More things…

Today was a good day to get rid of things. I was able to offer someone some stuff I had for the longest time and I really had no other reason to keep the stuff other than the simple fact that I spent so much money on it. Something funny has happened as I’ve managed to being the process of getting rid of material things.

My early twenties is when my real adult life started. I had bought a house with an ex, pursued higher paying jobs and began enjoying the ‘finer’ things in life such as expensive wine and intellectual company. Once I left my ex, I had pretty much nothing. I had a few boxes of clothes, some random keepsake stuff and a mountain bike. I managed to procure a piece of shit Pontiac grand am after selling a pretty decent car to pay off a debt I owed to some family to buy the house that I no longer had attachment to. By the time I joined the military I could literally fit everything I own in the bed of my newly acquired Mazda pickup truck. No furniture, no household stuff, no junk. I gave away about three grand of tools to my friend and pretty much threw everything else away. It was a truly amazing feeling.

Throughout my handful of years in the military I began to acquire a life. I made amazing friends, had amazing experiences, and a sad byproduct of my screwed up subconscious began acquiring ‘things’ that I somehow felt would make my life better. Even to the point of getting out of the military and opening my restaurant, the urge to acquire wealth and ‘things’ became an addiction of sorts. Problem was, as if it was a drug, I could not support the lifestyle. It wasn’t me. I ended up with a fairly nice car, an expensive Harley Davidson, a sailboat, toys like crazy and an anticipation that everything I had would somehow pull me through to the next level.

As I’ve written about before, I have been hit hard by the realization that after all was said and done I have nothing to show for what I’ve done. I have stories, I have remnants of experiences, I have pride knowing that I’ve ‘been there and done that’ but no one really fucking cares. I lost myself while trying to create something that I thought others wanted. I go to bed at night with no one. Though its my fault for pushing people out of my life, I wouldn’t expect anyone to put up with me for the long haul when I live for others and not myself.

I’m purging myself of things that have done me no good. I hate to admit it but I’ve begun to re-establish levels of importance that I’ve put certain people on. Some people have been there for me and some people are simply full of shit. I was a friend of convenience for some people and I gave them more than I ever should have. Neither here nor there at this point.

The next phase of my life is about a life that I want to create for reasons within me, not to make other people happy. Or at least assume that it is what makes other people happy. Every time I’m able to get rid of stuff I feel a slight sensation of release from my past that has been dragging me down. Granted the skeletons fall out when I open the closet but there are fewer and fewer as the time goes on.

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Douche…

One of my favorite things to talk about is the epidemic of ‘douche’ that is taking over our society. It’s a judgmental thing I know, but some idiots deserve to be talked shit about. My personal markers for determining if someone is a douche is fairly specific. And yes, the female variety can be douches as well in their own respect.

Of course the white rimmed sunglasses, popped collars, tight shirts and those ridiculous designer jeans (you know, the ones with the gaudy pockets) signal that a guy is a shoe-in candidate for douche of the year. It’s a little harder to classify a woman/girl as a douche without infringing on the earned title of ‘tramp’ that so many are.

Beyond dress style, it’s the attitudes that stick out more than anything. It’s pretty much a self centered attitude that sums up everything. A douche thinks they are gods gift to whatever. They’ve seen a few too many pearls of wisdom in their life that says it doesn’t matter what others think. Well guess what, dumb-ass… It kinda does matter. You know it does. The apparent effort that a doucher goes to in order to portray themselves as impressive is proof enough that they are walking oxymorons.

I’m sure I could be qualified as a douche in someone’s eyes so I shouldn’t throw stones at a rubber wall. I’m tired tonight and feel like going to sleep now. Just you wait though, there will be plenty more douche inspired posts in the near future…

Ya know…

I sit in the same spot, every day, every night… No matter what. Becoming a creature of habit while in a school such as the one I’m in is a necessary evil. I have very definite skills and knowledge that I have to focus on until I get that coveted ‘commercial license.’ It’s something I prepared myself for but am in no way satisfied with it. Three weeks left and I can barely stand it! The self-proclaimed creativity and imagination in my writing has been waning to an un-acceptable level. It’s ok though. I’m still holding true to my daily blog goal and half over half a year left to step up my game…

The hardest thing…

I guess today is about as good of a day as any to write about something I have earned the right to speak from the heart about and not feel the need to explain my feelings to the ignorant ones.

