Yesterday at work we sat in the lounge and watched the Food Network all. day. long.
So when I went home after work I had to make a run to Target for food supplies.
The roommate and I made steak fajitas, pico de gallo, and fried cheese raviolis.
And topped it all off with a nice refreshing glass of rum & coke with just a hint of lime juice.
It was a good meal.
Only problem was both our "man company" weren't there to enjoy our delicious cultural bounty with us.
The Marine sent me an email last night.
He sounds really sad.
I want to post his email here so that you can read it too.
I wish that I could write like The Marine.
I love the way he describes things.
I don't know what he's going through and how he feels but the way he describes his feelings make me feel like I know exactly how he feels and I've never even been any where near his situation.
Here you go.
When I was in boot camp, combat training, Mojave Viper, and Iraq, holidays didn't mean anything to me because I had more important things to care about. I never knew what day of the week it was, and often didn't know the time, only what had to be done. Daylight and dark had no effect on my life beyond the temperature and whether or not I needed a light. Sometimes even those became less important than getting things done and I'd work with only a t-shirt in freezing cold and by feel in the dark. Usually the only sign that a holiday had come was the difference in the food I ate.
As tough as that seems it really never bothers me. Holidays only serve to make me homesick anyways; so if I never realize they've come and gone, who cares? The trouble is: that getting off of work today didn't mean a thing to me. We got off a little early, but I was still there at 4:30 this morning. Typically a weekend means going to Joshua Tree and getting away for a little bit, going out with friends, something to look forward to. But not this weekend. My ankle will keep me from doing too much hiking. My friends all left work before I did so I have no clue what they've got planned, and I'm less and less invited out.
I don't mean to bitch, but it made me sad to realize that I have the same mentality of a strenuous and stressful environment even though I'm here and don't have anything that pressing. I have the weekend off for crying out loud and I'm in the same mindset as though I were in combat just because I don't have much to look forward to.
It looks like they're stopping at five and I'm not happy about it. I feel like it should be me going and taking the risk. I don't like SENDING my friends to do that without me. I'm more experienced with ied's and idf than any of my friends that are going and I don't like to think that I won't be there to help them. It's discouraging.
But happiness will prevail somehow this weekend. Not sure how but it always seems to get better. No reason this shouldn't be any different.Awesome, right?