The Emasculation of a Generation
I was thinking earlier, amidst my thoughts on the Army (read below, if you haven't already), on a seperate but not entirely unlinked aspect of my life- my gender role.
It's a big issue for me, what it means to be male, because up until reading Wild at Heart this summer, I really had a skewed perception of how I was supposed to identify myself.
I've been stewing over how my generation has been cursed by this garbled pass-down from the flower child era, the aspect of free love and all that it entails. Guys like me have, over a hundred years, gone from romantics to men of passion. There is a difference...a romantic is called to really come through for a woman in a way that changes her and stirs her soul...a man of passion is a man who acts on his emotions. Avidly, we men have come to look for the easy way out- to identify ourselves as somehow heroic, without even the slightest realization of what that means and requires.
I will admit, I have let my emotions guide me-oftentimes in harrowing ways. I have never been able to figure out why it has been so detrimental, until I started to realize something insane.

I don't think I have ever experienced romantic love.

I have kind of, in the course of my life and experience, identified "pillow-talk", for lack of a subtler term, to be the way I really feel-I've let these kind of feelings turn to words. Those can be strong emotions, and men of my generation are taught that those are expressions of how they really feel.
But I don't think many guys are really pursuing women in the way they need to- we are pursuing out of gaining something rather than sacrificing. If we started to really see ourselves as we are supposed to be, and start seeing women for who they are, we'd be in a better place to understand how love really works.

Our culture has slowly broken us down-an MTV-raised generation told that our sexuality is public, not private and intimate. An era where porn rules the internet, turning men into slaves of base carnal desire, trading true beauty for cheap images on a screen.

And the worst part about it? No man has to be a hero. In my 5 years since first dating, I have never had to step up to bat for the woman I care about. I have never known what it means to love a woman- to really sacrifice for her. Not being a hero, I don't have to vye for affection-it's granted to me, because women have been told that men aren't going to be heroes for them. These days, we've lost the identity of chivalry- the identity of romanticism - the idea of honor.
Well that's just something I can't stand any longer- I think love is a fight worth fighting for, and it's worth fighting right. So going along with my whole decision to join the Army, there is another aspect- that aspect of someday doing something with bravery and out of sacrifice - whether it be for a comrade or a girlfriend or my pet rabbit. Love, not just romantic love, but any kind of true love, takes sacrifice and work to make it happen.

I must give a plug for some awesome girls...because I believe quality women are out there, I'm just too silly to realize it sometimes. They are women that are worth a man's finest effort. They are the ones that really inspired me to write. They are really the ones that inspire me most of the time. It is my hope that there is a man out there for each of them, living out of this strange generation, living a life worth talking about, who will be the best that he can be.
Props to the true muse reading online journals to her sister, the songstress sitting on a basement floor learning new guitar chords, props to the resident comforter fixing me food whenever I go to visit her, and the MC giving testimony to a hundred new faces. Props to the track star whose relatives live in a cage, to my "bro" with rowdy pizza box fighting skillz, and to the Canadian-American with superior weightlifting stamina. You all my doggs, yo.
- posted by Nathan Prime @ 00:30

