What Do I Want?

I wanted to be a soldier. I watched all kinds of war movies as a child. I played every war related video game I could, read books on military vehicles, and dream of becoming a great general.



When I turned eighteen, i enlisted in the U.S. Air Force. I left for basic training in August 2005. The day I left happened to be the same day that hurricane Katrina started terrorizing the southern gulf. I spent most of my enlistment training and repairing the damaged southern communities and I enjoyed serving my country. After about a year though, I was able to leave the Air Force. My plan was to go to college and then become an officer.



Now, I'm twenty one years old and things are still the same. I plan to go back to the military, but this time I'm not sure if I'll be an officer. I need a BS degree in order to become one, but with the way our economy is these days I'm not sure I can afford to stay in school. If I drop out, then I'll leave for the military right away. I have a job right now, but it's no where close to what I need to make to survive. So in the end, I may return after this semester, which isn't what I wanted. I like my school and everyone in it. My classmates taught me more about living than anyone else. Everyone is so different, and we come from different lifestyles.

There are many other reasons I choose military service as a way of life, but I'm not ready to write about them.

You Wanna What!?

Writing a news article isn't supposed to be this hard. I wanted to do an article about where all of the food from fast food places goes when they can't sell all of it, but almost everyone I talked to refused to be interviewed. It's like they're scared that they might get in trouble for tossing their salads outside.

Honestly though, I think they just didn't trust me. Maybe if I had proof that wasn't some kind of secret humanitarian agent, they'd let me have my interview. Then again lol, maybe they don't trust me cause I'm black and hungry?

Fuck Posture...

Bad Posture
Lisa Rae Winant
12 x 14 / oil on panel
Used by permission of the Artist

Dammit! What did I do? I had everything perfect. My nails, hair, and make up were perfect. How could I not be accepted? Was it my smile? My outfit? No way, I looked soo hot. Hell, I looked a hundred times better than those other girls. So what'd they do that I didn't? Can't be much, we hardly did anything. We just sat around for a bit, and stood up when they told us to.

Hmmm, now that i think about it, thats all we did. We must have stood there for a half hour straight before they told us to get up. I felt like I was in the military or something. What the hell was that about? I'm pretty sure i'm gonna get a corn from that. And what was up with the grading? I got a perfect on everything except for this posture shit. How can a girl be a model when she gets judged on crap like posture? And what's posture anyways? I think this whole thing is bullshit. You know what? Fuck posture.

Hunger in America!? Absurd!!!

Back in May 2008, I worked at the Loudon Nascar races. I worked in food services and my job was to bring food to the skyboxes where rich people watched the races. My job was to also bring back any uneaten food and throw it away. Throwing food away was the worst part of the job and made me feel like I was sinning against God. Entire turkeys, whole casseroles, and deserted desserts were left unaffected for me to haul back to the dumpster. I never knew that this happened at races, as most of the veteran employees explained to me. And so the source of my frustration is blatant when six to eight dump trucks are filled at the end of the day instead of donating the food to homeless shelters. My guilt is justified. When half a million people in America are considered homeless and 35 million are starving , here I was denying them food! And for all those people who complained that America doesn't do enough to help with world hunger, they're right. But honestly, how can America help with world hunger when we won't even help ourselves? I don't know about the rest of America, but I'm gonna buy a homeless dude a pizza and tell him I'm sorry that I was late.