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I beg you, Please don’t forget!

So after reading the previous blogs I wrote about all the bad times in the Marine Corps (and unfortunatelly, there were MORE bad than good) :-(, I am faced with the realization that I have to tell you why I even joined the military to begin with.

I joined because I was a patriot.  Because I didn’t do well in High School, and I didn’t see any way out of my families financial circumstances.  I joined because I was a Naive little teenager who believed EVERYTHING the recruiter told me and  because I wanted to make a difference and big back to a country that gave me so much.  Most importantly of all, I did it because of all those who gave their lives, willing or not, to the cause of freedom and died recklessly in terrorism.  These are numbers, but each number means a mother, a father, a child, a brother, a GOD GIVEN LIFE!

Thousands upon thousands of people have lost their lives to the evil’s and horror of terrorism, to just name a very select few…

1972-THE MUNICH MASSACRE=12 Isreali Athletes

1976-CUBANA FLIGHT 455=73 dead

1988-PAN AMERICAN FLIGHT 103=270 dead

1993-WORLD TRADE CENTER BOMBING=6 dead, 1,042 injured

1995-SARIN GAS ATTACKS, TOKYO=12 dead, 50 severely injured

1995-Oklahoma City Bombing-168 dead, 800+ injured

1999-Russian Apartment Bombings-300 dead

2001-September 11th Attacks-2974 dead

2004-Madrid Train Bombings-191 dead, 1050 injured

2004-Beslan School Hostage Crisis-355 Dead

Present-THE WAR ON TERROR-Unkown (Bush Administration Estimates: Between 500,000 and 1 Million dead since the September 11th attacks.

Wherever you are, whatever your doing, enjoying your life everyday, I don’t care if your for or against the war on terror…but…please don’t let these statistics be just numbers…to you…of all the wives, children, and husbands each one of them could have been…we will never forget them, ever…

Dedicated to those who have lost their lives to terrorism

*Statistics should not include terrorist death’s, evidentelly I took them out, because a piece of crap does not count as a human being…

Photo of the last victim of the Oklahoma City Bombing.  The baby did not survive.


A few bad experiences in the Marine Corps…

***Upate — Be advised. I wrote this part of my blog immediately after leaving the military. My last few months were terrible, I needed to blow off steam, I no longer feel this way. But i’m leaving this post up because it was how I genuinely felt at the time. So…I don’t regret writing it and you can keep the hate mail to yourself. Just know i’m PROUD to have served in the United States Marine Corps and wouldn’t trade the experience, on a whole, for anything.

Also from my Myspace Blog.  This wil be my last Marine Corp story I do.  From now on, it’s on to college, leaving the Marine Corps behind me for good.

Yep, I said hate sorry.  I’ve thought long and hard about doing this, but as long as I don’t have people in my unit reading it, i’m fine with it.  I guess, even if they could, I still wouldn’t care.  After all, I need a place to vent all the stupidness that is the United States Marine Corp, and why I will never show loyalty to this organization and when my kids one day ask what I did between 2005 and 2009, I will tell them I was considering going to college.  I’ve lost all the little pride i’ve been able to muster for being a marine, so NEVER call me that.  I am a civillian in disguise.

I joined the Marine Corp to grow up, see the world, get something done in my life, and to be a man. I never imagined that I’d constantly treated worse then a piece of S**T because I volunteered to possibly sacrifice my life, go through 3 month’s of hell in bootcamp to earn this title I despise.

This blog will be updated on many occasions, not really for you, but for me.  But you are, of course, free to read and “enjoy”, and I would recommend for those of you “not so smart people” considering joining this organization.  Honor, Courage, Commitment?  Tch, ok, you believe whatever brochure you want to, and while your at it, check out why “I’M STILL WAITING TO GR ADUATE BOOTCAMP”.


I head over to the gym early one Saturday morning, and dress out into PT gear, and I just remembered I forgot my towel. I head out of the locker, grab my towel, listening to my music, when I’m stopped by a pregnant female. She asks me very politely and nice why my spongebob boxers are showing out of my PT shorts, and I look down and notice that indeed, my boxers are showing. “Is that authorized” she asked me angrily. “No ma’am, sorry” I said again. Surely that was all that needed to be said, as I fixed it…but no, not in the Marine Corp. Soon she started cussing at me, acting all pissed off. She was obviously a staff nco. In any normal situation, she could have just politely asked me to fix my shorts, and I would have gladly, but she had to talk me down, like I was nothing, and use words.


