Objects in mirror are closer than they appear.

I just got into Rota, Spain. It’s a little town attached to a lightly populated but major Navy base at the tip of Spain. If Spain has a pinky toe, Rota would be it.

Back in Dover, I got chewed out for taking pictures of the flight line. I couldn’t help it, I hadn’t seen a C-5 before! It was my fault, though, I was being kind of thick about security measures and whatnot. I was pissed at the Petty Officer who yelled at me for most of the flight, and then he suddenly gave me a bunch of helpful tips about Rota and handed me a Robert Ludlum novel that he had finished. Somehow, I expected that to happen. Military types…they chew you out and then help you out.

There’s a flight out to Ramstein tomorrow, which I’ll try to catch. Otherwise, it’s going to have to be a commercial flight to Frankfurt, because time’s running out. It’s taken me almost a week to get here! And I’m still over a thousand miles away from my destination. The price isn’t what I thought it would be. I’ve spent over $400 on travel expenses alone. A little bit more, and I might as well have flown a commercial flight straight to Geneva. But to be honest, I don’t think I would have had as much fun if I had done that.

I tried to rent a car earlier in town, but I don’t know how to drive stick. I fantasized about cruising down the coastline of Spain, but I don’t think that is to be, unless I learn to shift and clutch quickly.

Speaking of which, I had my first lost in translation encounter in town today. I was waiting for a rental car shop to open, and an old lady walked up to me and tried to tell me in Spanish that the shop wasn’t opening for a while. I had no clue what she was saying as she pointed in random directions and gestured confusingly to me. She even asked a passerby if she spoke English to try to help me out. Finally, I figured out that they were telling me to go to another rental place, and I walked off with my heavy suitcase in tow. I chuckled to myself in amusement at my first encounter with a Spanish person.

Arriving in Portland, I was more interested in visiting a street faire that I had found my last time in town. I purposely skimped on breakfast at home so I could eat more later.

I was pretty sure that my flight was leaving Portland around 1:30 PM. I wasn’t too sure, but I wasn’t too worried, either. The light rail to the airport wouldn’t take too long, and I still had an hour and a half.

At the faire, I was faced with a difficult choice: Thai? Burgers? Indian? Philly Cheese Steak? I walked back and forth between the booths, realizing that while everything looked delicious, I was limited by money and stomach space. After deliberating, I decided on a philly cheese steak and a box of Pad Kee Mao for later.

Suddenly, I was very aware of the time. I had only spent half an hour at the faire, but less than hour to get to the airport suddenly seemed sparse. And I realized that the light rail would take longer than I had previously thought. I wasn’t sure of my departure time, and as I thought about it, I couldn’t remember waht airline I was even traveling with!

As the MAX light rail rushed to the airport, the clock’s hands seemed to be rushing even faster. I pleaded with my watch to spare me a few minutes, but it ruthlessly counted down to my unknown departure time. Halfway to the airport, it was already 12:50 PM, and I wasn’t sure about making the flight anymore.

Finally, the plane pulled into the airport. I almost yelled at the operator as he took up valuable seconds lining the train up with the station, seconds I could have been using to run to my flight of unknown departure time and airline.

The train doors finally blissfully opened, and I darted out to the terminals. As I neared the check-in areas, I heard a dreaded call: US Airways flight to Las Vegas, departing at 1:24 PM, final boarding call.

Right then, I figured out my flight time, airline, and also that I was not going to be on that plane.

Luckily, US Air transferred me to a later flight at no charge, and the connections worked out. I bought a Jamba Juice, sent out a flurry of text messages, nervously ate some Pad Kee Mao, and settled in with the other thousands of travelers waiting for their flights.

On my drive home from zeroing my rifle today, I thought about firearms and tools.

I’ve always purported firearms as tools, especially to my more skittish friends that were wary of my interest in firearms. And they are: a firearm never hurt anyone on its own. A gun left alone won’t do anything, but the moment someone lays a hand on it, it becomes a potential danger. And the gun doesn’t care who is pulling the trigger (unless it’s a Lawgiver) meaning that it has no partiality. It will assist anyone in their task, whether that task be a good or evil one.

Then I started thinking about tools, the slang expression for people. I’ve called many people tools throughout the year without much thought to why they are tools. It was always just a gut feeling, and it was usually on spot. I realized today why, at least for me, those people are tools. They are weak-minded or have no backbone, and are easily influenced by stronger opinions. They are the type of people that annoy by never being sure of anything, or always agreeing with me. People without principles. In a sense, they can be swayed easily to side with anyone. Much like guns, they can be utilized to align with good causes or bad ones.

Here are some of the vivid dreams that I have been having (and remembering) these last couple weeks:

One night, I dreamt I was a crewmember in an AC-130 gunship:

In the same night, I dreamt that I was calling Eshwari a lot, and she got annoyed at me.

I’ve had dreams about breaking my camera and its new lens:

I definitely had one about Dune and Arrakis.

I also had a couple about being in the military, some of it being realistic, and some of it being from the games that I’ve been playing.

