Happy Thoughts

Now that I've had almost five hours of sleep, I'm in a significantly better mood.

So, this weekend was amazing.

Because what's better than PT? Oh yeah, getting to run all over Camp, all day, anywhere I want (as long as I make it where I'm supposed to be), in my shoes, with my camp friends. Awesome.

And what's better than fireworks? :D There was some concern about the impending storm. Part of spending 18 hours a day outdoors suggests that it might be helpful to have somebody keeping an eye on the weather. Said storm's TOA was jumping all over, and there was some concern about having its arrival cancel the fireworks. Instead, we had some sprinkling, crazy thunder and lightning to the west, and splendid fireworks to the south. Kiki and I were parking cars (I got to do all the running!), and she was excitedly spazzing; "I don't know where to look!"

Muskie is awesome, by the way. I was pondering what to do about my car, having managed a flat tire (might have happened at Camp, might have happened on the way back from Chicago - noticed it at Camp), hoping we had an air compressor around somewhere...and at some point, when I was working on some other project, Muskie just hunted down said air compressor and took care of it for me. He's way busier than I am, and this is not a complicated project - I definitely could have done this, but he just came in and did it for me. So, once again, Muskie is awesome.

And I got to spend almost the whole day with one of my best friends. :) I'm not sure why Ethan and I get into shoving matches and all the other wacky stuff we do - he can completely take me out, athletically - but it was so good to be ourselves together again. We got to talk out a lot of life while cleaning the dining hall, and had a few different projects assigned together. After taking down the last tent, we went running in the rain, caught up with Berry and Freckles, and raced back to the dining hall (yes, he completely smoked me). Really great day together.

And time at home is wonderful. Home is a magical place, where you can nap on the couch, eat chocolate and read comic books, play with the dog, sleep between real sheets, eat food that's actually good for you...and most of all, get to be with the people who love you most in the world.

And tonight, the three of us are cleaning the room. O'Brien is being even more adorable than usual with a British accent, Mock is offering a play-by-play on the war with the toilet, and I am listening to the Firebird Suite. Good times. :)

Sleepy

It's not that there's not enough time in the world, it's that there's too much world in the time.

I am gradually realizing that I cannot possibly do everything I want to do. Really, I can't seem to manage everything I need to do. Somebody told me once that the point of an inbox is that it's never actually empty.

I have watch tonight 'til midnight. I left my watch somewhere back home.

Excellent weekend, though. Ended up being more financially interesting than I'd anticipated, but still so worth it.

I know a good half-dozen ways to prevent falling asleep, to put off sleep when I have to do something Right Now. I don't know how to fall asleep now. In college, I could tell my body, "Kay, we're got an hour and a half before the next class," be out in five, and have a good chance of waking up before my phone's alarm clock went off. Now, I can't figure out how to fall asleep. This particularly stinks when you're this tired.

I wanted to take a nap before my watch tonight. Be all refreshed. You don't fall asleep on watch. You just don't. Unless you're going to fall on your sword while you're at it, and your relief is right next to you.

I'm not sure how much more clearly I can explain this concept to the guys. There's a reason I am not looking for a relationship, or dating, or any of the other fun concepts Facebook advertises. I'm not trying to play hard-to-get; that's the truth. The next solid chunk of time is so adventure-packed that that notion of starting a relationship induces nausea here. No, really. Yes, I absolutely need a friend right now. But it's like there's this rule that you can only know me for about two months, and then decide that you're in love. Stop it! Go away! Shoo!

The present piece of time, what I want most in life is a 24" x 72" stretch of carpet, a blanket, and a pair of jeans or something to make a pillow out of. Just, please, everyone, let me sleep!

Frankly, with my lifestyle, I think I could get mono and never know it. There's so much discipline wired in that I can't sleep through anything that I need to make, even though the notion of getting up makes me want to cry.

I'm going to get off watch tonight, and fall down on my floor, drag my blanket over, and sleep like one dead for five hours. Then get up for class. No, wait. I'll have my whites on from watch. I'll grab my shorts, THEN fall down on the floor.

I'm okay, actually. This is not a crisis, this is not even something I'm emotional about. Everyone who's worrying, stop it, or I'll put you in a box. After my nap. I'm just very tired.

