About Change.

I'm going on R&R soon, and I can't help but have this feeling in my tummy that change is coming. It is both exciting and terrifying at the same time, but this change is good. There are times when change is bad, say when you find out that there is a baby coming that you hadn't planned for. That can be very life altering change in certain circumstances. Should that ever happen to me, I would react stereotypically as many men would: a look of sheer terror coupled with quick financial accountings about whether the arrival of something completely dependent on you ensures a life of utter and complete poverty.

Most of the potency of this feeling can be attributed to a completely predictable schedule and series of events for the last eight months. Wake up, exercise, breakfast, work, lunch, work, dinner, homework, sleep. Repeat process. If anything is positive about Iraq, it's that you are always entitled to adhere to a strict system of routine. Acclimate to this reality or get kicked out of the military and find yourself jobless and financially destitute.

The concept of a personal life is literally AWOL in the deployed lifecycle. You wear a military uniform 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, for just short of 365 days, if not longer. The sheer prospect of having to decide what combinations of clothing you're going to wear for 14 days while your on leave can be daunting to say the least. And this is just clothing we're talking about. Wherin lies the prospects of making any rational determination about anything more complicated than that? It's like you're 18, evicted from your home abruptly, forced to accomodate to the big-bad-scary-world, in all of its glory.

Arizona, here I come.

Crazy Product Reviews (Part III)

Again, my Amazon.com profile is right here.

Cast Aside Your Burdens and Taste a Piece of Heaven!, May 16, 2009
By J. Wactor (Tucson, AZ) - See all my reviews


It was the winter of 2008 and I was stationed in Camp Taji, Iraq. While I slept comfortably in my tent, a nameless entity infiltrated the battalion tactical operations center (TOC) and discarded a vital piece of my drip coffee maker away, thus rendering it less than useless. It was a cunning and ruthless tactic meant to demoralize the Coalition Forces and send us back to the states dejected and caffeine deprived, and could have worked, had it not been for the reinforcements of the Bodum Chambord Coffee Press.

Whereas I'd originally believed French Press aficionados to be prissy and stuck-up with too much free time on their hands, I've come to understand that perhaps I merely have been too addicted to coffee to logically consider that 8 oz. of coffee may be all I need for one day, and such small quantities can be crafted carefully instead of brewed in bulk. You are talking to the person who until recently drank around 40oz. of coffee daily; I had no time or patience to skillfully brew small quantities of French-Press coffee. It was an absurd thought, one that I never thought I'd entertain, but this little French-Press coffeemaker has transformed an addiction of coffee into a genuine admiration and enjoyment for the art of coffee making.

Combined with an exquisite choice of beans this coffee maker will simply revolutionize a coffee drinker's taste buds. Each cup of coffee will ease the burdens of your proletariat lifestyle; no longer will you be forced to drink Victory Coffee all the days of your life. With this little baby you will drink from the fountains of the bourgeoisie and know emphatically that life really can be THAT GOOD.

But seriously, buy this French-Press maker. I will never drink another cup of drip coffee again, and neither will most of the coworkers I've shared my brews with. It's heavenly.

About Contentment.

"You might think your life matters but the truth is this: nobody fucking cares" - Donald Stolley, 11 May 2009 0930

I was engaged in a conversation with a friend of mine this morning who made this statement as a precursor to his overall outlook on reality, and I have to say that I thoroughly agree with him. Reality is a collection of meaningless, trite events that make less of an impact than most of us realize. You need more convincing? Read on:

Stolley: “You have this huge pimple on your head, and for you it’s a big fucking deal. You are so intensely self-aware of your complexion and physical appearance, you fail to realize that for other people, it’s just a pimple. Sure you might get a statement or two like, “Damn are you growing another eyeball?” But at the end of the day, no one is going home to their spouse to talk about the size of your pimple. I know this is a sophomoric example of what I’m trying to get at, but you get the picture.”

Wactor: “It’s true. For the most part, no one’s going to pat you on the back when you accomplish something, no one but yourself. Sure, your parents want you to succeed on a general level. But the truth of the matter is that if you have good parents, as long as you’re content with your position in society, that's all that matters. What I mean is: if you’re content being a carpenter, your good at it, it contributes to society, and you make enough to pay the bills, your parents aren't going to admonish you for it. Not truly.”

Stolley: “Right, and the thing is, if you’re having a bad fucking day at work, and you call up your parents to talk about it, your parents will care, maybe even show some empathy, but they’re certainly not going to lose any sleep over it.”

