Dreams Old Men Dream

As time continues forth, I've come to the realization that I no longer rely on putting my complex thoughts down on paper to make sense of the chaotic turmoil in my head.

I've done it so much before, possess countless journals (hardcopies or otherwise) where I spent tireless hours furiously writing to figure out the complexities of human nature that plagued me in my waking hours.

Now, years and years later, my thoughts are no longer documented as often as they once were, and there can be many possibilities for this:

- I no longer possess complex thoughts. Having figured out much of what ailed me prior through countless entries of analyses and rambling, I have worked through all the juvenile issues of my youth and am now ready to move on in life, equipped by my newfound emotional maturity that my therapeutic journal writing has bestowed upon me.

- I am simply content now to express my thoughts in 140 characters or less. With the advent of Facebook, Twitter, and smartphones, release of the issues that plague me in my everyday life is simply just a button away. No longer do I find myself chewing over a problem in my mind over and over again till it becomes nothing but mere gristle as I wait to acquire some sort of medium to express these anguished thoughts. A short status update of what bothers me has become the default mode of expression, made available to other inquiring minds with an open invitation to provide their own two cents. And the character limit has wired me in a manner than I can now effectively communicate my troubles by narrowing it down to its pure, concrete essence.

- I've finally come to the realization that there is no audience on the other side of the curtain. Forms of self-expression, to me, anyway, are only gratifying if there is someone else their to sympathize with my personal growth, the trials and tribulations that I face in life. Self-satisfaction has never proven enough for me to serve as some sort of reward for my thoroughly-documented journey of self-reflection, my deep-rooted desire for praise and attention being my primary motivation behind every calculated action I perform. If it does not satiate my urgent need to be in the spotlight for even just a moment, why waste the energy on the effort?

- - -

Upon realizing all of this, only one lyric from a song by the Cold War Kids pops up in my mind to summarize what I've learned:

Thought I was built like a building's built: on concrete and stone.
Then I realized I'm just a hack actor, finished playing my role.

Panic

After getting settled in my new barracks here in Bremerton,WA, I decided to go pick up some necessities (i.e. Hot Pockets) at a nearby mini-mart.

This walk gave me some time to think.

Holy shit, what the hell am I doing?

What the fuck did I get myself into?

Why am I doing this?

When I'm in unfamiliar territory or have no idea what my next step on my To-Do List is, I panic.

When I panic, my immediate response is to fill myself with doubt and question everything that lead me to the reason why I'm panicking.

I need to keep reminding myself I'm doing this for my education. I'm doing this for free healthcare. I'm doing this for a stable paycheck. I'm doing this because my other options were a helluva lot worse.

But I can't seem to override my initial sense of panic over not being in control of every single aspect of my life at any given moment, no matter how much the logical, practical side of me pleads its case.

- - -

At some point during my walk, a sudden urge to just stop and weep overcame me.

As tempting as it sounded, I shook my head and forced myself to repeat aloud, Just one foot in front of the other, JB. Just one foot in front of the other.

And I kept on.

One foot in front of the other, till I got to where I needed to go.

Even still, the insistent urge to just cry over the overwhelming feeling of being lost kept at it, albeit more suppressed in the back of my mind.

Head up, and head out. You can get yourself out of this. Just keep your head up, and head out.

- - -

I hope some day soon, with a little more experience, I won't need to keep reminding myself that I am not a hopeless case.

Control

Once again, I have no idea where my head's at.

I can tell you I'm anxious about my impending departure from the environment I've come to know for the last 4 months in favor of being moved to yet another location I know absolutely nothing about or how it operates.

Only this time, it's not a controlled situation where someone will be available at any given moment to hold my hand and walk me through the process. This time, I'm essentially on my own, with only my guide and my smarts to guide me, and honestly, I don't think I trust myself enough to walk myself through this new situation.

I'm full of self-doubt.

I have no idea where other people get the notion of me being a completely controlled, confident person. If it's all based on perception of my outward projection, then I should've been an actor.

