Celebration!!

After staying up ridiculously late to get information and paperwork completed...

Getting up half an hour earlier than usual...

Hounding the office for every hour that isn't in class...

Owing a very pretty yeoman about six favors (she was remarkably helpful and none of this would have worked without her)...

I GET TO GO HOME!!!

(admittedly, it's only for 36 hours, but that's more time than I've had at home for three months - I will TAKE IT!!)

Substantial Disappointment

...is a TERRIBLE way to start your morning.

It should be noted that the only time you can really disappoint somebody is by taking away something they thought they had. Right? Right. If I had come down and someone announced, "Hey, Bro!" (this is my nickname in ship) "You're not getting married this year!" or, "You're not going to Six Flags this weekend!" Well, okay, that's less than ideal, but y'know, I wasn't planning on either of those.

So, I was terribly disappointed, mostly because this came before breakfast. Around breakfast is when shields come up for the day, but between reveille and breakfast I'm about as overly trusting as Bambi. Obviously, this doesn't work out so well in the military, so as long as nothing before then has anything to do with ME specifically, we're good.

But, I was walking back from chow that night, in the rain, and passed by this big ol' maple. New leaves were bright green, and I've climbed into trees like that all the time. Tree-climbing is a definite off-limits no-no while in uniform, but memory's great because you can pull it up at anytime. Standing in the rain, I could feel the wet bark under my hands and the happy pull of making it up to a proper resting place, and then see the great green globe all around. Rain hitting the leaves, making them dance, and the good smell of rain on turned earth (we're planting grass seed by the ship) and the world in springtime. Living in a world where there are things like that, how can you stay depressed for long?

The Multimeter Story

I will be overly explanatory here, because while I know perfectly well that a sizable portion of the audience understands circuits, I also have personal experience to confirm that a good portion generally doesn't care about any of it.

So, to sum up a bit, I'm currently in Electrician's Apprentice School. On base, it's called the Combat Systems school, but because of how involved it is for ETs (unlike Gunner's Mates, who get in and out of there in two weeks, and then get to go to San Diego - lucky ducks), we could all certify to be Apprentices in the civilian world afterwards. If we had time.

(Quick note - my sisters have commented on the abbreviations of different rates. "T" is almost always a technician. "N" stands for some kind of "-man." Seaman, Fireman, Mineman, Engineman, etc. The reason "man" is not "M" is because of "mates". Not all rates have existed at all times in the Navy - and the three oldest are Boatswain's Mates, Gunner's Mates, and Yeoman (pretty much a Naval secretary). )

So, I spend time troubleshooting circuits and trying to figure out what's wrong with them, and the problems and circuits get more interesting as I advance through the lessons. Generally, you figure out circuit problems by calculating what the proper values of current, voltage, and resistance should be here, there, and right next to there, and if the measured values don't match the calculations, you try to figure out why.

You can measure current with an ammeter, or resistance with an Ohmmeter, or you can be supercool and use a multimeter, which can be adjusted to measure current, resistance, voltage, and play with diodes. I can explain why you have to measure current in a different way than voltage, but frankly, you don't care.

Now then. Fuses and circuit breakers. Let's focus on fuses. A fuse is a tiny little wire in a little glass jar. When it gets too hot, it melts, and opens the circuit. Current can't run through it anymore. Fuses are in place to keep you from frying your equipment.

I know five different ways to fry a fuse in a multimeter. I didn't do any of them. I was closely following directions. My instructor was even watching for one of these. (I say instructor, but he's more of a proctor - our instructors are the computers). They can't figure out what I did. I can't figure out what I did.

There's a saying from one nasty group in a sci-fi series I used to read. "Once is happenstance, twice is coincidence, three times is the work of the enemy." It's definitely possible for any student to fry a fuse in a multimeter. It's conceivable that you could fry a fuse in a multimeter twice in a day.

