Serendipitous semblance of sanity

I have

2011-05-30T18:46:00.000-07:00

a son and a wife and i teach children to believe in their own smartz.

I-Rock, I hardly knew ye...

2009-03-11T18:38:00.000-07:00

We part ways. I owe you, you owe me.

I once left you broken, uncertain. I now leave not as one whose days were not wasted.

Protected certain life, failed to protect others. Let us not speak of it. We'll call it a draw. Naw, fuck it, days were not wasted. I done what I could.

Men lived, men died, men succeeded together in the mission given. Take pride, Iron Knights of 1-66 Armor, or doom thyself to live without history, perpetually seeking the identity others claimed long ago for feats of daring-do you yourselves have dared-done. Take heed and take pride or take nothing with you.

Rest the souls of the casualties of this misguided of wars. Please, God, let us carry you forward.

Awaken, dear America, for the weary few return in anonymity. Awaken and acknowledge this unpleasantness turned political indifference, or doom yourself to repeat.

I hope everyone had a nice time.

I owe you, you owe me. Thanks for the great chow.

Unsure this evening. Reboot and try again on the morrow.

2008-07-27T15:02:00.000-07:00

Why the hell won’t I sleep? Tomorrow is all but assured, the dangerous lifestyle of this place nearly past. Oh dear, are those second guesses I’m regurgitating or my Cinnamon Toast Crunch?

Jaysus, am I meant to Soldier the rest of my life? Seriously, mind, is that what’s eating you? Is that where I am meant to lead? Do I want this for myself? What do I want? Does that Matter? Can I live an existence minus discomfort, even the mild variety?

Why the fuck did I join the Army? I was weak then. I didn’t stand for anything but naivety…

….11th of Septemberm, 2001. I walked from Harbin Hall to the cafeteria at my Columbian Districtian University. I awoke early for once. Finally. I was gonna be a real good student. That pursuit would give me undeniable direction. Like High School, grades would delay a step into man-dom, never really forcing me to make a decision as to who I was or how I was…

…In 1994, Green Day was the shit. Basket Case. The “F” bomb. Teenage fuck-it-all awkward attitude. I played Dookie again and again and again until the assurances of Billy Joe Armstrong became my own. If I knew the words, then I was certain of something. If I was certain of something, then by definition, I was something. I wasn’t an athlete, my head was (still is) too large for my body, and gosh darn it, I just didn’t like myself. But I liked Green Day. It made awkward OK. Maybe even cool?

Then we grew up. And so did Green Day, I suppose. Good Riddance was really sad, right? Being sad is mature.

Then a Tuesday in September happened. America burned. I wept standing till the sun went down. The smoke of the pentagon was black and that confused me. I couldn’t see through it, so I wept. I wept for the loss of life. I wept awash in the first true tragedy I’d ever known.

Then Green Day got political and stuff.

“Wake me up when September ends”

…July 27th, 2008. I heard that Green Day song twice today. Once, while getting my haircut by an Iraqi national. Jams from all over the world play non-stop by a TV station that is a maddening imitation mixture of American and Arab pop-cultures. When Fergie played, the barber turned it up. When Green Day came on and got political, he turned it down and finished my cookie-cutter haircut. Maybe he liked Billy Joe better in 1994.

Later, I asked a fellow junior officer (recently committed to staying in the Army) what he was jammin to on his iPod as he plugged along through endless Powerpoint Presentations? “Why, Green Day, he stated, assuredly. My follow up of-course queried as to which era of these inescapable minstrels he listened. “Wake me up when September ends,” Said he confidently.

So tonight I lay wondering, confronting a lingering issue. How is it that I’m here? Oh, and pending your answer to the first question,“God-Judger”, where is it you plan to go from here? Looking back at the tripe that is these jumbled words, I am troubled. Good Lord, am I a jingoist? Worse yet,a true believer? Worser yet, do I still not know myself?

My peers say they can’t do it anymore, that the Army broke and fucked us all. The Army didn’t keep us, they say. It betrayed our delicate sensibilities; it betrayed the promise of inspirational competence and leadership.

If I was so wronged, why can’t I sleep easy tonight knowing a sure path to the future exists in a land that knows nor feels no war.

Why would I leave? So I can grow my hair out? I think I’m balding.

piece.

2008-07-26T14:33:00.000-07:00

Iraqdom. Boredom. Fob Livin'. Peace on the outside. Angst within.

