My Quarter-Life Crisis

Geographically I live in the middle of no where. And occasionally my recognition of this fact reminds me of how I view my place in society. This isolated island in the vast expanse that is halfway between the free world and the third world is practically a microcosm for how I see myself as well; trapped.

Back in High School I recall writing where I thought I’d be in ten years, or what we called in our Yearbook, “Our Prophesy. “ Some of the students made light of the project and injected their comical spin to it. I on the other hand took it seriously and seven years later see that I am farther from those goals today than I was when I wrote them.

I Joshua Carroll will have graduated Law School, started my family and served God as well.

I remember those lines as if I had looked at my yearbook yesterday. Out of fairness to my younger self, I can no more pretend that I didn’t know what I wanted back in High School than I can say that I know where I’m headed now. To be honest, I haven’t a clue. One year from now my orders will be up and I haven’t given much thought to where I will be going or what I will be doing. I’ve put it off and procrastinated with the hope that everything will just work itself out in the end. And so far, I shouldn’t really complain.

I consider this dilemma as my quarter-life crisis. At twenty-five I never thought I’d be so restless to change my situation. I try to put into consideration some of the things that I’ve done and come to the conclusion that I haven’t done much at all. I have settled more than I have sought adventure. I’ve played it safe when I could have taken chances. I’ve stayed the same when I could have grown and I’ve taken credit for things that were beyond my control. All of these choices have contributed to my false sense of accomplishment and should rightly be scratched from my record. For I have lived a simple, easy, secure and privileged life. If it were not for my parents and the lucky breaks that I have received along the way, none of what I have would have been possible.

I regret not having to have faced adversity. I envy the people who have struggled for what they have just as I look up to the “self-made men.” I couldn’t be more of a polar opposite. I have been given the keys to the same doors that have locked out so many from the social conversation. Those that believe in a grand outcome that is all orchestrated by a higher power would call this “God’s plan.” If that is the case, then I’m certain that hundreds of millions of people in this world think that God’s plan sucks. How can I logically believe that I deserve what I have and that it is because it was God’s will, when more deserving, more devout followers struggle to put food on the table, die from diseases, war and natural disasters?

A big part of me wishes that I could just start over, not necessarily rewind back to 2001 but to just give up everything so that I could attempt to find out what the phrase “earning a living” really means. Until then I will continue to be thankful for what I have been given and the opportunities that are around me. I just hope that I’m not talking about these same problems at fifty.

Out of the Closet

Most people are aware of the don’t ask don’t tell policy that pertains to homosexuals as implemented through the direction of then Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff Colin Powell during the Clinton Administration. What they are unaware of is that this policy has also been applied de facto to Democrats whenever a political discussion arises among the ranks.

For three years now I have stood silent on politics, unwilling to express my personal views while on duty. Just as the gay men and women who have served by me, I have disguised myself so that I blend in with everyone around me. As a member of a very small minority of Democrats serving in the military, I have refused to give my opinions out of fear that I may be exposed as a traitor. With Democrats being so taboo, my affiliation with the party feels less like a badge of honor and more like a scarlet letter.

Since I have entered the service I have indeed felt out of place. I am often surrounded by more conservative Republicans then I would ordinarily share company with in my private time. Although I can attest to their patriotism and friendship, I can no more support their political views then I can turn my back on my own party. And for that reason I have decided to come out of the closet.

Being called a liberal doesn’t bother me. In the media us “liberals,” are portrayed as careless, financially irresponsible and obscene hippies who don’t want to protect our borders. Nothing could be further from the truth. In reality, I view a true liberal as someone who cares for people, things and beliefs above themselves and accepts a higher calling that extends beyond that of financial gain. And while I prefer the term “progressive” I’m more than willing to put myself out there and accept that label.

Now more then ever I know that I can no longer sit on the sidelines while my fellow service members attack the very beliefs and candidates that I support. Many people’s views are the way they are because very rarely do they ever hear or entertain a counter argument. It’s time for me to stop hiding my true colors (blue) and let everyone around me know that there’s no need to be ashamed of being an Obama supporter. Sure, he’s a left wing, liberal, minority Democrat…and then again, so am I.

A Mile in My Shoes

“Momma always says there’s an awful lot you could tell about a person by their shoes. Where they’re going. Where they’ve been.“ This was the lesson taught to Forrest Gump by his Mother who wisely saw fit to parent through the use of metaphors such as her ever-popular “Box of chocolates .” In her shoe theory though, the suggestion need not be over analyzed. We can like the Forest Gump quote suggests tell a lot about people if we just look down every once and a while.

On any given day I am bound to put on several types of shoes. My combat boots for instance are a constant reminder of my obligations to my country and the gratitude that I have for the American taxpayers who provide for my healthy lifestyle. As soon as I get out of work though I throw on my running shoes and race around town on a sunset run. No longer do I stand out from the civilian population but instead zip past it as I stride towards my destination.

After a run, I’ll jump in the shower to give my feet a momentary break between footwear and then slip on some island-style flip flops to lounge around in. On the weekends I’ll wear sandals, go barefoot, put my athletic cleats to good use and even clean up with a nice pair of shoes for a dinner date.

The point is that there is a little piece of me in every one of those shoes that I put on and a slightly different persona that goes along with them. Now those who really know me can vouched for the fact that I have a tendency to exhibit split-personality like symptoms, although this is not what I’m getting at. Rather, just because one sees me wearing combat boots one day, should not necessarily assume that I might not be at a peace rally the next. Just as it is wrong to judge a book by its cover, it’s also just as erroneous to judge someone by the shoes on their feet. One might conclude a person’s hobby that way, but still may never know what else they might be into as well.