This will be a fairly short one from me. I can’t possibly out-do those super emotional posts about fallen soldiers, widows, children etc etc. What I can say is that I feel an extraordinary debt of gratitude to those who have, are and will fight for our freedoms. Though I despise the state of affairs that our country is in right now, there are people for whatever the ultimate goal was, put their life on the line for others. Period. People may never agree with war or why we involve ourselves in such an act. Days like today, who cares why. We are to remember the fallen and the ones who have sacrificed their lives so that we can have a mere sense of security in our everyday life.

I think one of the absolute hardest things for me to handle is a military funeral or memorial. Someone gave all they had for those who are left behind. When taps plays the world stops. If you haven’t truly experienced it then you might not totally understand the effect it has. With each report of gun shot during a memorial it’s harder than I could possibly explain to maintain composure. It’s hard to see family and loved ones in such despair over their loss. Asking yourself ‘why’ just doesn’t seem good enough.

Even in death of someone outside of conflict, a military funeral has the same impact. When my grandfather died I stood alone behind everyone else. I watched as the honor guard saluted and a flag was handed to my grandmother. I stood alone with thoughts of all the things I experienced in the last several years of service. Thing is, I didn’t see things nearly as bad as some people did. It wouldn’t have mattered though. Just as my grandpa gave his life for the people of his country, everyone else that dared to put on that uniform deserves absolute respect from all of us. The fallen have done their time in hell and mankind isn’t done yet.

The first picture is from May 13, 2005. My first ‘deployed’ ceremony I attended. The second one is my last ‘deployed’ memorial for Capt Matt. This kind of picture isn’t unique. These are absolute real emotions…. I’m stopping here to avoid tainting this with opinions about those who know nothing of the sacrifices these men and women have made.

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What Dave gots…

One of the things that I’ve been thinking about to get my mind off the stress of the last few weeks of flight school is the idea of having someone new in my life. I’m in no way desperate for anything and refuse to settle for anything less than perfect but I have to think critically about why I’m in the ‘social position’ that I’m in.

I’ve been let down a lot in my life. In no way is that meant to be a depressing statement about my overall outlook on people. I guess a better way to say it is that I’ve given everything I thought I could to people and the only thing I got in return is their free time. I don’t fault them. I fault myself for this. I tend to attract to people who need what I have to offer by nature. It’s nothing fun…

In ‘guy talk’ I think of the smokin’ hot girl that a guy changes his entire demeanor for and gets to take her home… He then realizes after a period of time that she’s about as smart as a box of rocks and has more issues than Time magazine. Well, I don’t want to change who I am to try and impress someone who I think might be my soul mate… (Or even just a friend)… I’m just laid back Dave. No crazy antics, no pompous behavior… Just me in my element. I’m boring. Similar to that Marilyn Monroe quote, if someone doesn’t like me at my worst, then why the hell would I give them the best?

That’s about all I have for that. Just a random thought process as I regretfully feel like falling asleep right about now…

Shut up…

A short little rant for a blog today…

One reason I think I like the aviation community is a general understanding of the challenge-response form of communicating. Landing gear? Check. Flaps? Check… How was your weekend? Good thanks, yours?

There is an elementary skill that is used called ‘f-ing listen to me’ that a fair number of people out there don’t know how to use. It’s becoming a huge pet-peeve of mine when I start to talk or communicate something and someone butts in and throws me way more than their two cents which I didn’t want anyways. Do they not realize that as much as they don’t give consideration to what I’m trying to say, I couldn’t care less even more about whatever it is they are saying? It’s happened mostly at work but a few of the fucktards that I go to school with do it to me as well. There’s a pompous demeanor from people who ask me anything from how my day was to what kind of roofing they should use and as soon as I start to say anything, they check out and all they care about is whatever is going on in their head. Total waste of my time. My new experiment when people do this crap to me is to start saying totally random shit. Guarantee they won’t even notice… It’ll give me something a bit more fun to write about at least…

uggh… I’m done tonight…

 