Wactor: “The only person that’s affected by your actions is you. For example, my NCO this morning lauded and praised my coworkers for their dedication to run sixteen miles in preparation for the marathon next week; have I ever gained any praise for working on my Master’s degree while I’m deployed? No. And I don’t need it, because in the end the only one that stands to gain from my accomplishments is me. I have to become fulfilled from my own success if I ever hope to make it anywhere.”

This, unfortunately, is why I will not quit smoking anytime soon; the social interaction you derive from smoking cannot be easily replicated. If you find something, let me know. My lungs would thank you.

About Calls/Puts.

Buying stocks is called investing.
Buying stocks in calls/puts is called insanity.

Calls/puts is a method of gambling; esentially you are telling the market that by date X my stock will reach Y price or better. If it doesn't you lose it all; if it does, you stand to gain a lot from it. The risk is substancial as you can see, and after nearly seven months of investing I decided to try it out with what I considered to be a 'sure thing'.

I have found myself thorughly discontented with the process. The losses are piling; the overall success of my portfolio are diminishing. It's been a learning experience, one that says 'Never, never do this again'. I might as well start lighting cigars with $100 bills; at least my money would provide some comfort in that aspect.

I'm doing well in the stock market overall, but every once in awhile inexperience takes hold and shakes the profits from me like a bully during recess.

Lemuel's Life (Part II)

"Sophomore year, join a fraternity! Pi Kappa introduces you to mild hazing and boring meetings. You eventually lose interest and are known only for running naked in front of lost pledges shouting, "Follow the moon! The moon will lead you home!"

(I think this picture is funny yet visually appropriate. I am a black kid with curly hair; Pi Kappa was a bunch of white kids shaking my hand and putting their arms around me)

Freshman year, I never saw myself pledging a fraterity. The idea of going through so much trouble to join an elite grouping of male bonding seemed to me to be an insincere approach towards making friends...and gay. Who pays out of their pocket to acquire comraderie!?

Much like most things I initially abhor, I ended up trying it out sophomore year anyways. Pi Kappa was a fraternity that didn't care where you came from, who you hung out with, how you dressed, or how you sang (singing ability is a huge influencial factor amongst Abilene Christian University fraternities. Go figure)

Which was good because I didn't care for most people, dressed in black with a white-out contact and skateboard, and was never destined to be the next American Idol.

Pi Kappa made me carry bricks to my classes, hazed us wearing 'Scream masks', and generally made us attempt impossible tasks. I was rewarded with vague, blasé recolections of my entire sophomore year, either attending Pi Kappa functions or ditching work to go to my dorm room to play Warcraft III. Not exactly grabbing life by the balls, but I had not found my niche in ACU; most activities I engaged in that year were merely to pass the time.

In subsequent years I would periodically attend functions to haze that year's pledges with nakedness and other shenanigans. My visits were itermittent at best, much like most things I do.

A trip with Dustin Simms re-introduces you to the wildly addictive world of comic book collecting! Eventually you'll be spending $25/week on comics! Lose $3000 over the next three years.

This was one of my bigger mistakes. Collecting comic books is an expensive hobby for a college student earning negative money. Hell, it's too expensive a hobby for me to do it NOW, earning as much as I do. I blame Dustin for this mistake and hold him personally responsible for all the dough I sank into comic books in the three years following the reintroduction. They are heavy, space consuming, and have been sitting in my grandparent's attic for the last two and a half years. I have nowhere else to put them, no way to transport them, and no desire to remove them from storage anytime soon.

Someday they're going to get thrown out like my grandmother did to my dad when he never picked up his comic collection. Then I'll have a son who will hear about the fate of my comic collection and look at me like I tossed a treasure chest full of gold dabloons over the deck to sink to the bottom of the ocean, exactly how I looked at my father.

My Love For T.V Shows

I would have been traumatized if Friday Night Lights didn't get picked up for another season. Luckily, the gods have shined upon me because not only am I getting the promise of another season, I'M GETTING TWO!!! God does exist.

This day cannot go wrong.

Someone get ahold of Dustin and tell him I'm super pumped; I'm too lazy to get on MySpace.

In other significant television news:
Grey's Anatomy and The Office got picked up. As if they wouldn't...
Greek is renewed (only reliable ABC Family show)
Gossip Girl will continue to be my guilty pleasure for another season. Dirty Sexy Money will not.
Prison Break got its final season (Peaked after Season One)

No news on How I Met Your Mother yet; I might be paranoid but I consider that bad news. Right next to The Office and Friday Night Lights it is my third favorite show...tied with Grey's Anatomy.

About Quality Customer Service.

