cursing in the margins

So I guess my brother earned a spot in some sort of sharp shooter competition.   He'll be competing against 3 other guys for some sort of Top Gun recognition.

top gun

and i am supposed to feel proud of his accomplishment, but i keep thinking that that sharp shooting may one day be used to potentially end another living, breathing, feeling, thinking person's life and that he will be praised for it and that he is being trained right now with that knowledge in mind and how far away from your own beating heart do you have to step in order to look at spilled guts and feel pride and i am supposed to feel proud and thankful and patriotic but
 i do not.  i do not.  

something in me rebels.  

during night class before a discussion on gods go begging, i noted that you know a novel's really got you when you start cursing in the margins.  the more i think about that phrase, the more truth i find in the idea.

i find myself cursing in the margins of the generally accepted discourse that says war is necessary and a means to justice and that participation in such is something to be rewarded and praised.
but what can i do?  what can i do?
curse in the margins
and pass on
my copy?

the familiar is not the only.
our side is not the only.

somewhere in some other country, some other family member is feeling proud of their sibling for achieving well in some shooting competition.  and someday that person could use that skill to kill my brother.  to win.

but what do i know about war?  about necessity?  about justice?  about the big picture?
besides, don't i basically subscribe to a sort of existential detachment?
nothing really means anything, afterall, right?
we are surrounded by the absurd.
death is an absurd fear.  it will come when it will and will lead to nothing.

but brutality?

something in me rebels.  although i don't really know what the value of a human life really is or where it resides or that it even exists at all, something in me rebels about the idea of war.  people killing people they do not even know because of some ideal.

killing.
ending.
deciding.


and how would i propose to change things?  what grand plan do i have to rid the world of war?  isn't that sort of an abstract dream?  isn't war a part of the human condition?

if war is our natural state, then what is it in me that rebels?

when i saw The Pianist yeeeaarrss ago, i remember suddenly thinking that the idea of GI Joe toys and letting little kids play at killing each other was the most absurd thing i could imagine.  the general acceptance of it seemed suddenly astounding- seemed like a gross oversight-  a preposterous lack of thought.  how can we let little kids play at war?  don't we have any idea what war is?  how can we color it in shades of valor and honor?  Over the years, I suppose I became desensitized again.  But now... after some reading and a reason to reconsider war... i'm back to the shock.  back to the horror of the way we justify and back to confusion about what seems to me to be some sort of mass delusion.

back to cursing in the margins.