Much has happened in between the past and now, but we’ll just keep you up to date.  So, Sergeant Delcarmen, one of the senior Guns Platoon Sergeants (Gun’s platoon are the Marines that operate the Howitzer’s) comes up to us and tells us quiet simply that we are all gonna field day (of course, it’s Thursday.  Field Day is when you go and clean your rooms and the barracks, easilly turning into a 16 hour, but i’ve experienced more then once working 21 1/2 hour day, NO JOKE!).  He tells us we have 3 hours to thoroughly clean the rooms, and if more then 5 people fail, then we won’t get rechecked until 8 o’clock and we’ll have to march to chow like recruits.  Stupid, but fine.  We clean or rooms, and let me explain how they inspect.  They take their finger, and come across the entire room, looking for any dust.  In our rooms, dust almost settles right after you clean it, pledge or not.  And our leaders know this.  SOOOO…needless today, they weren’t happy about something, becaue 5 people failed in a row.  Our rooms WERE clean of course.  Long story short, we march to chow, get yelled at for stupid stuff, and then have to stand in the hallway at 8 o’clock listening to our NCO’s yell at us and then try to explain to us what absolute pieces of utter crap we are.  9 o’clock now, time for bed, I go.  Fine, but it’s not over yet.


Alright!  Another beautiful day in the MARINE CORP!  MOTTO!…no not really.  I’m sleeping like a baby in my BED when all of a sudden someone starts yelling at the top of his lungs “REVIELLE!!!” pounding on doors like a police SWAT officer as he walks down the hallway.  We jump out of our racks, and go outside of our rooms to await further onslought.  It’s Cpl. Greiner, a generally calm and relaxed NCO, but now enraged (in fact, this is one of the only times I’ve seen him like this).  He explains that some smokers and drinkers thrashed the balcony area’s and threw beer bottles and broke them and that he got in trouble by higher staff nco’s for it.  I can understand his anger, but now i’ve got to be punished for some retards.  I’ve never even EVER smoked, dipped, drank, had sex, whatever.  So we march to chow again.  Cpl. Fehr is down there to greet us.  After yelling at us some more, and making PFC Walton run to the formation (but not fast enough I guess), so he makes him run back and then come back (Like a Drill Instructor would at recruit training), he tell us we did it to ourselves, and makes us march.  You really can’t understand how much we hate to march…hell, can you understand any of this?  This isn’t a book, this is reality, and it’s me, your friend, dealing with it, and I hate it.


Good morning everybody.  Just after midnight here, and it’s, you guessed it, time for another beautiful episode of why I hate the Marine Corps.  Coming to you live as it can be from beatiful Twentynine Palms, CA.

In this latest episode, all of the Marines (not married of Coooourrrsse) were awoken about 0000 hours, oops I mean 12:00 am, and yelled at by the OOD.  A staff sergeant (of Cooooouuurrrrsssee, had it been an officer, they at least have enough respect and civiliity and compassion to be decent people) comes rolling around, giving a bunch of BS on why we didn’t field day (keep in mind, we were not given any orders for Field Day, and were traveling to the Field on our weekend times).  So, as punishment (everything and everyone must be punished, or we’ll be a bunch of slackers) we all are forced downstairs, and forced to police call and sweep while the bored piece of sh-…phew, calm down, got a little carried away there…while the bored SSGT who had nothing better to do on duty watches on.  It is now just before 1 am, and here I am, taking the time out of my $2.33 an hour schedule and sleep to give you another precious broadcast, for you, not me, to save you, and help you realize why you need to go to college and say to hell with the military…or maybe just the Marine Corps.

