well we are in the fourth day of the war.
i'm getting tired of seeing protesting. i can't help but feeling that i should be there. i feel like i missed the last war, and i'm missing this one. alot of my peers are prior military, alot of them saw action in the gulf last time round. i have had several people ask me a question only to say well never mind you were there wern't you? and i have to say no. i am very proud of my military record. i am very proud of where and how i served. but i spent my entire time at home base. many of my counterparts had a involvment in operations, but i never got to go.
most genarations have a war of there time. i have had at least two. but just like the last war with Iraq i'm sitting on the sidelines.
i remember when we went to bosnia, i worked 14 hour days preparing equipment fore shipment. i didn't have to, but i wanted to. i also vollenteered to go, but i was not needed. so i got to sit on the sidelines. i got to paint alot of equipment. i got to make stencils, to mark vehicles as part of the peace force. but i wanted to go. i wanted to help. i guess i could be satisfied with the knowledge that i was needed were i was. and that i was an asset to the unit. it makes me laugh, when i was a memeber of the primary deployment team, i couldn't be deployed to the balkins because i was on the primary team and i was needed in case a real war happend. funny huh?
oh well..... i guess i 'll go back to watching bombs being dropped on bahgdad

Patrick and the Princess rode the evening train into the city. The sun was still peeking above the horizon, spewing golden streams of light thru the clouds and the city glistened from the afternoon rain. She had never been to the city before and Patrick was eager to show her the renowned City of lights. Fortunate for him the setting sun was the perfect start to the night, with its glow spread upon the worn and broken streets. Shades of gold and yellow in sharp contrast to the dark shadows that held the thoughts of the night captive in their grasp. This was the magical time of the day. Where day and night meet, shake hands, and trade our hopes for our dreams.
As they got closer to the depths of the city, He began to point out landmarks and visages of eras gone by. These things seemed of no interest to her, for she was here not to see the sights, but to find the dark underbelly of the city. She was there to find not the bright light of the city, but to find out where these lights came from. Who was the man who flipped the switch? Who was the woman behind the lights?
Arriving in the main train station they waited for the train to stop, and the doors to open. The rhythmic clack-clack of the train had dulled the senses, making her mind reel when she stepped on the platform. The sounds and smells came rushing to meet her, and almost overwhelmed her perception. This was her first time to experience this explosion of sensory overload. The smell of perfume and food mingled with diesel fumes and grease.

i remember soldiers sleeping next to me,riding on the metro.............
last night we went to paris. rode trains and i showed you the dark depths of the city. i remember dark wet streets, and soft rain. tunnenels and bridges. we were on tour, or had someplace to go. i showed you the original statue of liberty, and it was so small and negeleted.(maybe a subconscience take on liberty in europe)

drive by!!!! : *