A window into the warrior subculture, via a bit of formal philosophy
Well, it’s a new year. Welcome to 2015. This is the year we were supposed to have flying cars and hover boards. Color me disappointed.
It’s taken me 31 years to figure out that there are two types of people in your life: balloons and anchors.
People just don’t get it. I’m not just talking about the straights. Vets don’t get it a lot of the time, either. PTSD isn’t a paycheck. PTSD isn’t some ailment to mention to your friends so you can come off as some kind of mysterious, battle-hardened, warrior. PTSD isn’t what you blame your temper tantrums on, or your shitty outlook, or your just plain, bad attitude.
“Will you still hold me, when you see what I have done? Will you still kiss me the same when you taste my victim’s blood?”
I woke up this morning and as custom, scrolled through my newsfeed. As I shuffled through old pictures of people in their uniforms, I came across a post by a well-known veteran’s page and read his update concerning Veteran’s Day.
“We are the rose, that grew from the crack in the concrete.”
-Memphis May Fire
Lately there’s been a myriad of internet patriots screaming for our return to Iraq. The case is for the United states to send troops and equipment back into the same country we quietly left years ago. The purpose of this proposal is to destroy ISIS, ISIL, IS…whatever you want to call them. I’ve seen so many moto pics of guys in their living rooms, dressed in full battle-rattle, talking hard about signing up to go “back over.”
The running joke in the SOF communities is the last hard BRC/BUD’s/ITC/Q-Course was the one you graduated from. It seems the older generation in communities always like to point down at the younger generation at how much easier they have it.