Well, i’m kinda tired, but now that i’m awake, I’m gonna find it hard to get any sleep…I just have that wierd problem.  I thought I was gonna sleep well tonight too.  Well, I guess it’s just time to get ready for PT in about 3 hours and then on to the field, where we work 16 hour days.  Good night, God Bless, and remember kids, like all bad things on this earth (aka, the USMC), they will burn in hell forever 🙂

NOVEMBER 22nd, 2007

Well Happy Thanksgiving I guess.  I forgot my paxel and other anti-depressant medication on the way over to my house, so halfway on the car ride with my mom and brother I started to break down and cry for no reason.  So I had to come back and made the decision to just stay.  I really would rather not bother anyone.  But most important too, I just want to be left alone.  So, I fall asleep, and wake up about 5 pm.  On the way out, a cheeful faced Corporal Flores asks me to let him borrow my laptop.  Of course, HELL NO, I don’t want to, I don’t generally like A-holes, but I allow him, after all, it’s Thanksgiving (that and I don’t want him to make me do something stupid because of his power hungary status).  So out for a walk I go into the cold 60 degree weather.  Chow Hall’s already closed, PX closed, heck the only thing that was open was a Taco Bell, so I eat some Gordita’s for thanksgiving (if I was a little more sane and less depressed, I would of happily gone home to my house).  Anyways, on my way up one of the stairways into the barracks, I spot Cpl. Flores and another Marine coming down.  Now I knew better then to even come across this piece of ****, but being the stupid idiot I was, I kept going.  He asked me to be honest and then asked if I had gone down these steps when I left (There are about 4 stairwell exits to the barracks).  I honestly answered that I didn’t remember, but said I thought I did.

So apparentelly, Mr. Powerfreak then goes on to tell me that I have to clean out the laundry room this fine evening with the Marine he caught smoking on the stairs.

Now, there is no sign that says you cannot enter this stairwell, and everybody uses it all the time, without any problems.  But because satan himself seems to have taken over this NCO, I end up cleaning the laundry room with the other Marine.  Why not though, right?  He’s (Cpl. Flores) has got nothing else to do this Thanksgiving but to excersize his powers of authority by making our lives miserable, right?  Of course, he’s an NCO, and that’s all most of us E-3’s and below do, despise them.

After the cleanup in the laundryroom, I calmly walk into the Duty room, grab my laptop and bag, and take it back to my room.

Alright, can’t wait to see what’s gonna happen next! :)!!!   It’s always a pleasure to be messed with!  Yeah, Oohrah demotivation and intense sadness and depression, and almost killing myself over in Okinawa, motto..


While conducting pre-Iraq training at Twentynine Palms, CA, we were out in 7 ton trucks pretending to be attacked by IED bombs and surprise attacks.  When one of the attacks came, we dismounted and did a fire-team rush (a stupid Marine attack where you almost basically do short little charges toward an enemy position, instead of using cover and manuever like the rest of the “make sense” forces).

Me and 3 other Marines got instructed to move out about 100 yards and wait there to protect one side of the truck, so we did.  We sat out there for about 20-25 minutes without further instruction, but doing what we were told.  Soon, we heard the sound of 7 ton trucks in the background start to drive away.  We look back and see them drive by about 250 yards and start to  yell, but they don’t hear, and soon we are all alone in the desert night.

Luckilly for us though, the staging camp area for the trucks was only about 800 yards ahead of us, so we walk back.  Upon arrival, a very angry Corporal in charge starts to question us and stops just short of yelling.  We respond about what happened, and instead of acknowleging it was his fault for leaving us, gives us all firewatch that night as “punishment” for his own mistake.

May 15th, 2008

On the night our Advance Party (a group of Marines leaving early to scout out the area and prepare for the rest of the unit) was about to leave for Iraq, they all were partying and getting drunk like it was the last time they were going to ever touch a beer.  Well usually when the barracks gets in a drunk fest, I close my door and crank out the noise canceling headphones and play a game or watch a movie or what not.

Anyways though, soon, I start hearing stuff being thrown down the hallway and against the doors.  I later get a knock to my door, and stupid enough, actually answer the door.  When I open it, it’s the Barracks duty for our floor (kind like a security detail that we’re assigned on average about once a month for 24 houts).  He tells me that the Advanced Party Matines have thrown beer all over the hallways and against the walls, and that they are far too drunk to clean it up themselves.  So he selects me, ME, the only person in the entire unit that has never ever even drunk an alcoholic beverage (or smoked, or had sex, or dipped, etc, etc, etc) to clean it up by myself.