Dreams of walking through forest filled hills. Awake. Hit the gym. Hit the supplement. Hone the beach bod. KBR shower. KBR chow.

Intel update. Meeting about meetings. KBR Chow.

Call of Duty 4 networked to 23 computers tonight. The only combat we've seen in months. Trade pornographic materials. KBR Chow.

Intel. Mission. Out all night. Slumber. No dreams. A/c rumbles to death. Awake. Repeat.

oh, nose!

2008-07-09T15:46:00.000-07:00

Out on a night patrol, Private T, Specialist A and I attempted to negotiate a highway median in our Mine Resistant Armor Protected Vehicle (MRAP). Suddenly, a sizeable crevice attacked our vehicle in a most passive manner, laying in inauspicious and obvious wait. Oh, no(se)! cried I. Our platoon mates ran quick to our aid to retrieve us from the grasp of a ditchly captor.

Only side stiches required upon our return to our FOB Kingdom where we feasted on a KBR banquet of Hoyas (Cheeseburger with 3 fried eggs and hot sauce).

Progress.

2008-06-02T04:37:00.000-07:00

31 May, 2008.

daily quest for motivation.

2008-05-25T15:40:00.000-07:00

The wall above my bed.

FOB Rustamiyah, Iraq.

pleasant patrol

2008-05-07T15:04:00.000-07:00

Even Baghdad is balmy. Today was such a nice day. I think everybody put their qualms aside today. Everyone likes balmy. It doesn't incite. Inclement incites.

The kids were really happy in the streets. One boy holds his index and pinky fingers up in a "rock on" fashion every time we pass by. I wonder where he learned that.

Then by a soccer game of teens of mixed athletic ability. I saw a young man kick at and then miss the ball terribly. I saw myself. I longed to stop by vehicle, drop my costume, and play (and miss the ball terribly).

Then we passed a young man and his mother. He wore a soccer jersey and a scowl, typical of an Iraqi youth left to find easy answers in the Shiite militias. I imagine his mother begged him not to do something; something probably involving violence. He refused and left her side. I looked back to the mother. She looked worried, but pressed on with the evening's groceries.

I hope they make up by Mother's Day.

The last guarantee.

2008-05-05T12:50:00.000-07:00

Fired from 1,500 meters away, a Hellfire Missile takes 4 seconds to reach its intended target when fired from an Apache Attack Helicopter. The last 4 seconds of a mans life. Definite. Assured.

A man in a shack. A man in a shack shot a machine gun at Americans. In 4 seconds, he and his shack will be no more.

Who is this man?

What was he doing five years ago? Did he embrace America as liberator? Was he indifferent? Was he an uneducated Shiite living in poverty? If he was 16 then, what did he aspire to do in the slums of Eastern Baghdad?

If today he is 21, what does he believe politically? Religiously? Is he indifferent to life around him? What spurns him to fire upon armored Americans when he knows a helicopter can bestow him only 4 seconds of guaranteed life?

If he welcomes his death, to what end does he live?

If the last guarantee of your life is not death, but instead is 4 seconds of cognizance of your own death, what thoughts do you hold?

The facts of life(s)

2008-05-01T16:03:00.001-07:00

A boy and his father are dead. They died together. A green apple core lies next to them. It looks like they shared it. They probably loved each other a good deal. I hope they did. I hope that neither had to watch the other die.

Their murder aside, that would truly be unjust. Please give them peace.

this one's optimistic.

2008-05-01T15:57:00.000-07:00

I can change the world with my own two hands

With my own

Two hands

permit me patience. gain me wisdom. give me strength.

Incoming.

2008-04-04T13:54:00.000-07:00

Surreal. When the absurd is the norm.

"When during a mortar attack and the staff has left, please do not go behind the counter and server yourself."

-sign posted inside the FOB Rustamiyah Dining Facility

WHOMP WHOMP WHOMP - - INCOMING INCOMING -- WHOMP WHOMP WHOMP -- INCOMING INCOMING

Lying in bed, my heart stops mid-beat in order that my ears hear better. Am I in danger? No. Are my men in danger, true concern. GET INSIDE. GET DOWN. BOOM. (DON'T DIE. PLEASE DON'T DIE) And here's the flop. BOOM. Where will the 107mm rocket hit? Who/what will it choose? What impressions will it make?

