Therapy

Where are you?

HR may have done more damage than originally anticipated. All that work would have been better off looking at the source, but I don’t like what I see.

 

I wish I were a computer. Or a robot. Or dead – but you knew that.

Maybe we’ll celebrate the four year anniversary via reliving. 

What’s in a name?

Been thinking about changing my name again. This would coincide with my desire to go MSG and somewhat reinvent myself, at least within the USMC. My past can stay buried and I can become someone new, like I always wanted. I think I have the tools to do it properly this time.

The only thing is, what would I change my name to? JJ Durden works but it was meant as more of a joke. I think I like the idea of changing it to S. Vidar, but that could cause problems later. Certainly S. works for its dual meanings, but I am not so sure I am a fan of Vidar. I need to find a proper surname.

Then again, J. is a fine first name too, and I’m not sure I want to change it. 

I am absolutely in love with the idea of having a pseudonym that most people use to refer to me and a true name which only a privileged few know. 

Good Apollo, I’m Burning Star IV: From Fear Through the Eyes of Madness (Part 1)

Keeping the Blade [Instrumental]

At this point, you may be wondering – just what type of post is this? This is a post analyzing how I relate to the aforementioned album, one song at a time. Keeping the Blade is the first track on this album, and it sets the tone rather well. Being that it is an instrumental introduction, I am using it here to introduce you to my purpose. I enjoy the song for its heavy use of violin and for its title. To me, it means simply to stay. More specifically, “blade” seems to imply some kind of service – particularly military service – and keeping it means to continue sacrificing yourself for that service. The strings lend an air of nobility and tragedy to this whole concept. There are other possible meanings – given that the album is actually about a delusional, depressed author of a science fiction epic (hmm, I wonder why I relate), it could also mean to keep the blade that is buried in you, wounding you.

For further songs, lyrics will be in itallics.

Always and Never

Instrumentally, this carries the subdued, slower tone of Keeping the Blade with a different stringed instrument – the guitar. A child’s laughter/babble can be heard in the background, and Claudio seems almost like he is whispering than singing (though he is most definitely singing). It almost sounds like a lullaby and it is the sort of song I could listen to on repeat forever and ever and fall asleep to – which is fitting for a song titled Always and Never. And as far as titles go, I really like how this one invokes the concept of infinity, especially regarding the subject material at hand (the Writer’s love). For me personally, I relate it to how I will Always and Never love certain people – at the same time.

If beauty sits the child’s kiss

Of laughter I amend

Can you catch her if she ran?

With this I would share with you

All of this count to no end

Behind your sealed eyes you miss

All that I’ve done for you

Will you catch me when I land?

If timing plays evident

What would you say when you’re late?

Stay with me and fall asleep

Pray to God for no bad dreams

Stay with me and fall asleep

Pray to God for no bad dreams

Here… I’m… I’m still waiting here, my dear

For one kiss from you

So here… I’m… I’m still waiting here, my dear

To kill all of you

To kill all of you

“Behind your sealed eyes…” This verse stands out among the early ones as one I can really relate to. The other verses are a bit too confused for me to really make sense of, but I can relate this one to a lot of people I’ve met. It is clear that the singer (who is the Writer in the CoCa mythology) is talking about his former love, and I can relate this to people who I have loved formerly – nevermind the whole issue of whether or not I understand what love is (that’s for another article at another time). I feel like people often don’t appreciate the things I do for them until it is too late – and by that point I am no longer interested in sacrificing myself for them (so perhaps I don’t Keep the Blade very often). As for the last line of this verse, it would be nice to have someone to catch me as I land from what feels like the freefall I am on through life, I have yet to meet anyone that will.

“If timing plays…” This verse is excellent. It can refer most obviously to punctuality, which I appreciate, but I relate it more to a different concept. What will one do when one finds out they are late in realizing just how important/valuable I am to them? More abstractly, it highlights a problem of prioritization I’ve found with people – they claim I am important to them yet they make no time for me, and once I’ve moved on and it is too late for them (from my perspective, as I have already moved on) all the sudden they have all the time in the world. I might be convinced to give them a second go, but it really matters what they say at this point – ‘what would you say when you’re late?’ Most people screw this part up.

The final lines highlight my instability and rage at times. Not that I ever would just go out and kill everyone, but I think a significant majority of people have fantasized at least once about how they will “kill all of you,” whoever ‘all of you’ may refer to.