Last night, I had a dream about traveling to Europe, and I remember having three bags to check and how that would cost me extra. I also didn’t pack my bags correctly, and I was afraid to miss my flight. Then I wondered why no one was there to see me off, and all of sudden a couple of my friends were there around me…and then I woke up.

My second day in Boise, David, Tony, Richard, and Tom and I went out to Red Robin’s to eat before shooting. We enjoyed many a discussion while watching Tony hit on the waitresses and Richard drink Raspberry Lemonade after Raspberry Lemonade.

At one point, a fellow diner joined us in discussing world politics, the economy, and feeding the geese with our steak fries (seriously!). I wanted to tell him to use his own steak fries, but instead used the argument that birds shouldn’t have too much grease. He was weird to say the least, very forward, and very educated in history and economics. This guy, Frank, predicted that we are going to hit a domestic economic crisis in less than two months. As he said this, I chuckled to myself that his very saying that, if it was taken seriously, could be the cause of the crisis. Expectations affect outcomes on both a small and grand scale. He complimented Tony on his thinking, and then I found out Frank was a fellow Ron Paul follower, which negated all weirdness from before.

Fountain Family - Canon EOS Rebel XTi with 35mm f/9.0 at ISO 100

(more…)

What is true conservatism? Well, that’s a partially subjective question, and partially one that could take ages to answer.

But I’ll just say that I’ve become firmly convinced that President Ronald Reagan destroyed true conservatism, undermined the true values of the Republican party, and exacerbated the problem that we are facing now: two power-mongering parties that have so much inertia that any one attempt to return to the true principles of America is futile.

Kanye West is a copycat. Don’t get me wrong, I love most of his music.

But Stronger? I can’t believe people like that crap.

He sampled a Daft Punk song.

He copied the quote by Friedrich Nietzsche: “That which does not kill me, makes me stronger”.

And he stole the entire idea from the Marine Corps: “Pain is weakness leaving the body”.

So I came home around 8, thinking I’d eat dinner by 9, finish laundry by 10, and go workout afterwards for a bit. I didn’t work out at all, and just sat on the computer on Facebook for a couple hours while attempting to read up for History tomorrow. I started my laundry at 8, but forgot to dry it until now, so now I have to be up another hour to wait for the clothes to dry.

Silly me.

You know that saying, ‘We learn something new everyday”?  Here’s the ‘new’ things I learned today:

Shopping is best done when hungry, or at least not right after eating. I had breakfast and went shopping…I didn’t want to buy ANYTHING even though I knew I didn’t have food at home.

Haagen-Dasz ice cream cannot be thawed and re-frozen. It sucks a lot afterwards.

The E and the X in FedEx logo form an arrow. And once you know this, you will ALWAYS look for the arrow! It’s driving me to the point of insanity! I knew this before, but I thought I was the only one that noticed it so prevalently.

Impressions on oneself are always fascinating, because it’s impossible to see the world or oneself from the perspective of someone else. That is, unless they tell you. I’m always interested in hearing what other people think of me, especially if it is different than the persona I try to project. I’d be lying if I said that I do not care what others think of me. I’m conscious about my appearance (not physically, but personally) and the type of person perceive me to be.

As the title says, I think I might be onto something. A partial reason for some of the issues I come upon when dealing with friends and girls. In the last two days, I’ve had two separate, unrelated people tell me that they found me scary or intimidating when they first met me. I can’t quite tell if this is a good or bad thing, but it’s very interesting, to be sure. I know for a fact that when people start to get to know me, they figure out that I’m not as scary as they may have thought in the beginning. The persona isn’t conscious, so I can’t quite explain, but my guess is that I try to project confidence and strength (being a wolf).

Usually, if someone I meet isn’t very receptive, it is easy for me to jump to the conclusion that someone doesn’t like me, even though I know that it is not the case most of the time. This another evidential reason for me NOT to think that.

What I’m curious, now, is whether having this ‘intimidating’ facade, this scary front, is a good or bad thing. I suppose it’ll rebuff the haters, and give people another layer of mystery that they have peel away. Or maybe people will just think I’m mean all the time. Who knows.

On another note, I’ve decided that it’s better to be consistently mean and occasionally nice, instead of the other way around. Humans work by looking for norms and trends, and then react when something out of the norm happens. Thus, by creating a precedent of being mean, niceties contrasted seem much nicer.

So I had another crazy dream last night. I really should be doing Arabic homework (it’s due in an HOUR!) but I want to document it before I forget. It was centered around video games. It began like an old school NES game, where I could not control my movement, but was just responsible for shooting the enemies on screen. Slowly, I descended vertically into a cavern, and then started moving forward. Then I had control of my character, and realized I had three squad members under my command.

