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Wed, 02 Jun 2010 05:29:57 GMT

Everyone has problems. Especially during tough times like these. Some people have more problems than others. Like legitimate...REAL PROBLEMS.

Some people can be helped if allowed. While others are an abortion of a lost cause. And others, well...they make their problems, yours.

Weaker people tend to latch onto stronger people.

I don't want or need other people's problems. Nor do I want or need problematic people in my life. I have enough problems of my own. I often feel that I have so many problems that I am overwhelmed and cannot move. The best way for me to explain it is to borrow from the saying "frozen with fear" and replace it with "frozen with problems."

PTSD sure is a b*tch. Sometimes I think that I'm just not putting fourth enough effort into being happy and living a full life. Or I'm just being lazy, or I'm just making excuses...and that this whole thing is just all in my head. And yet...it is....isn't it?

We humans, the clever creatures that we are, by nature...are in fact, problem solvers. There are times where I spend days on end in my room, laying in my bed...just thinking. Trying to solve these problems in my head. Trying to figure out an answer or to make sense of things. I don't talk to anyone. I don't go outside. I think of nothing, and I think of anything and everything going on in the world and under its sky, and of course...I think of the problems I currently face in life. And it depresses me. I think about the past, and I am haunted by my memories. I try to make sense of the things that I have been through, the things that I've witnessed. And the only thing that makes sense is that nothing makes sense. I feel murderous rage inside for no reason...and I've yelled out in furious silence as hard as I could so that no one can hear me...and call the cops. I can't concentrate and I lose focus easily, and my anxiety is through the roof. Trust in people has diminished, as I have seen first hand what people are capable of doing to one another.

I do this for hours on end until I'm mentally drained and exhausted and I pass out. I feel so much, and do so little. I do things to keep myself numb, though I am trying to stop.

I don't talk to anyone about these things because how can they know? Even if they went through the same things as I have, how can you help someone when you yourself are in need of help. The only people that I trust are the people who I've seen tested time and time again, under pressure...when their character truly comes out. Tested time and time again would be my family, close friends, and the guys who were there with me.

If a person is honest with me...I'll know it. If a person is lying and or manipulative...I'll know it too. Knowing this, I do my best to keep a straight face and hope to find that the other person reveals some part of themselves that resembles a decent human being. I do this, because I feel that it's the only thing that keeps me human, and "normal".

It is only my hope for the future that keeps me going. My hope for my family who have suffered a great deal, yet never talk about it. They are the strongest people that I know, and when I am weak...I latch onto them mentally. And in my heart.

For my friends, I do all that I can to help them with their problems. And for it, I ask for nothing in return, except to remember me as a good friend.

For those who have helped us by serving, by putting your life on the line. By coming home and living a full happy life. And for those still going through the battles, in a foreign land and here at home...and especially for those who wth a heavy heart, left home and never came back....on a day of remembrance...I thank you. And will always remember you as a good friend.

Semper Fi,

Anh Nguyen

USMC Sgt.

Operation Iraqi Freedom III

Al Anbar Ar Ramadi 2004-2005

"Complacency kills."

"No better friend, No worse enemy."

The beginning...

Tue, 20 Apr 2010 08:47:46 GMT

Where do I begin? Where do I start? Studying the principles of writing screenplays for the past few years has taught me a thing or two about life, and my life. About people, their quirks, idiosyncrasies, and their life. And about myself. Oh yeah, and I learned how to write screenplays that aren't half bad too (or I'd like to believe).

It doesn't take years of study to understand that great screenplays make great movies.

Step 1 To writing a good screenplay: Choose the right beginning.

And that's how I'd like to start my blog. . From the beginning....

....before I left home for California....before I returned home from war....further back before I grew up in Philadelphia....before my time with the Marines...even further before I was an infant at a refugee camp....further back still before the ocean voyage to Hong Kong.

Yes....there.

In that weird looking building with all the weird wires sticking out of it. With motorcycles blasting by, horns blazing below. Yep.

There. In the dusty city once known as Saigon, now referred to as Ho Chi Minh city.

I arrive.

I arrive like most babies do in this world. But I promptly began my unofficial S.E.R.E.'s training (Survival, Evasion, Resistance, and Escape) which I almost didn't survive at around age 6 months. Carried by my mom and accompanied by my family, we left Vietnam on a ship to Hong Kong. We Escaped the corrupt Vietnamese government. We Resisted a life of poverty and oppression. We Evaded being caught by communist ships and being thrown into jail or executed.

With literally nothing more than the clothes that they were wearing, everyone on the ship starved for weeks.

I hear that I was lucky to have made it, and unlike what I imagined in my head, it had nothing to do with my bad ass persona. In actuality, it was more like me screaming and crying at the top of my lungs for food, and when I didn't get any...(because there wasn't any)....I got really tired from all the screaming and crying that I did for weeks, and I lay very quietly. With most people on ship rumoring that I wasn't going to make it...some thought it would be best to at least to have me thrown overboard to end the suffering.

My family didn't give up hope, and because of that, people were later allowed off the ship to search for anything they can find to eat...and I was able to SURVIVE by feasting off bottom feeders that my mom fed me by hand. None of which I remember...but more on this later.

When I said that I'd like to start at the beginning...as you can see, yes I really meant the beginning.

I'll start here, because if you've read this far, I bet it's safe to say that you're either really bored, or you're trying to get to know me.

For all those that fall into the category of the latter, I feel it's true that you need to know where you've been, in order to know where you're going.

Likewise, to know who I am, I invite you to read about my life, and see where I've been.

Maybe after you can help me figure out where I'm headed.

Turn the page.

Southwest Veterans' Business Resource Center Nguyen's Blog

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The beginning...