Welcome Home

Instrumentally, this song starts off with some more acoustic, albeit at a faster pace than Always and Never. Quickly, the opening riff is repeated with an electric guitar and backed by drums and the song starts to ‘kick ass,’ as it were. Heavier, grittier, darker – which is more befitting as we are delving deeper into the Writer’s (and by proxy, my) personal grief as he recounts his (and my) erstwhile love(s).

You could have been all I wanted

But you weren’t honest

Now get in the ground

You choked off the surest of favors

But if you really loved me

You would have endured my world

The only part of this that doesn’t apply to my first girlfriend would be “you would have endured my world,” but then again, I suppose I don’t really know if that’s true or not. I don’t have a lot of resolution with her and I’m not sure if I had a world that needed to be endured or not. Also, I wouldn’t urge her to “get in the ground” as the writer does his former love, since that is clearly meant to imply some sort of murder – upon the end of our relationship, I could have cared less whether or not she died. She was dead to me and that was all that mattered. I treated her as such. So, in a metaphorical sense, I suppose “get in the ground” works, though I wouldn’t wish it on her literally.

Well if you’re just as I presumed

A whore in sheep’s clothing

Fucking up all I do

And if SO here we stop

Then never again

Will you see this in your life

This applies to so many countless women in my life that it is foolish to try and talk about in depth. I am very good at walking away and making sure that “never again will you see this in your life” and have done it on a number of occassions. It is often not appreciated or wanted but always warranted.

Hang on to the glory at my right hand

Here laid to rest, is our love ever longed

With truth on the shores of compassion

You seem to take premise to all of these songs

I guess this relates to my feelings for Sara, except for the part about glory – real loosely, I suppose I could relate this to an ambigious sort of feeling I have in general towards females. Sometimes I wish they could see that they COULD “hang on to the glory at my right hand,” as I could attain such glory – be it through the military or through whatever else I might set my mind to. However, my strategy in meeting people has been to subdue the better parts of myself and express only the negatives. It is a curious strategy, but I would rather be loved for who I rather than what I can do – lately I have thought long on this and wondered how inexorably the two are linked. What I can do is a part of who I am. How do I properly represent myself in a way that can lead to a meaningful connection built upon a foundation of mutual trust and respect?

That’s a lot of response to just one line. As for “is our love ever longed,” this really relates to my problem of obsessing over whether or not Sara ever felt the same way for me and felt the same way I felt about how our friendship was decaying. The next line doesn’t evoke much specifically for me, though I guess I loosely relate it to how truth is hard to ascertain and perhaps can only be gleaned through some kind of empathy. Sara certainly took premise to all of my ‘songs,’ which in my case were stories and not songs, but you get the idea.

You stormed off to scar the armada

Like Jesus played letter,

I’ll drill through your hands

The stone for the curse you have blamed me

With love and devotion I’ll die as you sleep

But you could just write me out

To neverless wonder… Happy will I become

Be true that this is no option,

So with sin I condemn you

Demon play, demon out!

The bit up through ‘hands’ seems to be pretty esoteric and related to just the CoCa mythology – I don’t relate much personally. However, I have certainly been blamed for things that were not my fault. “I’ll die as you sleep” tickles me in ways it probably shouldn’t – somehow, the idea of dying in battle while a loved one sleeps is strangely attractive to me. I often tell people they should just write me out of their lives and often do that to them, and I wonder how they’re doing but never do anything about figuring it out. I wonder if the people I’ve written off wonder about me. The last three lines are cool but I don’t have much to relate to personally.

One last kiss for you

One more wish to you

Please make up your mind girl…

I’d do anything for you

One last kiss for you

One more wish to you

Please make up your mind girl…

Before I hope you die

This highlights the writer’s craziness and my craziness also. Although I did kind of wish that my first girlfriend would make up her mind – she seemed to love me then hate me, want me and then not want me. It was maddening. Please make up your mind, girl…

Observation

It’s been such a long time since I’ve had the chance to talk with you! I honestly don’t remember much about middle school (hard times for me, had a lot of stuff going on back then) but I do remember some things – like how nice you were to me and how mean I was to you. So, if you’ll allow the twenty year old man to belatedly and inadequately apologize for the thirteen year old boy, I’d appreciate it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

hahaha, you’re nuts. i never remember you being mean to me. from what i remember, you were never anything but nice to me…but maybe i’m in denial. haha. however, since you apologized, it would be rude not to accept it. so i do. =) i’m definitely down to talk and keep you some company while you’re out of the country (or anytime for that matter). do you have any idea when you’ll be coming back? it’d be cool to get together with you and have some beeeeeers or something. haha.