At the third time, I said, "Okay, at this point, we have to assume user error. What am I doing wrong here?" This moment clearly indicated the distinction between Boot Camp and ATT - in Boot Camp, you can have no responsibility over whatever just broke, and you will still get blamed for it. In ATT, I'm saying this to an FC1 (rank that usually takes at least six years to make), acknowledging, "Yes, I'm pretty sure this is my fault. How do I fix it?" and he's very hesitant to blame me. Because he doesn't want to make me feel bad.

I'm looking at him, point-blank, thinking, "Seriously? I came out of Boot Camp less than a month ago. I don't care if you hurt my feelings, I just want to get my work done. Now, tell me how to fix this so I can move on and not be stuck here for the rest of the day!" This would be referred to as "eyeballing" in Basic. You don't make eye contact with anybody above you in Boot Camp, unless you are directly in conversation with them.

But, three times? Three times frying a fuse (the same fuse, no less) in one day? That's just ridiculous. And, each time I do it, I have to swap out multimeters with somebody else in the room, so that the proctor can take this one down to the shop to get the fuse replaced. Fortunately, not everyone's in the same place in their lessons - H is on oscilloscopes instead, and Hayer is actually kind of hoping that I break his because he's hit a mind-block and doesn't want to do anything for the rest of the day. So, I fried mine, they took that down. Fried H's, took that down. Mine was back by then, fried it again. Sigh.

So, four times is not only ridiculous, it's beyond ridiculous. And I still don't know what I did! I know ways that it's possible to do what I did, but I didn't do any of those! Also, to add to the fun - I had never blown a fuse in a multimeter before today. And I went through four of them today.

Sigh. It's been a very trying day. I want chocolate and a bubble bath. Clearly, I'll have to toughen up, as this will not fly when I'm in the Fleet.

Drat. There's another one.

So, the webcomics are apparently deciding to parallel my life these days.

xkcd

Questionable Content (sometimes nsfw, but this one's fine) was exactly what happened today. Save that I was in a library, not a bar.

Three numbers. 35:1, 50:1, and 93%.

With some variation, the first is the male/female ratio in A School. (We girls just don't notice most of the time because over half of that is due to all-male programs of study. For us, it usually just feels like about 10:1). The second is the male/female ratio in the Fleet, depending on the ship you're on. The third is the percentage of women who end up married or pregnant within their first two years in the Fleet. With some variation.

So, I can be wearing a Navy uniform, focused on my computer, wearing headphones, oblivious to anybody else in the room (training means that I register "human," whether they're sitting or standing, where they're positioned in the event of an attack or emergency, etc. I barely register 'gender' on this - I'm not special ops.), and a guy will start talking to me. Seriously talking. The last one was particularly persistent.

"Which test are you on?"
"Hmmm. Oh. I'm not a corpsman; I'm an ET."
"Oh, okay, so, how far are you?"
"Mmm. Just started ATT on Tuesday."
"So, that's..."
"ATT's about three months for ETs."
"Oh, yeah. Well, ET's not a bad gig." Starts talking about the fleet - apparently he's a returnee. I perk up a little when he mentions working in Haiti.

"So, you just started, when'd you get out of Boot Camp?"
"'bout a month ago."
"Oh, wow, so, you're like, 20, right? 19?"
Distracted by online activity, "I'm 23. Everybody thinks I'm 19, though."
"Oh, okay." This is usually the point where the 19-year-olds lose interest, but if he's a returnee, he's probably about 24...oh, yep, he just confirmed that. 25, actually.

Now, it should be noted that this guy isn't doing anything wrong. Actually, I rather tend to like corpsmen for some reason, he's not being crude and has yet to cuss, hearing stories about the fleet is always cool, and the fact that he's a returnee means if nothing else that he's older than I am, which has not been the case with most of the guys who develop interest.

However. I'm not at all interested in dating right now. Hitch claims, "No woman wakes up and thinks, 'Gosh, I hope I don't get swept off my feet today.' " Well, that might be true, but there are also days where your feet are very firmly planted, and it's going to take some serious sweeping to get them off the floor. I'm stressed, in the middle of studying, need to get about five hours more work done today than I'll be able to, aware that it's only going to get MORE intense in the weeks ahead (and even more than that once I hit A School)...there isn't any room for romance right now!!