This Norwegian Warner Brothers executive actually called a Norwegian kid complaining on Twitter about how he can't download the new Dave Matthews CD off of iTunes (through no fault of his own) a "shit youth" because he rebuffed the ongoing arguement that pirating thrives due to corporations' copyright protections preventing legitimate buyers from successfully purchasing their products. Well, he didn't put it exactly in those words but teenage kids are rarely affluent enough to legitimately lodging their complaints in an intellectual manner. Especially on Twitter.

People get so upset on either side of the 'pirating' issue. I will admit to 'pirating' albums when I'm home, but I wouldn't even call it pirating. What I do is sift through the inane and trite musical albums in the endless quest for quality artists worthy of my monetary commitments. Downloading it on Bittorrent is by far the most convenient way of listening to dozens of albums per week. I add the most interesting/unique onto my Amazon.com Wish List, delete what I illegally downloaded, and purchase it at a later date. If entertainment venues want me to stop they need to get innovative; I can't listen to 30-second samples to determine the quality of an album. I need access to the full album for the course of about a week to weigh its aesthetic values. Those are my needs, cater to them.

It is the job of record industries to be innovate and evolve with the times/trends. Instead of being obstinate and battling every user in court you should sit on your thinking stool and come up with ways to market music/movie enthusiasts back into your soft, warm embrace. Meanwhile your profits will continue to spiral down into an endless void, only to be sucked up by competitors who exercise the due diligence to meet the consumer's latest needs. (SIDENOTE TO RECORD LABEL COMPANIES STUMBLING ONTO THIS ARTICLE: I own 450+ original CDs and I never burn copies. I am a legitimate and devout consumer to the record label industry and not some 'shit youth'. Please keep that in consideration)

P.S Why do they even call it 'pirating'? By definition a pirate is 'a person who robs or commits illegal violence at sea or on the shores of the sea'. Is it the digital seas they sail? If so what pitfalls can an online pirate expect to further contextualize these similarities? Let's see what I can come up with off the cuff:

- Pirates have scurvy; online pirates have trojan horses/viruses
- Pirates have parrots; online pirates have Twitter
- Pirates steal booty; online pirates download booty
- Pirates fight with swords; online pirates fight with minced words and vicious screenames

That's all I got really. I'm still working on the next installment of Lemuel's Life; class and work have been overwhelming me. I just finished my final paper last night for my latest Master's course and I start my next course 'Public Policy' next week. In the meantime I have a larger allotment of freetime to catch up on my latest rants.

Lemuel's Life (Part I)

I was talking to Jade the other day about using Quicken software to compete financially, pretending our finances were a game in which there could be a winner and a loser. I mean, technically it can...and is...but I'd like to think scales can be measured by more than just finances.

I might just be saying that because she'd totally stomp me. She has two incomes (hers and her husband's) AND she doesn't have student loans. Both facets place me as a serious underdog. In fact you could say I'm completely outclassed. I pointed out to her that after they buy their first house and have kids I'll have the opportunity to pull ahead for the big WIN. But then I realized...that's not really winning. In fact that's kind of losing.

What if life were just a game, with measurements, scores, tiles and tallies?

Oh right, there is such a game. It's called 'The Game of Life'. Duh.

Then I had my first stroke of artistic brilliancy since the chilren's story I wrote on my MySpace blog in 2006 (I'll link it later).

I present to you dear readers, 'The Game of Lemuel's Life'. Fully illustrated and customized. Journey with a plastic, stick-figured version of Lemuel. as he competes against his toughest competitor: himself. Travel with him over a series of the next dozen blogs as he reconstructs life after high school within a series of tiles, using a standard of crudely drawn yellow sticky notes and a ridiculous camera that refuses to focus when it's too close to the board.

(Words in color represent actual captioning and/or details as would be described by a Life game designer)

CONGRATULATIONS! You graduated from high school! What's more, you graduated early! You're 17 and on your way to Abilene Christian University for the next four years. But oh, you don't have a car, you're gonna have to walk buddy!

You've been driving your mom's suburban all through high school and you catch rides with your church buddies. Plus you've got your skateboard to travel to nearby hotel lobbies to watch Gilmore Girls! Collect $15,000 in car payments/insurance savings over the next four years!*

*It sucked to be without a car all throughout college. Fortunately, I ALWAYS had roommates that not only owned cars, but were gracious enough to let me borrow them. Shane and his Camaro especially. God that thing was fast, slick, and awesome. I also frequently used Jon Strong's Monte Carlo, Billy Smith's old pick-up truck, Josh Quigley's new pick-up truck, and my sister's Suzuki Swift. I bummed just about everyone's vehicles, but I don't think too many people minded terribly because I always put more gas into it than I used. Still, sometimes all I had was a skateboard. I remember walking all the way to the county fair freshman year. It was like four miles away, just far enough to be a slightly ridiculous walk. Luckily someone gave me a ride back.

