When I left home for college, I was 17 and my little brother was 15. I stood about 6 inches taller than him and out weighed him by about 40 lbs... that's still how I remember him. Now, although he's closer to 6ft, I still outweigh him, but everytime I visit I feel like I'm meeting a stranger. Why does my mind always go back to the person that was much smaller than me 10 years ago instead of the mature young man who is there today? And why do I almost want to gag when I think of the term "young man"? Is this something all older siblings experience?
Today I came to the realization that so much has changed... and somehow he is more mature and further along in life than I am. And I mean lots more mature... read this: http://www.smartpathtohappiness.com/ and compare it to my tongue in cheek ramblings...
Yeah, I got a college degree and got married, but here I am, living in my first house, just stopped working 1 April 2009, trying my had at being a full-time crafter, I have an engineering degree that I am not using, and have no direction at all that I am headed right now.
Now there's my brother... little brother... has a master's degree in computer engineering, just bought his second house, does consulting work on the side of his day job, has numerous website ventures, and is now writing a blog that is light-years ahead of my maturity level.
My family would argue that my time in the Marine Corps (5 1/2 years) and going to Iraq and all sorts of things bring on maturity. I don't think so - I think the military is social retardation... and social retardation to the extreme when you deploy. In Iraq, you get out of bed, you go to a bathroom (port-a-john) that someone else cleans for you (contractors). You go to breakfast where someone else (contractor) cooks for you. You drop off your bag of laundry and get a tag so you can come back and pick it up tomorrow morning (contractor). You go to work. You go to lunch that someone else (contractor) cooks for you. You go back to work. At least one person in your building has a care package full of candy - you dig into it like little kids. You go to dinner that someone else (contractor) cooks for you. You go to shower realize you are out of shampoo and go back to the office to dig through the 5 ft by 5ft pile of shower stuff that has been sent over to Iraq by well-meaning groups (but I guess they don't realize how much they are really sending to Iraq) and pick out a bottle that will work for you. In the evening you sit down and watch a bootlegged copy of some movie on your friend's laptop. Around midnight, you realize you are still hungry so you go back to the chow hall for yet another meal cooked by someone else. Absolutely no responsibility except doing your job.
Well, time for me to go to bed.