I pass PVT M's face, peeking from a doorway - I see fear. PFC A's stutter searching to explain - I hear fear. My own heart strains - I feel fear. Its been awhile since that dread. I respect its power and I worship the instinct for survival it burns in me.

Who is hurt, where are they? Can I get to them? What would I do if I did "get to them?"

GET IN. GET IN. GET IN, FUCKER (to PVT C) BOOM. Ear drum pops, heat on face. Close, maybe 50 meters. Fuck. 7 men in a 10x10 room. Never met, never will again.

Running with my men around a corner towards an undetermined safety. All are screaming/yelling, some just from the adrenaline. Myself now, for the hell of it. What a fucking rush.

Thank you for your service.

2008-03-01T07:18:00.000-08:00

There are few moments in life where what you stand for is relegated to what you stand against. At least I hope there are.

I marched my men 2 miles and waited four and a half hours to see our Vice President speak the other day. Sure, there were more important matters at hand 10 days prior to our deployment, but the seats needed to be filled for a camera or two, so my morning was occupied. Behind a bomb and sniper-proof metal fort I think I once made out of pillows when I was 8, Vice President Cheney came to Fort Hood to remind us of our cause.

He spoke for twenty minutes, which wasn't important. I don't know what length would've been appropriate. What was tough to take is that though the speech was meant for the newly returned Cav Troopers of the 1st Cavalry Division, it seemed to have come out of a can; a can from 2003. Addressing the very men who just gave 15 months of their life and sometimes their own lives to his cause, you wouldn't have known from the speech he knew they had even been there. I'm not trying to make a political statement regarding this matter. Politics are trivial. I just would've liked to know that the one leader responsible would have empathized with the specifics of the life and loss of these men. I'll find my inspiration elsewhere.

So as I watched this man from 20 feet away, I stood unmoving and mixed emotionally. A battle took place in my mind. The details aren't blogworthy. Remember, politics are trivial. Suffice to say, my professionalism won out. Sort of.

After his speech, the Vice President worked the front row for handshakes. A decision presented itself. I could take one step forward and shake the man's hand or I could stand in place and watch him pass by. Unable to say I passed up the chance, I stepped forward.

Silently grasping Soldiers' hands in rhythmic side-stepping fashion, Dick Cheney approached. Many words bubbled to my mouth and I asked myself which would come out, truly not knowing the answer. Emotions from past and present contorted my face in that precise moment. I swallowed them all.

Without eye contact, Dick Cheney offered his right hand in my general direction. Unsatisfied, I took his hand and gave him a very firm one-pump. As soon as contact was made, I molded all my feelings and words and put them into action. While still holding his hand, I winked at the Vice President.

Focused only on hands, Dick Cheney was, I believe, startled. As soon as I winked, Dick looked at me not once, but twice in double-take fashion. Hands still locked, Dick Cheney took the opportunity to speak to me.

"Thank you for your service."

His hand felt like a warm, soft fish.

We are all witnesses.

2008-02-24T15:01:00.000-08:00

On a cold, clear Austin eve, I was witness. Witness to Barack Hussein Obama.

Politics aside, the man is charisma. I've never felt such palpable life in a crowd (for an hour straight, no less!) He gives me belief (not the catch-phrase "hope") that 2008 will be an alright year for this strange country of ours. We have a lot riding on this.

My dog Moira caught a plane today to Nebraska where she'll reside for the next 16 months. I assured her she'd be fine. She assured me I'd be fine. I think she was more convincing.

Oh, how I miss the pup already. Never have i made the acquaintance of a beast with such heart. She has made Nebraska a tolerable place with her presence.

I frisbee golfed in downtown Austin today. There were five homeless people asleep on the course. Maybe they were just tired frisbee golfers.

13 days till I depart myself. eep! about sums up my sentiments on the matter.

This is what Moira routinely does to her water dish. It's perplexing, but endearing. Fare thee well.

When I come back like Jordan wearing the 45, it ain't to play games with you.

2008-02-19T09:50:00.000-08:00

Greetings,

Nearly two years after my last post, I feel ready to try again. Why now? I am motivated and finally ready to start expressing myself again. I am inspired by others (see Mike Taylor in action) and I know I am selling myself short by not relaying and reflecting on my surreal life.

The irony is that I stopped on account of that same surrealism. Mostly, I didn't feel like writing after most Iraq experiences. A blog didn't feel right and I couldn't summon the words. But I'm willing to try again. I leave in three weeks and want to remember as much as I can aside from the most impressing images.

