18 years, 290 days

Good evening America. I'm back at home this weekend unfortunately. I got to see m'lady and m'family in Louisville hence I wasn't able to post on Friday. But I'm posting tonight. I will say I've had a few beers before/while writing this post so hopefully that doesn't lower my credibility too much and you'll see past the typos that may occur.

I don't even know what to write about first. Well I was just playing some Gamecube. That got me feeling quite nostalgic, homesick if you will of my childhood. I was playing some animal crossing. According to my resources, the last I played animal crossing was the 6th or 7th grade. I found out by playing it again as a college freshman that it was around the time I learned how to properly use the F-word. Everything related to my animal crossing character had the F-word entwined as if I were trying to prove that I knew what it meant.

There was a letter in my mailbox if which I sent to myself. The subject of this letter, "Fuck you." The body of this letter, "Fuck me fuck me fuck me, ass too, yo bitch." In addition, the wallpaper of my basement was just a giant red lettered plastered messaged also saying "Fuck you." My home was set so that if an online player wished to visit my home while I was logged off, it would display the away-message, "Fuck off I'm not home you fucking bitch fuck you."

Middle school is a terrible place for a bunch of pre-teens to learn what the F-word means. I thought that little insight to what goes through the 11 year old mind was rather amusing.

But that wasn't the only thing I noticed while revisiting some Animal Crossing. I noticed that despite not turning the game on for an excess of 7 years, the fictitious town seemed to not been hindered by my absence. It seemed like I had just moved away, and the videogame-town continued to thrive and operate while the whole Gamecube was turned off. What an in-depth, genius videogame.

Nintendo really designed a utopia with Animal Crossing. There was literally no conflict, despite minimal disputes between the characters. After thinking about it for a short while, I would trade almost anything to live in such a community. It's so small, so simple; which really disputes my usual preference of large and complex situations. Perhaps a mixture of both sides of that spectrum is necessary for a happy life. If you're reading this and have no idea what Animal Crossing is, watch this movie. It outlines the videogame and lifestyle pretty well: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PXN7mQE_d6c

I got a set of Beats today. I like them. They set me back a little bit, but my tax refunds covered it. Oh well. I've been wanting them for a while, and I'm glad I got them. Let me pee before I start this next topic. For some odd reason, this beer is going right through me.

One of my commanders in Air Force ROTC was giving a speech (not unlike him). The speech was about respect and how when you're a pilot you get saluted by your load master or some enlisted airman who is partially responsible for the success of your plane getting off the ground. The process goes like this...

He marshals you off the line as you get your engines started. Once pretaxi checklist is complete, your marashaller will stand at attention and salute you. From the cockpit, the Captain salutes back. The marshaller drops his salute, moves to parade rest, and gives you an enthusiastic thumbs up. This essentially means, "Sir, have a great flight."

Bottom line, I desperately want to be saluted before I fly. Like even on flight simulator I expect my fellow FS pilots to wish me a "good flight" via text message before I depart. To be wear wings and receive a salute by my marshaller I really don't think I could have a bad flight.

It's getting to be crunch time for all the goals I set in high school. Yes, I can wear wings on my uniform. Check. Whatever. But the next on my bucketlist is to get my college paid for. I think about that stupid scholarship everyday. Needless to say, if I don't get that scholarship I will likely be pretty disappointed. Very disappointed. But we will get there when we get there.

So I don't know why I didn't blog about this sooner; who knows, maybe I did; but finals week is the best week of college (after K-week, of course). Be right back, I'm gonna pee again...again. I thought I'm trying to drink this beer faster than I can pee it out but it's just making me really drunk and really have to pee. You know how I usually blog 'til the coffee's gone? Well now I'm blogging 'til the beer's gone. Pee. Brb. Ok, I'm back. Start over.

