7 more weeks. Just 7.
Excuse me a little moping right now. Because frankly, I’m tired of everyone (with the exception of a handful of people I can tolerate) here. The immaturity level is through the roof. I swear it’s like being back in high school. Even the few people I do go places with – oh the woes of the necessary “battle buddy” for everything except taking a shower – are at least 6-8 years my junior, and it shows. Not to insult them in any way. It’s ok to be 18, 19, 20 and going through that part of life. I’m just over it. So even the mature 20 year olds…have a perspective so far removed from mine that a lot of times I end up just shaking my head and listening to them. I miss being around people that I can relate to. There are a few of us “older” folks here (which, by the way, means 25-30), but most of them are a lot like me – nose to the grindstone through the week, to hell with any chance of getting disqualified or recycled. Free time spent on the phone with family, trying to make sure nothing falls apart. Even then, they’re not on my team so we see each other in passing. Kind of hard to get to know two or three people out of 90. Yep, my platoon has – or had – almost 90 people.
We were “phased up” recently, which means on the weekend we’re pretty much on our own except for first and last formations. Yay for civilian clothes. Yay for free time. And…no one to hang out. No one I really feel comfortable with. A couple girls on my team I go eat with, even went out into San Antonio with…but in the end, I felt tired. Trying too hard. Wearing too much of a mask. I don’t pretend to be someone I’m not. But the gap – dare I say generation gap? – is almost too big to breach.
Another kind of gap I keep seeing is the difference in mentality between those of us that are active duty, and the National Guard or Reserve (no disrespect meant to them). Because, like it or not, they’re weekend warriors and a lot of them enlisted because their recruiters sold them on that idea. Over half of my company is Guard or Reserve. They want to train and go back home to party. Go back to school. Go back to their lives. This army stuff doesn’t mean jack to some of them. It’s an extra paycheck. Something to get through for a few extra thousand a year. Ok, that’s fine. But most of them – especially the younger ones – give no thought at all to what it means to dedicate the next few years of your life to the military. Most of them don’t care if they get in trouble here, because their units at home will never see those papers or if they do, won’t care much.
Maybe if I didn’t have a family too, it wouldn’t be such a big deal. Maybe if my focus wasn’t on getting back with them and making a home for us again, wherever it is.
Maybe I’m just old. 😛