This beyond rages me, and I go and confront the drunk Marines, something I never do.  Lucky for me, they were a happy kinda drunk, and a sergeant goes and tells the duty that I don’t have to do it, and chooses someone else in the Advance Party group.  With that, I go to my room, lock and deadbolt the door, and stay in there the remainder of the night, refusing to answer the door.

April 16th, 2008

It’s been a little while since i’ve last kept you updated on the blog.  Sorry to keep you all waiting.  I had some thoughts on whether or not to continue this blog on “Why I Hate”…you know what.  In the end, after a day of stupid bullcrap, I’ve decided to keep it going and will until I EAS.

When I went to replace 2 Marines on guard duty one night at the front gate, I found out they had caught 3 mice.  I was further shocked to find out what they did to all three of them when I got there.

2 of the mice they caught they put in a Gatorade bottle and put 2 lit cigarettes in it.  They then closed the cap and let the 2 mice choke on the smoke, wastching as they struggled and laughing.  The third  mouse they gave a worse fate.  They broke it’s hind leg so it couldn’t get away.  Then, while it was sitting on a table at the front gate, they Sprayed a very heavy coat of  red Spray Paint all over the mouse.  When I arrived a few minutes later, the two mice in the Gatorade Bottle had already suffocated to death and the one on the table was still struggling to breathe, and was kicking a little here and there, as if to make a futile attempt to still escape it’s death.  His eyelids were gunked shut from the heavy spray paint, and his chest was still struggling to breathe what air it could.

So…are these the co-workers you want to associate yourself with?  Maybe your children or other family?  Because I tell you  now, most Marines would get a kick out of this behavior and find it to be prime entertainment.  DISGUSTING!

April 21st, 2008

Sergeant Taylor, an IRR Marine who was recalled to go with our unit to Iraq, asked me today to call Lcpl. Lovinsky to have him get some MRE’s (meals) ready for a patrol that was going to be going on later that day.  When I called, I found out he wasn’t there, so Sergeant Taylor, who was still standing there, told me to leave a message, so I did.

I continued to work on my assignment on the Computer and 10 minutes later Sergeant Taylor walks in again and asks what the status is on the MRE’s.  When I tell him that Lcpl. Lovinsky hasn’t come back yet, Sergeant T aylor throws a fit and instructs me to call back for Lovinsky in 30 minutes and that he was on his way to find him.  He then goes on and says that the MRE’s were not ready by the time he got up to where the patrol was starting, he was going to come back and personally “F**K me up!”.  Needless to say, I was really annoyed, rolled my eyes when he walked away and continued working on my assignment not much phased.  He never came back.

MAY 22ND, 2008

I was forced (with the other E-3 and below Marines, mainly) to dig a wide 3 foot pit (sometimes in the hot desert sun of 110 degrees) to build a grappling pit (a little wrestling ring if you will).  I could   care less about a stupid hole a bunch of sweaty guys get into and start grabbing each other, yet I had to build it.  I made myslef a personal promise that I would never use it.  (I personally hate attending facilities or events that are set up by people who are forced to, often on their spare time, to set up and/or run).  Indeed, the Marines like going out to the pit and acting like “men” or whatever they t hink.

Anyways, one day they forced me to go and watch the stupid matches in the pit.  Of course I find more interest watching clouds fly by.  In the end though, I was ordered to “grapple” with another Marine.  I refused, something I never do when ordered, and got yelled at.  I was called a B***H, and was told I was weak and a disgrace, the usual Marine Corp “Your not a Man” brainwashing, pressure bulls**t.  He (Sergeant Romero) als said that if I didn’t, he was going to grapple me himself and then really “hurt me” and he didn’t chare who I told about it).  I still refused and realizing the situation was going downhill fast, he made up some excuse saying it was MCMAP (Marine Corp Martial Arts Program) training, and that an enemy militant might sneak on base and attack us by hand.


A post from my Myspace Blog (Why i’m glad to be out of the Marine Corps).