So I don't know why I didn't blog about this sooner; who knows, maybe I did; but finals week is the best week of college (after K-week, of course). It's the most chill time where all you have to do is study at your leisure, and finish your semester course-by-course. Even if it's only Monday, and you've only taken one final, you know that for the rest of your life you will never have to take Chem-105 again (assuming you pass it, which let's be serious Mr. Dean's List...) That's what I'm looking forward to right now. Even though it's only the end of January (dead months are about halfway through!), I'm still thinking that it's really not that long until finals week. Luckily, college is a lot shorter. So finals week is only about 3 months away. In fact, in exactly 3 months (April 29th that is), it will be the Sunday before finals week. Three months is it. That's a semester. Call it a wrap. Done and done. Here's your receipt, bitch. Thank you come again. MuFucka.

And the best part about it, is that I'm convinced the Spring Semester is even easier than the Fall semester. Mainly due to season and the way the weather differs between the two. In the Fall semester, the conditions outside are excellent, and they fade to ugly. In the Spring semester, the conditions are ugly, and the fade to excellent. The fact that the weather and what-not exponentially gets better, rather than worse, makes each day brighter and brighter. It's a downhill ride rather than an uphill climb. No seasonal depression. No gloom due to knowing that the walk across campus is getting colder and colder everyday, etc. The end result: Spring Semester is easier. And I better stay on fucking Dean's List.

Changing topics.

So over winter break, I can't tell you why, but I was researching the life of Lil Wayne. He suffers many addictions. Among them; addictions to women, addictions to money, and deemed the worst by many is his addiction to prescription cough syrup. You can YouTube it if you want, but for a while there, codeine cough syrup was his shit. More power to him.

So when the media and authorities started pouncing on his illegal sizzurp-sippin problem, he began to live by a phrase which he wasn't afraid to say publicly.

"I don’t care if it was heroin in my cup. It's not in your cup. It’s in my cup. Fuck you."


At first glance this seems wrong. You're consuming drugs, you are in the wrong. But I actually agree with the wise words of Lil Wayne. Everyone in the world has things they love. I know I guy that loves porn, I know a guy that loves weed, I know a guy that loves alcohol, whatever. I firmly believe that if you have an uncontrollable attraction to something, even if frowned upon by most of society, you go on ahead and enjoy it. 


I call it someone's "shit". Music happens to be what my friend Doug considers his "shit". He loves it. He incorporates it into his daily life because so. It's not hurting anyone, especially not me, so I don't judge him for his obsession.


If Lil Wayne were my best friend, and his obsession was prescription cough syrup (i.e. that was his "shit"), I wouldn't judge him for it. Like Wayne said himself, it's his cup, not mine. Who am I to judge?


But this strongly counters my last post about the weed smokers I deal with on my floor. Well, I hope everyone picked up on the fact that that wasn't as much about enjoying your "shit" as it was about the fact that a lot of people don't give a fuck that their throwing away their future happiness. If your "shit" is weed, and you love it with all your heart, and you wanna base your career and life around dealing weed, more power too ya. But you're fucking retarded if you're paying for college and thinking that way.


I personally have a couple things I consider my "shit". I avidly love alcohol, the tropics, and aviation. Comparing it to Lil Wayne, alcohol, the tropics, and aviation, is all in my cup. And honestly if someone judged me because of what was in my cup I wouldn't be happy. What's in my cup isn't hurting anybody, so mind your own business. Right? Right. If hours of internet porn were in someones cup, would it be hurting anyone? Would I care to judge? No.

What I posted last week at like 5am may have been harsh. But that's largely because the behavior of potheads get in the way of my "shit". Regardless, I really have nothing against drug users, alcoholics, sex addicts, or anyone else for that matter. Everyone has their "shit" and if it keeps away from my "shit" then fucking enjoy it.

Ok I'm pretty hammered now. For everyone counting, I've consumed 3 beers since starting to write this blog post. Text me if you can tell. 

You know what? Drinking and partying aren't even fun anymore. I guess I've hit that level of maturity. Dammit I was afraid of that. 

At a party, drunk, at home a lone, at PT, with my girlfriend, with my bros, in class, in bed, asleep, on vacation, any fucking time of the day, all I want is that scholarship. It's haunting me. It's consuming me. It's making me keep my shit together at 6 in the morning while I get ready for PT. It's eating me from the inside out and all I can say about it is that I fucking want it.