Strangely, the weapons we were using were one-shot muzzle-loader muskets, flintlock pistols, and swords. I’m guessing that this part came from my History 240 class. In the distance, infected monkeys started charging towards us. The guns didn’t work very well, and I resorted to using my sword, and killed them all in a long, tiring battle. Right the end, I turned around to see all but one of my squadmates dead, and the last surviving one get stabbed by a monkey. I killed the monkey and kept going…

Through a door, I came into another room of the cavern, which was lit up and milling with activity…it reminded me of a mine. The enemies started crowding around me, so I made a run for the next door, which led me into…

Another huge expanse, but this time, it was like 18th-19th century Victorian Europe. The buildings were all old-fashioned and elaborate. By this time, I had turned into a Halo Spartan, but was unarmed. I broke to the right, into a room, where I found a modern shotgun, and tried to use it against the inhabitants of the city, but it was empty. They tried to take me down, but I kept fighting, and kept trying to fire the shotgun, even though I knew it was empty…Eventually, they subdued me, took me to a room, where I started planning my escape…

The last thing I remember was them removing my armor, and my captors actually taking care of my wounds…

 While I should be doing homework…

Going through ISO made me think about football (football, not soccer, you Europeans!). Being an exclusively American sport, most of the international students didn’t understand the rules or the appeal of the game. I started thinking about why it is such a driving force and even obsession for many Americans.

Simply said, football appeals to our warrior spirit.

I have long advocated that no matter how much society tries to pacify us, deep within is us all is a warrior spirit. There is a fighter. It’s what makes us angry when someone pushes us around, it’s what makes us stand our ground, and it’s the inherent trait that is responsible for the survival of humankind. Start tangent. In ancient times, the pacifists of the group would get killed off easily, and the warriors would band together to protect themselves and their families from threats. It is these traits that are continued through survival. Only because we live in a safe ‘civilized’ society are pacifists able to survive, and our warrior spirit dampened. People that have less affinity to fight are easier to control. End Tangent.

Back to the point. Watching football, the resemblance to a battle was uncanny. The generals on the sidelines (offensive/defensive coordinators) barking orders (plays) to the lieutenants (quarterback), sergeants (receivers) and soldiers (linemen). The two sides line up on the line of scrimmage, and prepare to literally assault each other. The success of the play is dependent on a mix of individual skill and strength of the players, and teamwork and coordination of the entire team. The offense employs feints, flanking maneuvers, spearheads, and behind-enemy-line insertions. The defense counterattacks, resists, intercepts, and tries to prevent its territory from being penetrated.

On a grander level…when the team that people are rooting for loses, the solemn and somber mood that follows is like after the loss of a battle. Morale is low and people are upset.

The effect that a football game has on people before, during, and after the match is phenomenal, and goes beyond ordinary sports obsession.

I had another crazy dream last night, after having my sleep interrupted by the shower of the neighbors.

I was running through a field, along a ditch, when I suddenly stepped over two or three wasps’ nests.

Lucky me, I’m allergic to wasp stings. The last time I got stung (this really happened), I broke out in hives all over, and my throat actually started to swell. It’s kind of scary facing the fact that you may not be able to BREATHE. From what I remember, it was the beginning stage of anaphylactic shock.

Back to the story…I found myself getting stung repeatedly by these wasps all over and trying to get away from them. I found help as I started to swell up. In my dream, I could feel my lips puff up. It was very vivid. I don’t remember who was driving me to the hospital, but I remember seeing the hospital…it was a huge monolithic building…closely resembling the gates of Ishtar, actually. We drove through the entrance…next, I remember myself getting treated…I drank lemon juice, which helped the swelling somehow, and was given a shot for antihistamines. It turns out the person treating me was someone I know…a friend…but I don’t know why it was her specifically.
After all the swelling had died down, she gave me one last shot that was supposed to be a relaxant, but it made me fall asleep. And as I fell asleep in the dream, I woke up.

I had the craziest dream last night. It’s fading from my memory as I write this, but it involved a military operation consisting of Humvees and Abrams tanks in the field close to Autzen stadium. I remember the tanks leaving, and the Humvee I was riding in crossed over Knickerbocker bridge. I was surprised that it could take the weight, and the commander of the vehicle told me that a 70-ton Abrams could cross, but that the bridge couldn’t take the tracks.

Then we started rushing over to West Eugene, because there was some enemy force approaching that we needed to fight off. I had an idea to use Strykers with Artillery tubes attached on top as mobile artillery pieces that we could hit the enemy from afar with. So we got 4 Strykers with 105mm cannons, and 2 IFV Stykers for security, and drove up to the top of Skinner Butte to provide artillery fire for the advancing unit. We got to the top, and the soldiers got out of the two Strykers to secure the area. Before we could get the artillery set up, the ground broke beneath us, and a couple of hydras (from Greek mythology) came up and started pulling the vehicles into the hole…I don’t remember much after that.

Truly a random dream.

Books I have read this summer:

The Kite Runner
Einstein’s Dreams
Blackhawk Down
The Bourne Identity
The Iraq War - John Keegan

Currently in progress:

The Elusive Quest for Growth - William Easterly

Want to read:

Fiasco
Cobra II
Blogs of War
Fields of Fire
The Face of Battle
The Bourne Supremacy
The rest of my list is at Sherri’s house.