andrea hawk

i’m searching for something, though lost and confused i’m not quite sure of exactly what i am always to do there’s two different plains on which i sometimes subsist there’s never one without the other though one might be shrouded in the mist like a surgery while you’re still awake, the pains get worse, make no mistake. what can i possibly do to rectify this? the glaring answer is apparently nonentity … as nothing really exists. it seems i’m stuck in a purgatory that’s neither here nor there but somewhere between awake and dreaming, when your brainwaves start their screaming distracted bits of information from the chaos fly thoughts on the significance of life reflected with nothing but sheer ignorance and strife…

quips and witticisms were traded. the jokes and jibes slightly jaded. the words that went silent faded, but their meaning has not been degraded the tears that i had long ago cascaded. because my own feelings i stupidly evaded. but darling, this emotion can’t be shaded… i promise you, i won’t easily be dissuaded my affection for you will never be downgraded. I need you and this can’t be done unaided. lost love of my youth can you be persuaded? to care for me again, if you’re serenaded? This is ridiculously silly, but sometimes these things can’t be helped… I suppose. At this moment I am feeling rather… well I can’t quite place the words… but this ludicrous little rhyme just sprang out of my brain today. I’m not quite sure why I got on the words-ending-with-‘ded’ kick… but hey. I never said I was good, now did I?

“This is the Command Post. This is the Command Post. There has been an indirect fire attack. All personnel are released. All personnel should remain vigilant for UXO. All clear. All clear. All clear. Command Post out.” I shook my head as the Big Voice rang out from various speakers surrounding the AO. “No shit there was in indirect fire attack… that one was, like, right there!” I grumbled. The others muttered their agreement as we shoved our way out of the bunker. I surveyed the area around us. You could still see the explosion cloud slowly dissipating into the already dirty air. I looked at my people, faces visibly paler than they were before the attack. “Bet you’re good and ready to get out of here…” Robby said as the clapped me on the back. “Man, you don’t even know. I need a frickin’ drink.” I smirked. “Bet you can’t wait till Dubai, huh? That first beer is always the best.” He chuckled; obviously mentally back in Dubai, chugging down a cold one. “Oh, I can wait.” I said. “But once I get there, I plan on being in a drunken stupor from then until I get back to this shit hole.” “Yeah, well get it while you can. Stupid country. We can die here but we can't drink here? This place is hell on earth.” “Hell? This place is hotter than hell. The devil goes to Hell when he needs a vacation from this place. I hate this place.” “Yeah man, fuck Iraq.” This was the one statement that passed through everyone's lips at least once. We liked it because it was an all encompassing expression of the disdain we all held for this place. It was a coversation ender, kind of like our own personal 'Amen". You didn't really need to say much more after you said that; it had all been said with those two words. It’s been eight months to the day since I landed on ground. There are a few things I learned in a hurry and one of them was about the Big Voice. The Big Voice is an increasingly irritating, but necessary evil on the Camp. Usually she tells us what has happened and too frequently not what is going to happen, much to our extreme exasperation. A few times she has warned us in advance; instructing us that we should, in fact, “take cover”. More often then not though, we are faced with that god damn screaming alarm and the impending doom that always follows. For some reason, things always get more crazy right before I’m about to get out for my much needed decompression time. It’s like they know I am on the verge of giving up. On the verge of giving in and surrendering to this place and it’s evilness. Sometimes, I want to quit. Sometimes I just want to say “Screw It, this isn’t worth it.” And just go home, where it’s safe and LESS that 100 degrees a day. But what would the fun in THAT be? The only thing that matters is that in a few days… I’d be home. And this time, I have something to look forward to. I only had to make it through the next seven days, one week. That was it. Some things, unfortunately, are easier said than done.

This is awesome. I often wonder myself what other people are thinking as I pass them on the street. I wonder why us as people can be so close, even brush up on one another and never give that other person acknowledgement that they exist. These are beautiful words that you have written. Thanks for giving it to the world.

Wyvern, I really appreciate your feedback on this. Grammar and good flow has never been one of my strong suits... thank you so much for the advice. I had wondered if anyone would notice my secondary message in the words. Thanks for taking the time to read what I wrote, understand my feelings, and for looking into the true meaning in my words. I hope that time not only heals wounds, but also gives second chances.

