Friendship

I've gone through a difficult situation here recently (nothing important, just childish stuff on my part) I have been fortunate, however, that I had an opportunity to be around a bunch of jarheads the other day. As I was getting way too drunk and having a good time, I realized something, I am happiest when I am with Marines.

My roommate right now is my best friend from the Marine Corps. He is a cop and quite a few of his friends at work are former Marines also. We were at a South Side St. Patrick's Day party at one of the old jarhead's house, and about 6 or 7 of the guys there were old Marines, and after awhile we kind of floated off and formed our own group. (One guy in our little click wasn't a Marine, but his brother was and he is a cop, so he's an honorary member. Also, we were all ex-infantrymen except for one guy, but his dad was and old Marine grunt and refused to let his son be an infantryman, so he's honorary too.) The only two guys who had served together were Pat and I, and there was a Boston Fire Fighter thrown into the mix, but we all acted like we had been friends since the first day of grammar school. It wasn't even that we were sitting around telling old jarhead stories. (Although it did develop into a sea stories pissing contest at some point) The next day looking back on it I realized how much different we are than everyone else. There is a certain reckless enjoyment of life, bombasticism, and baseless egotism that we have, and it makes life a lot of fun. Don't get me wrong, I love my friends from high school and college, but there is a certain something about when I am around Marines that makes me really enjoy life.

The fact of the matter is everyday that separates me from my enlistment (days that now outnumber my days of service) I love the Marine Corps more and more. This is an odd turn of events because when I was in the Marines I hated the Corps more and more every second that passed. That is really starting to bother me. I am worried that I am attempting to live in the "glory days" of my youth. I'm worried I'm becoming an "Al Bundy four-touchdowns-in-one-game" type, but most of my old jarhead friends have told me they feel the exact same way. I guess that I am coming to terms with the fact that no matter what I do with the rest of my life, I'm still going to simply see myself as a Marine. To me, The Marine Corps is a life-defining experience. (Sadly this means I reached my zenith when I was 19) It is also much more. The only comparison I can make is that the Marine Corps is more like a religion than anything else, and friends I have drank the Kool-Aid.

It is in this line of thinking that I have come across and interesting philosophical paradox. The Marine Corps is such a miserable, dirty, dangerous, painful, exploitive, manipulative, physically and mentally scarring, soul-crushing experience that I wouldn't wish it upon my worst enemy; but I would recommend it to my best friend. That, my internet friends, is some sick shit.