Don't bribe me, blow me.

Where do we start when thinking about today. You see there are things out there that you question yourself about. You see I just finished my first full round of VA comp hearings, and not to sure how I feel about it. There is so much smoke and cloudiness shrouded in bureaucratic obfuscation. So many people point you to other people to get the answers you need, after the person they pointed you too sent you to them. It seems that not many people have solid answers, yet they all seem to have a lot of questions. They also seem to have a habit of not listening to you as a person, but have no issues reading you off a paper. You become a number, a number they like to put into a problem and pass around and around so others can further complicate it.

You see I walk a fine line being in the Guard, and not wanting to get out of the Guard any time soon. As sick as it sounds I am looking forward to my next deployment. At least overseas shit makes sense, and things have a certain simplistic clarity. I like the simple concepts, and the fact that my survival is a focus more so then if I filled out form X in triplicate and signed in the seven spots with out going outside of the box provided. So the issue is what percentage would prevent me from staying in the Guard? No one at the VA seemed to have a clue, and talking the Guard with my reviewing physician was like trying to explain Greek to a whale, and I don't speak Greek.

So yes frustration and confusion reigned. The worst part is they don't get the conversation. I want to get better, I don't want to get paid. I want to be able to breath, or maybe have a consistent bowel? I pooped so damn good before this trip to the shit pit we call Iraq. Hell you could set your watch to when I was gonna drop a brown trout in the porcelain. I want to poop, everybody poops after all. Well everybody except a few dudes that came back from the sand box who now pee out of their butt more often than they can drop one solid peaceful turd. I know way too much information, but seriously that is what I want and I get the feeling these people are so fucking worried that I am gonna go out and destroy something beautiful for fun and entertainment that they want to over diagnose me, rather then just fix me and be done with me.

So I am looking at possibly being rated to high to stay in the service, but not really high enough to make a pension worth while, nor do I deserve said pension. I am still fit to fight. I have a mission coming up and I intend to join that mission. I intend to go out and enjoy that mission with some strong minded Americans. I fully intend to continue to do so for at least a few more years, and some whiny ass pussy is not going to tell me that I am crazy, or that they are not as concerned with the fact that I have not had a solid shit in seven months as they are with fact that a few nights in a month or two I don't sleep as good as I used to. So in that, yep I am pissed. I will get over it though and adjust fire and deal with things as the come.

You see the absolute waste of money. You see them throw money at you in an attempt to placate you, though I am not sure they understand my true intentions or motivations. If I wanted to die with a bank account full of green, I would not be pursuing a degree to be a teacher now would I? I think wealth could be measured in other ways, and I do not want to take their bribe to stay out of the news. I am not a disgruntled Vet that objects to the wars. I am not Jack's wasted life. I am Jack's complete lack of surprise.

I do not want a pension when I am still able to serve. I do not want to be pushed into a system of numbers, where I am nothing but a paper or computer screen read out. I am good at my job, and I can still do that job even if I can't breath, and my shit is substandard. So what I can't eat Little Ceaser's, Mc Donalds, or any other fat cow factory with a drive thru, they don't have to many of those in Afghanistan anyway. Just fucking fix me, don't throw money at me like a debutant having her love bought by her absentee father who is banging her nanny.