Fantastic weekend just had, consisting of Company Golf Tournament and the First Annual Dan Feehan Pentathlon. Video attached is a Sergeant of mine in Happy Gilmore Mockery on the golf course. Pic attached is the final event of the pentathlon, Texas Hold 'Em, in its most heated throws.

While I remember,

Check out this article re: NOLA and the NBA All-star Weekend

I love Bill Simmons and find him the only decent ESPN writer, but what I love more is how this article re-affirms an old belief of mine: The National Basketball Association will unite the world through sport. It is the definition of globalization done right, of maximizing product, and of continuing innovation without drastic change. LeBron=World Peace.

A modest renewal of this forum, but I promise more to come.

Peace, and much love to you.

Dan

Me

2006-05-11T11:27:00.000-07:00

In case you'd care to send anything my way, here is my mailing address. I don't really need much unless its an old Xbox game you don't care for, something interesting to read (sports or foreign policy related) or your delicious baked goods. It's always fun, though, to help out the local Iraqi schools with supplies, kids with sporting goods (soccer balls), or people in general with food, so send them my way!

2LT Feehan, Daniel
E Co, 1-66 AR 1BCT 4ID
Unit # 50003
APO, AE 09378-003

"I prefer Thin Mints!"

2006-05-11T10:36:00.000-07:00

A small anecdote:

While on patrol in the slums of north Baghdad the other day, my convoy came across a small boy on the roadside waving excitedly. This was nothing out of the ordinary, for most children come running at the cacophony of American power. But this child, no more than 2 and a half feet tall, would prove to be different.

My company recently received over a thousand Girl Scout cookies, far more than we could even imgaine consuming at a healthy rate. I decided to share this great American Icon with the Iraqi people and have my gunners toss the boxes out to the locals as we passed by.

The small boy at the roadside would be our first recipient. The vehicle in front of mine let fly a box of "Lemon Bursts", a tasty treat in its own right, in the general direction of the boy as we rolled past. The child snatched up the box in an instant with a look of sheer joy on his face. Then, I witnessed his mother harshly rebuke his acceptance of our gift. In a flash, the boys face turned from joy to nothing short of anger. His little arm hucked the Lemon Bursts right back at my vehicle, striking the armored side and letting us Americans know with finality where we could stick our cookies. It was quite a heave, for the box was at least the size of his torso. My astonishment, however, was not at his impressive throw. It was that he rejected Girl Scout Cookies. Everyone loves Girl Scout cookies!

I could pontificate on the international political ramifications of this incident: that the boy was probably Sunni and no cookie would win his heart or mind, that his mother was angry he had accepted an American gift, that he probably didn't know it was a box of cookies, but that would be all too easy. I realized later what really happened.

Simply put, the boy told me and the world that "I prefer Thin Mints!"

Scorpion vs. Camel Spider!

2006-05-05T04:00:00.000-07:00

Wellp! Here I am, typing in my "pod" in Camp Taji, I-rock. A Pod is one of three rooms to a trailer you might see at a construction site. It has a nice bed and airconditioning, the latter of which being extremely important. It appears that the world is starting to melt outside, or at least I believe it should be any second now. I pride myself at being able to deal with cold temperatures quite well, but this guy is not a fan of the heat.

I've struggled with what I should write about, and have put this blog off deliberately. I don't want to trivialize this experience or my work here in any way like I am some third party critic of US foreign policy. I AM US foreign policy! Nor do I wish to violate "OPSEC", or operational security, which is like Geraldo Rivera drawing a map in the dirt on live television. I hope, though, that I can find some happy medium to merely convey to those I love the incredible experience I am having.

I don't know where I could possibly begin, mostly because aesthetically and in terms of "new" experiences, my time here in armed conflict is like a study abroad on steroids. Everything I see and do is new, even if I've done it before, simply because it's under the auspices of this war.

I will say that watching this thing for three years on television in no way prepares you for the real thing. TV never really shows you everything, I suppose, and is just a glimpse, but I still can't believe just how different everything is in real life. Especially the poverty.

I saw some nasty shit while I was in South America, especially in Peru. The poverty there was especially made poignant because the impoverished realized their plight. Because they understood, they begged, and their begging made their poverty absolutely tragic to me. Being here has made me forget Peru. The poverty is that dramatic.

