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21 March 2003 @ 05:08 pm
Close to Home  
The war is coming home.

I see friends, looking concerned and upset. One of my friends is Egyptian. The rest of her family, her cousins, aunts, and uncles, are too close to Iraq for her to feel anything but fear and worry about this conflict. I want to offer her comfort, but once again it is my friends of friends who have people in the desert.

Looking at my life and the Shrubism of America, I can only think about 9 years ago. I was still at Wellesley, trying to be myself, a top-notch biochem student, and a physical powerhouse as I was in the Air Force ROTC program at MIT. My hair was short, and I wore a uniform at least once a week. I studied military history, air crafts, and practiced marching. Not all of these were skills I thought I really needed. I learned about military forms of writing and speaking, and earned my merits and demerits with the rest of the group.

I didn't finish ROTC; the same way I didn't finish Wellesley in many ways. I had a good heart and I believed in what I could do for my government. I believed that I could best serve, in many ways, through the military.

Now, with my hair and tattoos, it is hard to see the type of person I was then. It is difficult to see myself in a uniform in the Middle East, where I would either be working as a physician's assistant or a communications specialist. And despite everything, it is hard to see Dobbs, O'Shea, and the other cadets there, working at the tasks our government has assigned to them.

I have not seen you in years, but my heart goes out to you.

Peace.
 
 
Feeling like: contemplativecontemplative
Listening to: Silence