Actually, I have a friend who deals with exactly this situation. I have seen him work, and I stare in wonder. He will decide that he likes a girl. He will befriend the young lady, and then find that she's in a situation not unlike this one, where she's struggling to get everything done, and he helps a bit, and becomes her friend, and the one she's going to when she's stuck on a problem...and then when the tide of chaos ebbs, he makes a bit of a move. Just a bit. And then another. And THEN he starts dating her, except that they were kind of dating during the wacky chaos period, she just didn't notice. I have seen this whole process take months. This guy isn't sweeping a girl off in a moment, he's laying siege to a castle. And he's very, very patient.

'course, then he does something stupid four months later in the relationship itself, but that's an argument for another day.

"So, you're, what, E1? E2?"
I glance at him. I'm wearing NSUs - it's one of the uniforms that clearly denotes my rank. "I'm an E3." He leans, and I flip up the collar lapel. "Oh, okay. So, what are you doing after this?"

...

Really, the idea of dating right now is kind of nauseating. I'm not exaggerating. It's not dating this guy that's nauseating. No - he actually seems fairly interesting. It's that I feel like I've just had five kinds of pie, and now someone brought out cheesecake. I like everything I'm doing, but I'm really doing a lot, more than might be healthy, and while I happen to really enjoy it when dating turns into a relationship...seriously? Now?

I say something about going to chow, and that I have duty in the morning. He is undeterred, and asks what I'm doing next weekend. There's something I want to do, but it's uncertain that I'll be able to - however, for the sake of getting rid of this guy, I will claim that this is exactly what I'm doing. I have plans, you can't come, go away and try to pick up some girl who actually wants attention. I don't say this, but I'm thinking it very hard.

He goes to chow. Comes back half an hour later, just as I'm packing up the head to the galley. Ends up following me to chow. Then walking me back to my ship (my ship is not only on the opposite side of the base from the corpsmen's side, it is as far as you can be on that side of the base without being in the brig).

Then, THEN, he turns up at church the next morning, because I'd mentioned that I was going to be there. I'm really hoping that I just never noticed him there before, otherwise, I might have the beginnings of a stalker on my hands.

The Math, It Burrrrrns!

I have mentioned that everything that the Navy tells us is understood as "subject to change". I didn't realize that they could exercise this mysterious power over information that existed before we ever enlisted.

..."existed before enlisted" needs to go into a song lyric somewhere. I have speculated that the real reason a certain guitarist and I ran into each other was not because we were meant for each other at all, but because he plays well and I play with words, and we were actually supposed to make some weird but great songs together. Silly Navy, coming in the way of unleashing musical genius upon this world.

To return to the original thought - I've gone through all kinds of fun math classes. Truth be told, I have a lot of fun with math. All of us ETs have - actually, to make ET at all, you have to be one of the "smart kids". They tell us this, right before explaining, "An ET is almost a Nuke."

Nukes are a separate category entirely. These guys are going to spend at least two years in A School. Where other people get 30 days confinement for a DUI or getting involved in a fight, these guys will get it if they don't do their homework. They have a very solid reputation for being absolutely brilliant, and having no common sense. The phrase, "Don't nuke the question," or, "You're nuking it," is a reference to overthinking a problem, instead of just solving what's there.

This led to Ross telling me, in answer to a frustration I'm having with a friend, "Don't nuke the relationship." Well played, my friend, well played.

So, ETs had just enough common sense to not be nukes. We're still right on the edge. And we know we're the smart kids. And we like it. What we don't like is when we know we should be able to understand a concept, and we're not getting it. This makes us mad.

I classed up with about six of my friends. None of us are in the same class, but we're going through material at the same time. And all of us were flying through, and then got bogged down like Princess Winifred going out for her morning swamp-walk when we hit a particular mathematical concept.