I wanted to share this with my readers because it meant a lot to me then and it does now.  I poured my heart and soul into the few small paragraph’s I wrote, and sadly, I meant every word.  It might give a very small incite into why I am proud of what I have done for my country, but rejected the title Marine.

So you finally arrive in the Fleet Marine Corp.  You’ve worked SO HARD to get here, you’ve suffered 3 horrible month’s at MCRD, you’ve hiked your guts out at Marine Combat Training, you’ve gone to the most depressing place in the world, Marine Battery, Fort Sill Oklahoma, and had it so severe that you stayed up to the middle of the night to cry alone in the Barracks Gym (if that’s what you call a gym), and now your here.  In the Fleet Marine Corp, at your permanent duty station, all your schooling and training complete!  Your expecting so much, you’ve earned the Title of “The Few and the Proud”.  You are a Marine!  And how horrible is that?

On Wednesday, July 26th, 2006 we worked our A***S off on the Gunline, cleaning Hot metal gear in the ‘California Heat Wave that’s killed over a hundred people already, baking in the sun.  Of course, while all E-3’s and below work, the NCO’s (Corporals and Sergeants) relax in the shade, talking, laughing, having a great time.  Why?  Because they can, and they will.  It was a VERY long day, and we worked through chow with 45 minutes to eat (of course we gotta walk to the Chow Hall, which round trip takes about 20 minutes).  A few Marines decide to become late returning so they could relief the ‘second stick’ to go to chow.  Of course the NCO’s couldn’t just punish those Marines and be on their Merry, Happy way.  Nope, they decide to punish EVERYBODY!  Right after we were released to liberty, they brought everyone back to bootcamp.  We Marched everywhere, ate a modified dinner with the NCO’s (they told us what we could and couldn’t eat) and when they were finished, WE were finished.  From there, we marched back to the Barracks and scrubed all the stairways…at constant yelling and sounding off and running eveywhere we went.  It was just like bootcamp.  One Sergeant even mentioned me as a Recruit!  After working so hard to earn the freakin’ title of Marine, they proved that that’s all it was, a title…  Thanks Mike Battery NCO’s…After spending almost all our liberty working, were finally done, and the Sergeants have a sit-down with us, and try and make it all better, by saying “why we demoted you to recruits (I thought I graduated a Marine at bootcamp…what ever happened to “The Change is Forever” and “Once a Marine, Always a Marine”?) and punished everybody with the stupid acts of just 1 or 2.  Some really brainwashed Marines accepted it as ok too, but not me, Understand, NOT ME!

What happened to the Marines don’t Lie, Cheat and Steal…well…that was gone right around when I had my 15th DVD that I lent out stolen since I’ve been in the Marine Corps…

The Marine Corps has one of the largest divorce rates of any organization.  Truelly, if your married and live out in town, you don’t have to deal with the extreme hassle in the barracks such as stupid field days, getting chosen to do stupid stuff, etc.  I firmly believe that a lot of people marry not out of pure and true love but the combinations of more money and getting out of the BEQ (Bachelor Enlisted Quarters) is a great incentive).  Hell yeah, to be treated like a normal human being on your off time, i’ll take it.

It was somewhere in Fort Sill, severely depressed and crying in the middle of the night that it hit me…THIS IS HORRIBLE, what Have I done?!!  When your ALL ALONE, trying so hard to live a morally and ethical life as an LDS amidst people who call themselves Christians, but act worse then Satan himself, it really gets to you after awhile, bit by bit, daily life, all alone, you start to get chipped away at, even the most titanium alloyed bodied person, you only have so much you can take.  It’s a really unprofessional organization in that manner…

Indeed, the E-4’s and E-5’s who are my leaders above me are not our mentors but our tormentors.  In any other organization or movie, you’ll see the junior, boot, or rookie individuals look up to and idolize the seniors.  But this isn’t no Hollywood.  It’s the God Blessed Marine Corps.

And heaven forbid you go to medical for anything other then a broken bone or dieing, and definatelly not depression, or you face ridicule from your fellow Marines and even the NCO’s and Staff NCO’s in charge of you, in front of Everyone.

