Can’t sleep, can’t write.

*originally posted on myspace on 9/20/2008*

A mom and son came into Fuddruckers. The son was about four years old. While I was taking their order, the boy told his mom he was going to get his dad a toothpick. New prize in hand, he told me that he had “got his daddy a toothpick.” I smiled and said, “Good snag, I bet he’ll love it.” Then the boy asked his mom if he could “drive it over to him.” The mom’s reply completely took me by surprise and totally defined, textbook-style, the word blindsided.

“We’re not driving to Iraq, honey.”

Ohlee Mohlee. The war to me has, for the most part, been reduced to the deepest, most unused recesses of my mind. The same recesses I use to remember old lunchladies (Mrs. Henry) and 80’s one-hit-wonder bands (Timbuk3). In other words, if you were to ask me what I thought about the war, there’s at least a 1:5 chance I would say, “what war?” And yes, part of it is I’m a self-absorbed teenager. Part of it, the larger part, is the fact that I’m lucky enough to be almost totally shielded from it. No one in my family is in the military, and even further out, no one that’s truly a big part of my life is fighting over there. I’m not exposed to the harsh realities of the world in that respect. I’m not afraid of phrases like “tour of duty” and “number of casualties.” That’s my problem. Here was a family who was directly affected by the war and I didn’t even know how to deal with them. I wanted to tell her thanks, that she did good by marrying a man who was more than I’ll ever be in my life (in the, you know, willing-to-die-for-your-country category), but you just can’t say that. Instead I kept my mouth shut and waited for them to leave.

I guess I’ve never really been forced to have an opinion on the war. I think it’s good that we’re there still, and I’m against a pull-out based on a timetable. I think whether we should’ve been there or not, we’re they’re now and we can’t leave without doing our best to sew up the holes. Then again, it’s not me fighting. I certainly wouldn’t want to die for basically another country that doesn’t even really want you there anymore. All-in-all, the whole thing’s really depressing. The best we can do is support our troops and hope they get home safe and sound. And without mental issues.

On the lighter side of things, I want to try something fun… this might not work, and most of it will be based on your participation, but I got tired of the standard senior superlatives in the yearbook, so I made up some of my own. Some are mean, some are nice, and some are just funny. So, if you wouldn’t mind indulging me, write down your votes for the following categories:

Biggest Tool In The Shed –
Person With The Most Google Hits 20 Years From Now –
Most Likely To Become A Serial Killer –
Most Likely To Become President –
Person You Envy The Most –
Best Laugh –

Here’r my votes, respectively.

Mason Simmons (how can you argue?), Steven Davis (going to be headlining stuff for years), The creepy kid in Modern World Issues (chad?), Erin Thompson (i’d sure as hell vote for her), Binsy (one of the chillest, coolest, laid-back kids I know), and Jordan Ashment (he’s just got a great laugh).

Cheers.

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