What do I do?

Every weekday, I wake up and roll out of my own little 3'x7' slice of personal space perched 7 feet above the concrete floor that forms the foundation of Devil Doc Hall, Building 210825, Camp Pendleton, California.

Image and video hosting by TinyPic like prison, but without the thrill of actually committing a crime first.

With the cognitive faculties of an eight year old on his third bong rip, I usually try and find a way to hold my head that doesn't hurt, and start the day. Throwing on my uniform, shaving, and swabbing the decks of my squad bay have gotten to be a comfortable 0400 routine of mine. 0600 rolls around, and I've already eaten and on my way to do whatever Field Medical Training Battalion (FMTB for short, Fuck My Tight Butt, Frequent Muster Training Battalion, or Fucking Muster Time, Bitches when we're feeling saucy and want to jest) has planned for me.

 When I'm not serving my country through telling dick/fart jokes, complaining about "leaders" that get out-PT'd by 35 year olds with smoking habits, or singing Cat Stevens with friends in a chow line, most of the time I just miss home. 

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 sweet, voluptuous home. i'd inspect HER rack, IF YOU CATCH MY DRIFT. 

No really, I miss that girl to death. She got me a pillow pet. Its like a pillow, but a stuffed animal at the same time, in the shape of a shark. She sends me letters when nobody else does, and always is sure to text me good morning even on days when she doesn't have to wake up. But I mean shit man, a pillow pet. That's mad motherfucking love. I'm sure to treat her as good as I can, from California.

  I'm happy my Dad's happy at home, farming onions and enjoying my Playstation I left behind. Sure, he would have been alot more content with me picking a blueside shore command, a hospital up in Chicago or South Carolina, but I figured I'd go overseas while I'm young and still know everything, you know?

 The last couple of weeks here on Camp Pendleton have been rough, with the field operations getting longer each time meaning more baby wipe showers, more people devolving into rock-fucking rage fueled neanderthals through nicotine/sleep deprivation, and more time eating "PORK RIB IN BARBEQUE SAUCE, IMITATION" meal-ready-to-eat dinners. We get let off our leash a lot out there though, so there are good times to be had. 

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 me, trying to look cool.

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 the greatest navy in the history of the world. 

 Before getting off work yesterday, we got our liberty brief. The Navy/Marine Corps team loves briefs, and is sure to give us our near daily "don't rape people" briefs, "don't get a credit card/vehicle in Oceanside, California" briefs, "don't pick fights with the Samoan bouncer at the bar" briefs, etc. These happen, because junior Marines and Sailors do some, well, pretty stupid ass shit. 

 "What'd you do this weekend, Devil?"

 "Bought a car man, I'm really happy."

 "That kicks ass bro, what'd you get?"

"97 Honda Civic, only 210,000 miles too. Plus, the guy at Dirty Mike's automotive sales/payday loan emporium hooked me up with a really good deal. Only 40 percent interest. Also, he said that if I put down that I'd be living in it, I could pay for it with a mortgage! I'll have that shit payed off in only like 30 years, dude."

 "You just got fucked."

 "Naw man, its cool. I know how to solve my financial problems: I'll get married! That extra BAH [government stipend of money for active duty personnel with dependents] is gonna cover insurance AND payments in full!"

 That actually happened. Many times. Makes you wonder why the divorce rate for personnel in the USMC hovers around eighty percent.

 I'll be sure to take more photos for you guys in Okinawa. I stalk this blog a lot, and I love all the love you guys show me. Thanks a lot. My dad always used to bug me to do a guest post sometime, so I thought this would be a sweet gesture.  I miss home when I'm gone, and it might even eat away at me sometimes like it has been doing lately. Good news is, my unit does some really cool things. When forward deployed to warzones, we set up the first line of medical care that battlefield casualties receive after being injured in firefights or explosive attacks. When in home port, we do show of force exercises in foreign countries like Thailand, Singapore, and Malaysia, training for jungle warfare and educating foreign militaries about the medical needs of their troops and civilians. 

 Really, I just joined the Navy to be happy. So I could go some places, see some cool stuff, learn some things, and meet some people. I wasn't gonna get far or do much staying where I was, as much as I miss it. All my friends and lovers keep me looking in the right direction, though. One day, you have to make up your mind and ask yourself if you're going to do something, and I did that. One day, someone that's a father, brother, son, or husband might look me in the eye and say I saved his life, and nobody will be able to take that from me.  Then it'll be worth waking up at 0400 and running around Camp Pendleton till my soul cries. 


 The Old Bull usually ends his stuff with a youtube video, so here's my theme song for when I get teary eyed and sentimental.

Until we meet once more,

 HN Barber, Elijah S., USN 



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