Memories and music

It's 117 degrees outside right now. It's my one day off this week, and I can't even really leave my room. I hate this country. There is absolutely nothing appealing about Iraq. And it's just starting to warm up. I'm dreading the days when it gets up to 140. At night it drops to a low of 90. Fucking 90! That's not a low. I think Allah is so prevalent here because God took one look at this hell hole and walked away.

I've been listening to music more than usual lately. It's one of the few escapes, however brief and fleeting it is. But I haven't been focusing on the heavy, I-want-to-rip-someone's-head-off music, but more on the music that I grew up with. A lot of STP and Seven Mary Three. I've been hooked on this era of music because of the memories linked to it. It's like almost every song that I have from the 90's has a specific memory attached to it.  I been think a lot of home since I've been away, and reliving those days back in Ramona, and all my friends that I haven't seen in years.

Whenever I hear "Come out and Play" by Offspring, I think about David Artadi, and the first time I hung out with him at Camelot. It was raining that weekend, so we spent a lot of time in the cabin listening to CD's that I had brought, or sitting out by the "Lake" and fishing. Trying to ditch his annoying sister...

"Water's Edge", by Seven Mary Three, makes me think of David Jones, and all the time we spent listening to that album that summer, over and over. Sneaking out in the middle of the night, just to go walk around. We thought we were so slick, sneaking out without Mom and Dale catching us...

Almost any STP song reminds me of the road trips to Vacaville, when Miah and I would go see our Dad. I remember the countless hours I spent, creating mix tapes one song and CD at a time. Driving up I-5 in the Mustang, windows down and music blasting...

Listening to Nirvana makes me think of being in my room (the shed) during Christmas time, freezing my ass off, reading one of the countless fantasy books I had. I remember the eclectic X-mas light setup I had, and being bundled up, the smell of incense burning...

I remember that whenever I was angry, I would throw in an Alice in Chains album, and fume to the ragged crooning of Layne Staley. I still do that, to this day.

Listening to Bush brings back the color and feel of a mid-autumn day in Ramona. The warm, full sunlight, the smell of loam beneath the oak and eucalyptus trees.  The color of the green grass slowly fading to brown.

I've been praised for my seemingly astounding ability to remember things. Conversations from years ago, random numbers, sounds and smells, events that I had witnessed, all with sparkling clarity.  I think most of that ability comes from the triggers my mind sets.  There was a time that I felt I could smell the seasons changing, all based of similar smells from seasons past.  I'm just grateful that I have these memories that can be so easily retrieved. I miss Ramona, even though every time I go back, it's changed, and a little of my childhood seems to die. But I miss the quality of the sunlight in autumn, and the smell of the loam. I miss my friends, all the ones still there and all the ones that have stepped out of my life. If I could, I would move back there and raise my family there, because even now, I don't think there are too many better places to do that. 

History

Its no secret that I'm in a relationship with a wonderful woman who has a kid. And unlike other relationships I've had, she had a chance to see who I am, without any pretense or need to impress, and loves me nonetheless, through all my flaws.  And, in turn, I love her.

What this post is about is the child.  I'm a product of a divorce, and while it was never truly easy, my life wasn't hard, and I feel that I turned out well.  I'm in a serious relationship, which means I'm going to be part of this kids life. Sometimes that exhilarates me, and at times it scares me shitless.  I have always wanted to have kids, and this one is adorable beyond belief. I can picture myself helping her with homework, and putting up with sleep-overs and even eventually the dating.  But at the same time, what if I screw up?

I didn't always have the best relationship with my stepdad.  We fought quite a lot, and I spent most of my later childhood trying to avoid his attention. I felt he was overbearing and harsh, and who was he to lay down the rules, when he was never there because of his job?  My mom had a hard time raising us, I think, because we had become independent at a very young age, and with that, very stubborn and possessive of our perceived freedom. I wasn't until I was almost legally an adult before Dale and I seem to come to an understanding.  And now I have to face the very real possibility that I might be heading down the same path.

I plan on getting out of the military after this deployment.  I don't feel that it's right for me anymore, and that I'm not right for it.  But the mannerisms and harsh discipline that has been instilled in me over the last 10 years will linger. I want to be the best father, even if I'm just a stepfather, that I can be.  Hopefully I can learn from my experiences with my own stepdad. Though, being in a similar position now that Dale was in, I have to admit that it took a lot of courage to step in and take up the responsibility of being a male role model for someone else's kids. And he was younger then than I am now.

Part of what scares me is the fact that I will be helping to raise a little girl. This is completely uncharted territory for me. For the most part, my family is boys. I know how to handle little boys. Stern but tolerant of the stupid things boys are apt to do.  But am I going to be able to do that with a girl? I don't really know what to expect, so I feel like I'm ill-prepared.  And as she gets older, am I going to be the one she talks to when her menstrual cycle starts? Probably not, but it's things like that that worry me. And when she becomes a teenager? Dating!?!? If she ends up looking anything like her mom, I'll probably be cleaning a shotgun every night!  And what about that inevitable moment when the kid screams "You're not my father!"? I never thought about how much that had to have hurt my stepdad. Just imagining it causes my heart to shudder. How can you answer that? It's the absolute truth.  You can try to point out that even though you're not the biological parent, you care about and love them just as much, and that you provide for them, but does it really matter to them at that moment? Anger usually causes that statement to come forth, and love and reason usually slide right off of a teenagers ire. At this, I have to tell Dale how sorry I am.  He and I haven't had too many heart-to-heart conversations, but I had to have hurt his feeling numerous times with those callous words.

Is history doomed to repeat itself?  Will I make the same mistakes as my parents did? I'm not blaming them, except for how well I came out. But everyone is fallible, and everyone makes mistakes. Or will I make all new ones? Like I said, I'm scared and exhilarated and the prospect.