I don't think I should even be blogging right now... so much going through my head. But you wouldn't be reading this if I wasn't writing it. So.

Co-op party. I show up, and see a few unfamiliar faces, which is somewhat usual, as there are sometimes "full time" employees (fresh graduates and such) who come to our co-op parties. It was at least an hour after I showed up that I was across from a guy I didn't know during our game of Flip Cups, and I leaned over and said "Hey I'm Lindsay."

He leaned back and said "Hey, I'm Kyle... from the Marines." Right away, I thought that was weird. From the Marines?... I thought. Huh. Okay. I wasn't sure what he meant by that, and didn't say anything in that 3/4 second lull. "I was shot so I am back for a month or so," he said, lifting up his Abercrombie or Old Navy cargos.

Sure enough, there was a quarter-sized hole, I truly can't describe what it looked like, and a 6" scar on either side of it. This was the first time he had mentioned being in the service in front of any of us, and a co-op on my left side thrust his hand out and said "Man, I respect you, thank you."

Kyle, from the Marines, said "Yeah, Fuck Them."

That's about the time I had to leave. Really, it's something that's hard to explain, walking that line of not offending those why feel strongly enough to risk their lives for "our country" (which wouldn't give a shit about them if they weren't serving -- and of course I say this without really knowing what I'm talking about) and yet still feeling strongly that these guys who say "Fuck Them" are probably in the same mentality as the other guys who sign up for service saying "Fuck Them" about us. It's just not about that, I think.

And yet I really know nothing, except to go outside and vent to my friends. "The Marines are brainwashed," one said, "taught to fight and kill no matter what." This was not helping. I looked through the porch door at this kid, thinking, "SHIT. He's been fighting in Iraq, and we've been IMing back and forth at work saying that GE is a bullshit company and that we don't do anything. How can we be drinking with this kid, talking about stuff, thinking that we are even ON THE SAME PAGE WITH HIM."

I felt bad, having to leave the conversation, but I really couldn't stand it. I went and waxed philosophical with some other kids, who didn't necessarily agree, but were kind enough to let me talk anyway. I just didn't understand the whole "let me shake your hand" mentality. On one point, I understand that you are risking your life for what you believe in. I just wonder if what you believe in really exists in reality.

On the other hand, isn't saying "let me shake your hand" condoning that mentality? Wouldn't I be saying "Yes, continue to kill those 'motherfuckers'" if I got all hyped up about it? I don't know. Regardless of whether or not I met "Kyle the Marine with a quarter-sized bullet in his leg and about to go back and kill some more motherfuckers," it's still going to go on. Meeting me (and me not even saying any of this to your face) is not going to change one damn thing, THAT I KNOW.

But it still made me sad, and realize the un-importance of every minute thing I think is bad in my life, and really concerned about people that I care about who are considering something like this. It's really all beyond me, and I think beyond most people. It's not something that can be decided by the masses, as evident today. It's really all beyond our scope, and we really just look like a bunch of fools talking about it.

Whatever. I know really know what else I can say about it. I don't think I want to right now.