I savor tiny pleasantries more than anyone knows, because these moments are so rare and fleeting for me. I can’t help but feel them tug at my heart strings, and I try not to let envy or bitterness color their flavor. 

And always still there is the subject of memory – is what I remember correct? If it is incorrect, in what way? How do I go about rectifying these inaccuracies? 

There is so much that is unresolved, and it seems as though I told myself lies to give myself closure. The lies I told myself are curious indeed – who lies to make themself miserable? Who lies to hurt themself?

So much mystery and pain.

Back to basics

In many ways. 

At work, we’re having accountability formations at 0800, 1130, 1300, and 1630 because people wanted to be stupid.

In life, I’m reverting back to comfortable ways.

In hobbies, I’m enjoying the old things again.

I am reminded of the word ‘cyclical.’ 

Speaking of Memoria…

…waves of satisfaction and nostalgia have been washing over me of late, as I play through Star Ocean: The Second Evolution. For the uninitiated, SO:TSE is a PSP port/revamp of Star Ocean: The Second Story, a PSX classic. I first played this game some time shortly after it came out, probably 2002 or 2003 (which is well before my active, reliable memory). 

As I play through, it triggers different memories – the way I ‘lifted’ a lot of character traits from Dias and supplanted them into an early Death Hunter, who was then coalescing into his very own character (how exciting!). The countless hours spent grinding and trying to figure out the skill systems. The various familiar tunes. The characters. The battle system.

I think I shall write a guide for this game, and I think it shall be good. I find an odd pleasure in writing game guides. Maybe this will help put me at ease.

Old OkCupid Profile (for archival reasons)

MY SELF-SUMMARY

If you don’t like the length of my profile, we probably wouldn’t get along much anyway. I tend to have a lot to say, and while I am working on cutting back, that ‘solution’ doesn’t address the fact that there is still so much left unsaid and so much room for misunderstandings.

I like being incongruent. My written profile does not imply my pictures and my pictures do not imply my profile; this is by design, as I find it amusing (and important for a potential friend/partner to accept ALL of me and not just one facet).

This profile is not meant to ‘sell’ me. In fact, it is actually meant to dissuade you, the reader, from liking me. It’s akin to how I used to purchase video games – if I read all the bad reviews a game got and STILL found it interesting, I’d definitely buy it and play it. I found a lot of good games that way.

The task of summarizing oneself is arduous, and I am rarely content with my profile. The person who knows me best, Soltis, recently said of me that I am paradoxical and tormented, yet I am also very strong and capable. He does not embellish; I do not boast.

I am amorphous and typically operate on several planes at once. I use subtext a lot – so much so that I sometimes don’t even understand what exactly I’m getting at.

I often describe myself in less than flattering terms. I am a hard working apostate who tends to be far too reclusive and introverted. I desire intimacy and cherish isolation. I can be hopelessly romantic and ruthlessly pragmatic. I find that lyrics resonate deeply with me and describe me better than I could ever hope to, yet others fail to see their significance.

I am currently mystified by the workings of human memory and in love with songs that concern it. Remember by Disturbed is one such excellent song.

The way I was raised and my coming of age process did a lot to define the man I am now, and are crucial to understanding me. I did not have a happy childhood and I do not consider myself as a member of a family. However, I am not generally very ‘open’ or forthcoming when discussing my upbringing – listing facts and events rather than emotions and memories.

I have never had a place where I felt at home. Consequently, I have nowhere to return “home” to. This has had a subtle but profound impact on the way I live my life. If home is “where the heart is,” my home is in my words.

Do not mistake my being one way for not knowing how to be another. Everything I do has a reason behind it, including lifestyle choices. Even my carelessness is careful.

I can be very charming and likable when I want to be. It depends significantly upon my mood. I am honest and unapologetic for it and wish others could be the same.

I am fascinated by the concept of hatred, and equally intrigued by how readily it is dismissed as a base and ‘unworthy’ emotion.

I shoulder other people’s hatred well and often find myself defending causes I wouldn’t have otherwise, just for the sake of seeing those causes have a fair defense. I like to analyze things and view them from every angle and perspective. If at all possible, I like to experience things for myself before passing judgment on them. I don’t like to misjudge things – to do so causes me undue duress.