Granted, it still feels as if I'm putting on a costume every time I put on my Navy uniform of the day, pretending I know exactly what it is I'm doing. Hopefully in time, with more experience and rank under my belt, this feeling will go away, but starting out as an E-1 (aka E-nobody) on the bottom of the food chain certainly doesn't help make the feeling of being a small fish in an ocean go away.

I miss the feeling of being Top Dog, of being the go-to person when someone had a question or needed something explained or being the one everyone else depended on and knew for sure could get the job done and done well.

Now I can only shrug my shoulders and timidly ask someone else higher ranking than myself for the answers to the questions that come at me every day, and I hate it.

I hate this feeling of hopelessness and not knowing all the answers.

I hate not being in control.

That's pretty much my problem in a nutshell.

And as long as I'm in the military, that will always be my problem.

Tumbleweed

I'm torn.

Despite the fact that all throughout A-School, knowing in my heart of hearts, all I ever really wanted was to go to Psych Tech C-School immediately after graduating, there but existed in me a small glimmer of regret that I did not choose fleet orders like the rest of my class.

I want to see the world, especially when travel and lodging is put up by someone else's dime.

Even though I relish in familiarity and established foundations, I want to live in a different city than the one I spent 20 years in.

I left it for a reason, no?

Before I left, did I not frequently complain that my surroundings have gone stale, that it had no longer anything left to offer me?

So why wish to return?

Why not expand my horizons, especially now that I'm still relatively young and unattached? When I still have the luxury of being a tumbleweed and going wherever the wind takes me?

I do want to settle down.

I do want a permanent place of my own, to find a spot and sleep soundly at night knowing that wherever I go, however far Life decides to take me, there will always exist a small piece of land that I will for the rest of my life know only as "HOME."

But for now, I have the privilege to broaden my understanding and experiences in this world for this short life. Why not take it and enjoy the journey? Accept the hand that I've been given and play it to my advantage?

Why not?

Afraid

I'm afraid for a lot of things.

I'm afraid of all the missed opportunities in my life, of all the moments I took for granted, of all the moments I could have made better had I just tried a little harder.

There's a lot of regret mixed in with this feeling of ennui as I look back on my short life, of all those short-lived memories and experiences.

I should have provoked more.

I should have initiated things earlier.

I wonder, would my life be different now had I started some things sooner?

Of course, naturally, my life would be different. The real question is, Would I be happier?

What if I did tell him how I really felt about him?

What if I did let slip the truth that I truly did not despise him, am not filled with disgust for him, but felt more disgusted with myself for being in love with such a pitiful creature?

What if I had just shown him that I cared more than I ever let on, let those lingering stares just linger a little longer, reached out a gentle hand and caress the face, the body of the one I most adored?

What would have happened had I removed all inhibition, tore down the reservations I built around my motives and actions, just to show him the hint of the spark from the flame of the torch I carried for him?

Too little, too late now.

There's not much to do about that anymore, having handed our lives over to Fate and let the winds carry us where it may -- far apart from each other, too far to let these words that have now gone stale to mean anything more than when spoken at the first spark of passion.

- - -

I, too, am afraid of what's to come with the things I have left.

My first, real friendship with the most perfect person I could have ever imagined...

I do and forever will cherish the moments we've spent in our short-lived time together these past couple of years.

Fate has brought us together in the most blessed way, and I can never repay the debt owed for intertwining our lives like it has.

My only fear is that with the transient nature of this career I've chosen for myself, will it ever allow us to be together the way we were before?

I feel as though despite the fact that I've finally managed to lay my roots down and let them sink into the earth, my life can just as easily now be uprooted and torn away from all that I've worked so hard to attain, and that things will never be the same as they once were.

With this new direction I'm facing, I'm torn by the fact that I'm being led closer to where I really want to go in life, if it only means that I must lose everything else I've gained thus far.

I'm afraid of loss.

I'm afraid things will never be the way they were.

I'm afraid of giving all these things up in exchange for something less.

I'm afraid I wasted my youth and freedom in exchange for cashing in my adult ticket early.