Because, to a one, we'd been informed by every math teacher we've had that we will never need to know the square root of any number that has more than three digits. There's no practical use for it, your calculator won't even bother with it (yes, I know, TI-89s not only do this, but also save your messages, press your shirts, clean up the breakfast dishes, pick up the kids from daycare, and call your best friend to find out exactly what did happen with that guy last night. But we don't get to use those here.), you will never, ever need to know this.

There is, in fact, a process for figuring these out. It's very tedious, which means that when I randomly mention it to my Dad (he's an engineer) and we start going through it, he stops at some point and calls it "elegant". There's a solid difference between a technician and an engineer in both the Navy and the civilian world, it turns out. :)

It's been said that the best way to learn something is to have to teach it to someone else. Interestingly, I'm pretty sure this is why I'm so confident about everything I do at Camp. But, between explaining this process to Dad, and contrasting it with how he'd do it, I think I got it!

...or, more like, I blended this process with his, and the illegitimate result has been more effective than my previous struggles. Either way, the instructor has yet to tell me that I'm doing it wrong. :)

I'm Mr. Fix-It

In the Fleet, ETs get called on to not only fix the ship's systems, but the personal stuff of any other sailors who manage to somehow break it. The exception to this would be your laptop - take it to IT. We probably could fix it, but the fact is that we're up to our ears in work, and this is something that someone else actually knows how to do.

Curiously, people often don't want to tell you exactly how their favorite gadget got defunked. They'll tell you about three of the facts, and then you will have to try to figure out the other five things that happened to break it. This is usually because whatever they were up to was either stupid, or against regulations.

Clearly, it has not occurred to these individuals that we have a much better hope of solving your problem if we know what it is. Sometimes, a technician will look at something and just have no idea what they're looking at because whatever you did was just too weird.

Which led to the following phrase, from an ET2 this morning: "We can fix your iPod, and we can fix your microwave, but if you microwave your iPod, you're on your own."

Classy...

One positively marvelous aspect of being an ET is how long everything takes.

Basic Training is going to be the same length of time for just about everybody. There are ways to make it longer, if you prefer, but the majority of recruits come through in about two months, and head off to either their respective A Schools, or the Fleet.

There are two programs that are actually longer than ET. Nuke's the biggie - they'll be in school for two years before they ever see the Fleet. Hospital Corpsmen are another world - they're on the same base with all the students learning different systems maintenance, but they're on the other side of the base, with different regulations about class, liberty, and just about anything else. Of course, these guys are also going through Boot Camp again in a short while. Yes, they have the cool job, but we're happy to let them have it - when they go through again, it's going to be the Marines version they're doing. Scary stuff.

My cousin and her husband met as Marine MPs. I fully look up to her for her career, and never had any intention of following her on it.

But, not only is the class time (both Apprentice Technical Training and A School) longer for ETs than for any of the other students on this side of the base - we also take longer to class up at all. Students arrive at their A School base, go through a week of classes on Indoctrination (in short, Hey, you have a new lifestyle - here's how to not wreck your career while you're adjusting to it), and then they're on hold for awhile. "On hold" means that you're not in class at all - not nights or days - but rather working for the ship. The average ET will be on their Indoc ship for three weeks, have a two or three month wait to class up to ATT, take about three months to get through ATT, be on hold for several more months until there are enough ETs to make up a full class, be in A School for about eight months or more, and then be on hold until a ship calls that they want another ET onboard.

That wait to get a ship is reputedly a lot longer if you're female, by the way. Not any kind of "women are bad" thing - more about the business of a 50:1 male-female ratio on a ship. There's far less space designated for what you'd call "female housing," because there are far fewer women, but it means that you have to wait until another girl gets out before you can get in.

So, I was rather astonished this morning. By a twist in events, I was the one taking muster for our floor. I noticed (I should be commended for this - I don't notice anything before 0600) that my name and several of my friends had been highlighted, and asked about this when I brought it down to the office. By the time I got there, it was about 0630. "Oh yeah," the yeoman responds. "You're classing up today."

"Say what now?"

This means that not only do we have a complete change of plans on an hour's notice (we need to be halfway across the base and in our classrooms by 0730), but a change of uniform is also in order. Nonetheless, we are all excited - we hadn't expected to class up for another six weeks at least.