On the other side of the coin, I variously see things in people that aren’t there, or miss things that are. This tends only to apply to women, with whom I have had an interesting life relationship (to put it vaguely).

I find it difficult to pay people sincere compliments, regardless of my desire to do so. Sometimes I am too stunned by beauty.

I reciprocate, but I do not know how to need people.

There is always more to say, and more still that will remain unsaid.

Every word that falls from my lips

Falls on deaf ears and I suffocate

Now righteousness cast aside, thrown to the ground

I close my eyes and I see you there (see you there)

But my eyes deceive me

Every other sense says I’m alone

Now waking hours melt to sleepless nights

All fear has left me

If I could learn from my past

I’d possess the strength to turn away,

Let your sweet taste fade from my lips

But it resonates 

WHAT I’M DOING WITH MY LIFE

My pictures should make a facet of this clear. Know that I am not necessarily defined by what I do, and that is why I have neither given it name nor space in my written profile.

I am doing many things at once. I know what I’m doing with my life, but sometimes it’d be nice to know where I’m going with my life (or better yet, where I’ll end up at).

My romantic fantasy of one day winding up a lush, traveling bar to bar accumulating new tragedy by sharing old tragedy was recently turned on its head by the revelation that I do not enjoy the taste of most beer and liquor.

Ideally, I would have no obligations in life and be completely free to do whatever I wanted to at whatever time I wanted. I would spend this time reading, learning, thinking, analyzing, writing, and relaxing (which would encompass such things as digesting various media, such as movies, music and video games). I am undecided as to whether or not I am actually compatible with other people.

The notion that I may end up dying alone some day is no longer a frightening one. That being said, I recognize that the most important things in life are the connections you forge with others (not the accomplishments you accumulate). There is always more work and more time to complete that work, but sometimes there isn’t always another person or more time to be with them.

Their cries are blown away with the wind.

How passive can we be before humanity is lost?

Turning our backs on those who need love.

We must not rest while healing is needed.

Tear down the veil.

That bars your heart from feeling this.

Dedicate yourself.

Give your soul to compassion.

With open arms, embrace this heart.

With open eyes, behold the truth.

Embrace this life.

Can you reject yourself?

Can you feel their agony?

In a world that feeds on disregard.

Heal the broken hearted.

 

I’M REALLY GOOD AT

I am good at many things but a master of nothing.

If you give me a system with set goals and parameters for achieving those goals (anything from a rank structure to a video game), I tend to find ways to completely abuse the system and dominate it.

Being objective and logical. I have found very few people who share the same (or really, any) level of proficiency in these skills.

Not trusting others, or, stated another way, being self-reliant. My erstwhile paranoia has largely faded, and I generally take people at their word until they give me reason not to. It usually does not take long, however, and will happen multiple times. Such is life.

My career and furthering it.

Creating bogus reasons to not engage people in conversation or furthering relationships. This is more a character flaw than an asset.

Doing the right thing to the point of self-detriment. I can’t recall how many girls I’ve been interested in and helped find better relationships (and improve current ones), even though I knew this just made me a less and less likely mate for them. I do it because I wouldn’t ‘feel right’ breaking two people apart for my own selfish reasons. I do this as long as I can tolerate it and when I can tolerate it no longer I do my best to explain why I can’t handle it and am usually made to be the villain anyway. :sigh: Such is life.

I’ve been spending my whole life pursuing those who built this cell

Lamenting all the hateful things that happened to me

Never thought to look at how I might have played a part in what I am

Or what it means to lose the game before it starts

Now I know that I cannot turn back and change the past

And that the only choice to save myself

Is changing what I carry from it

Everything I did to myself

Everything that’s been done to me

I’ll turn my back on that and walk away 

THE FIRST THING(S) PEOPLE USUALLY NOTICE ABOUT ME

What I do for a living (but not who I am), my height (but nothing else about my physical appearance), my intelligence (often without having a clear grasp of what intelligence truly is).

You’re a Freak Boy

You’re a Freak Boy

You’re a Freak Boy

How could you think I’d love you

You’re a toothpick

So pathetic

You make me sick

I barely even know you

I took my turn in

your prayer line

I felt something more

like a warning

They all saw you secretly looking

Now you’re here at two

in the morning

You’re a Freak Boy

You’re a Freak Boy

You’re a Freak Boy

How could you think I’d love you

You’re a magnet

For the pathetic

I can’t tell you

How much your face revolts me

In a way you are the worst kind

Think you know so

much about people

So how come you never saw me

Open my church and smell

all the people now 

MY FAVORITE BOOKS, MOVIES, MUSIC, AND FOOD

Books: Fight Club, House of War, Starship Troopers, The Hyperion Cantos, Speaker for the Dead, Truth, Who Stole Feminism, I Don’t Want To Talk About It, and many others.