Now I have no doubt that countries in Africa have it worse, especially in conventional measures of poverty like health care and starvation. But there is something different about poverty when it exists when you have a feeling it shouldn't. When everyone you see carries or demonstrates some amenity of the modern world like a cell phone or satellite dish or beauty product. When that is what you see, and it seems that the children aren't starving, you don't expect human beings to be living and standing in their own waste, in their own shit. You don't expect to see a complete lack of basic social services. The contrast between expectation and reality is just shocking.

The children's faces stay in your head long after your Humvee has rolled by, or after you've apologized for not having anything for them as you walk to a local sheikh's plush accommodations. They are all beautiful young children, and are fascinated by American troops. Some even enjoy hucking rocks at our convoys, not out of anger, but as a game.

I don't know what it all means yet. I can't pretend to know this country because it is so complex, so complicated. I might never know it or understand it. The poverty is just the first thing I don't know or understand.

It's also a wild country. One soldier recently gathered two wildlife heavyweights for a bout of epic proportions. SCORPION VS CAMEL-SPIDER was born. They were placed inside a Gatorade bottle and asked to duke it out. Apparently, though, both gladiators were paid to throw the fight, and neither would make the first strike. The fight was thereafter cancelled due to lack of interest.

Regardless, I learned to pray to God that neither a scorpion nor a camel-spider make it into my Pod.

The comfort of milk and cereal

2006-04-09T23:28:00.000-07:00

"just let me throw one more dice; i know that i can win.
i'm waiting for my real life to begin"
-colin hay, "waiting for my real life to begin"

1:42 in the AM here in Killeen, Tejas. In about 6 hours I have a briefing on "Hostage videos". To what end? I will have to wait and see. In the meantime I sit disturbed by American popular culture. Only the comfort of milk and cereal will save me now. Tonight's menu: Honey Nut Cheerios.

How have we come to the point where Flavor Flav can entertain America for a half hour at a time with his romantic exploits? It's just damn embarrassing to see grown women losing their dignity as they literally spit on one another, curse one another and assault one another with TV studio furniture for the false affections of a man who is famously known for wearing a giant clock around his neck? Do not watch Vh1 if you value your sense of reality, for this network will warp you into a world where the significance of the subject matter is the voyeurism of the insignificant! (see Flavor Flav) In other words, stick with ESPN.

Got my new army uniforms, seen here. They are digitized camouflage, but if you ask me, they look like pajamas. In the Army, you no longer sew anything onto your fatigues. Instead, they use velcro for everything from your nametag to the American flag. This provided my roommate Steve and I with the opportunity to play with the uniform as if it were Mr. Potatohead himself. Velcro. Ridiculous.

8 days and counting till lift off. Next weekend in Milwaukee with the family. Caitlin and I will be making puppy chow, John Santore will be worrying, and i will be basking in the love of the parental units.

Godspeed

"If you died this very day, would you go to heaven?"

2006-04-01T12:28:00.000-08:00

Happy April Fools to one and all! I am alive and kickin', chicken, in the great state of Texas. Since last I wrote I have stupidly jumped from planes, kissed a few beautiful women far outside my league, played in the Wisconsin snow, eked my way through Ranger School, and received my deployment orders to Baghdad, Iraq with the 4th infantry division out of Fort Hood, Texas. Many experiences, most of them life-changing, but I can't take the time to reflect on them all at once. Instead, I shall tell a tale!

This morning my roommate Steve and I were sitting in our living room watching mindless MTV and what it passes off as the "real" world, when who should come to the door but Born-again Christians! Huzzah, what fortune! Two gentlemen younger than I greeted me with a flyer advertisement for their congregation and the direct, simple question, "Sir, are you saved?"

Thereupon this exchange took place:

Me: Yes, I believe so.

Youth #1: If you died this very day, would you go to heaven?

Me: (contemplative, but affirmative) Yeah, I'm pretty sure I would.

Youth #1, not expecting my last answer: Well, do you ask Jesus for forgiveness for all of your sins?

Me: Pretty much a daily activity, yes.

Youth #2, believing me sarcastic: Only you and God know the truth and whether or not you truly ask for forgiveness.

Me: Yes, I reckon you're right.

Youth #1, fixated on my certainty of heaven: You could die today, or tonight in your sleep...

Me: or in Iraq, yes, I agree.

Youth #1: ...and you believe that you would go to heaven?