Yeah I'm probably what'd you'd consider "mature" now. For those keeping track, it took 18 years, 290 days to get to that point. How insightful. '

Well the beer is gone and therefore I am done for this blog post. I'm going to bed. Goodnight everyone and I hope you enjoyed reading all the crap I put up today. Sorry for not posting more often. Until next time...

(1848 words in this post. Now there's more since I put this P.S. I don't think that's record breaking but that's pretty damn close. Goodnight!)

Idky I'm so pissed at 5 in the morning

What's up. Happy Friday. It's chill. I know it's late and shit but I don't really give a fuck. I was think as I was about to fall asleep and I ended up getting myself all pissed off about society to the point I am no longer tired.

Why does such a vast majority of the world simply not care about being successful? I don't exactly know how to start writing about this topic, it's hard to express what I've come to observe. I'll start by speaking for myself.

I am attempting to be a pilot. I have a goal, and it will be incredibly difficult to attain. However, I profoundly care about it. Right now, the thing that's putting thousands of pounds of pressure on my shoulders is the fact that in less than three months, I'll find out what the Air Force thinks of me. The factor that stays in my mind all day is the possibility of the United States Air Force thinking that I, as a human being, am awesome enough to deserve thousands and thousands of dollars.

Now let's take a gander at the other gentlemen living on my floor. The factor that lingers in their mind is simply a matter of getting fucked up and stupid, which will in turn make them happy. They will smoke $40 of "good shit" tonight and laugh over the fact that they forgot where to pick up the pizza they just ordered. They won't make dean's list this semester; they won't get a paycheck for simply learning; they will never wear a pair of silver wings on their jackets. They won't get high paying jobs; they won't have anything of substance to be relatively proud of. But the mind-fuck is the fact that THEY DON'T CARE.

If somebody sat me down, let's say it's God. If God sat me down at a table and told me that I wasn't going to get a scholarship for the Air Force and added that I wasn't going to lead a successful and meaningful life, I would probably cry. There's no possible way I could continue any sort of enthusiasm in my life.

Back to the other gentlemen, it seems God hasn't taken the time out of his day to sit these boys down and tell them that they are indeed to-be-fuck-ups. But SOMEONE (whether you say it was God, the police, etc.) has thrown a couple signs. Failing classes, campus police busts, letters to the Hall Director etc. are all clues to the fact that maybe you're not gonna make it as the head of America's next multi-million dollar law firm.

Yet,  n  o  b  o  d  y  cares.

That's where my question comes in. Such a huge portion of society never amounts to ANYTHING. Nowadays, it's considered a huge success to just make it into college and be able to pay for it. But then half the people fail classes skate by and still don't make it out with much to be proud of. Such a huge portion of society lives up to the cliche of failing at life. And no one gives a damn. Why?

But they love their weed. Holy shit do they love their weed. They can blatantly fail at something but at the end of the day if they have their weed all is well.

I fucking love weed. I love it I love it I love it. The more it spreads throughout the upper percentiles of intelligence, the more people start to not wanna do anything. Thus, the standard is lowered for us who are both intelligent and focused. Yes, several ROTC cadets smoke weed here and there in secrecy. However, the average GPA of my cadet-class is 2.7, and mine is 3.8.

Weed spreads like a virus. That's because people who smoke weed start to truly believe it's an all-healing medicine, in which the world would be a better place if everyone just smoked a little weed. What pisses me off on a personal level is when the following conversation is brought up:
"Decker, why don't you smoke weed?" A reasonable question to ask. No harm done.
"Because, I want to be an Air Force pilot, and I cannot smoke weed in the Air Force." My honest answer.
"Oh but dude, you're totally fine man. I asked around and they don't even drug test or anything so you're fine. Why don't you come smoke with us?" Boom. Now I'm pissed.

The reason I don't smoke weed isn't that the Air Force drug tests me and I can't fail a drug test. That's not what I fucking said. I said I don't smoke weed because the Air Force doesn't allow it, with good reason: weed turns you into a complete idiot for two hours and makes you happy for shit you shouldn't be happy about. Yeah I know I don't get drug tested. You're not helping me by alarming me "But Decker! I checked for you! You CAN smoke weed! All hope is not lost!" acting like I'm about to drop dead if I don't hit a bong.