Allow me to explain a few of my shoes:

Those of you that have seen the competitive side of me have been privy to the Deion-like swagger that I maintain when I’m on the playing field. Along with my cleats comes a more confident, albeit borderline cocky jock with the trash talking to match. The two are inseparable, you just can’t have one without the other.

Call it the island fever, assimilation or the atmosphere, because when I have my flip flops on I take on the laid back, aloha attitude of the locals. While I’ll readily admit to wear a watch, I rarely check it when my flip flops are on, mostly because I know that when it’s time to go home, the sun will go down.

My demeanor gets a little more serious with my combat boots on. As I walk out the door and into my car, I am no longer the care-free civilian chilling on the beach, or ego driven jock. I am property of the US government, sent to serve the very people who have paid for everything that I own.


As I began writing this piece, I thought it’d be interesting to count how many shoes I own and to grasp their function. Unlike my girlfriend whose walk in closet houses four times my collection, her footwear while important has many redundant purposes…high heels come to mind.

My list.

Golf Shoes (Nike), Flip flops (Reef), shower sandals, dress shoes (military/civilian), club shoes (Diesel), Combat boots (tan/black), running shoes (Nikex2)Football cleats (Nike), Crocs (Payless), Tennis shoes (Adidas), utility shoes (Puma), basketball shoes (And 1) and even dancing shoes!

Fifteen shoes total, all with a different purpose, all of which cater to whatever mood or activity that I feel up to at the moment.

In a sense attempting to "walk a mile in my shoes," is a misnomer. Before I would invite anyone to that challenge, I'd have to browse through my collection and choose which pair for them to try on.

Fight or Flight

It was 3:30 in the morning when a group of friends and I stood at a street corner after a night of drinking. Across the street from us were two hostile men shouting expletives at us for no apparent reason. After standing idle to just take in the one main word that they kept referring to us as, I prepared for the worst. I looked to my left and saw that two of the people in my group had gone forward, ignoring the fighting words that were being shouted from across the way. To my right was my friend (a former golden gloves boxer nonetheless) who had evidently received the same feeling in his gut.

What ensued was a slow motion like dream state that seemed hazy in retrospect. I dodged the first several haymakers and allowed my instincts and adrenaline to take down the man in front of me. In an instant he was on the ground while the other two vanished from my periphery.

My hand was pushed on his head as I shoved his skull into the sidewalk. I then took my knee and drove it into his back as to stabilize him so that I could collect my thoughts and plan my next move. For the next minute I maintained pressure while he attempted to flair his arms wildly, hoping to connect with a lucky blow. What I did next, is not what a street fighter would be expected to do. In fact, as the one who had an undeniable upper hand, I showed a side of me that much like the way the fight developed in the first place was unplanned.

I fled.

As I look back at the short exchange that encompasses my lone street fight record, I can’t say that I acted as rough and tough as I would have wanted. Instead I was overcome by an urge to show mercy to the man who wished to fight me.

I raced across the street without looking back, knowing that my ultimate goal was to get home and forget about what had just happened. In the back of my mind, I knew my friend was alright. In fact, my real concern was the poor guy who lacked the judgment and picked a fight with him in the first place. I gave him a quick text just to verify and passed out in my bed.

Over the course of the next afternoon, I played out the events in my head as I remembered them. And while I felt cowardly for taking off and not finishing what I had started, I also felt as though I had ultimately taken the harder way out.

I learned that I had the guts to stick up to these men who challenged our manhood while I stood beside my friend. More importantly though, I learned that there is not the “killer instinct,” of hatred deep inside me that I imagined would come out in the right time and place. I suppose, I owe my parents for my upbringing, my family morals and instilling in me the notion of peace even during the most hectic of moments.

Sometimes we don’t know where we stand on an issue or what we believe until we are confronted with it face to face. As for fighting, I had seen it numerous times on TV, video games and several times as a spectator. Just when I had the opportunity to beat this guy up for being the meathead that he had acted like, something inexplicable took over and made me flee. Whatever the cause of this change in behavior may be, I knew after the next day, that I had no business being there in the first place.

In the middle of the brawl, I just didn’t have it in me. I had no ill feelings towards this guy nor did I want to pummel him and teach him a lesson. If anything, I felt sorry that he had taken his emotions out on me and that he was the one who winded up face first on the sidewalk and embarrassed.

It took the events of a post-Saturday night out with friends and a fight to make me realize that fighting is not in my nature. At least, as far as hurting another human on this earth. Deep down, I often wonder if I really am the pacifist who once attended a peace rally on my college campus and whether I can more easily accept war because I am farther down the kill chain than the grunt with his rifle pointed at an insurgent.

This is not to say that I won’t put up a fight. I’m more than willing to take on the side of good when the cause is just and the threat is real. And with that, I still have similar feelings like singer Tony Bennett who has characterized war as “the worst of human behavior, neither constructive nor intelligent.”

The following morning after the fight, I watched the last lecture by Dr. Randy Pausch on youtube about “achieving his childhood dreams.” I watched in awe as I listened to a man who set out and attained everything that he had ever wanted. Through his lecture, I turned that lens on myself and conversely saw a boy who wasn’t chasing his dreams and instead perhaps running away from them, like he had done the previous night.

I encourage you to spend the best 1 hour and 16 minutes of your week and listen to his lecture. If you’re like me, you will laugh, cheer and undoubtedly cry several times before it’s over. After it’s all said and done, hopefully you will look inside of yourself and ask whether you are where you always wanted to be. If not, I hope you will take the opportunity and advantage of the life that you have been blessed with and fight for every bit of that dream.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ji5_MqicxSo