Return to Something Resembling Normal

I spend most of my days in school learning about circuitry components (very, very basic level) and troubleshooting circuit cards. I establish this because a friend of my sister's excitedly asked the other day, "Are you in Iraq?" Er, no. Chicago, actually. "Oh. Well, that's like Iraq!"

...

On the note of circuit cards, we had a fun one today. A diode is...hmm. Kind of like a policeman holding a one-way sign for signal on your current path - you can go through one way, but if you try to reverse it, he'll get mad. If you reverse it with too much traffic, he'll explode. I would totally play that video game. The exception is a zener diode, which is made to take more of that reverse traffic, but it will get very hot. One of my classmates today managed to not only burn herself on a diode, she burned it into her finger. The imprint was perfect. At this point, we regretted that it was a Zener diode, because regular junction diodes have a code printed on them, and her burn was so detailed that we would have been able to see the numbers.

Incidentally, the practice of "branding" is, in fact, forbidden by Navy uniform regulations.

...

Class takes a lung-snack break (those of us who can't have lung-snacks make a run on the vending machines downstairs - our nation's military runs on energy drinks), and one of my already-graduated friends is cleaning the P-way. He picks me out of the crowd, and begins swabbing in larger circles, blocking my path, and claiming in his Gandalf-voice, "You...shall...not...pass!"

I consider this. And take the opportunity to stand on his swab. "You shall not mop!"

"Um." He looks around quick. "I...I have things to do."

"Yep!" I cheerfully respond. "You have to defeat the Balmop! Or the Moprog. Whatever!"

"Um. You should...I'm going to get in trouble."

"Do I look like a Balrog to you?"

My friend is forced to conclude that I am a little short for a Balrog.

"Good. Now that that's established..." I grin and walk off.

It's Okay To Be Sad

Stupid songs to listen to after your friend's death: Vitamin C - Graduation. It's supposed to be sweet and silly to cry over it your senior year - talking about memories and going on in life when one of your circle of friends just bowed out of this life was really not a good choice by the 'random' mix.

One of my buds is really trying to help. I think trying to tell people how to feel must be a guy thing. I have heard six different reasons why I should be happy and what I should be doing with my emotions right nowHe sees it as an affront when people worry, because then they're not counting on God. I think he's also a little baffled whenever I'm not happy, because that's the normal Firefly setting, and anything but normal must need to be tweaked, right?

So, as gently as I could, I explained, "We learned this one from Jesus. Remember? His friend died, and He knew the twist ending, but it was still okay to be sad. Y'gotta remember that. Sometimes, it's okay to be sad. It's not a dangerous condition that you have to fix right away, and you don't have to have all the answers. My friend left unexpectedly. I'm going to miss him, and I wish we could have talked again before he had to go. I'm happy that he's out of [the stress]*, and I'm happy that I'll get to see him again. But right now, it's okay to be sad. You don't have to fix it."

He didn't really get it. Oh well.

*We tend to refer to this life, in contrast to the next, as "Boot Camp."

Unwished-For Encore

One of my civilian friends passed away Monday night.

The last time I'd talked to him was before Boot Camp. I wish there'd been another chance. Know I'll see him again, but still...

Everything's kind of surreal right now.

2nd Leading COD...

We had another suicide Saturday night.

Everything on the base is pretty subdued right now.

Focus

Rice and I took the day to go into Chicago. Nothing special, not even the museums, just getting off base and being ourselves somewhere where we don't have to remember 49 random regulations that apply to each city block.

We took too long in a bookstore, and on the way back, every coffee place was closed. Rice was feeling bad about this, because I have made known my love for good coffee, and it was one of my to-dos that day to get a mocha or something. And I was trying to reassure him, in the event that there weren't ANY open between here and the train station...

"It's okay! Really! Some point in my future, there will once again be good coffee."

I reflect on this, and we both think the same thing at the same time - how uncertain our lives are. "Or Heaven. In which case, I am sure there will be more than adequate compensation for the present lack of coffee in my life."

"Or a husband!" This isn't as random as it sounds, but you would have to have spent the last three hours with us to know that. Most of it was spent reassuring me about the future.

"That's right! And he can bring me coffee! I LIKE your thinking!!"

Turned out later that Rice was thinking of other benefits of marriage that could be Heavenly compensation. I'm just a little single-minded when it comes to coffee*.

