we've got to get married within 30 days of her arrival or they ship her back, so we'll be heading to the courthouse probably a day or two after she arrives.

We're regsitered at Macy's, Wal-Mart, and Dollar General!

St Patty's Day in Nebraska?

Nebraska is a great place. There's a work ethic, a respect for learning, and a sense of family that when combined build a capable, resilient populace.

Southeast Nebraska, where I live, was settled primarily by Germans and Czechs. They're a hard working, hard drinking people. I'm mostly of Irish descent, with a bit of German and Dutch thrown in to make things confusing. I mostly fit in here, but I suppose I identify most with my Irish heritage. The Germans had Hitler, and the Dutch had William of Orange, while the Irish have James Joyce, Patrick O'Brien, and lots of novels by Leon Uris celebrating their heritage.

This is all preamble to describing my first St. Patrick's Day back in Nebraska after a two year hiatus. Two years ago we were in New Orleans with too much money in our pockets, and too much time in the field in our psyches. Last year we were in Iraq.

Now, I'm moving into my new house this coming weekend, so I decided not to travel anywhere and instead enjoyed a quiet St Patty's Day in Lincoln, Nebraska.

After work I boxed up a couple of book cases, and washed two loads of towels (they fold quickly), then headed up the road to my local sports bar. It's not a bad place, but outside of Nebraska football Saturdays it has nothing particular to recommend it besides Guinness on tap.

The atmosphere just wasn't that festive. A rueben (no corned beef and cabbage available), some french fries, and Guinness. Of course I'm surrounded by yuppy wannabes drinking green beer and listening to Metallica on the jukebox. No Dropkick Murphys, no drunken singing, no beads, not much fun at all.

Next year I'm traveling. Chicago, Boston, or New Orleans. Just not here. Not until Lincoln gets a real Irish pub, anyway.

Home Construction

Today was supposed to be the day I closed on my new house. No foreshadowing here, everything's fine, my loan processed painlessly with a happy-making interest rate, and the house is in good shape, just a week behind schedule.

It looks awesome, so far. My friend Scott and I went and checked it out tonight after work. It's painted, the hardwood floor and tile is in on the first floor, still no carpet on the 2nd. They finally poured the garage floor, but haven't drywalled the garage yet.

I'm taking off five days around next weekend to finish packing, close on the house, and move. With any luck in ten days I'll be sleeping happily in my brand new home! How cool is that?

More from the bowels of the 'Nice Guy'

I'm a frequent poster on a dating website/forum. One of the constantly reoccurring laments is that of the 'nice guy'. "Why don't girls like nice guys?" the shout into the wind, "The always go for the bad boys instead!"

It gets old fast. Here's my latest reply to a whiny 'nice guy'.


Another nice guy thread? Seriously?

I'm beginning to believe the true 'nice guy' is as mythical as the mothman or sasquatch.

If you are truly a 'nice guy' then you would offer a woman friendship with no expectations of anything in return, and therefor wouldn't be angry or disappointed by any lack of success in this area. If you're a 'nice guy' who's pissed that he's not getting any action then I submit that you actually are NOT a nice guy, but are instead a passive/aggressive player wannabe who doesn't have to confidence to actually play the game.

The 'bad boy' is often the true nice guy. He's out there being his own person with no expectations or demands. He enjoys the company of the woman that he's with for her own worth. He's not playing a game.

Have confidence in yourself, go out in the world and be who you are with a smile and no expectations. You might be very surprised how women respond.

Day 2? Ugh

Day 2? Ugh

Did a bit more last night, started with some light calesthenics, then 20 minutes on the eliptical machine. It hurt, way more than this kind of stuff did when I was in my 20's or even early 30's. I still refuse to admit that I'm fast approaching 40 though.

And what did I receive as a reward for my effort when I stepped on the scale this morning? 205...that's right, I gained four pounds in one day. WTF?

Working out again, Day 1

Last night I started hitting the gym again. I pretty much gave up back in September and I've been pretty static since then.

No point in bragging on my results, but just like we train in the Army...crawl, walk, run. Last night was day 1 of crawl. We'll see how tonight goes.

The scale said 201 this morning. 31 pounds to go!

Sorry so non-prolific

Almost a month since I've written anything here.

