I am that which others didn't want to be.
I go where others fear to go, and do what others failed to do.
I ask for nothing from those who give nothing, and reluctantly accept the thought of eternal loneliness, should I fail.
I have seen the face of terror felt the stinging cold of fear, and enjoyed the sweet taste of a moment's love.
I have cried, pained, and hoped...but most of all, I have lived times others would say were best forgotten.
At least, someday, I will be able to say, that I was PROUD of what I was...A Soldier.

Hmmmm....lessee. Who is the man known simply as Idiot Guru? It's hard to say really, as I'm not sure, completely who I am, and I think that's part of it. Finding yourself is a journey, and the journey's the thing. Put simply, and most elequently, I think: "Begin at the beginning. And you go on, till you come to the end. then stop."
I'm an enigma to myself, really. I've managed to cheat death to the ripe old age I am now, 30. And honestly, there's been a few times I've actually slapped him in the face, I was so bold. Yep, never thought I'd make it this far. But then I'm told I'm starting the prime of my life. The road to where I now sit with my ruck and rifle was, interesting, to say the least.
Life started in Atlanta, GA. Folks got divorced before I was a year old, so I don't remember ever having the textbook "family unit", per se. Lived with my Mom and her folks in Valdosta, GA until 1984, when Mom passed from Cardio Myopathy. Basically, for all you non-medical types, it's a condition where your heart grows larger than it's supposed to be, from infection or whatnot, and it has a difficult time pumpig because it's crammed up against the other organs it's not usually crammed up against. Mom's was viral, she'd had phuemonia, and it'd travelled. The sperm donor showed up at the funneral to take me home with him, but my Grandfather (the father figure in my life) convinced him to let me finish the school year out.
Moved to Lawrenceville, GA (which is a suburb of Atlanta, so if you're from there, you're IN Atlanta, thankyouveramuch), and before the start of my 6th grade year, had become the punching bag for the sperm donor. I brought it on myself, really, since I spoke up about him hitting my step-mother. I deserved it. Right. There's an old saying, you have to have a license to fish, to start a business, to drive a car, but any fuckhead can be a sperm donor. Basically got beat until my ninth grade year, and started playing football, working out and the like.
Then one day, I simply hit him back. It was humorous, in a sick sorta way, really. He had at least a 100 pounds on me, and a good 6 inches, but the simple look on his face when I bloodied his nose that first time was enough to get me through that beating. from then on out, it was a brawl when we did throw down, but it seemed the amount of instances drew down as I got older, bigger, faster and meaner from football. I topped out my senior year at a whopping 5-04, 135 pounds. I lettered in Football and golf, though I'd never claim to have been a star in either sport.
Moved out of the sperm donor's house a week before my senior year, and thankfully had a best friend who's parents were two of the greatest people I've ever had the pleasure to know. Graduated, fell in love for the first time, but was a gu, and didn't realize it, so I let her go, it was then I met my soulmate.
Moved back to Valdosta in '93, heading for college, and sorority girls. That lasted for about a year and a half, during which time, my Grandfather, who was my light in the storm, passed, and I lost my way, failing out of school, fumbling through jobs and relationships. Basically, I was wandering in the woods, enjoying the trees.
One day, while working as a courrier, I pulled into the Marine Recruiter's office, and managed to join the Marine reserves, and lose my job, all in the total of about 3 hours. Came home from MEPS, hung out until I shipped to basic, meeting a girl who'd wind up being the other half of my soul (I thought) and then breaking up with her. Went to Parris Island, realizing my place in the cosmos was in a uniform, in the field, blowing things to hell. Walked that parade deck, prouder than I'd ever been in my life of anything, wishing only that my Granddad (a Squid during WWII) could have been there to simply say he was proud.
Came back to Valdosta, bouncing through jobs. Got back with the "other half of the soul" chick, for a bit, then broke up again, badly, I might add. Still couldn't find my center; the rock that'd ground me long enough to get my bearings. Ran the gambit of jobs, I think: Security Officer, Loss prevention for Super K-Mart, Bouncer, bartender, cook, Firefighter, Emergency Room tech, Back to the Military (Army this time, full-time National Guard) and who knows what else I'll do. Been around, loved, lost, loved again. Been loved by folks I didn't love as much, and didn't deserve the level of love they gave me, including the love I get from my wife now. Met some GREAT girls, and have a lot of acquaintances, but only a few (can honestly count on one hand) people who've earned the right ot be friends.
I'm not a social beast at times. I'm not into holidays, or birthdays; this Christmas will be the 15th that I haven't celebrated or gotten excited about, and I haven't celebrated a birthday since I was 12. I don't waste time or energy on stupid people.
I'm agnostic, and have a very LOW tolerance for organized religion, it's minions of lobotomized sheeple, and most notably the "Missionaries" as they like to call themselves. I'm not a family type person, the only tow family members I've trully cared for having been gone for a long time. I appreciate the affection my wife's family shows me, but am uncomfortable around it at times.
I'm a confusing asshole, who'd like nothing more than to be in the field most of the time. I offer respect to those who i feel have earned it, and that's EVERYONE until you've proven you don't deserve that right. If you don't respect me for what you get, then fuck off. I've learned that you pay attention to the ones that count, and not the rest of it. Don't sweat the big stuff, it's the little that'll kill ya. Don't trust a bald barber, he's got no respect for your hair. There's NOTHING that can't be solved with the proper amount of explosives and concentrated fire. The only easy day was yesterday. Pain is your friend-your ally. It will tell you when you are seriously injured. It will keep you awake, and angry, and remind you to finish the job and get the hell home. But the BEST thing about pain? It lets you know you're not DEAD yet.
Have I found my center again? No. Will I? Possibly. One can only hope. But I think I'm at least hitting on the actual target now, which is better than I'd BEEN doing, and that's a start. I'm not dead, and that's a REALLY good start. I don't regret a single thing that's ever happened to me, because without EVERY single thing, shitty or wonderful, I wouldn't be ME. I'd like to think I've learned from my mistakes, and that's a good thing, and nothing I've done so far has gotten me killed or maimed. I've looked deep into the abyss of darkness that's within us all, since, when you break it down to the bare basics, we're all just animals anyway, no matter WHAT the sheeple of the christian church claim. Like David Lee Roth, "I've been to the edge, I've stood and looked down." What I saw was...myself, deep within the darkness, and happy. It didn't frighten me, it strengthened me, knowing what I am capable of, and showed me that unlike others in my particular gene pool, I've managed to control the monster within. And after it's all said and done, I've come to one final question for my life...

How do you like your blue eyed boy now, Mr Death?

"One who fears, limits his activities. Failure is the only opportunity to more intelligently start again."
"we only learn our limits by going beyond them"
"When written in chinese, the word "crisis" is composed of two characters; the first represents "danger", the other represents "opportunity".
"The only difference between a rut and the grave...is the depth.