Amanda…

Tonight I wanted to try something a little bit different. It’s been quite a while since I’ve written in my personal journal so I decided I would share what I wrote tonight along with a typed entry… In my own unedited handwriting. Enjoy…

When I bought my Harley it was for me and no one else. I spent one too many days deployed in a war for the most ridiculous reasons anyone could really come up with. It was a treat to myself for everything I did trying to get to the next level in my life. When I came home to open a restaurant it was my dream. My goal. Thing is, I was doing it for others. The major motivating factor in why I decided to sell my bike as well as my restaurant is that no one really cares. I mean, I got a lot of pats on the back and atta boys for doing what I did but I never once felt like what I was doing was being appreciated by anyone else except my pipe dreams of what it would have accomplished if I would have stuck with it. I would go home at night with an occasional piece of ass that was really only giving it up because of the apparent money that I was making. I didn’t really mind it much. Just as the stereotypical ‘old man’ doesn’t care if his twenty year old girlfriend is only after his money, at least he was getting something that men half his age could only dream about.

The extreme depression I was faced with while having my restaurant was nipping at my heels. I had no one to back me up and no one to wake up to saying ‘let’s do this!’ My worth to anyone else was about as good as nothing when I couldn’t give anyone what I would barely want to give myself. Holding on to the Harley was a bit of a subconscious idea that someday soon things would turn around for me. Maybe someone would come into my life and actually want to be a part of something with me and not just a cookie cutter relationship. If someone did, maybe I could consider settling down somewhere and starting a life that ‘we’ could be proud of. I’d be up for that whole compromising bit and even give up some of my freedoms for someone who wanted to prove they were not only worth it, but that actually cared about a relationship with me.

Today marked a change that I have to make for myself. Getting rid of ‘stuff’ and getting rid of the past. I’ve done it and it’s time to dance. I hate the notion of having to make the next move in my life alone but I guess it won’t be all that bad. Will it?

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Ticking…

I have four weeks (three-ish actually) to finish some pretty monumental tasks. It’s come down to this… As stressed as I am about things, I feel like I’m in the calm before the storm. I’m hoping to finalize a deal for my bike tomorrow and that will be my personal mark that things have better change in my life. I bought my Harley while I was deployed and it symbolizes something extraordinarily important to me. I decided to give my life for something bigger and better and I treated myself to something I otherwise could only have dreamt of. It’s taken me a long time to realize that it’s time to reset my priorities and I don’t have to live my life the way I have been for well… my whole life.

I told an extremely close friend of mine recently that if we don’t step up our game together, then we might as well part ways for good. As much as I’m guilty for this, I hate half-assing my way through life. Simply feeling tired at the end of the day is no acceptable way to determine the impact I’ve made with my time here on earth. Just as a materialistic item such as a motorcycle shouldn’t define my supposed accomplishments, my level of exhaustion is no excuse for not accomplishing more in my life.

To purge myself of dead weight and the past is difficult. I grew up loving ‘things’ and not life.

To the gym…

So last September I made a pretty decent life change. I decided to go to the gym, eat better, hadn’t been drinking etc etc… I went nearly every single day for about three months straight. Unlike many of the idiots that go to the gym to use the equipment as conversation pieces, I actually made good use of my time and worked my ass off. In fact, I got my bench press up over two hundred again and was able to do about thirty pull-ups between sets.

Then fatigue set in. I wasn’t getting sleep to save my life and was way more tired and irritable than I should ever have allowed myself to become. I went to play in a racquetball tournament at the gym and quickly rolled my ankle two games in. It literally sounded like I was stepping on a pile of peanut shells. Soo, I was down for the count. The very next day at work I went on a delivery (with a massively swollen foot) and sliced my knuckle wide open and had to get eight stitches. Blah blah blah… even I’m getting tired of writing this…

Anyways, I haven’t been to the gym in months and it shows… I feel like crap and stomach fat is entirely way too easy to gain and not so easy to get rid of once its there. It’s pretty much a sorry excuse that I don’t start going back to the gym now, but I can’t wait to start settling somewhere and I can have a routine that includes ‘gym-time’ and I can feel a heck of a lot better about myself.

Maybe someday soon I can find some motivation to write some more meaningful things as well… until then…