I'm ensconced in Springfield, MO taking full advantage of my father and his wife Joy's considerable hospitality. I'll never understand people who resent or don't get along with their families. Mine is wonderful, and I'm both proud and pleased to be descended from them. If that sounds a bit too Eddie Haskell, well tough shit.

I'm enjoying putting on a few (or ten) holiday pounds, but working them off after the new year is likely to be challenging to say the least. I'll be Mr. Self-Help fitness guy again at that point, and probably insufferable in my certainty that I'm always right, and I'm working harder than anyone else in here. No, I still don't intend to go to Ranger School this summer, or ever, but I might as well get back into the kind of shape where such a thing isn't just a cruel joke.

Lots of full weekends with work stuff, Army stuff, family stuff, and more Army stuff. My Guitar Hero controller sits woefully underused by my TV, and as you can see my blog suffers from lack of attention as well.

I need to sit still for a bit and think of something good, something important to write. It was a six hour drive down here (which I did in five hours fifteen minutes thank you very much) and I was full of ideas which flew right out of my head as soon as I turned off the engine and stepped out of the little green truck.

Zombies, Soldiers, interstellar princes and pirates beware. My imagination will once more flow with dangers and trials to quell the heart of any Cimmerian or Jedi.

Happy Thanksgiving too all my friends and family.

Thanks Tosca, you rule.

Stun Gunned by Shatner!

I just watched the guy who beat me out for the 7th grade school play get stun gunned by William Shatner!

Here, you can see it too:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oT1heZBxsFY

His name is Jim Hanna. It's been kinda fun seeing him here and there, in tv shows like Angel and Bones, Alias, and Malcom in the Middle.

Here's his IMDB page:

http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0360209/

So look for Jim sometime. I haven't really spoken to him in years, I doubt he'd remember much about me at all, but when I knew him he was a hilariously funny, and all around good guy.

I hope for his continued success, and maybe at our 25 year reunion I won't have to be in some far flung war torn corner of the world, and I can say hello.

The folly of believing you're a nice guy

What does it even mean? It's a rant I've run across often on single's message boards and support forums.

"Women don't like nice guys, they only want bad boys." opined a mid-twenties gentleman from the upper midwest.

Sorry there bucko, but you're incorrect.

Here's some facts about women that I don't think are far over reaching.

1. Women like men. (well, most of them do)
2. Even women who say they hate men, actually secretly still like men.
3. Women are not as confusing or as hard to understand as most men, or women, think.

Confidence fellas. That's the bottom line.

Women don't like bad boys because they're bad. They like them because they believe in themselves, and are willing to stand apart from the crowd and be their own person. They demonstrate what women perceive (often correctly, but not always) as strength of character.

Often nice guys talk about how they'll do anything for a woman they love, only to be relegated to the purgatory of the friend zone.

Think about this. A woman doesn't respect a man who will wait on her hand and foot for no other purpose than to be in her presence. How could a man even respect himself in that situation?

As a man, who do you respect most? What qualities about a person would cause you to admire someone's character and their ability? Women admire strength, achievement, prowess, and intelligence just like men do. The only difference is that confidence and accomplishment is to a woman what cleavage is to a man.

So think on it fellas. Next time you're indulging in the 'nice guy' rant. Besides your ability to be a footstool or lackey for the woman you're attracted to, what do you bring to a relationship?

Go out and accomplish something. And then believe in your own excellence based on that/those accomplishments. You don't have to be the alpha male, necessarily, but you DO have to believe in and like who you are.

Shifting Gears

I've been home from Iraq for four months now. My feet are pretty firmly replanted on the ground, my career is re-established, and I feel pretty good. While this is definitely something to be happy about, there's also the side effect of an absolute lack of drama or anything interesting to write about.

Therefor I'm going to attempt to write an advice column full of my bullshit philosophical meanderings on the subjects of dating, and establishing the social duties of manhood in the 21st century.


Enjoy!

Opening Day

Very fun times in Lincoln, NE! My best friend from like 7th grade onward found a job here, and finally moved back from Chicago. So, yay! Best friend back, and that rules.

As a bonus he has Husker season tickets, and I get to go to games with him occasionally. Like yesterday, opening day. Huge crowds of people wearing red. I'm a pretty rabid Husker fan, not nearly as bad as some, but I do love my football.