The sky is choked with dust. Illuminated by the sun, the air has an unnatural ginger hue. It hurts to breathe in the toxic air. There is an aberrant silence blanketing my ears, muffling voices as if they were only thoughts. The birds are the smart ones, they have long ago sought cover from the hovering filth. I looked towards the north straining to see, but realized I couldn’t see farther than the fence that separates us from them. It’s always been said that calm ensues before a storm. Everyone around me is tense, stomachs in a knot, waiting. Only waiting; trying to appear as if they don’t feel what I feel. They’re trying to appear as if they aren’t scared. Their eyes, however, betray them. I can see past their brave façade. I can almost hear their hearts beating faster than they should. From the early hours of this morning I knew it was going to be a bad day. We couldn’t see them. They couldn’t see us, but they knew. They knew exactly where we were. We were bunkered down, still trying to catch our breaths from the frenzied dash to shelter. One door doesn’t bode well with a room full of people all trying to get to the same place. They told us once we heard the screaming alarms we had eight to ten seconds to get to a safe place. The knowledge of this only made it more dangerous to get out. Your friends are no longer your friends. It’s Darwin’s theory in the works. Whoever can push the hardest and run the fastest are the ones who will remain safe. Don’t look back, ever. Just run. Wait for impact. Pretend like it all isn’t real. Jesus, I need a vacation.

returning to places that were once Familiar to seek out those ghosts in the past, have left me with more questions than Answers and Left my heart seemingly significantly heavier why have faces become unfamiliar and Cast in shadows? and remembrance and reverence has faded to none? replaced with looks of suspicion and apprehension, when before thoughts and feelings shared were dear? have the years that have past changed you so much that you barely seem to take notice when i have sought you Out? what have i done to warrant the Numb conversations? where it seems words exchanged… though spoken were actually never said?

Thanks! It's been many years since I've been here. I didn't even remember my password. Thanks for your warm welcome. It's nice to see that some old friends are still hanging around this wonderful, old place.

The world has coming crashing down around me In the last years that have passed I’ve pushed my self to the limit, Then somehow made it back; mostly My mother decided she hated my father And moved in with a despicable man My father lost his will power and well being His heart hurts; but is surviving, mostly I married a man I thought was my love Things changed rapidly after he surpassed 21 My days turned into perpetual darkness And somehow I survived the nights; mostly I’ve witnessed first hand the terrors of this world From kerosene bombs and mortar shells And lost movement and feelings myself But somehow I am still here; mostly I’m not the girl I always used to be Not so care free or sure of myself I’m still meandering in this world Still breathing and living… mostly

Thanks very much you guys. Peredhil you are the very best in the whole world!!! Thanks for bringing me back!

Hahaha... at first I was like... UH OH WILLY!!!!!!!!!! But then I read your subnote. haha... ROAR! Yeah welcome back! Nice work... yet again. I don't think you have a bad one! I love Peredhil... he always has such nice things to say and hugs and he brought me back. Yeah! Keep writing... stay away from anime! Haha... the morning after... they made a pill for that y'know.

hey remember me? Tis I, Andrea Hawk! I was a member over at the old place... remember? Bob Dylan stole my application poem for his next song? Right? Anyway... if i need to reapply or something like that let me know. Oh yes... and have a lovely day.

We kill each other off with looks of terrifying fear. Then we crawl off to our corners To smoke pot and drink some beer. But it really doesn't matter Cause it's only just a game; And the only way to win Is going down the road of shame. Then we do some fancy steps And fall down 13 stairs. We raise our cups to make a toast And comb back all our hairs. But it really doesn't matter Cause it's only just a game; And the only way to win Is going down the road of fame. We sit in front of mirrors Crunching candy in the dark. We love to roll down windows And honk at dogs that cannot bark. But it really doesn't matter Cause it's only just a game; And the only way to win Is going down the poodle lane. Our very favorite pastime Is hiking up so very high That no one will ever catch us When we finally learn to fly. But it really doesn't matter Cause it's only just a game; And the only way to win Is going down three roads (the same) Yup it's me... again... Andrea Hawk. Miss me?