My father has been pushing me more and more, everyday everyday, to join the marines. my dad was a marine. he was a shitty dad but a great marine. As bad a father as he was, i still look up to him. i've got no one else, he's my dad. my dad can walk on water. every little kid thinks his dad rules the world. my dad did. he was the angel gabriel. the arch angel gabriel sounded his horn and death came like a thief in the night. my dad was a scout sniper. his targets would hear the sound of his barret M107.50 caliber sniper rifle right before nothingness and chuch bells, hitting the ground like a 180 lbs. bag of wet, black platnium cow shit.
But maybe its not for me. i come from a long line of military men. Grandfathers, great grandfathers, and uncles on both sides of the family. But maybe it's not for me. I found out that if you join the marines they pay 25,000 dollars of your student loans. getting a bill for 36,000 dollars just last week made the military look a little better. but maybe its not for me. thats just what the world needs, another drunk marine, walking around your town with his chest pushed out in arrogant pride, that you all can call smitty. My dad said to me, Don't you love your country?, and i said Yes. well maybe i just like it a lot, not love it. Its like weve only been on a few dates and i don't know if i love it yet. the pressure he puts on me to join the marines feels like i am pulling this massive weight that is the marine corps emblem, globe with an anchor coming out the side and an eagle on top. land, sea, and air. first to go, last to leave type of shit. it says it all in this emblem. My father bleeds camoflage and eats full metal jacket rounds. this is how i was raised. toughen up, toughen up, don't you dare cry. all of me is not my father, but my heart, that big chest muscle that keeps me alive, does pump marine corps blood. but maybe its not for me.
Monday, April 14, 2008
Cinderella and Prince Charming untied the knot shortly after the credits rolled past. It is a wonder, I turned out the way I did. And I am speaking for a lot of young men out there. Good young men. I mean, I'm not saying I'm Jesus Christ or anything, but it's not like I'm bad. It baffles me how many people are on there third and forth marriage. It seems I am part of this whole generation of children raised by single mothers. Single for the most part. Maybe it's okay though. Maybe thats the plan. Your only dealt the cards you can handle, you know?
Growing up, I went to public school. Nine of them actually, we moved around a lot when my parents were still married. I guess I was in the 5th grade when I met Josh. He was one of those kids that was good at everything. It didn't matter what we did, from spelling tests to a game of one on one basketball, Josh always came out the winner no matter how hard you tried. Annoying really. It didn't matter though, Josh was my friend.
It wasn't easy changing schools so often. The worst part is the cafeteria. Not knowing anyone, just trying to fit in, you walk through the lunch line and pay your two dollars for a soy burger, tater tots, salad with ranch, and chocolate milk, fifty extra cents got you an ice cream sandwich, then thanx to the lady with the hair net that looks like she's been cut from mountain rock, when she takes your money. This is the most terrifying part of the school day, standing in the no man's land that is the area between the lunch line and the hundreds of round fold up tables with five or six 4th and 5th graders sitting around them. You pan around but try not to linger for fear of being spotted, you know, like a scout sniper you try to just blend in and get quickly, but not too quickly, to the back of the cafeteria where at every school there is an empty table no one sits at...except the new kid. It is every new kid's dream, that while making this trek through a field of other people you are positive don't like you, that you see a hand fly up and you lock eyes with someone that says, "hey new kid, come sit here." This dosnt happen very often, but it did for me that day. It was Josh that called me over and it was at that moment that my place in the school was set. It was me and Josh. Pals for life, and people knew that. Even when we changed schools after a few years we stayed best friends, going over to each others houses and driving each others sisters crazy.
I haven't seen Josh in awhile now. Probably two years or so. He kinda fell off the face of the world after he dropped out of High School, only coming back around when he needed a place to stay or twenty bucks (later I found out it was for cocaine). Because of my parents divorce, my mom, two sisters, and I had to move to a much smaller house in another school district. This is the event that put distance between mine and Josh's friendship. We couldn't hang out everyday anymore. Once again I was the new kid. But maybe that was the plan. Maybe if my parents stayed together and we hadn't of moved, I would still be right next to Josh, cutting out two lines of coke, one for him one for me while passing a joint to and fro and splitting a case of beer or a bottle of heaven hill whiskey.
Everything seems to happen for a reason. I guess I was meant to be something better. So believe it or not I am thankful for my parent's divorce. Not only did it get me away from what I could of been, but it forced me to become the man for my sisters and mom. Responsible, mature, and respectful. Three things Josh is not. Life after the credits are rolling isn't so bad.