It was also neat seeing two of my fellow Soldiers from my unit in Iraq on hand to open the doors when the team ran onto the field. I was sorely tempted to ring one's cell phone while he was standing there on the big screen, but I thought that might be a little cruel.

Great game, though. The team had some kinks to work out in the first quarter, but they were executing with precision by the end of the half. The second half was just an absolute domination. I'm hoping this will be a big year for the guys, they really deserve it.

So after the game I got home, put some lotion on the sunburn (why do I never remember sunscreen?) and relaxed for awhile. Eventually I noticed that I was hungry so I headed for my favorite neighborhood sports bar, Heidelberg's. Normally when I go out alone for dinner I just sit at the bar and watch whatever games are on, but the bar was full and the only table where I could see the TVs (they have like 30 of them) was a pretty large one down front.

Well, it was late I'm on my own so I just grabbed a seat at the far end of the table. I'd made my order (guinness and barbecued ribs) when a young man dressed like an abercrombie and fitch model paused at my table, "Hey, we're having a wedding party and I wonder if you'd mind moving to another table since this is the only one we'll all fit into."

I'm happy to oblige, and pretty easy going. No worries. I moved to the next table over sharing it with a bunch of other fans doing the same thing I am (drinking, eating, and regretting their lack of sunscreen foresight). I watched the 'wedding party' come in. It was obvious he wasn't making things up. It was an evenly gender balanced group, and the young woman I'm guessing was the bride had some flowers woven into her hair. All very nice, but I couldn't help notice that the rest of them were dressed like characters from a hollister, GAP, or A&F commercial.

I'm a pretty informal guy, no doubt. But even I don't think I'd go so far as to have my wedding reception at the sports bar. But at least they got to watch Kansas State lose, and a rookie pitcher for the Red Sox throw a no-hitter in his second major league start.

All in all I'd call the evening a success.

Now its on to housework!

MTFBWY (and me too)

Happenings and Goings On

Currently I'm watching the Cubs attempt to lose a game to the Brewers. It's 1-1 for the series, and my Cubbies really need to win this one. So...everyone get your rootin' hats on.

So things with the therapist didn't really go that well. I don't honestly know what I expected to hear, but hearing that there's essentially nothing wrong with me that time and a bit of determination won't cure wasn't it. Strangely enough my displeasure over this encounter has re-animated me.

In my kitchen I've always had a dry erase board that I mostly use for keeping notes, to-do lists, phone numbers and the like. The day after my therapy session I wiped it clean and got restarted.

The list of things to do is broken down one by one. The house is being thorougly cleaned one room at a time. Kitchen, living room, guest bathroom, office/guest bedroom, my bathroom, my bedroom. So far I've made it to guest bathroom, but my apartment is already looking alot more liveable. As long as whoever stays out of the 'unclean' areas then I think I'm OK.

I made another list. The therapist said I needed to reconnect with life, and to do so I'd have to establish some things I feel passionate about, and set some goals.

I've always been a fan of the action hero movie genre so I asked myself this question: "Conan, what is best in life?"

I came up with the following answers:

To feel your heart beat strong in a body fit enough to achieve greatness.

To imagine wondrous things, and communicate these imaginings to others.

To be at peace in one's castle. The responsibilities of life mastered, relaxation your only aim.

I also wrote the following in black marker at the very top:

Get up, you are a man. Not an oxygen/glucose conversion factory.

So far so good. I'm not wasting every day, and I try each day to do SOMETHING productive, no matter how small.

I did however lose my prized and pricey Oakley sunglasses somewhere. If anyone's seen them, drop me a note.

MTFBWY

WTF is the matter with me?

Sunday a buddy and I went for a long ride. As many twisties as we could find in SE Nebraska (not many) some speed, some sun, some cheeseburgers. It was a good time.

After about five hours of hard pushing and pulling on the Ducati I was very happy to park it. I pulled into my garage, hit the kill switch and parked it for the day.

Monday morning I had a dentist appointment. Moving around a little slowly. Sore and resigned to another week back at civilian work, I grabbed my helmet and headed back out to my garage. Key in, bike in neutral, mash the starter button and nothing. WTH? Shift down to first, and back into neutral and mash again. Nothing. Pull in clutch. Nada. What the hell?