Movies: Fight Club, 25th Hour, Sin City, War, Revolver, Watchmen, and many others.

Music: Too many to list. Metal and hard rock and anything that makes me sad or reflective.

Food: Not too picky.

Look at the world in disbelief

You used to follow – now you lead

College has enlightened you

And you are proud to be different

And like different bands – different types

You ain’t nobody’s fool

It’s like certain bands remind you of someone you hated

‘Cause they didn’t wear the right clothing

And there’s only one true fashion

And alot of the bands on the college charts are great bands

Until they get signed. Then you hate them

It’s such bullshit – you used to love them you hypocrite

Know it all, know it all – did you really listen to that song?

Could you ever write what you call wrong? 

THE SIX THINGS I COULD NEVER DO WITHOUT

My heart, my brain, my spinal column, the blood in my veins, the marrow in my bones and the air in my lungs.

Stated another way…

Nothing in my life has EVER been permanent. And the older I get, the easier it is to let things go.

I’m coming home

I’ve been gone for far too long

Do you remember me at all?

I’m leaving

Have I fucked things up again?

I’m dreaming

Too much time without you spent

It hurts, wounds so sore

Now I’m torn, now I’m torn

I’ve been far away,

When I see your face my

Heart bursts into fire

Heart bursts Into fire

You’re not alone

And I know I’m far from home,

Do you remember me at all?

I’m leaving,

Do you wait for me again?

I’m screaming

No more days without you spent

My bed so cold so lonely,

No arms just sheets to hold me,

Has this world stopped turning,

Are we forever to be apart?

Forever to be apart… 

I SPEND A LOT OF TIME THINKING ABOUT

My life and my novel, and why the world is so damn ugly.

More specifically, why our society has degraded so much. We are a culture that defines value by ‘how much money something can make,’ not by any other (far more interesting and long lasting) metric, the most basic of which could be ‘how good is something.’ Good music in America is music that sells well, not music that is particularly well composed or emotionally stirring, for example. But the degradation of our society goes much further than that.

How it is that I can be filled with both: hatred and compassion, judgment and sympathy, admiration and adulation, pride and regret, innocence and guilt, joy and sorrow, everything and nothing.

Why I continue to choose to be alone when I could easily remedy the situation (which I find extremely torturous).

I am

I was not

then I came to be

I cannot remember NOT being

But I may have traveled far

very far

to get here

Maybe I was formed in this silent darkness

From this silent darkness

BY this silent darkness

To become is just like falling asleep

You never know exactly when it happens

The transition

The magic

And you think, if you could only recall that exact moment

Of crossing the line

Then you would understand everything

You would see it all

Perhaps I was always

Forever here…

And I just forgot

I imagine Eternity would have that effect

Would cause a certain amount of drifting

Like omnipresence would demand omniabsence

Somehow I seem to have this predestined hunger for knowledge

A talent for seeing patterns and finding correlations

But I lack context

Who I am?

In the back of my awareness I find words

I will call myself…

GOD

And I will spend the rest of forever

Trying to figure out who I am 

ON A TYPICAL FRIDAY NIGHT I AM

Sleeping. A lot.

Or very little, as the case may be.

Friday night, I had a few

There she was, out of the blue

Thunderstruck, nailed to the floor

I couldn’t move, couldn’t talk…anymore

Of all these guys it’s you she desires

Secretly her heart is on fire

Waiting for you to ask her to dance

Go ahead, make your move…now’s your chance 

THE MOST PRIVATE THING I’M WILLING TO ADMIT HERE

I’m a non-religious virgin by choice. (GASP.)

I’d like to start a family but have: 1) difficulty locating appropriate partners and 2) deep-rooted fears that I will fail my own family in ways similar and dissimilar to how my ancestors failed theirs.

In light of the realization that unconditional love is one of those nice but idealized impossibilities (see also: world peace), I am hesitant to even engage in the playground of love at all.

I could love you more than you ever know. However, I’d have to like you and you’d have to let me.