New challenges! Progress! Excitement!!

Here's Hoping

There's a poem I ran across today entitled, "The Longly-Weds Know." Made me smile.

I picked up the book just because Garrison Keillor's name was on the front.

This is something like the anniversary of one friend's divorce. Another friend's girl broke off their engagement. Two of my friends just got married, another pair did before I left, and still another pair will be in a month. And in Fall. And my closest high school friend's little one is a year old.

Here's hoping we'll all be Longly-Weds in time.

One of my buds described being in love with the same girl for the first three years of his enlistment, despite the fact that she'd broken up with him nearly a year prior to his departure. He says you just kind of stagger through it, a day at a time, until it finally goes away.

I think that's an option, but there's got to be something better. You can stagger if you want. I'm going to find some way to run. Really live, instead of just waiting. There's got to be something better. Always has been.

Here's hoping we'll all be Longly-Weds in time.

Parody Tragedy

So, my subconscious likes to make up song parodies while I'm in the shower.

The problem is that, as soon as I really notice what I'm singing, the supply of lyrics dries up.

Thus far the favorites have been,

"If I Were a Henchman" - adapted from Fiddler on the Roof, this one was fairly creative, and could spark an entire musical about comic-book villains trying to eke out a living on the steppes of Siberia, plagued by the constant knowledge that any day the Justice League could find them and crush their village.

"The Day the Bu-Stang Died" - commemorating the final night in the life of my friend Wil's Buick, racing with his best friend. Need more details from him about events, but I think we could really go somewhere with this.

"They'll Be Bloomin' Again" - I'm excited about springtime. I went through about eleven kinds of trees and flowers without paying attention, and then once I noticed what I was singing, all knowledge of rhythmic botany flew out of my head.

There have been others, but to a one, they all demonstrate that my sense of humor has a miniscule target audience. My former roommate would probably appreciate these, but I doubt that my current ones will.

Clearly, they are missing out. :)

Alive With the Sound of....Everything!

It is not unusual for one's headphones to deliver better sound than one's laptop speakers. I'm aware of this.

But I'm not used to them being quite this good. These weren't actually my pick - Joseph came down for my graduation, and upon finding that I didn't have a pair, gave me his. I'm not sure where he got them - maybe the Andromeda nebula. They do seem to be a rather alien technology in contrast with the previous pairs I've utilized.

I like to watch movies while ironing or shining my boots (another one of the joys of A School - I will most likely not get to experience this combination in the Fleet, but for now, it's all good). Before taps, listening to anything with headphones is planning to get yourself in trouble, because you will miss some crucial announcement. After taps, speakers are forbidden. So, there you go.

Obviously, I'm not always in bed at taps. Working on it, though.

I always have my laptop turned down to the lowest notch, and I frequently find myself wishing that I could cut that increment in half, because it's still louder than is comfortable. This is just silly. Who on earth needs to be able to hear that well?

Well, Joe, apparently, but we won't worry about that for now. :P

Apparently, Joe's tendency to complain when he's actually happy about something is contagious where his possessions are involved - the whole point of posting today was supposed to be a delighted "Eeeeee!" of gratitude, because somebody loves me and got me something.

Random note on love languages - apparently going through something intense opens you up to ALL of them. Gifts used to be at the very bottom of my list o' five. (Random note on that - Scooter looked at me, called the whole list, exactly in order, 1-5, every love language, having never read the book. There's a wide population that thinks she's a couple french fries short of a happy meal; I tell you, from living with her for a month last summer, she does things like that all the TIME. But she doesn't do them around a lot of people.)

You can tell I'm recovering. I'm going back to being all random. Fear not, I shall in time settle and go back to posts that only had one point to make.

But! I have headphones! And music! And movies! Thanks to a friend! And life is wonderful!!

So, Megan and I work out together most weekday mornings. She likes to go hang out off-base on weekends. Thanks to one of my roommates sending our latest room inspec down in flames, I don't get to go off-base right now. There's still stuff to do here, so it's not that bad. Julia and I go out running on the weekends.