Me: Yes.

...Awkward pause ensues...

Youth #2: Well, we're having a rock/rap concert tonight at our congregation...

This is my life now, and with daily confrontations like this one with life's biggest questions how can anyone "mess with Texas"? 17 days and I fly to Kuwait. My sense of urgency is rising, but for what reason exactly I can't say for sure. Life's details just seem sharper, like every simple action or occurrence has become interesting, a simple pleasure to enjoy like a sweet bite of an apple. What's sweetest is to find that my sense of certainty has become hardened. I had no sarcasm when I talked to those dudes this morning. I answered honestly and without hesitation. It's encouraging because the rest of 2006 looms in outright uncertainty from here, about a mountains worth.

That's all for now. Just some simple thoughts. Please enjoy this picture and EVERYONE COME SEE HOW GOOD I LOOK(ED)!!!!!

This is the day before I started Ranger School, before a 14 pound weight loss and 20 pound weight gain upon my graduation. ( can't stop eating cinnamon roll flavored Pop Tarts. They are delicious).

Love to todos

Dan

"Welcome to Fort Benning, home of the Infantry. Follow me!"

2005-11-10T21:13:00.000-08:00

slowly the pen touches paper...

Hedley Lamarr: My mind is a raging torrent, flooded with rivulets of thought cascading into a waterfall of creative alternatives.
Taggart: God darnit Mr. Lamarr, you use your tongue prettier than a twenty dollar whore.

This Blazing Saddles quote best captures my mindset at the moment. Here I type, in just my boxers, at 1225am early on a Veteran's Day morning. I feel articulate, I feel passionate, I feel full of thoughts and words and life, and yet I feel trivial. I am now at Fort Benning, GA, tucked away into the southwest corner of the state in another strange land, where you can encounter a bobcat on a run and where the Cracker Barrel's floor plans seem to have been stolen from every other Cracker Barrel.

A three day weekend lies ahead to begin my Airborne School experience at a turtle's pace. I've been surfing the facebook for about two hours now, seeking my daily dose of meaningful human contact. Had plenty of time to think yesterday during my 11 hours of driving, and I thought that when I got to this blog, I'd have plenty upon which to pontificate.

Most centers around the fact that I at 23 years old, am now two years older than my father was when he began courting my mother. This occured to me as I hung with my dear parents in Milwaukee over the last week. Now I'm not wigging out or frantic for a life partner of my own. No, none of that bullshit. Instead, what I've been meditating on deeply is that I am now an adult.

I have always considered my parents as only my parents, some kind of distant entity with whom I had no frame of reference, and it blows my mind to consider my father, younger than I at the time, finding his wife, effectively transitioning his life to the phase where I entered stage left. My life, I suppose, is just different from his, but the fact remains: I am adult of 23 years and can reasonably say that I must share a similar perspective of life that he had after graduating college. Mine is something like, "Holy shit, I am an adult and college is over" His could not have been much different. It absolutely tickles me, the reality of my father and mother, around my age now, having me. It's as if for the first time I can share a perspective of life with them, that of adulthood. I feel that I am in the driver's seat of my own life! By driver's seat I mean of course driving a Segway down an icy 4 lane parkway the wrong way without a helmet and realizing I have a low battery.

What confounds me, though, is how quickly and suddenly this realization struck me. The ages of 19-22 came and went like a blur, and for the most part college protected me from such thoughts of my mortality and inevitable maturity like a butterflies' cocoon. Nothing gold can stay, I reckon...

Getting focused on my army training, or at least thinking real hard about it. Some serious months ahead for me, with the eyes on the prize of ranger school and a probable deployment. Ran a hard 8 today and hope to road march 15 miles tomorrow. Maybe a trip to see Hotlanta to relax? Oh my the possibilities.

So much more has been on my mind, mostly day dreams of love and life. Maybe when i'm in more of a sharing mood. Happy 20th Birthday, Matt Navien. May you rest in peace in heaven.

Me and my cousins in the picture at my house in Milwaukee. Addison in my ruck sack, Piper waiting for a ride, Carrie Fee smiling in the background.

que les vaya muy bien, chicos. Peace.

Dan

Regaining human emotion

2005-10-13T01:17:00.000-07:00

"Well I could write a song a thousand miles long."

