I am bearing witness to the end of an era. I have the distinct blessing, or the agonizing misfortune of having front-row seats to the death throes of a creature that has defined a generation. This creature is what my buddies and I refer to as the Global War On Terror (GWOT for short).
So here's the deal: once upon a time a rock careening through the cosmos drifted close enough to a massive, naturally occurring instance of nuclear fusion to cook up an atmosphere and spawn organic consciousness, all so we could bear witness to the magnitude of existence.
As the military downsizes and combat operations in Iraq and Afghanistan are coming to a screeching halt, veterans are going to need jobs.
I've been asked the question more times than I care to count. Friends, family, and especially girlfriends are always wondering "why do you carry that thing?"
I perpetually hear our generation talking about what they want to do in life. What will make them happy, what will give them purpose.