This week, Megan rolled her ankle during a morning workout. This is problem, because we live on the third floor, and there are no elevators. Also, all of our beds are six feet off the floor. (Generally, this isn't seen as the kind of problem you'd have in any other building. There are no A School students in wheelchairs.)

Hopefully, she'll get to move to the Cole, which is ridiculously nicer (built after a certain terrorist attack), has elevators, AND has bottom bunks. Everyone in the Franklin has lofts. But this means that we'll not get to hang out together nearly as much, as the schedules are different. Obviously, she's out for working out for awhile.

Of course, being Megan, she still manages to look great, despite being on crutches.

Julia, on the other hand, has developed a more mysterious (and possibly more painful) medical problem. So, no more running.

I'd say that I should find another workout buddy, but apparently I'm medical bad luck, and shouldn't visit this upon anyone else on base.

Trauma

Normally stoic friend is in tears.

Julia: "Oh no, somebody died!"
F: "I...I lost my ID."
Julia: "Oh no, that's even worse!"

Yes, she was serious. I love Julia. :)

On Workouts

So, not surprisingly, there's a lot of physical training while you're in A School. However, unlike Boot Camp, a fair amount of it is on your own responsibility. (While in Boot Camp, recruits do NOTHING on their own. Going to the bathroom is scheduled. The illusion of choice is demolished in Boot Camp.)

This is nice because no one's yelling at you to pick it up, get a move on, match pace, etc. However, with no one yelling at you, you're far less motivated, right? You've just finished work, or class, you really don't want to get out and go, and look at yourself in the mirror - you're still in great shape, right? Right! Can't we just go tomorrow?

Note - this is not delusion about looking great. We just got out of Boot Camp. I think the last time I was this ready to run up a wall, punch the sky, and look heroic while doing it, I was nine years old. Most of the time, I'm pretty tired from the whole Navy lifestyle, but right after a workout, I want to go for another two hours. All kinds of energy. It's great.

Julia and I go running together on some weekends. She defies rational explanation. We were just warming up, and I asked her what she'd eaten that day, comparing against what I'd had (military turns everyone into a calorie-counting jock, but it wears off after a few weeks, I'm told). She rattled off fourteen items. I thought these over. "What have you eaten today that was actually good for you?" She thought about it. "Pretty much nothing." She grinned. The girl lives almost entirely off junk food, and is built almost exactly like Sailor Moon. It's ridiculous.

No, wait. What's particularly ridiculous - our run last night carried us up to the Main Gate, so we were just turning around at colors. When the call is sounded for colors, you stop whatever you're doing until the flag is lowered. What decision does she come to on our way back? "We need to stop at McDonalds."

I am both baffled and entertained by her on a regular basis. We have a lot of fun together, though. She got a chocolate shake and chicken nuggets, I shook my head, we did a cool down back to the ship. Good night.

Today, we went to one of the gyms on base. Julia's not quite as into this, but she understands that I don't like going to the weight room by myself. Why?

Because more often than not, there are forty people there, and I'm the only one who's female. Even if she's not working out, and just sitting at a table in the corner reading, it's SO much better than being the only woman there.

They're doing an indoor triathlon next week. If I can talk her into it (wish me luck), we're doing it. :)

Not-feratu

Another friend would be Rice, a guy I met at church.

We both have an odd, understated sense of humor*. We had lunch together, and I introduced him to my friend "Julia-she's-engaged**" and K-13 (this is the handling of any name that would be difficult to pronounce - K13's name is 14 letters long and the first one is K. Actually, in a quirk of the rule, hers is pretty easy to pronounce, but just about impossible to read.)

So, I got to see Van Helsing this week. I now wish to be Ana for Halloween (that'll have to wait until I can have long hair again), and I've had a couple of really impressive dreams about vampires chasing me through fantastic, mazelike cathedrals. Julia and I were having a chat about how creepy it can be standing night watches.

