Must get this thing started
Since I know millions out there are dying to hear what I have to say and have been checking the website and refreshing it every fifteen seconds, I thought I'd actually write something down. For no reason at all, I feel I have a lot to write, but I have no idea where to start, so I'll go easy and start it like I might a third grade essay. Here goes:
My name is Brandon Reynolds. I was born in Fort Worth, TX in March of 1976. I lived in Decatur, TX until 1994 when I was accepted to the U.S. Air Force Academy where I was dismissed for underage drinking eight months later. I moved back to Decatur, went to school for a year in Vernon, TX, moved back to Decatur, got tired of the area, and moved to Austin for two years. I loved living in Austin and would still be there if the bastards at Janus Mutual Funds hadn't closed down its Austin offices or if there was any money to be made in the music industry without a good voice or instrumental talent (I know what you're thinking, "Why didn't he try rap?" but I wouldn't have been able to be passionate about it.) Anyway, I moved back to Decatur again in 2002 and was apparently so distraught over my financial woes and the lack of direction in life that I decided to join the Army. Oh, to have Ashton Kutcher's powers from "Butterfly Effect" and just go back and walk out on the career counselor who, despite my 99th percentile ASVAB scores, told me I could be an infantryman, a boat mechanic, or a "health care professional." Being ignorant of Army procedure and truly believing that these were my only options, I chose to be a "health care professional." I also chose to believe him when he told me this particular MOS (Military Occupational Specialty) came with no signing bonus and that I had to sign up for four years. I'll get into that later, but I will say that I eventually found out all three of those things were flat out lies, lies told by our government to people who are actually willing to join the army. I guess if I acted like I didn't want to be there, I could've walked out with a $4000 bonus like some people with whom I went to AIT (Advanced Individual Training.)
Anyway, this was just supposed to be a short synopsis. That was July 2002, fast forward to March 18, 2003, the day I arrived in Kuwait, where I spent a lovely yearlong vacation on the taxpayers' dime doing the all important job of support medic (or as we're sometimes referred, medichanics) I got to see Baghdad in the spring, and most of Northwest Iraq through the summer and well into the winter. We came home on February 8, 2004. Now here I sit, a little over six months later, about ready to go back, just to kill the boredom. I have failed three pt (physical training) tests in a row. You're supposed to be eligible to be kicked out after two, but I guess they like my jokes or something, because they keep hanging on to me. To be honest, I really don't care if they kick me out or keep me. I wouldn't mind doing one more tour of Iraq, for the money, but other than that, I'm not improving myself as a soldier. Because of my pt failures, I'm not allowed to get financial assistance to go to school. I'm not allowed to attend the Expert Field Medical course, which would make me a much better medic. You'd think the army'd look at it like this: If a person is weak in one area, like me and pt, then let them get as strong as possible in another area. Right now, the only areas I'm strong in are shooting and checking the damned oil on my FLA (Field Litter Ambulance.)
To give you a little psychological profile of myself, I am a very quiet person most of the time, unless I get to know someone. I am quite the little introvert. As my girlfriend pointed out the other day, I'm not very assertive. I've noticed this before and I've come to the conclusion that the reason for this is because my dad, with every good intention, tended to fight my battles for me for a long time. I think over the years, I became reliant on him. I'm still bad enough that I feel bad questioning some things even when I know I'm 100% in the right. Example: while in Iraq, I ordered a video camera, a memory stick for the camera, and a few video cassettes for the camera for myself. I also bought a digital camera for my platoon sergeant whose camera, being so small and lightweight was easily mistaken for trash, I threw in a trash burning pit in Baghdad. The total cost of these items was around $1200. The problem was, I hadn't been in country long enough for my pay to really get up to that amount and my debit card was declined by AAFES (Army and Air Force Exchange System, or as I like to call it, Always Aiming to Fuck Every Soldier, it's the Army's Wal-Mart but with better brand names.) Turns out, this was a good thing, because I took the few days until my next paycheck to look for a cheaper camera which I found on amazon.com. I ordered the new video camera, but couldn't find a cheaper digital camera, so I ordered another one through aafes. After the second order was completed and my card verified, I thought everything was done. Then, I received a notice that aafes had retried my card on the original order and now the first order would be shipped. I told them, no, that they had already tried and I had already re-ordered, but they said it was too late. I never received any of the original order, except for the tapes, but I still got charged for it. I sent a nice e-mail to aafes explaining the situation and didn't even get an automated response, much less assurance that they were looking into it for me. Nothing. Then, I sent a little nastier e-mail, which did about as much good as the nice one, because it got the same response. So, I gave up on it and decided to just pursue it once I got home. Now, when I get home, I wait six months, because this is how I am. Even though, I knew 100% in my heart that I was right and that the $1200 minus the tapes belonged to me, I was so worried that I might get accused of trying to fraud aafes that I never went. I just waited and waited and waited. To top it all off, when I finally went there, it took all of five minutes to get a phone number to help. When I finally called, it took all of fifteen minutes to get the problem resolved.