 
Why I joined the Army.
It's been a question asked ever since my enlistment-"Why did you join the Army, Nate?" Sometimes the attitude changes. Sometimes it's more hostility towards the idea, sometimes it's more curiosity. Sometimes I have trouble explaining everything that I may or may not be doing, as I really don't have all the particular facts myself.
To give a simple answer, I joined the Army because I'm a coward. Basically, I have had fears all of my life, and I have run away from great opportunities to do really awesome things in my life. I resolved that I didn't want to do that this summer. My big mistake this summer was not trusting God to make a man out of me as a camp counselor, and feeling that I had to find a job in Greensboro so that I could get a place with Matt for the fall. I was facing a severe spiritual problem with a sin addiction. It also didn't help that at the time, I had a girlfriend who seemed to care a great deal about me and really wanted my time and attention. All these factors combined into me having the most uneventful yet stressful and depressing summers of my entire life. By the end of June I knew that God was teaching me a lesson- I didn't trust Him to take care of me, so He showed me what it means to not be blessed. Now despite it all, know it was His will to teach me, and to help me make the resolve never to run from a blessed opportunity again. So, despite the relative not-happening-ness of the summer, I did have a few good moments-a weekly bible study, time with my sister and mom and stepdad, a couple visits to Raleigh, and a few nice trips to the mountains.
Anyway, back to the relevant topic-to tie it in, I guess my decision to join the Army was based off of needing to do something that was clearly going to make a difference in my life and the lives of others, to challenge me, to grow me, spiritually, physically, mentally-and to give me a place to share my faith where it might not be so easily shared.
No simple tasks-I knew coming into the recruiters office I didn't have the ambition to wax bomb casings. I wanted a real challenge-and I knew that God had been telling me to overcome my fears through facing them.
So, after some talking to the recruiters, I gave some thought to signing up. My girlfriend and mom were both very supportive. My mom was scared-that's good I guess-you want your mom to support what you do, yet know that she loves you and is concerned for your life.
After a bit of time had passed, I got the paperwork in and did my overnight in Charlotte-my processing went great, passing the physical and all, getting a max score on the ASVAB, I pretty much had my pick of any job I wanted.
Looking at the list, I realized that unless I chose Special Forces, there was nothing that was going to keep me interested for very long. A job for topographic analyst would have been right up my alley, but I knew that I was starting to despise Geography. The opening for Special Forces Recruit offered a bonus, with an intimidating looking 5 year contract. Talking to my career advisor, knowing I wanted to be challenged, he was the one who gave me the choice.

I knew right then really what I had been feeling all my life-that I had always been running from the big goals, running from the big chances, because I didn't want to take risks. I knew then that unless I signed up for the Special Forces recruit program, I was never going to push myself in the ways that I really wanted to, never face the fears that I wanted to.

I opted to go for it. I signed my life away, went through my fingerprinting and final screening a couple hours later, swore in, and that afternoon went home with my life going in a completely different direction than I thought it would have for so long.

So why become a soldier, defending a country whose capitalist system I don't even half believe in?
It's hard to explain. I guess I like the idea of milking off of the government, getting my stuff paid for, having an unconventional job. It's really the same as civilian life in a lot of ways-you get up early, get yelled at for not doing things right, go to bed exhausted, get up and do it all over again.
It's true America is pretty sad sometimes. Hard to believe that "Power of Pride" and "United We Stand" stickers didn't exist 3 years ago...because no one gave a damn about their country, their history, or their neighbors. We were in a state of apathetic political neglect, and nobody had a side. Everyone, liberals, conservatives, have been living with their same issues, loves, and automated responses to conflicting ideas. In a feigned attempt at debate and partisan politics, too many have neuralized and neutralized themselves.
I've always taken a side, even if I haven't believed in it all the way, (sometimes, just to argue, sometimes, because I believed enough that it had merit) because if you just sit on the fence, you do nothing.
I guess in my own way, I'm hoping that my background, my pattern of thinking, will somehow make me make the better choice at a crucial point-the same point at which someone with less of an inclination to think about consequences might just go ahead and make the wrong decision.
Being one to debate, one to argue, one to challenge, I've seen both sides of everything in my life, it's one of those seldom gifts I have, and I'd like to put it to good use. So even if I'm working for the world's most feared organized crime, maybe I will have the chance to help a few people towards true freedom...maybe I'll get the chance to help save a few lives. And in the end, whatever that cost, at least it was better than talking about why I was too scared to do anything at all.
- posted by Nathan Prime @ 21:25

 
...
I give mad respect to Matt for his awakening me to the greatness that is real country music. My love for Johnny Cash is a weaker, paler version of Matt's, but I will have to back him on his unclean country love.
- posted by Nathan Prime @ 02:00