It’s pretty sad when every Marine I talk to around the barracks who owns a Myspace has put up a countdown timer on their EAS (when they’re out).  Does that say something.

Owell,I’ll live right?….oh…hold on, I can’t even say that…when’s my next deployment to Iraq…March, ok.

The Facts are, we Need a Marine Corp and we Need new Marines to continue defending America, and someone has to do it, and I’m glad that I could be here instead of someone else…but I do feel sorry for the next generation that has to suffer as I have.  That is why I will do my 4 years, and never again volunteer myself…

Like all bad things in this world, the Marine Corp will burn in the bottom dark pit of hell for all eternity, and i’ll be crying for shear joy when it does…

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Last day in the Marine Corp!

It’s 9:46 PM here in Twentynine Palms, CA and i’m waiting for 2 hours and 14 minutes, when my terminal leave starts, and I am officially detached from my unit and the Marine Corps.

It’s been a long road for me, too long. I hated almost all of it. And now that i’m at the end, car packed to the brim with stuff, I fear the unknown. Where will I eat, or how will I cook. Am I going to have enough money in these future 4 years of college in Provo, UT to cover the rent, the car payment, food, school supplies. Is the Post 9/11 GI Bill going to cover all my tuition. I have a job interview at Super Target in Orem, will I pass the interview?

The fears don’t subside by the simple fact that the economy is in shambles and maybe I couldn’t be getting out at a more worse time. So should I stay in the Corp then?

ABSOLUTELY NOT!!! And I can never stress that enough.

Allow me to go back on what I said above.

These 4 years in the Marine Corps has been the worst 4 years of my life, hands down.

I’ve suffered depression several times over and was called a B-word for it, I broke my leg doing martial arts I never wanted to do in the first place, I got treated like the absolute scum of the earth, after working so hard to earn the title Marine. And why? Because your trapped. Because you signed a contract and there’s no way out. Because your a modern day slave.

Long story short, I think the biggest problem I had about being a Marine was having my life dictated down to the little thing. I’m a free soul and a free bird, and I have to have things my way, or i’m simply not happy at all. This helped make my life miserable, especially when I was following made up rules that were there simply because the Marine Corps wants to be different than the Army. It’s all the little things that get to you.

I could go on and on all night about how and why I hated the Marine Corps, and I have enough stories to convince even the most naive human being about the truth that is being a Marine, but I wont. I’ll save it for another time.

Although still upset about he 4 years of literal hell I spent, I can still say I did something to repay my country that gave me so much. And I have a little to show for it as well as a bonus, the Post 9/11 GI Bill.

So tomorrow I head up to the Installation Personnel Administrative Center (IPAC) and recieve my orders, then get my Individual Ready Reserve ID Card, and leave the Marine Corp Air Ground Combat Center, permanently, never to return again. I won’t look back and I will never miss it.

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Why we sometimes can’t let go?

Since purchasing my first car in March 2009, a Silver 2005 Ford Focus, I have made it a priority to travel all over southern California.  And put it to good use I have.
When I first purchased the vehicle, it had 51,000 (approx.) mile on it.  Now in late June, 2009, traveling solely in Southern California and Southern California only (Riverside, San Diego, San Bernardino and LA Counties), I have recently reached the 60,200 mile mark.  But what and where have I gone?

What's left of the Dos Palmas House, where both my Grandparents spent their final years.

What's left of the Dos Palmas House, where both my Grandparents spent their final years.

Well, a majority of the earlier trips where to places I call home or have called home.  It’s no secret, as I will explain why later, that I, for lack of better words, hated the 4 years I served in the Marine Corps.  Proud of what I did, yes.  Repaid my debt to a country that gave me so much,  yes.  Could of done it in a better way and got treated much better in the process, You Better Believe It!

So when my immediate family moved away from our longtime home in the High Desert’s of Southern California while I was serving in Iraq, I felt empty upon returning home to California.  With my new car, I set out to to visit the places locked away deep in my memory.  Grandma’s house on Randall Drive in Bloomington, CA.  My old house on Dos Palmas Rd., in Phelan, CA, now reduced to a pile of rubble, furniture and misc. items strung about around the yard, the place I grew up on as a Kid on Berlyn Avenue in Ontario, CA and my home in a small trailer (what I consider a low point in my young, turbulent life) on Rattlesnake Hill in Santee, CA.