I shared the story with one of the married women I look up to, and she laughed and said that it took her a long time to train her husband to bring her coffee. So, evidently, this is something that'll have to be started in the early stages of any relationship. :P



*This could be the only thing I'm this single-minded about. Anything else all weaves together into a kaleidoscope of a day. I start thinking about coffee, and everything comes down to how it relates to coffee and me getting coffee.

While You Were Asleep

I had a dream about Heaven last night.

Well, kind of. Rather, a fairly revealing dream about what goes on in the mind these days.

Your Common Access Card is a military id. We carry it everywhere, we can't do very much (like, eat, or use the front door) without it. So, naturally, it would make sense that after my friend and I die in the same accident, we scan into the afterlife using our id cards. Instant process - immediate identification. There's a sound of sliding metal, she goes in, and goes downstairs. I slide mine, same sliding metal sound, and when I open the door, the only way to go is upstairs.

(Please don't ask me why my friend went downstairs and I went up. I don't know for a fact that Waiting-For-Hell was down there; we never saw it.)

So, this isn't Heaven, because the end of the age hasn't come or something like that. This is where military cool their heels waiting for the next stage. And what do you have to offer the military by way of a divine reward in the meantime?

I came into a big, empty, carpeted room, actual drywall (nearly everything here is brick-and-tile), looked a whole lot like one of the rooms at church where my youth group used to meet. Dividing partition, unlocked door - the next room had pillows. And blankets. In such variety as you might achieve by hitting six different furniture chains in a day. No furniture, just cushions sprawled everywhere. Thick blankets, light blankets, colorful and soothing pastel, small, huge...and

I was talking to H yesterday, about our stress level, and adaptability. We'll have our day absolutely wrecked by sudden bad news, but within a few days, we're fine. Why? Because every day is two or three days long. There's so much going into it. If something happened more than three hours ago, it was probably yesterday; five, and it definitely was. If I spend five hours on the weekend with my friend, we spent the entire day together. I lost ten pounds in the last week from stress, but it's okay because I actually lost it over the course of three weeks. At this rate, I will be aging 18 years over the course of my enlistment.

And, we followed that up, what is every Sailor's fantasy? We ignore it most of the time - our time is limited, we rationalize; there are so many other things that we need to be doing. But, going on less than ten hours for three days, there is nothing so beautiful or delicious to dream about other than sleep. In your own rack. I actually miss my boot camp rack; it was the right size. I came to love that mattress, because no matter what had happened during the day, it was mine, and I could rest, even for three hours. Always came back to it.

So, yes. In the waiting period when military students die, they get to sleep. It's so, so wonderful. I curled up between two big squashy cushions, found a little throw pillow for my head, dragged this green fluffy blanketish thing over me, and slept for a week that night.

We also get to go out and learn more stuff, and now we get to learn without being exhausted and jamming information in all that time. We can explore the world, just that no one can see us; we can't change anything. Most of us actually love learning new things, or we wouldn't be here; we're just struggling with how hard and fast everything's coming (and the sheer lack of variety. If I had one music class going on at the same time as all this, I'd be flying.)

It's actually all kinds of cool. For the most part, we sort of hold to the time around when we died, because that's like the starting place every time we go out the door. That's another really cool thing - being able to just walk out the door, and walk back in again, because they know us. You're recognized by face, and you belong here, until things change and we get to go home. We don't know when that'll be, but we're learning so much now.

Good learning. Some of the guys are still practicing combat skills. I've climbed all over Yellowstone, and started haring off to Norway and climbing/sliding/skiing on glaciers, or the Swiss Alps. I've a friend who's tracking history - she'll read a huge section of the library, and then she'll go find the events and see what actually happened, how it played out, who was forgotten.

There's no one to say when it's time to sleep, or when it's time to wake. We wake up at sunrise, naturally, without alarms. My friend and I will stay up around this cool little lantern thing, just being girls without having to be strong and tough, laughing, and it's okay to actually touch somebody for longer than three seconds without someone thinking you're gay and tackling you to the floor and chucking you out.

Heaven's going to be so much better, but here, there's enough sleep, there are friends you can really be open with, you can play, you actually feel rested when you sleep, and you can go learn about anything you want, explore anything you want in the world. There's peace here.

