Popping the Bubble
Why do I always think on Sundays? And why does my thinking invariably end up with me feeling guilty for a multitude of things?
My Duke bubble popped today, which is impressive considering I've only been home for about 5 hours. It started because I am determined to stay informed this summer, so I broke out the front section of the Washington Post (hoorah!) and watched the local news. 18-yr-old escaped mental patient shot a cop with small children (he had 7 fucking guns - what kind of family with a psychotic kid living in their house keeps seven weapons there??). Shootings in the city. And then, the guilt hits - with the article in the Post talking to veterans about Iraq. My mom and I were talking about it and it's true, their resentment of the American public is entirely justified. Since nothing has been demanded of us for this war (ie drafting, rations, etc), no one pays it a bit of attention unless it has directly impacted your life. One veteran described sitting in an Italian restaurant while on leave and wanting to scream at all the people taking everything for granted. Just think about it. It makes me feel even more pathetic because I imagine that I am somehow helping out by doing ROTC. I'm doing jack shit. I march sometimes in the morning, take a few classes and wear a uniform on Thursdays. These people are fighting a goddam war and no one cares. Hell, I don't care most of the time. It's easier not to and it's hard to work up enthusiasm for the same news day after day. Still, as someone who will be in the Armed Forces some day, I can't help feeling that leaving these young men and women stranded with their struggles and their memories is a horrible thing for us to be doing.
I feel restless. Home just doesn't feel quite right, like I'm spending the weekend with relatives or something instead of coming back to where I belong. I guess I'll give it time. All the time I spent last week fantasizing about being here, I should have known would lead to disappointment. But at the same time, it's comfortable. My couches are here, my parents are here. There's a new radio in the kitchen, which inexplicably bothers me. My brother is turning in pictures of himself in the shower to his Spanish class which is... awkward to say the least. It's kind of bad that his study habits in high school are like mine in college. This does not bode well for the future.
I think I will go waste time and do Pilates because I need to move.
My Duke bubble popped today, which is impressive considering I've only been home for about 5 hours. It started because I am determined to stay informed this summer, so I broke out the front section of the Washington Post (hoorah!) and watched the local news. 18-yr-old escaped mental patient shot a cop with small children (he had 7 fucking guns - what kind of family with a psychotic kid living in their house keeps seven weapons there??). Shootings in the city. And then, the guilt hits - with the article in the Post talking to veterans about Iraq. My mom and I were talking about it and it's true, their resentment of the American public is entirely justified. Since nothing has been demanded of us for this war (ie drafting, rations, etc), no one pays it a bit of attention unless it has directly impacted your life. One veteran described sitting in an Italian restaurant while on leave and wanting to scream at all the people taking everything for granted. Just think about it. It makes me feel even more pathetic because I imagine that I am somehow helping out by doing ROTC. I'm doing jack shit. I march sometimes in the morning, take a few classes and wear a uniform on Thursdays. These people are fighting a goddam war and no one cares. Hell, I don't care most of the time. It's easier not to and it's hard to work up enthusiasm for the same news day after day. Still, as someone who will be in the Armed Forces some day, I can't help feeling that leaving these young men and women stranded with their struggles and their memories is a horrible thing for us to be doing.
I feel restless. Home just doesn't feel quite right, like I'm spending the weekend with relatives or something instead of coming back to where I belong. I guess I'll give it time. All the time I spent last week fantasizing about being here, I should have known would lead to disappointment. But at the same time, it's comfortable. My couches are here, my parents are here. There's a new radio in the kitchen, which inexplicably bothers me. My brother is turning in pictures of himself in the shower to his Spanish class which is... awkward to say the least. It's kind of bad that his study habits in high school are like mine in college. This does not bode well for the future.
I think I will go waste time and do Pilates because I need to move.