It's 3:22 AM and I am finally regaining some range of human emotion for the day, or for yesterday I guess. I've slept already, passing out at 9 PM. 'Twas a fairly exhausting day of nothing really strenuous in particular, just trying to maintain some patience with so little of Engineering School left. I taught a class on how to react to enemy contact, I taught people how to service their Army radios, and I even helped make a "demolition kit". It just all felt like heavy lifting though, and I'm spent the moment I get home.

"You go backwards again"

Days like these are difficult to contemplate because I have functioned on such a limited range of human emotion and deep thinking. It's a simple existence. relative boredom, frustration, simple joys, sleep depravity. sleep cycle. do it over again. The internet and cell phone are my outreaches to a diverse Dan. Don't get me wrong, I have learned an incredible amount while being here, its just that I still long for the variety that a day in the college life could bring, where monotony had no home, where I could shift my energy from one passion to the next and drink anew and refreshed with vigor and excitement.

"For you I'd wait till kingdom come"

Why do people think Coldplay is "pussy" or "gay" music? I've never understood that. If I had any girls here to woo, I'd woo the shit out of them with these lyrics.

Got my Halloween costume and it is muy excellente. I will be Brick Tamland, Steve Carell's character from Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy. Total cost of my costume: $3.00. I found an enitre pinstriped three piece suit at a salvation army, and Brick's glasses at a Goodwill store with Mike Werich when he visited this past weekend. The glasses hurt my eyes, it will be a glorious pain to endure through my entrance to our all Hallow's Eve fiesta!

Need to start focusing my training towards Ranger School once we get back in from the field. I'm ready to work my ass off, and I've luckily still got the time to do it. I'v slacked some here, and could have done better, but that is all water under the bridge. I want to pass Ranger, more so each day.

The Fall here is coming, and it has rejuvenated my soul. The midwest feels like so much more "home" than the east coast. The sudden shock of the cold is hard to replicate, and the crispness it brings is something I haven't felt since I left Batavia, Illinois my Freshman year of college. I have missed my Midwestern winter, and look forward to more of it when I'm home in December.

Caitlin is coming the 29th! little more than 2 weeks!

Then the midwest briefly from the 2nd of November to the 6th!

I'll be back in DC starting December 4th, and back in the midwest around the 18th of December. Looking forward to it so much that the three weeks of learning how to jump (and jumping) out of airplanes keeps slipping my mind. Ah, well. I'm sure the sheer boredom will remind me soon.

It's come time to close, but has felt nice to regain a little emotion and blog it to the world.

Good morrow to all

Dan

I've been thinking...

2005-10-02T08:28:00.000-07:00

Watching L.A. Confidential right now. Wonderful picture. So much contrast of good and evil, sacrifice, and last chances. Classic characters, romantic time period.

Jack Vincennes: It's a private investigation. I fucked something up and I want to make amends.

Dudley Smith: Don't start trying to do the right thing, Jack. You haven't had the practice.

Edmund Exley: All I ever wanted to do was measure up to my father.

Bud White: Now's your chance. He died in the line of duty, didn't he?

New York Times
September 28, 2005

The Endgame In Iraq

By Thomas L. Friedman

UMM QASR, Iraq --

"Maybe the cynical Europeans were right. Maybe this neighborhood is just beyond transformation. That will become clear in the next few months as we see just what kind of minority the Sunnis in Iraq intend to be. If they come around, a decent outcome in Iraq is still possible, and we should stay to help build it. If they won't, then we are wasting our time. We should arm the Shiites and Kurds and leave the Sunnis of Iraq to reap the wind. We must not throw more good American lives after good American lives for people who hate others more than they love their own children."

I've been thinking about this article for a few days now. Mostly I've been thinking about how much I'm beginning to lost faith in Tom Friedman. For about a year now he has ended every Iraq article with something to the effect of "we can still preserve seomthing in Iraq, it's still possible." It's always the same angle. My trouble is, its never a realistic angle. At least, its never in line with current policy, nor is there ever a tennable connection to the current policy or its intentions. Its idealism more than anything, and it bothers me because in the same breath that he blasts the competency of the current administration and decries the loss of good American lives, he offers no real solution. Instead, he writes as if his worldview is in effect and is shared by American foreign policymakers. In my mind, this is not only unproductive, but also indicative of the gap that exists between ideas and action. This is the same gap that exists between neoconservative thought and neoconserative policy. It fails to take into consideration an objective and humble look at the world. This equates to nothing but the loss of human life and the disillusionment of those that actually take action with the policies.