Strep throat right before Freshman finals week, OH NO! You bomb most of your finals and lose your academic scholarship! Lose $4500 over the next four years.**

**Against my defense, I was only put on academic probation. Should I have aced some of my classes that next semester I could've won my scholorship back. But I wasn't interested in putting in that extra work. It sucked though. What I'd initially thought was just a sore throat kept getting worse and worse until I finally saw the doctor and he told me I had Strep Throat. By then it was too late and it had already practically disabled me. All I could manage to do was sleep 18 hours/day, drink fruit smoothies, and crawl into class to take my finals. There was absolutely no way to study while you have a bad case of strep. What's more, my parents had traveled to pick me up right after finals so it wasn't like I could talk to my professors about letting me take it the week after. I was doomed, and it played a small factor in me graduating from ACU with a 2.42 GPA. (The other factor being that I just didn't care about GPAs) I know, horrible right? It's why I have to maintain this 4.0 GPA at AMU, couple that with an amazing LSAT score and I might just stand a chance of getting into a good law school. Talk about shooting yourself in the foot...

Like I said, brilliant right? I have my moments; it's why you love me. Stay tuned.

I Enjoi Posting Crazy Product Reviews A Little Too Much

No one's ever going to read them, minus the people that read my blog, because most of them refer to outdated games, movies, and books that've already been thoroughly reviewed by other people. However, because I want to ensure I've said my piece to Amazon.com about almost any materialistic possession I own (and because I'm a shareholder of said company) I feel compelled to write them nonetheless.

My Amazon.com profile is right here. I give it to you not only so you can see reviews, but if you want to see my 'Wish Lists' of what I plan to buy someday, or even what I've bought recently (you little snoop you) it's always tracking my latest interests, fads, and recent reviews. BTW, I write reviews generally as I finish consuming it, so it's a genuine tracker of what I've been reading/watching/listening to lately. Pretty cool huh!?

At least until you're all disgusted by my 'Girls Gone Wild Wishlist'. But cut me some slack; I just can't ever seem to keep up with because they put out so many releases per month. In Blu Ray nonetheless.

I'm j/k by the way. Don't judge me ;-)

A Review of Final Fantasy Tactics A2: Grimoire of the Rift
What's A Grimoire, And Did I Fix The Rift?, April 2, 2009
By J. Wactor (Tucson, AZ) -

I spent over 100 hours playing this game and all of its various side quests, and I only managed to complete a little more than half of the total missions. This game also has a Hard setting so if you're into this game, you can easily get your money's worth by purchasing it and letting it siphon months of your free time.

However, I wouldn't recommend it; after completing the first hundred or so missions you begin to wonder to yourself just how many times you have to clean an airship, deliver correspondence, help with the spring festivals, and other menial tasks. Don't get me wrong, it was awesome to be able to level-up by accomplishing such tasks. It's also a nice break from always battling foes, but is it really worth the trouble? Is it really worth trying to visit four different areas in six days, visiting different baby mamas while posing as your client? Is it moral?

Most of the time it isn't; the dialogue is incredibly drab and after the tenth hour I always skimmed the words. This is an unprecedented move for me, as I generally love the dialogue/storyline of Final Fantasy games. It unnerved me that I just couldn't get into this game.

However bad the storyline may be the battle system more than makes up for it. The classes, weapons, attacks, terrain, enemies, and laws are all incredible. I played this game mainly for the battle system, not understanding most of the reasoning behind why I was killing this bunny, aiding this witch, picking up this flower, or intimidating this blob monster. It had to be for the good of mankind right? I believe I was fighting the forces of evil, but I don't really know. People were paying me to do it, and as a mercenary you don't ask questions.

It's probably a good thing there was no morality gauge in this game. Before I knew it the credits were rolling and I didn't have to contemplate as to my noble/horrendous deeds I committed or my impact on this world. I knew that in the final stage someone was trying to kill me, so I killed them. And that's all that matters in the end, when you're offered a little supplementary income by a shady bartender who has a friend who has a friend who wants you to fight someone to the death.