Grandma's House

Grandma's House

As I visited each of these places, I feel like i’m someone who went off to a far away place for a really long time with no contact, only to return and find the things I held dear gone or completely changed forever.

I feel like David in the movie Artificial Intelligence, who woke up to find everything he held dear gone forever.

As I walk the hallowed grounds that mean little to anyone passing by, but everything to me, I feel like i’ve lost something that I cannot ever have again.  And indeed maybe I have.

I get mixed feelings whenever I walk upon or around my own sacred grounds.  Feelings of joy and remembrance and sadness and forgotten dreams.  I remember places where I played cars, where I fell over on Big Wheels and got hurt, where I found new friends and where I lost family for a time.

Some places with even worse memories I avoided, like the disgrace that is Fontana, CA.

Others, I visited more than once, like the Orange Empire Railway Museum, a place overflowing with memories of joy as my Grandfather, Marion Wesley McArthur and my Grandmother, Donna Mae McArthur took me almost every single weekend, as my fascination with trains knew no limits.

I topped off my adventures with a trip to the Riverside National Cemetary, where my grandparents are both buried.  Since I have not visited this site since 2003, it was of great importance that I came and talked with them.  I walked upon the site, and cried when I thanked them for everything they did for me growing up.  For, through some turbulent times in my young life, acted as an anchor of peace and a refuge at “Grandma’s House” in Bloomington, CA.  How, as a fast emerging teenager, my grandmother only wanted attention and love and found too few of it in me.  I begged both their forgiveness.

Marion Wesley McArthur and Donna Mae McArthur Grave

Marion Wesley McArthur and Donna Mae McArthur Grave

But mostly, I cried because I made a promise.  That though my parents did not graduate high school, that although they were into alcohol, smoking and far worse, that though divorce was the only option for my parents, that though I was close to going down the wrong road, on more than a few occasions…

…I promised them, tears in eyes, that the BUCK STOPS HERE!

From this point on, any Alcoser who went and was given life after me would go to college, have a loving caring home free of fighting, arguing, divorce, cigarettes, alcohol and drunks and coming home to parents not even there, would never exist.  That all children would be afforded the right to go to college, and have help with homework, and have church every single Sunday.
I promised them that the love and joy they shared in me that shone as a small candle still burned and made it through the heavy rainstorms of my life, and that all the good they did put me in the right direction.  A direction of change.

And although I cannot still gain an apology from my dad, something that i’ve been indirectly waiting for for years, I forgive him and my mom for the mistakes made.  I forgive them because if it wasn’t for mistakes made, I never would of learned what I believe right is and wrong is and more importantly, WHY!

Although my parents have cleaned up, and are living honest good lives now, it was during my growing up years where I, today more than ever, feel empty about.  But at the same time, it’s changed me into the good, hard working person I am today, something most kids don’t have to deal with or learn at an early age (opinion strictly).

So perhaps it’s what I can’t let go…or perhaps what I can’t have from the past…or what I can’t change from the past, that brings me into the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints at the age of 16 looking for a future life and family that can replace the joy I should have always had as a kid.

And it’s college that will lead me to the fastlane of that dream every human being is entitled to.

So I sit here in my barracks room at the Marine Corp Air Ground Combat Center in Twentynine Palms, CA Barracks 1411, RM 436 sitting on my bed with boxes all packed up around, writing this post as a start to a new blog about the exciting future adventures that will be college.  I’m mostly packed, almost completely checked out of the Marine Corp, and on Thursday, June 25th at 10:00 AM, will pile into my Ford Focus, and begin the long drive to Provo, Utah with a night stop in Mesquite, NV.

Having been in a bubble for so long of always having food, housing, bills paid, etc, I don’t know what to expect.  But i’m confident that everything i’ve planned till now will work out.  I got a job interview lined up, I have student housing paid for and waiting, deposit paid, and I have the freedom of no longer being in the United States Marine Corps to get back in control of my life again.

I’ll see you all there!

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