Other than the fact that it shows how unassertive I am, I really don't know the point of that story, except that you shouldn't order items from aafes.com if you're in Iraq.
I'll get the other standard in here before closing this out for the day. My hobbies include reading, playing guitar, watching movies, and listening to lots and lots of music. I love reading and have recently moved past my fixation with Stephen King and Larry McMurtry and discovered some great (in my mind, at least, literary elitists be damned) authors like Chuck Palahniuk ("Fight Club,") Will Christopher Baer ("Kiss Me, Judas,") David Sedaris ("Naked,") Kinky Friedman, and Elmore Leonard. I've been playing guitar for about 11 years now and sound about the same as I did after year one. Some people have it, some don't. I can play along with anybody, but if someone asks me to take a lead, I just laugh at them. Favorite movies include nothing shocking, Fight Club, Swingers, Shawshank Redemption, Office Space, Leon: The Professional, and pretty much anything starring Edward Norton, Vince Vaughan, Ben Stiller, or either of the Wilson brothers, Owen or Luke. I am definitely not a movie elitist. I can tell you I liked Punch Drunk Love, but I can't tell you why. I can tell you I watched Citizen Kane, Seven Samurai, and Taxi Driver and could not tell you what the hype is all about. But I did love Casablanca and I still get choked up watching It's A Wonderful Life. I also have The Best Little Whorehouse In Texas on DVD, so if that gives you any idea of what kind of movie goer I am, good for you.
Now, when it comes to music, I am a little bit of an elitist. I saw a lot of myself in John Cusack's character in High Fidelity (another one that should be in the last paragraph under favorites.) I'm into what some people call alt. country. Other names for it are no depression, y'allternative, insurgent country, etc. It's basically country songs with a rock feel, acoustic guitars blowing your eardrums out, or rock music with a country twang. Some of my favorite artists include Ryan Adams, Whiskeytown, Uncle Tupelo, Gillian Welch, The Old 97's, Reckless Kelly, Cross Canadian Ragweed, Steve Earle, Lucinda Williams, Brian Rung, Matt Powell, and Kasey Chambers. There are many more, but I think I was trying to be brief. Other favorite artists include The White Stripes, Alison Krauss, Eminem, Ben Harper, Counting Crows, Norah Jones, and Bruce Robison. I'll try most kinds of music once and have even learned to like some people that I really wanted to not like based on their image, such as Eminem, Kid Rock, and Marilyn Manson. I try, stress try, to overlook someone's image and give the music a shot, but I guess I have a little of my grandmother in me. My dad once told me that she refused to listen to Willie Nelson because he smokes pot. I say damn the pot, the man makes millions, he can do with it whatever he wants, he still makes great music. Besides if you went around not listening to people because of their personal lives, you couldn't listen to hardly any music, even some Christian music.
OK, I have to stop now, I've been up since 5 and it's midnight now. Now that I have the boring general details of my life down, I can move on to the boring daily details in future posts.
I really don't know what I'm going to use this for, whether it be a daily guide to the idiocy of the US Army, a journal, or just an autobiography, but I'll try to keep it interesting.
"She said 'Life is all a young girl has and I can't spend my own living yours.'" - Matt Powell "Good Thing"
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