Old School Games And The Reviews I Post

This Amazon.com review turned out to become more than slightly amusing and definitely worth noting in my blog. It's not often I'm inspired to write something comical and more than slightly amusing:

A Review of The Legend of Zelda: A Link to the Past (Includes Four Swords)

16 Years Later...I FINALLY BEAT YOU!, March 30, 2009
By J. Wactor (Tucson, AZ) -

That's right 'A Link To The Past', I bought you when you first came out on Super Nintendo. You were one of my first games and I loved you dearly. I must have invested hundreds of hours playing you, searching for all the fractions of hearts, digging with the shovel in places I shouldn't have been digging. I would hop between worlds like it was a revolving door and try to murder the invincible chickens. I'd play your mini-games until I was a grand master at shooting those squids in the shop 5 out of 5 times!

But you know what I never did? I never kicked the crap out of Ganon and beat the game!!! It was either because it was too hard, I was too distracted, or I was too confused as to where that last key was in the Ice Palace (YouTube'd that nonsense) but I never conquered you.

Fast forward to November 2008: I'm in Iraq with a pink Nintendo DS my wife gave me and a lot of free time on my hands. So I order you, and oh the nostalgia! I still remembered nearly every little trick 17 years later, and this time Ganon, instead of meeting an idle 8-year old with a low attention span you find yourself squaring up with a battle-hardened 24-year old weapon of the U.S. Army...with a slightly higher attention span. But you find yourself suddenly lacking, and you stink of fear. My silver arrows cut your fleshy pig skin to shreds, and for the first time ever Zelda is overwhelmed by my machismo. The TriForce is in the hands of a benevolent ruler once more and we celebrate until dawn; I make bacon for breakfast with the flesh of my enemy.

This game is the pinnacle of video game greatness. I didn't play `Four Swords' so I have nothing to say about that portion, but it doesn't get better than `A Link To The Past'.

My Anthem.

We were driving down the road towards town. I can't remember if we were heading there to shop or my mom was taking me to school. I was looking out the window when on the side of the road I saw a family stranded on the side of the road with a flat tire. I asked my mother if we could stop and help them out, but she said there wasn't anything that she could do for them. I began to cry. I empathized with them but there was nothing I could to help them, because I was nine years old.

I am a sympathetic person. The plights of others are a burden that often weigh heavily on me. More often than not I feel helpless at the sheer immensity of the project that needs to be undertaken in order to address seemingly simple troubles. I'm not a skeptic and I won't lose hope, but being a person that studies politics and looks at the macro- equation I try to mentally tackle the large picture that needs to be addressed behind small problems.

Someday I will be able to do something to address the precedence of pain/suffering/toil on a large scale. For now...I hope I can merely bring relief to those immediately affected by my life.

This is my anthem.

My Second Fiddle.

I'm not going to lie, I kinda idolize Heath Leadger's portrayal of The Joker, however, it makes me sad to see people taking things too seriously. A soldier dressed and wearing face-paint like The Joker was shot and killed by police in the Shenandoah National Park after he pointed a loaded shotgun at them after a chase

It further saddens me that this guy was in the Army. He also has a badge over his heart that shows that he was under direct enemy contact at least once. The article doesn't say...but the guy probably has PTSD, which just goes to show that we still have progress to make in addressing Soldiers who return from Iraq with more mental baggage than they left with.

Don't get me wrong, I think the Army has made leaps and strides in addressing the many, many concerns of our Soldiers. But life is a continual struggle for improvement and I believe we have a ways to go.

I received my French press maker two days ago and I’ve started to become proficient at it. It is by far way better than drip coffee, so much so that I’ve already gathered a small group of loyal followers who congregate around Armand (that’s what I named him). Pretty soon I will be playing the fiddle and leading them to the edge of a cliff to jump into the seas below to be swept away by the strong tides. Alas, it is inevitable. Sooner or later I have to ditch my followers; it us impossible to be dark and mysterious with lemmings following you wherever you go ;-)

My French Press.

Someone threw a vital piece of my coffee maker away, thus rendering it less than useless. It was rather upsetting, if only for the fact that I wouldn't have coffee until I replaced it.

Instead of running to the Post Exchange (PX) to get another crappy Haji drip coffee maker, I've decided to make the transition to french press makers. Whereas I'd originally believed French Press users prissy and stuck-up with too many hours in their day, I've come to understand that perhaps I merely have been too addicted to coffee to logically consider that 8 oz. of coffee may be all I need for one day, and such small quantities can be crafted carefully instead of brewed in bulk. You are talking to the person who until recently drank around 40oz. of coffee daily. I had no time or patience to skillfully brew small quantities of French Press coffee. It was an absurd thought, one that I never thought I'd entertain.

With the recent loss of my drip-coffee maker, compounded with my gradual shift of coffee intake from 40oz/day to around 8oz/day, it became ideal to consider the very real possibility that perhaps I deserved more in life.