Note about the USS Franklin: used to be a hotel. It's divided into two buildings - the students in one are entirely male, and half the population of the other is female. It's a rather old hotel, and a little unnerving late at night. We've had talk of remaking The Shining on the fourth floor. During the day, it's actually pretty decent. At night, when you're the only one walking the floor...you sort of feel your nerves creep up your spine, and you expect deadly clowns to leap out of unlocked supply closets at you. The very next door you try could be your last...

So, Rice and I are sitting next to each other, and I pointed out that Julia is easily startled - a runaway hedgehog would frighten her. She just laughs, and agrees, "Yeah..."

But the seed is planted! And on a napkin, we created the legendary Hogferatu. Drinks the blood of slugs (this being the case, we have no idea what good the wings are, but they look very impressive.) Curls up in a spiny ball to sleep away the long daylight hours. Hides in closets and under birdbaths in rainy gardens. 30-inch wingspan.

I blame Rice. He blames me. Julia is convinced we're both insane. We are enormously entertained.



*To those of you who snerk at this, I remind you that it is not my only sense of humor. I have dry, goofy, whimsical, mischievous, and British. Also, nerd, band-geek, biologist, and historian, but unless you're in the right circle, those are best not mentioned.

**No one's quite sure why, but we all introduce Julia this way. Possibly to explain the slightly moonstruck expression that will show up on her face from time to time, or the business where she can't stop texting for more than eight minutes. Said engagement became reality while she was in Boot Camp (don't ask), so she tends to glow a lot.

Happy Birthday to Me!

So, it's my birthday.

It's also a day where I'm standing watch at 0400. This means that I have to get up at 0300.

Turns out that the other girl standing the parallel watch with me is also having her birthday. Turns out she's also a Christian. Turns out she's actually dedicated her life to missions. Had what a friend of mine would declare a freakin' sweet conversation.

There are four other girls that I run around with now and again, and they're making plans for us to go to Parcheesi's tonight - it's one of the on-base establishments, but it's waaaaaaaaay over on the corspmen's side of the base, so we might do the half-hour walk, or we might catch the bus.

EDIT: We did Pizza Hut instead. But Megan refused to let me pay for my food, and one of the guys got my ice cream for me. Had a fun time.

I was planning to go back to my room and watch Serenity, since I haven't seen it but enjoyed the series. (I love love love "Firefly", but the same-name business is sheerly coincidental. Ross learned that my name was Firefly and that I'd never seen the show, and made it one of his many spring projects to make sure that I watched the whole thing.) Maybe save that for another night.

EDIT: Since I'd been up since 0300, unlike the rest of the crew, I actually kind of canceled on going out with everybody, and just headed back to hang out with Julia back on the Franklin. And instead of Serenity, we watched Dr. Horrible, because she hadn't seen it, and it's still Joss Whedon. (If you haven't seen it and you can appreciate a thoroughly ridiculous musical, I highly recommend it. I want to reproduce this with some friends. And, of course, I want to cast myself as Penny - not sure how well that'll go over.)

Kind of thinking I should go to bed early tonight, so, I wish everyone pleasant dreams, and I will see you Friday. It feels very weird to be 23 - in my mind, I think I was always kind of hoping to skate over this age. It's just the number - my brain loves fours, and twos are fine, but anything ending in three just doesn't feel right.

EDIT: Misadventures aboard the Franklin led to being up until 2330. Rargh.

Got Another One

I seem to attract Eagle Scouts.

Not the usual "boy, pretty girl" attraction - no, this just seems to be more like a magnet passing over a pile of Katamari-style junk, and pulling out the metal filings from among the detritus.

My best friend, favorite tenor sax, sister's boyfriend, female best friend's husband...the list goes on. Of course, there is also the possibility that they're simply everywhere. Ross assures me that this is because if you're male and Mormon, you're going to be an Eagle Scout, and Mormons are everywhere. I question not his logic, but his information.