Whoever said weed isn't addictive is wrong. It's addicting in the fact that it's so nonaddictive. Counterintuitive, I know. Nothing will happen to you physically if you smoke weed your whole life. Unlike drinking or crack, you are doing little bodily harm. But for some reason this becomes a challenge; no one ever puts away weed and says "I don't want to do this anymore" because there is never a reason to. With drinking, if you drink too much, you start finding that you'll need to stop because if you don't you'll become an alcoholic and it's stonemasoned into our brains that that is labeled as BAD. With weed, that human instinct that tells you "stop this habit or something BAD will happen" never speaks up, because as I mentioned weed won't truly cause any harm. As a result, weed smokers NEVER stop smoking weed i.e. addicted. Of course they can stop, but they never will.

This I think answers my initial question. Why doesn't anyone care that they're a fuck-up? I can't speak for everyone, but I have a hunch that around 4:00 or 5:00 in the afternoon when they start to care, they light-up instead. Around 4 or 5 when I start to stress, I have pride to fall back on and aspirations to keep me elevated. Perhaps this is why, with the exception of musicians, there aren't a lot of successful potheads in society.

I'm sorry this wasn't a funny post, hopefully it was at least insightful. I'm glad I'm at this end of the glass watching everyone else slowly fuck up while I succeed, rather than the other way around. It's good to see that everyone I'm closely associated with is the same way. I like sharing moments of success with my friends and having them smile and tell me about how they succeeded the fuck out of their day as well.

Even if I don't become and Air Force pilot (ignoring the fact that technically I already am) at least I'm not a fucking pothead.

I must've drank a Redbull...

Welcome back welcome back welcome back! That didn't take very long at all. As much fun as Winter Break was, it's now back to the typical college life I very much love. Where's the music? I forgot to turn it on, one sec. There we go, yesssss.

So I apologize but I don't have much time to blog. I only have an hour and a half before this party I'm going to. And this one's gonna be especially nice because I'm invited! Yeah! Just like in high school! It's our good friend Slocum's birthday party and he's throwing the mother fuck down. And Alex is making the playlist for this party and I must say he's done a very good job.

Onto other shit. Yesterday I received something I've wanted since as long as I could remember. I was awarded my wings in Air Force. So now I wear a sterling silver shiny emblem distinguishing me as an Air Force Aviator.

I've known the meaning of silver wings pinned upon your left breast since my dad and grandfather explained it to me when I was barely old enough to understand it. Every single picture my decorated grandfather was shown in, he had wings. He was a celebrity in my young eyes; my own grandfather can fly a plane. Ability to fly must be so celebrated that only the best of the best get to wear wings. I was so enthusiastic as a child about "wearing your wings" as a pilot that I impersonated it. Every time I stepped on an airliner I was sure to wear that cheap plastic pin (that Delta used as a marketing ploy) on the left breast of my sweater.

I eventually grew out of wearing fake wings, for exactly that reason. They were fake. They didn't mean anything, other than display my eagerness to fly. However I did continue to notice that every single real pilot wore they're wings with extreme pride. And that became my goal.

Wings pinned on a jacket became the embodiment of my success, much like a trophy earned by an athlete. When I have wings, I will have finally completed my overall objective. Of course I was not expecting to wear those wings until I got through UPT in like 5 years. So it was naturally quite a surprise to me when I was given a pair of wings to wear as a cadet.

In a way, I have already achieved my ultimate life goal of becoming a pilot. Because yes, I am a pilot. I've always been a pilot, more recently been a licensed pilot, but now it's totally different. I really can't figure out why but I feel like receiving my wings has completely changed everything. My best guess is that I'm now acknowledged and accepted as a pilot in the UNITED STATES AIR FORCE. I'm getting to the point where it doesn't get any more "real" than this. My wings are just more proof and personal closure; I'm a pilot, and that will never change.

And I get to show that bitch off every time I wear my uniform. "Oh that? Oh those are just my wings. The Air Force gave it to me:)"