Poem for Today...

Good Things

Being desperate for being wanted,

A person can lose themselves in religion,

Or expend an entire life in service to others,

Thinking these are good things.

Forgetting -,

That it’s all looking outwards,

When there is no solution within.

April 2008

Property of U.S. GOVT.

Sometimes as I walk around, or have an idle moment, I think of what it says on my CAC (Government ID card)...."Armed Forces of the United States". ..For me, that statement offers a sense of belonging and definement. No matter what one was, or claims to have been, they are now part of something else. Whatever one may think of it, the United States is a powerful and forceful nation.

I do feel a part of it, and just like the engraving on my weapon, I feel like property of the US Government, and am glad to be so.

Divided by a common language...

Worked with UK forces this week. What a pleasure! The enlisted and officers are great, and I really enjoyed being with them. Since I grew up in the UK, it almost seemed like coming full circle...Actually met someone that lives close to where I went to school in London. I had no trouble with some of the heavily accented words they spoke, and actually, as I spent more time with them I found my accent starting to revert back to the London -potato in mouth- sort of tone I had growing up. (I also fall into it when I get angry or hang out with my sole British friend in the states.)

It made me wonder though...would I have achieved the same position in the British Army as in the US Military? Somehow I doubt it...The Bristish officer corps seems much more homogenous. I am not saying that is bad or good....

I did enjoy talking with the "lads" in our vehicle, and it was great to get back to noshing on Branston pickle, Marmite on toast, and pickled onions...

I guess my international upbringing helps me to be more circumspect. I don't always consider it an advantage, as ignorance is bliss.

Bird in the hand...

Today I saw a boy in a store... On his shoulder was a small brown/fawn colored sparrow. He took it gently in both hands and set it on the table in front of himself. It hopped about, tweeting and looking around. It's tiny beak opening to emit small chirps. The boy put a grape in his mouth, and bit it into small pieces. The bird skipped onto his outstretched palm and took the small pieces of fruit from his hand.

The boy said that the bird did not like Americans, and that a soldier had swatted at the scrawny thing recently...Well, I don't know...Could be...Who knows? It seemed friendly enough to me, but it always returned to its owner, almost like a tiny airborne dog, flitting back to its master
Perhaps it is the food that kept it coming back to the youngster. The boy said the bird was like his son..

Seemed a touching statement of affection.

Love Hate, Ambivalence...yawn...

Like many diarists... I have mixed feelings to writing personal accounts.

Even if there is time to write one wonders should I write so much? Should it be personal, or evasive? Perhaps there is something of the restrained megalomaniac in all us bloggers and diary keepers...

Sometimes I just can't be bothered...Heard the economy is bad at home...It crosses my mind everytime I pull into the the fuel point...Of course, I don't pay directly to fill up the HMMWV. Just gas up with fuel and roll...

Unfortunately, there is no place to get a soda, as there is no attached convenience store !