if you can imagine an advanced enough robot...

I've always liked the covers of old science fiction books, sometimes more than the books themselves. This translates into other media as well. I'd be lying if I said the cover art wasn't a large influence in my decision to buy Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots by the flaming lips (of course, their music is more than enough reason to have purchased the album, anyway). So, when I stumbled across this collection of cover images from various publications of "The War of the Worlds," I was pleasantly surprised. Here are some of my favorites.

I would say these images are nostalgic, but I wasn't born when they were printed. Maybe reincarnostalgic? Delicious, then.

Coming to grips

For the last few weeks, I've been consistently having nightmares. In them, my family is being threatened by murderers, monsters, or escaped beasts. I'm always able to neutralize the threat, but doing so alters me so drastically, my family has a difficult time being around once they're safe.

Between classes, the other day, I read an article online that helped me understand what these dreams might mean, as well as the unwritten, emotional back story I'm not sharing in this post.

The article was written by a former soldier who had recently been called back to active duty. His previous combat experience had been unpleasant, and he was anxious to avoid another tour. As I read about his experiences, both in combat and out, I could feel my chest getting tighter. It was harder for me to sit without fidgeting.

I've known for a while that I would be leaving for combat by the end of the year, and this was the first time I'd felt any discomfort about it. In the past, when I'd think about the dangers involved, I'd immediately get a calm, reassuring feeling that I would be okay; that I would come home safely. Thinking about it again in those terms, I felt the same reassurance. What I noticed was that, while I have full faith that I will return, I am scared to death that I will not come back the same man I'll be when I leave. I worry that the people who matter to me will not be able to love that new man. I worry that I'll have too many issues to be overlooked.

Is it odd to be less afraid of war than of how it might change me? It feels wierd to me.

I felt the same way when I left school to climb mountains, and when I came home from Russia more cautious and reserved. I always think that doing things that are right for me will come at the cost of the things I think I want the most. When I left college, I was single and anxious to be in a real relationship; to be starting a family. I thought that, though I was doing what I genuinely loved, the result would be that doing so would keep me from finding genuine love. Who finds a wife above 20,000 feet, anyway?

Now, though I believe that joining the military was the right decision for my family, I'm afraid it could ultimately cost me the same.

I must have a Job complex; I believe that God is not above putting you in the worst scenario you can imagine if he thinks the end result is worth it. I also know that I would not want to fail that kind of test (I'm pretty stubborn when it comes to a chaaaalllleeenge!), making it a near certainty in my head that one like it is ultimately coming for me. Oddly enough, it's putting things in this perspective that brings the reassuring feelings.

Remembering Oceanside

The Spanish Lady and I woke up this morning and said to ourselves, "Hey, it's March. We should go to the beach." So we did just that, loading C. in the car to reacquaint him with the ocean he used to yell at when he was one.

I guess a year isn't long enough for some things to change. At least there is a playground near the pier.

He would climb to the top of the slide...

...and use his new vantage point to yell even louder insults and warnings at the water.

We ended the day with ice cream at McDonald's and air drumming on the table. Then, mrs. h and I talked about how much we both miss Oceanside while C. slept in the backseat.

{images iz cellphona}