Anyway, dreamed that last night. Absolutely beautiful, from where I'm standing.

Shenanigans

"Pumpkin Watch" and "Cinderella Liberty" are both so named because they're over at midnight.

I'm on eight hours of sleep in three days again. Can I stand a watch like this? Yes, absolutely. The results of said watch, on the other hand...

"I'll trade you." Holding up his ID. He's the fourth guy who's come down for a pass to go smoke after taps, but the first one who didn't ask for it by name. So I get to have fun with him.
"Well, what do you want? I've got a goat back here somewhere..." No, I don't know where this came from.
Blinks. "You have a goat?"
"Three of 'em. They're in the office."
"You're keeping goats in the office?"
Shrug. "Nobody else is using it right now, and I needed them out of the way so the quarterdeck would stay clean."
"Um..."
"I did have some other stuff, but the rabbi took my pig."
"What?"
Annoyed/musing expression, looking off through the window
I was actually supposed to be one of the lesser quarterdeck watches. Still have to have my whites, but all I'm doing is a contraband check on anyone coming in the ship. But the Messenger of the Watch (errand-runner of the watch, and escort for anyone who doesn't live in the ship) is a Limdu - Limited Duty student. This means that he got hurt somehow (probably PT), and isn't supposed to stand up for more than fifteen minutes at a time. This means that he can't be the MOOW (yes, we refer to them as "The Moo" and "The Poo." Straightfaced. Military discipline, baby.)

Main Course

Okay, enough fluff for a minute. Let's get into the meat.

I just pictured Ethan's face. He loves these conversations. :D

So, what's God been doing in my life?

It's been absolutely remarkable, but it hasn't been easy. Which is, I'm coming to learn, the way God often likes to work. He doesn't call us to take it easy - Christ warned us repeatedly that following Him was no guarantee to a comfortable life. Mind-blowing, heart-changing, absolutely amazing, but not easy. Something like climbing mountains, but on a much grander scale. You can stay in the suburbs if you'd rather. These mountains end up being a monumental struggle, and sometimes you feel lost, and it hurts, and you wish you had your nice warm bed when it's pouring rain, and you've left blood behind on more than a few scrapes.

But, you're never alone.

So, Boot Camp, and possibly the theme through the next six years, has been about stripping away a lot (I can't say everything) that I was leaning on, and teaching me to lean on God for it. I went from being one of the smart kids to one of the people who was slowest at everything - that was hard for me. Turns out I've been riding something of an ego trip about that since I was eight years old. Turns out I probably still am. I didn't have the kinds of relationships in Basic that I had back home - you feel very cut off from the outside world while you're in there. Really, it seemed like the only people that I had any connection with were the ones who wrote to me while I was there - a fervent thanks to all of you for that. Now, I'm used to being good at what I do, being good at music, good with kids, that sort of thing, and I tended to lean on that. God said, "Nope. We're done with that for now. You can pick that up again later. Right now, I'm sending you to go do something you're NOT good at, and you're going to have to work at it, and trust me."

A note on this - the events surrounding my enlistment were very, very touch-and-go for awhile. There was a lot of stress there, and there were two other contracts that I wanted instead of this one. I don't know what all God was doing then, but I do know one piece of it - He was clearly illustrating that at any point in the process, He could stop everything. I wouldn't make it into the Navy, or I would get an undesignated contract, or I would even end up as a technician instead of a corpsman. Wait, that one actually happened. :)

A crazy thought on this here. I was talking with one of the counselors last night via Facebook, because we both know that had events not gone this way, I'd be back at Camp again this summer. Really, Camp's the most amazing job I've ever had. Nothing challenges me and brings me as much joy as Camp does, and I'm seriously thinking of going into camp ministry as my career for life. But, God organized everything that got me in, got me in when He did, and got me in as an ET. Which means that, as amazing as Camp is, in God's eyes, me doing this was better than me doing Camp this summer.

No, I have no idea how.

And finally, we managed to wrap up the month with a lesson on closed doors. It was probably in Fusion or Harvesters that we started talking about praying for the impossible. Knowing that something just can't happen, but also knowing that the impossible is God's natural habitat. I've taught my kids for years that "The Holy Spirit specializes in the impossible." So, pray boldly. Pray specifically. Quit worrying about all the ways it can't happen and just know that God can do it. Make your request known to Him, and just see what He does with it.