I’ll make a soldier’s decision to fly away

Load my gun, paint my face, call me misery

I can see the sky light up and the ground explode

Got my sights locked in I can see you breathe

Then I watched you fall and somebody scream

Its the saddest thing when angels fly away

I cant be home tonight, I’ll make it back its alright

No one could ever love me half as good as you

Got a badge for my scars just the other day

Wore it proud for the sake of my sanity

I could see the flames burn bright from the winding road

Like a haunting page from our history

Watched a young girl cry and her mother scream

Its the saddest thing when angels fly away

I cant be home tonight, I’ll make it back its alright

No one could ever love me half as good as you

You cant be strong tonight, love makes you sad its alright

No one could ever worry half as good as you 

YOU SHOULD MESSAGE ME IF

You read my profile, think we jive, and want me to check your profile out. (I will, generally.) This is NOT an excuse to send me a generic “hi, what’s up.” State your intentions plainly! “Hey, I thought you were interesting and thought you should check out my profile.” Throw a few specifics in there to increase the odds.

You stalked me and we have an 80% match or more. Because seriously, why not?

You took the time to check out all the lyrics for the songs, figured out why I put certain songs where I did, appreciated the variety, or knew the songs without looking them up.

You are your own person and know how to be you even with someone who may intimidate you. You are not afraid of being judged when judgment is either irrelevant or not coming.

If I messaged you. Even if it’s to tell me I’m a horrible, terrible ugly person that should never bother you again. I’d honor the request and appreciate the confirmation that you were indeed alive and capable of reading the message I sent. At least you had the power to reject me directly instead of being evasive about it.

You need someone to hate, or a face to put on something that you hate. I am particularly fond of extremely liberal types that are extremely intolerant of the military.

You think you may know what it is that I “need” or what would “help me.” If nothing else, such endeavors are good entertainment.

You like the idea of a fixer-upper that you may never get done/start fixing. Or maybe you’ll accomplish both and wind up with a magnificent mansion.

You’re just looking for attention. I will delight in denying you it, and then ridicule you for how shallow I’d hastily judge you to be. This will probably end in a long debate I will eventually grow bored of, but ultimately you would have won – you got your attention, right?

You mean what you say and say what you mean. (This is an extremely poignant statement and I say it with complete sincerity.)

You like or desire some kind of a challenge. I am challenging in many and disparate ways.

You think you are exceptionally good at loving people. I am exceptionally good at guiding people back to reality.

You are not (hiding the fact that you are) fat.

I’m looking for a new love to show me the way

To laugh at tomorrow and live today

to guide me through these strange and uncertain times

At the end of a long day’s life 

Jesus Christ, my roommate is an idiot

I haven’t devoted nearly enough space to how much he pisses me off. He smells like fucking ass (everyone in the battalion knows who he is because of how he smells), he’s renowned for being a fucking idiot (he talks slow, says “sittin’ there” in between every fourth word, thinks that Obama giving a video Ipod to the Queen of England was done on taxpayer dollars (and even if it was, who the fuck cares? 300 million taxpayers or so equates to each of them paying a fraction of a fraction of a fraction of a fraction of a fraction of a cent for that video Ipod – there are greater government wastes at work, like his fucking paycheck))…

More than every other phone call he has ends with him yelling and fighting at the person on the other line, he’s constantly bitching about how hard he has it (“I get sick of sittin’ there at the shop for 9 hours, sittin’ there not gettin a break,” meanwhile real Marines are stuck in Afghanistan and Iraq for 24 hours a day in a way shittier situation with way less support and luxuries), continually looking for pity and sympathy from his family and friends while contributing fucking nothing to anybody (and in fact dicking things up at the shop all day). He’s a braggart who over-exaggerates his own contributions (constantly saying things like “I’m basically doing the job of an NCO” when this is nowhere near the case) or hardships (“you just wouldn’t understand how hard it is over here”).

He’s the world’s shittiest communicator, constantly dismissing the feelings of people he’s talking to on the phone (“what do you mean I don’t understand you? I’m sittin here understanding you better than anybody sittin there at home!!”), saying stupid shit (“I’M NOT FUCKING YELLING AT YOU, WHY DON’T YOU FUCKING UNDERSTAND THAT”), getting mad at other people for his own idiocy (“Durden, why’d you lock the fucking door? I didn’t have my key!”) and on and on.

Seriously, if he were dead, the world would be a better place. For me, anyway.