Well, Ducatis have this strange key setting. If you turn the key all the way past steering lock you can turn on the tail light for some reason known only to Italians. I didn't think I'd done this, but I've already turned the key so that must be what happened. I drive my truck to the dentist.

Monday night I run by Menards and grab a trickle charger ($70). I get home and suffer my usual emotional zero once stepping in the door. Once the work shoes are off and I find myself on the couch I can hardly get up the energy to move. So, the bike sits wanting for attention.

Tuesday, work again, but some friends of mine have been on my case about my lethargy/slothfullness and tell me to take this online test about depression. I do. I win.

Oddly enough knowing that I'm not just some loser but might actually just be having some adjustment issues perks me up a bit. I write a blog entry. It gets a lot of positive comments from friends and family. I feel better about myself. Then I get home and *kabang* into the dumpster again. WTF is wrong with me? Why do I suck so much? I'm just a terrible miserable person who's taking up space and oxygen that most other people could probably use alot more effectively.

Wednesday, up and off to work. Caffeinated. Busy busy day at the office. Everything's crashing, everything's going wrong. I love it! I'm doing stuff, I'm fixing things, I'm having an impact and my work and intellect are making things better. Yay, I'm a winner.

I leave work kind of manic and decide tonight the bike gets fixed dammit. Out I go and disconnect the battery. Easy peasy. Hook the battery to the charger (after having to go buy tools, no metric sockets $150). Wow, it only took about thirty minutes to reach full charge. That's one hell of a charger!

I take the now charged battery back out to the bike and hook up. This requires a little more 'tongue out the side of the mouth' dexterity and some swear words but eventually the battery is mounted and I'm feeling good.

The key is in, lights look good. I mash the starter button. The EXACT same thing! WTF? I know I need to head in for the 750 mile break-in service, but they wouldn't cause the bike to fail to start due to late maintenance. I'm sitting there staring at the handlebars when I notice the kill switch on the right handlebar. Oh. The setting it's on has a little ghostbuster's line through it.

I mash the kill switch the other way and va-ROOM. One sweet sounding V-Twin waking up the neighbors (OK, it's like 7:30pm the neighbors are likely fine). So, now I feel idiotic again. $70 worth of battery charger, $150 in a socket set (well, if you're gonna get a socket, might as well buy a whole good quality set, right?) all because I forgot I'd shut the bike down with the kill switch instead of the key Sunday afternoon. And...I feel worthless again.

That therapist had better have something pretty damn good to say to me next week, 'cuz I do NOT like myself much right now.

Breaking the cycle

Everyone always asks me, either question one or shortly thereafter; "So, how are you adjusting." Generally I give the same reply. "Eh, it's some changes, but I'm doing OK."

And honestly I am. Mostly.

But there are things that are giving me problems. Once I get home from work I'm lazy as hell. Typically I'll settle onto the couch, turn on the TV, fire up my laptop and watch televsion and surf the internet until I'm too hungry to avoid dinner any longer. So I'll cook something. Usually something pretty easy. Pasta and ragu sauce, burgers on the Foreman, microwave a couple hot dogs. Whatever. Eventually it's after 10pm and I'm starting to get tired for some inexplicable reason. So it's off to bed I go. I'll read for an hour or so, watch more TV, then eventually turn off the lights and try to sleep until my alarm goes off. The next morning starts this cycle all over again.

My house is a mess full of dirty clothes, I manage to dishes often enough to keep the place from smelling but there's usually a day or twos worth in the sink all the time. My motorcycle battery is dead, I really enjoyed going out and buying a new battery charger that now sits on the floor in my entry way, decidedly NOT charging my battery.

So I'm being not just lazy, but really monumentally lazy. A mountain of chores and tasks sit awaiting my attention. And I avoid them, procrastinate, and sink into self-loathing.

I don't usually post like this, I don't like admitting that I need help with anything. I guess I probably just need a kick in the ass, but I seem incapable of giving it to myself. I'm a couch potato with a dirty house, a dirty truck, and a motorcycle that won't start. So how do I break out of this? Where do I get my kick in the ass?