||[Jan. 13th, 2006|10:04 pm]
Joey leaves Iraq:
While cleaning up my room the other day I came across a copy of my will. A document that I wrote in a somber mood, thinking of my own death, now seemed hilarious to me. All of my petty knick-knacks meant for one friend or family member or another. I remember just what I was thinking when I wrote it, that I might not make it out of this and that I wanted one last way to tell people back home that I love them. I’m not really sure why that seems funny to me now. Maybe because I did make it through and that a particularly large weight has been taken from my shoulders. We no longer have to worry about people trying to kill us. We’re going home. Now the only thing I need to worry about is the infamous "ironic death." We’ve survived a year in one of the most dangerous places on earth; now we just need to avoid choking on a hotdog back home or getting hit by a garbage truck. Other than that, the ever present feeling of danger and uncertainty has taken its leave. Now I can concentrate on less weighty issues like the high price of fuel or the girl drama that I will inevitably get my self into. Back to life as usual and damn does it ever feel good.