War

We in a need of a second look of the law books
and the whole race dichotomy
Too many rappers, athletes, and actors
But not enough ni##as in NASA
Who give you the latest dances, trends, and fashions
But when it comes to residuals, they look past us' -Nas

War movies are so beautiful and sad, I roll through one after another like it's no deal.

Half way into today's particular movie, I stopped and looked up the listing of fatalities in Iraq and Afghanistan. On the left are how many soldiers had died and what number they were; on the right of the name is the age. 19, 24, 22, 20, 40, 27, 21. I would say around half are around my age 18-24, a point where life is about to begin, the cool jobs, serious relationships, drinking, college, own apartment kind of phase. A phase where these kids with 20 and 21 next to their names will never see.

And me, my psychotic self, would for the first time stroll down that list not looking at the names, but only at the ages.

Because someone said something to an 18-year-old 3 years ago about NC's Fort Bragg or somewhere in Virginia. Maybe. And someone said something about Afghanistan. Maybe. Everytime I saw a 23, my heart stopped a bit and I checked the name. Then onto page 5 and 6, before August of last year I would check for a 22 and breathe a sigh of relief when a certain name wasn't there.

They are truly psychotic moments when one weighs out all the options. Rare, but then again, when one loves watching war movies by herself, almost inevitable.

Looking for a needle in a hay stack- how dumb.

I googled myself for the second time today and I realized how easy it was to find me. Everything about me from this Web site, to my Facebook, to my articles in the Colby Echo, to the numerous articles in the SunJournal, to reunion.com. My address is right there. My age, my viewpoint; every little detail is on the first two pages of the search.

I'm not a secret agent; it doesn't take strenous work to find me. About as much work as it takes to say, "I'm hurt", "I'm going to war", "I'm crazy", "I'm psychotic", "I'm leaving", "I see things people shouldn't see", "I hear things people shouldn't hear".

If there was some news, or something I couldn't bear to hear, either from the streets or from the desert, it would take split seconds to find me, mere minutes to reach me. I know it's the right thing, and he did it for me. And consistently knowing when one is trying to move on is just stupidly hanging onto a string that holds one back.

I'm flirtateous, extremely, I'm having loads of fun, sometimes dating, sometimes not, sometimes playing hard to get, sometimes being an all out blunt bitch, sometimes pretending like I'm dating to make the one I'm falling for jealous. Silly young girl things because I love men. But I live with the fact that I cut the strings; and what happens if he's hurt?

http://www.sunjournal.com/node/27843/