I haven't received it yet, but I soon will.

About the Greed of Many

It no longer suprises me when I see stories about a military Soldier hiding away hundreds of thousands of dollars. It pops up in our papers at least once every six months, inciting many people to discuss 'what they would have done differently'. It's no different from a person's compulsion to watch 'Cops' or other high speed chases. You fantasize about a life on the run, robbing banks, evading cops, and getting the girl in the end. It's why the Grand Theft Auto series is so popular.

The problem is that people are too greedy. I had this discussion with a friend of mine, who raised a very logical process in which he could get away with stealing money. If you raid Saddam Hussein's palace, break open a safe, and find $600,000 cash, the key to getting away with it is this: don't take it all.

Don't try and hide $600,000 in your room. It's almost impossible to hide that much cash from others in Iraq, and ABSOLUTELY NO METHOD of getting it all back to the States without getting caught.

You can't stick it in your ruck sack. You can't mail it home (because packages are checked thoroughly before they're sealed and sent). You can't bury it and return to it later.

The ONLY way to get it out of here is to send it $600 at a time in envelopes, and if you do the math, it's going to take you 1,000 envelopes to send it all home. And even if you do, like Captain Retard in the article did, you can't even deposit it into a bank. You can't flaunt it by buying a new car. You can't pay cash for your house. The only way to spend it is by spacing it out over many...many years.

And that's impossible. When you have cash sitting around your house that can't even collect interest in a bank, the average man cannot avoid spending so much that it raises the eyebrow of onlookers. It would take a Superman, or Übermensch, to accomplish such a feat. It wouldn't even be that fun.

So like I was saying, if you find $600,000 in Iraq, what I'd suggest is that you pocket at the max $10,000 and leave the rest of it there. It is more pain than pleasure after that point, because you'll be sweating bullets for years trying to hide it away.

And if you aren't sweating bullets constantly, it's because you're an idiot. And you really want your face to be on the front page of the next Army Times.

I Spoke Too Soon.

This week's Threadless shirts were too awesome. Like a fat man involuntarily takes the next highway exit when he sees those McDonalds arches, so did this shirt find its way into my shopping cart and onto my credit card.



It's been pointed out to me by others that I'm irresistably drawn to the color red. I'd never noticed before then, but now I notice the tell-tale signs.

The only exception is vehicles. My last two vehicles were both blue, a color I didn't recognize until after I'd already purchased both vehicles. True story.

My Choice Clothes.

Each week Threadless releases a handful of shirt designs from the submissions of different artists who are looking to make an extra buck. I receive it on my RSS feed because nearly every week there's at least one of them that's so AWESOME that had I the option, I wouldn't even order it; That'd take too long. Instead, I would print it out my printer and Scotch tape it onto a plain white Hanes undershirt.


Unfortunately I don't even have that option because I have absolutely no use for civilian clothes for the next seven months. The truth of the matter is...I don't have that much use for them even when I'm in the states. Most nights after work I climb into pajamas and proceed to shift constantly from one bedroom task to another, with little intention of leaving the warm and cozy confines of my domicile.




I actually don't know why I continue to check out such unique and random shirt designs with no intention of buying them. It's like window shopping. Who does that!? Who leaves department stores without the spoils of your newly conquered lands flowing from their coffers...err...arms. If that's the case you should just save yourself the time and energy and stay home staring at the hated things you DO have but don't have the budget to replace.

I long for the days in which I can be a civilian once more. Being myself. Wearing what I want. Instead of these digital camo ACUs every...day...of my very...long...life.

Currently Reading: A Moveable Feast
Currently Listening: Sleepercar

My Consumerism.

After I got excited and posted a review about Friday Night Lights, I proceeded to spend the last couple of days focusing on writing more reviews about things that I love, everything from Scott Pilgrim to KT Tunstall to Nick and Nora's Infinite Playlist. I even wrote a review about a Caselogic disc case that has become the son I never had. On the far right is a Widget that tracks my three latest Amazon reviews. I was inspired to start writing reviews because more and more often I find myself determining what I purchase based primarily on what other people have to say about the product. Sometimes I get frustrated that movies/music/books aren't getting a fair shake on there. I intend to rectify this mistake.

I start my next Masters-level course on Monday, Research Methods in Social Science. Part of me thinks that the time couldn’t come sooner; I miss stealing the valuable work-time intended to fight the Global War on Terrorism instead writing papers or reading for forthcoming midterms/finals. Yet another part of me dreads its arrival; gone will be the days flittering away my free time reading The Old Man and the Sea, Generation Kill, and A Knight's Own Book of Chivalry, among others. When I’m in class my recreational reading drops to around 0% because I become so exhausted from staring at my textbooks for hours upon hours that I can’t possibly enjoy what would normally be so enjoyable. I refuse to sully the beauty of choice prose because of external circumstances, if that makes any sense.