Anyway, I seem to have picked up another one. Started with a day when he took my watch long enough for me to tuck into some toast. Another day, we were standing one of those watches that doesn't really require anything more than a living body, and spent most of it arguing over a Sudoku. (He wanted to do it in pen. This is fine if you're brilliant, but I'm not brilliant - I'm just OCD and hate having scribbles all over my Sudoku.) We randomly ran into each other a couple of times at chow, chatted about our individual camp experiences. I have gotten crap from my friends because they come into the galley and see me eating with a guy they don't know.

Interestingly, he also seems to be carrying the notion that I'm 19. (I say "also" because my roommates voiced this opinion when I mentioned that tomorrow will be my birthday.) I don't know how I keep giving this impression - everyone in Sheridan thought the same thing.

People at Camp, on the other hand, think I'm twenty-five. Muahaha.

But! I have a friend! And, more importantly, I have a friend who's more than six feet tall, so I have a useful friend! This week, we've been painting, and it's splendid to have someone to spackle and sand the places I can't reach, so that I don't have to go find the stupid ladder. (I say stupid not because the ladder is stupid, but because the business of having one ladder in the entire ship is stupid.) This is also highly useful in crowds of people - my Dad serves the same purpose.

Admittedly, I have a friend who gives me crap over just about anything, but he's helpful when it's needed, so, this is good!

Okay, good news, I do have a new mailing address.

Bad news, you'll have to get it from my sisters. I don't have it here at the library, and I've yet to completely memorize it.

Worse news, if you sent me anything between the 20th of March and now, it is probably never going to be seen again. I have no idea where it went, because messing with mail is a federal crime, but there does seem to be some sort of gaping abyss in the mail room.

So, before you send, facebook somebody in my family - they've got it.

Ross, that goes double for you, because otherwise you're going to forget.

Yes, you will. Quit arguing. I'm right.

Good Morning, Base

The base is not unlike a college campus, save that, instead of interesting and baffling art sculptures everywhere, we have the big guns and large engine parts. Arranged like artistic sculptures.

You have buildings designated to specific fields of study, a gym or four (one of them has a climbing wall - I must find some time to check this out), couple different places to eat, and various barracks (we refer to them as ships).

My first one was a rather creepy place with a reputation to uphold. Very strict rules - essentially, you could have fun anywhere but on the ship. My current ship was a hotel back in the 70s or so. My door has a little sign announcing that checkout is at 1200, and they hope I enjoyed my stay. :)

For obvious reasons, I can't give you pictures of any of the cool stuff. But, we are on Lake Michigan, and from my room I can see the sunrise through the trees, and just a glimpse of the water. Life could be a lot worse.

Beautiful Easter morning.

Recalled to Life

So, I've made it through Basic Training and into the US Navy.

At the moment, I'm "on hold" - something of a transition period wherein a student is at his or her A School, but his or her classes haven't yet started. We speculate that this is designed as a recovery period after Boot Camp, so that by the time you leap into the information-intensive world that your classes will comprise, your brain has realized that its new world is slightly less threatening than the previous one, and will willingly accept information.

Interesting note about Boot Camp - a week ago, when I graduated, I would have listed Basic Training as one of the top five toughest things I've done in this life. Possibly top two. Now, looking back, I can recall the tear gas, getting IT'd, being cussed out for eighteen hours a day, constantly living with the apprehension that if you screw this up badly enough they'll boot you out, being woken up at three a.m. to iron underwear every other night (you think I'm exaggerating), the isolation, feeling as though you're losing your identity...but it doesn't actually seem that bad. I wouldn't want to go through it again (especially the tear gas, yuck), but if I had to, I could.

The human spirit is remarkably resilient, I've observed. You can put people through absolute crud, and once they're out, they immediately begin recovering. I was initially concerned that Basic would turn me into a militant mouse, and it did - for about three weeks. Sometime in the middle of week four, something reminded me of Camp, and I was myself again.

Turner was one of the girls who most encouraged me in Boot Camp. I loved working out with her, because she'd always push me, but we had a lot of fun with it. But, she explained once that, in Boot Camp, "They're in the business of making diamonds. They put all of us through the most intense pressure that we've ever known, and they're watching to see who will crack, who can make it through okay, and who's really going to shine."