..or rather, me.

This is a story of a guy who tries to hard to help out his friends.


It's also a story of how much I hate European work ethic. Their Idea of hard work is, "I worked 4 hours today without a break. Let's call it a day".

Well, when people with that kind of an attitude build things like "houses", or the army lets them build "Barracks" because outsourcing the job is cheaper then having the Army Engineers come and do it. You get terrible craftsmanship and the potential for things to break.

This is what happens when you are trying to work on networking in the ceiling and the support beam you are standing on, decides it want's to stop support things. (BTW, I was 700lbs under the maximum weight limit for the beam. Someone just decided it was faster to use one bracket to mount then the four you are supposed to have.)
The End.

-steve

Labels: Pre 2013

So, there is a book called "Wild at Heart" and I've seen it a few times in my life just sitting on a shelf or at the church. Supposedly its a story about being a Man and why God has made us to have the desires we do.

Well, Here in Kosovo, I'm in charge of the MWR room and the Library that I'm trying to get built and this book has come across me 2 times now. The first time I saw it was in a package another friend had gotten. I neatly put it on my shelf and logged it away in my brain and forgot about it. The second time, was yesterday while I was organizing some books in the library, when it again appeared in a stack of books.

The third time was today when I went into the library to grab a book to read while I went to the bathroom. (A habit I picked up from my father which usually leads me to taking long bathroom breaks)

Well, upon not seeing the book I desired, I turned to leave and had this nagging feeling like I should grab "Wild at heart" and read it. So, I walked out of the room, leaving the book behind and went back to my desk. Only to realise I had a copy on the top shelf of my desk stacked neatly with a few other books. So, I grabbed the book and went to the bathroom.

Three pages into the book, I wanted to hit myself.

Let me tell you what I read, "it is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly...who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at best knows in the end of the triumph oh high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who have never known neither victory nor defeat"
-Teddy Roosevelt

That's the opening first page.

It may not seem like alot to you, but it instantly became everything I have been trying for in my life and I almost cried on the toilet. I know, lame huh?

One of those sick moments when a wave of realization hits and you want to scream with how stupid you have been; or just as easily blind.

All my life, I have wanted and screamed for the chance to be a warrior. To fight those great fights and to come against odds insurmountable enough to make any sane man run. To know if I have the will within me to stand to a challenge like that.

To be a warrior of God and David, to have charged toward my foe, sword and shield in hand. Screaming out the last ounces of breath as I try to steady myself for either my death or a victory.

I read Fantasy books to escape my reality. I play fantasy games, and wish I was my character. I play dungeons and dragons now and wish that I was the character I was playing.

My life is a whirling storm of me trying desperately to fulfill that desire to be a warrior, and even though I'm in the army. I feel cheated..

*sigh* Today, is prolly going to be severely disappointing.

-steve

Labels: Pre 2013

Thats all there is, there is no more.


-steve

Labels: Pre 2013

The title of this post is something that I have always been able to do. It's something I've always wanted to do.

It's crazy how those few words can convey so much and yet come across as nothing at all.

Recently, a friend and I kinda got into a small little scuffle. Yet, it was strange that I found myself telling that friend that its true friends who confront each other.

Then I realized as I was saying it that it's completely true.

Friends, real friends, actually can get in your face and tell you your wrong, or right, or stupid, or good looking, or any number of things that you would normally be upset about.

People, myself included, spend so much time always trying to be right. Yet, most often we are wrong in some way.

Today, was incredibly boring. Work was the same old. I work with phone systems and am In charge of managing our telecommunications. I've always thought of myself as a good communicator and yet I find myself realizing that everyone communicates differently.

Man that's annoying. My Fiance is going to school for communication, and at fist I thought it was funny and teased her a little. Yet, now I see how important the art of effective communication can be when you take away all the rules you have learned.

In my job I work with people from all over the world, and trying to have conversations with them is someone difficult because of the nature of language. Some things are universal, like tone of voice.

Raised voice often means negativity. However, most of the people I work with have no real concept of personal space. They will reach into your pocket and grab something for you, or they will stand right next to you, or hold your arm in a way that would by American standards be inapropriate.

If all your life you grew up and thought that the word "apple" meant "F*** Off." Then how would you view a sign that said "Apples 50 cents" or what would you think in a grocery store.

Then, we come full circle back to the point. Being able to communicate on a level of understanding is so incredibly hard when the people you communicate with don't speak the same language.

I spent a better portion of today trying to understand how I had upset someone and offended them. After I learned, I felt terrible.

Lets just say that in Albanian, "Help Me Push My Car." Does not mean the same thing in English as it does in Albanian.

For those of you who don't understand. Apple.

-steve

Labels: Pre 2013