I'm a Desert Man.

I may be a little late to jump on the wagon, but what the hell.

I'm all for manifest destiny.

In all seriousness though, I'm back from California and the seclusion of the desert, and it's time for a new post. Unfortunately, my hopeful guest writer chose not to post anything in my absence, which probably means all my readers have lost interest. Bastards. Regardless, I'm going to continue this literary endeavor, and with any luck I can convince her to write a post at another juncture of this deployment.

The biggest thing I learned while in the Mojave desert, through all the expensive and complicated training the military had ready for me, was that I'm a desert kind of guy. The subtle beauties of the whole thing, the marvelous climate, it's just my bag.

There's something about a bare road, heading off seemingly to nowhere across a lifeless canvas of sand and rocks that sparks something in me. It grabs hold of some primitive part of the brain, the part that craves adventure and discovery. In a world where everything seems to have been discovered, this one scene beckons out. I suppose the 16 year old, keroac reading and couch surfing me that still lives on somewhere inside sees that road and thinks only freedome, the type of independence that only the long, lonely road can provide. And occasionally, under current circumstances, the idea of independence can be a little tantalizing.

The training itself was pretty hellacious, in its own right. Set up in a simulated COB (Combat Operating Base), with a village right outside, full of role-players. It was like having a movie set and 40 struggling actors looking for work, roaming the streets. The occasional attack on the base, patrols and other assorted missions out in town. I'm proud to say I wasn't once "killed". I got skills like that.

It was most likely the most expensive training I'll ever go through, and to be fair it was some of the best training.

Still, all that money and all those role players aside, I figured out a few more things just staring at that single little road, wondering.

23 more days till I head to Afghanistan. Starting to get impatient.

Until next time. Keep on keeping on.