I found other people on Blogger! Who knew this site had so many old friends. And who knew that Clarissa Joy has become such an avid blogger. To think that I’ve been reading her MySpace scraps when I could have been feasting plentifully on The Life of Joy this entire time. Now that I think about it, she’ll probably reply that she’s mentioned it at least a dozen times on MySpace...and I seem to remember at least a handful of links/mentions upon further contemplation. Who’s got egg on their face now? I believe I do…

Currently Reading: Dragons of A Vanished Moon
Currently Watching: How I Met Your Mother Season 2
Currently Listening: Red Jumpsuit Aparatus - Lonely Road

My Spontaneity.

Okay. So maybe I say things sometimes just to be that dissenting voice. Maybe I think it's good to be that counterbalancing force. Or maybe I just like to argue and playfully poke fun at you.That's who I am, you know? Correct me if I'm wrong.

I'll admit that sometimes I'm a black sheep, looking to stick out in the herd. You are talking to the guy who wore a Yarmulke at a Christian college his freshman year just for kicks. The same guy who bought one white-out contact sophomore year. The same guy who pierced his lips/nipples junior year. The guy who bought a newer, faster motorcycle more to piss off his roommate than to have his own means of transportation.

When you put that all together, you get a crazy guy...sure. You might mistakenly think he's a guy who craves attention, but I don't think you're looking close enough. I see a guy that really just never liked to do things other peoples' way.

I was a terror from elementary school all the way to junior high because teachers couldn't get me to shut up and do what I'm told. I beat to my own drum and forged my own path. I may decide to go the same place you want me to go, but damn it, I'm going to get there by wading through the trees instead of taking the road. Roads are lame, give me thorns and thistles any day.

More than anything, I seek friends who'll accept me despite my crazy and unique character, even love me for it. I'm the guy that's currently wearing Super Mario boxers. And it makes me feel like I can take on the world. I'm the guy that gets excited when I find out that you watch, read, or listen to what I listen to. And you'll look at me weird if I feel an underlying connection based on shared tastes or experiences, (i.e. watching Exo Squad when you were growing up in the 90s)

Currently reading: Chi Running, Dragons of a Lost Star
Currently watching: Friday Night Lights Season 1
Currently listening to: The Fray

P.S. I recently posted a heartfelt review about Friday Night Lights on Amazon.com this afternoon. The show simply moves me.

My Room.

10 Life Lessons About Iraq

I've been in Iraq for the last four months. I wanted to make sure that I got a full appreciation of the in's and out's of this place before I properly reported my results to you. In no particular order I present to you the 10 top things I've learned since I've been here in Iraq:

1. Global Warming Is Not A Threat In Iraq - Either that or this country has already suffered irreversible damage and everyone has simply given up. The latter may be the case, especially since Saddam likes to receive American forces with a friendly display of lighting up the oil fields to celebrate our arrivals to his country. While this is always impressive and generous (much like a man that uses a $100 bill to light his and your cigar) he sets a precedent for the general disregard everyone shows for the ozone layer above our heads. In short, everyone burns trash. Your neighbors, your spouse, your children, doctors, teachers, philanthropists, even the US military burns trash without a second thought. We've got a HUGE burn pit about 400 yards away from where we live and work and it is THE WORST, especially when most days the winds carry it right into our breathing space. Also, unexploded munitions cook off in it all the time, because when you got an extra 50-caliber round cluttering up your workspace, everyone finds it convenient to toss it in the nearest trash bin.


2. Tank Graveyards Are Bad Ass - It looks very much like a junkyard, except instead of cars its filled with multi-million dollar weapons of vehicular devastation. Most of these tanks look like they were leftover from the Gulf War, and every one of them has been littered with graffiti from other units that seek to immortalize their deep thoughts and philosophic inquiries by spraying 'PFC Bankson is gay' like it's nothing more than a bathroom wall. I'll get pictures of them before I leave, riding them like a cowboy.


3. Sleep Is For The Weak - Mortar rounds and artillery fire, incoming and outgoing, sounds as if they're going off right next to you...all night long. They shake your living quarters and generally give you doubts about the relative safety of aluminum walls. No one knows why everyone waits until the dead of night to start shooting each other. But it's frightening...at least for the first week. I remember waking up after each round was fired, or refusing to leave my aluminum pod to use the latrine, opting instead to hold it until morning. But soon, I got over it. You can only quiver in fear under your bed sucking your thumb for so many nights before you eventually have to learn that bed or no bed, aluminum wall or no aluminum wall, if that round comes crashing down on you in the middle of the night, you can kiss your ass goodbye.