Been a working weekend, my group trying to finish its project design for four guard towers and a "seahut" living quarters. We've worked very hard, and should finish up this afternoon. I've learned a ton about civil engineering, but more importantly, how to manage a project. EOBC gets closer and closer to its conclusion. Played basketball yesterday and sucked. I forgot to grow for the game, or learn how to dribble in the open court. Or drive on tall people. Other than that, great workout. Steve Scott and I ran and did pullups after the game. Then on to Cracker Barrel (see picture) and Halo 2, where I was schooled.

Read a great article today about the growth of Teach for America. I hope I get a chance to do it someday. Meanwhile, my Ranger School slot got moved up to January. Whirlwind lifestyle will be in fashion for the Winter-Spring 2006 season. Everyday I must remind myself to work hard, because an exciting horizon quickly approaches.

Talked to Catherine King, high school bff, a couple times this week. It was wonderful, and just like old times. I'm still hoping she and Mike Werich can drive down for a visit next weekend. Or maybe me sister Caitlin could somehow swing it? Looks like I'll be back in the Milwaukee/Chicago area from the 3rd to the 9th of November, and it couldnt come soon enough. God Bless Missouri, but I prefer my leaves changing up north.

The Army Ten-miler took place back in DC this morning. Still waiting to hear how the Hoya Battalion did. That race is still one of the coolest I've ever done. You leave nothing on the course, just balls to the wall, hold on a little longer. I still wonder If I'll ever have my sophomore year speed again. 60:47, damn I was a light little shit back then.

An announcement: John Santore has a new pair of kicks. K-Swiss to be exact. If anyone is in the DC area, please stop by the Rayburn House Office Building of Congresswoman Louise Slaughter to see John's shoes. He reportedly "looksa goood"

Rambling now, or maybe I never stopped. thought I had more introspective things to say. Maybe I need to write while exhausted or intoxicated to produce true poetic crap.

Until Next time,

Vaya con Dios
Dan

let the crap begin

2005-09-27T22:00:00.000-07:00

Well, here we go. Any idiot can post their uncollected thoughts for the public to see, and today I became that idiot. I owe my inspiration to Brent Speetzen, a childhood friend and ally from the great state of Minnesota. The man is studying to earn his PhD in chemistry, and will one day be a great innovator and teacher.

So, I don't know why I am starting this, but I'm finding that my promise to resume a journal has failed consistently for 2 years now. Perhaps this lazier method will inspire my to better record my life, my thoughts, and to better inform others of my life after college.

I am in Missouri, the finest of midwestern states. I am in the Army and learning to be what's called a combat engineer. Army engineering consists of construction, destruction, shooting stuff, and everything in between. Most days, I watch powerpoint presentations for 10 hours and try not to fall upon my pen. It's interesting shit, dont get me wrong. Today, for instance, I learned how to plan an entire construction project. Within a year, I could take what I learned today and start planning a grade school entirely on my own in Baghdad. All this from a dude who studied foreign policy. But its force-fed learning here, and not very active, nor stimulating.

I didn't think I'd say it so soon after I slacked through 4 years at gtown, but I miss serioud academic discussion, stressful study, and challenging questions without definite answers. Not getting that in the Army, but I knew that. I'm here to learn leadership and to live leadership as much as my abilities will take me.

Went for a ruck march with Travis Toole and Jake Llorente this afternoon after class up Water Intake Hill. That hill gets easier every time. We talked about going to Ranger School and being nervous and all that shit. Its still a long way off, but its starting to creep in to my thoughts more and more. Wait till I get to Georgia.

Miss my dad. was here on Monday. With all this trying to be/live like and adult since June, It was good to have someone from the outside see my world and really see how I'm doing. Angela Maly should be visiting tomorrow night on her way from Colorado. Sweet! a girl! Believe it or not, Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri strangely lacks hot chicks. I have to spend all night chatting with them online. But Angela for a night! I can feel like a normal 23 year old!

This is going nowhere good.

I find myself thinking of the past more and more, because this place is like being frozen in time. I miss georgetown, i miss Chile, I miss Minnesota.

Garfield the Movie is on TV. Its not even worth tearing it apart. My energy for this day is fast leaving me. Blog one complete. felt good to write, but I can see I have much to improve upon.

This garfield doesn't look like garfield. Jennifer love hewitt is attractive.

piso mojado
Dan