Hello you weirdos…

Yes, why start this? Hmmm, not for any reason other than I was sitting here, a tab bit bored while waiting for a delivery for my home. This is for, me. I will write random things about myself and the world around me. I don’t plan to share with friends or family. If they stumble upon this fine. If they don’t they don’t. And since I ended up starting this on September 11th, maybe I should start a little with that. But I don’t really wanna.

I don’t like remembering that time, mostly because of how selfish a person I was back then. See, I was about 19, newly in the military, away from home for really this first time, with no real responsibilities. The first time without my young son. The first time without my younger siblings and mother. It was freedom! It was the freedom of being my age, when I hadn’t been able to be so before. And so what did I do? I was a lush/drunk/whatever you want to call it. I kept a liquid diet. I dated a lot of guys. I smoked black n milds and played cards and partied. I was being someone else. Like a role. I was miserable. And, it was all about me (in my head, because we’re all so special in our heads).

It was nighttime in the country I was in when September 11th happened stateside. I was coming from a friend’s room, going back to my barracks. I passed the media room and saw a huge explosion on the TV. Everyone was gathered around watching. I was not interested. I was probably angry about something, depressed about something. Dear Lord baby Jesus I was always so morose during that time. And I just assumed it was a movie. It was until about 2 hours later maybe that my supervisor was banging on my door to let me know that we had to do a full alert, check up on everyone there and overseas. “Call home,” I was told. There had just been an attack in America. I still didn’t really understand. I was getting phone calls from home. “Are you okay?” “Uh, yeah, I’m not the one in the States right now.” Guard duty. Being pissed, being in full battle rattle checking IDs and vehicles. This tragedy was ruining my life.

Look at that last sentence. Yes, I’m sorry to say, that was how I felt about others pain at the time. I didn’t get it, I didn’t want to. I was young and dumb and free and I didn’t want to care about other people. When the true understanding of what happened hit me, maybe days afterward, I remember sitting there and hurting inside. Getting it. And ashamed of myself for just not caring at first. For treating the whole sad situation as someone else’s problem. 11 years later, a deployment or two under my belt, I can’t be selfish. I’ve seen the repercussions of that one day. Even though, what I believe to be a genetic predisposition to be a self-centered person, I’ve learned to fight to feel for others. To understand that it is NOT just about me. I never want to look back at another time and realize that I just didn’t care. Not about something of this magnitude.

Hmmm, now that I think about it though, this is still all about me. Maybe I still have something to learn here.


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