4. Helicopters Are The Only Way To Fly - It is said that 80% of military causalities occur in military convoys by IEDs. F**K THAT U.S. Army, if I need to get anywhere in Iraq I'm putting in an air request. Helicopters are like the public transportation system of most military personnel: they fly round and round from base to base picking people up and dropping them off. You get to see the surrounding area and come to the general understanding that Iraq looks like any normal country from the air. Traffic is always congested, cows roam fields for grass, factories vomit black smoke into the air, and you can easily discern which parts of town that are suburban neighborhoods and which are the ghettos that will ransack suburban lifestyle the moment a shred of instability rears its ugly head.


5. Milk Is Overrated - It may be just me...but the milk here taste like it's manufactured from a camel's ass. Now I drink plenty of milk in the states, but here in Iraq I flat out refuse to drink the milk that's provided to us. The taste is so distinguishable that even when I drown it in Cocoa Puffs and drink the (usually) delicious brown milk after all the cereal is gone, it still makes me want to puke. I know that after year in Iraq without milk, I will inevitably return with bones that have become the ideal breeding ground for osteoporosis and other bone related diseases.


6. Burger Night Brings All The Boys To The Yard - Because it's like...the only good thing to eat here. There are three dining facilities in this camp, and only our DFAC bothers to freshly prepare and cook burgers for us on Tuesday night. It is simply...delectable. Others may argue otherwise: one particular girl complains about smelling like burgers after leaving, (the air is so potent with grilled meat you can literally cut a slice of it and serve it on your plate) to which I reply, "And that's a bad thing?" The burgers are also GIA-NORMOUS. That's right, I just created a word. Like a fly to the carcass of roadkill, so do we congregate at DFAC3 every Tuesday.


7. 7-3 I\73r\37? L01. WTF!? (Translation: The Internet? There IS NO Internet) - This title might seem misrepresenting, because one may ask, 'But Lemuel., if there's no Internet how are you typing now?' Dear Reader, please don't take me too literally. There is in fact Internet, as sluggish and unresponsive as it may be most of the time. However, the government computers block 90% of the Internet, and the personal Internet in your rooms (for a low, low price of $60/month) advertise intermittent and unreliable service like it's a GOOD THING. I do not exaggerate these claims, and it's been ABSOLUTE TORTURE to have to exist without the luxuries of BitTorrent. Sometimes I cry at night; before this combat tour is over I'm certain I will write a sonnet about it.


8. 'Near Beer' Is Not Nearly As Cool As ACTUAL Beer - Sure, it was cool the first day I saw it here. "Free non-alcoholic beverages!? LOL. No way!", and I totally hit it up for breakfast in Baghdad the first day we got here. But after awhile, it just taunts you as to what you can't have no matter how hard you try. And trust me, I've tried. Twenty-four cans later, the only 'buzz' I felt was the buzz of fatigue from having to get up and urinate every two minutes.


9. Free Swag. All Year Long. - It's nearly impossible to spend the generous amount of combat pay we receive while we're here. Uniforms, boots, sunglasses, suntan lotion, bug spray, flashlights, candy, sodas, chips, office chairs, coffee, energy drinks, food, water, laundry services, bedsheets, pillows, blankets, lattes, near beer, living quarters, vehicle transport, electricity, gyms, movie theatres and pools are all comped, year round, at the beautiful desert resort of Camp Taji, Iraq. You needn't have a worry or a care at this beautiful vista! Just sit back, relax, and enjoy the incoming rounds and blistering 112 degree heat for the next 365 days! (Military is not responsible for physical dismemberment or death, mental combat stress or lifelong traumas. Void where prohibited.)


10. Closet Living 101 - Not only do you have to get used to a roommate once again (Not really a problem since I've been living with roommates since 2002 when I left for college) but you must learn to live and thrive in a space roughly the size of a walk-in closet. If you can't manage to thrive, the Army will make do with you merely living in that space. You will get to know your roommate intimately, for better or worse. The movies, music, games and television he watches shall infringe upon your own personal tastes and desires, as well as his hygiene (or lack thereof), cleanliness, and eating habits. If your roommate smells like ass, YOU will smell like ass and will be blamed for his shortcomings by your superiors. You will regret the days that man created four walls and a ceiling and come to fantasize about sleeping out in the sand looking at the stars.