I just got off my overnight shift, hungry as fuck. I told myself I wasn’t going to get Subway this time, because I’m always getting Subway. The funds that have gone into that mid-tier franchise have been overwhelming as of late, so it would be wise to discontinue the unnecessary spending before it becomes a problem. The alternative, a chow hall free of charge to military personnel, run by third-country nationals, provided a healthy array of delicious food choices, ranging from mini waffles, sugar-free syrup, and outsourced fat-free yogurt. A lot of free, I know. I also have to stick to my low-calorie diet, so the decision was as clear as day.
“Can I have the deal of the day on Italian herbs and cheese bread and cheddar cheese? I’ll be having the Coke and Cheetos with that. That’ll be 10 lurks, right?”
“10 what?”
“Never mind.”
Sitting down after I got my food, I whipped the phone out to check the blogs.
Twitter – the Game of Thrones tweets FINALLY died down. However, the following Thrones tweet was fucking legendary:
https://twitter.com/groovy1u/status/1131328625045905408?s=21
Also, Kawhi Leonard memes due to his performance in the ECF were popping up everywhere, but let me show you my favorite one:
Facebook: Nothing to see here except old man humor, countless ads, and a ton of shared articles referencing the Alabama ban on abortion. Missouri is going down that same, FUCKED up path too with their newly-instated legislation known as HB 126, but this isn’t a socio-political post, so we won’t get into that.
Instagram/Snapchat: Seeing that it was 6:40am (East Africa Time) where I was at, I knew that it was nearing midnight back home, which meant that everyone was blacking out concurrently.
Fear of missing out, or FOMO for short, is a term coined by a venture capitalist/author known by the name of Patrick J. McGinnis. In 2004, during his tenure at Harvard Business School, he had an op ed published on his school magazine, The Harbus, where the term was popularized. Patrick more than likely experienced FOMO from the college parties that Harvard had in order to pursue an esteemed education. Good for you, buddy.
The rise in social media networks throughout the late 2000s, alongside the sentimental millennial, would push FOMO to the forefront , both in awareness and self-diagnosis from a bunch of pansies that have nothing better to do than to sit around and feel sorry for themselves all day for not being awesome. I was one of those pansies today.
It was a huge week for all my friends back home. Graduation was a recurring theme for all the Instagram posts that started popping up on the feed, beginning on Tuesday. Tassels getting moved from right to left, lavish parties being thrown in honor of higher learning, fancy dinners at above-average restaurants, you name it. Adding fuel to the fire was the fact that it was Memorial Day Weekend. Beach activity has skyrocketed back home in Jersey. Life was great for my guys. I just wasn’t there for it. And it sucked.
It wouldn’t be the first time I missed special occasions because of the military, and it wouldn’t be the last either.
However, I couldn’t be happier.
The feeling of seeing all your fucking people conquer the goals they all set out to accomplish years ago, man, there’s nothing like it. The insurmountable bucket list of challenges they faced to get to the tippy top of this chapter of their lives serves as modest inspiration, as well as a representative of resolve. The binge-drinking was well earned.
I was also proud because, out of nowhere, everyone knows how to fucking drink now! You see, they called me a lunatic for facing 3 shots of Jameson at a time. You see, that was the norm, because the kid knew how to hold his liquor. That’s very difficult to do, apparently, based on the countless douchebags that frequent Hoboken and the likes.
Life has a funny way of delivering “pause” moments. Everything could be going swell, and all of a sudden, you get uprooted from your way of life, thrust into another lifestyle that you’re not used to. Your romantic connections possibly forced to check out, momentous ventures halted abruptly, powerful friendships placed in stasis, and for what?
Self-development. Yeah, that’s right. Even more than what you’re used to.
The journey continues.
It was 7am, and it was already fucking hot when I started walking back to the barracks. This African heat keeps on blowing my shit, but that’s what happens when you join the military. They send you to East Bubbafuck in a dirt hole somewhere to melt. It’s kinda fun for like a day or two, and then the novelty wears off. Oh well.
I regret eating a Meatball Marinara sandwich this early in the morning. I don’t even know why I decided to put cheddar cheese instead of Swiss on the damn thing. It just looks so weird, like the Blob or some shit. The fuck was I thinking?
The Bastard Chronicles 