God has done amazing things in my life when I just quit fretting, talked it out with Him, and trusted Him with it. Yeah, He already knew what I wanted, but it's part of a relationship thing - you still like the time together, you like to actually talk with the other person about what's going on. But this time was a little different. I hadn't even realized how much I'd been counting on the path of events that I was looking at until the door closed and I couldn't see them anymore.

And at that point, all I had was throwing myself on God. Taking something away only hurts when a person's been counting on receiving it, I've heard. But the crazy-cool thing was what God did with this. He showed me why this door had to be closed - that He could have given this, but I was asking for something that wasn't really in my - or anyone's - best interests at that point. He didn't have to do that; that explanation was a gift. But, there was an underlying question to it.

At some point out from now, He's going to end up closing another door that I've been counting on. (Let's face it; I dream big, and I don't always ask Him first.) But if no explanation is forthcoming, if He just denies something that I thought looked really good...will I still trust Him?

Growing more with Him every day. It's been good. :)

Down In My Heart - Where?

One of the guys from my ship is a road guard, I grin a hello at him while we're mustering, and he breaks from where he's supposed to be to invade the ranks. Gets right up in my face.

"I gotta ask you something. Did you smile when you were getting IT'd* in Boot Camp?"
I grin again. "Dude, I got IT'd for smiling in Boot Camp!"

In case anyone was wondering what REALLY happened in Boot Camp, please see Ursula Vernon's painting, "The Dour Brotherhood," and read the accompanying story. That'd be the general attitude we're supposed to have, and you can guess which one of the monks I am.


*IT is "intense" physical training, used as a penalty when we screw up, or the RDCs are having a bad day. Massive contrast to PT, which is fun. IT is not fun.

So, our duty section in particular is a mite short on sleep over this whole living flag business. Extra practice has been scheduled for Saturday, which means getting up fiendishly early, but we're the ones who won't get to go back to sleep after practice is done.

There are two directions that this can go. There's cranky-tired, and there's punchy-tired. And punchy-tired is a hoot.

During muster, someone started heel-toe rocking, when they were supposed to be standing at attention. Scattered spreading throughout the section, Keller looks up from his clipboard when the giggling gets out of hand to see that two-thirds of the duty section are heel-toe rocking, loosely in sync. Shakes his head, grins, goes back to his clipboard. He's just happy we're not trying to murder him for this schedule*.

During evening sweepers, Julia and I are at opposite ends of the p-way. Singing Lion King. I'm Zazu.

I also have the spray-deodorizer. This is unfortunate. We're all to the point where we're not just punchy, we're almost high from lack of sleep. So, frolicking commences.

Two of the girls started dueling with dust brushes (this might sound normal, but it really isn't). They halted briefly when I passed. I looked at one, the other, and then 'blessed' both brushes with the spray deodorizer. "Carry on!" They did.

I won't get into the hilarity of the supply room. Supply room is their own duty section - they don't follow our schedule, they don't report to our section leaders, and they go by different rules. Also, they got to sleep this afternoon. So, you have people who are fairly recharged making sure that people who are acting high get the cleaning chemicals they need.

And Sunday morning, we got to clean up the quarterdeck. Part of which is carpeted. I trot up to the third deck, supply room.

"Hey, can I get a vacuum?"
"No! They're mine!! ALL MINE!!"
Already signing one out, "Right, well, you've clearly got some deep-seated psychological issues here, so, in order to help you overcome those, we're just going to go ahead and take all of them." There are seven vacuum cleaners standing patiently by the door.
She giggles. "I like you. You can stay."
I grin, grab the one I signed out, and head down.

I'm not entirely sure about the origins of this vacuum cleaner. Three of us spent three minutes trying to figure out how to turn the thing on. At last, my partner announced theatrically, "It is a demon vacuum! Banish it from this land!"
And me, instead of either, "Aye-aye, shipmate!" or even, "Roger that!"...I came out with, "Okey-dokey!" and trotted the thing back upstairs.

No, there are no elevators in the Franklin. Nobody lives in here except Sailors, and nobody makes it through Boot Camp in a wheelchair. What on earth would we need elevators for?

Informed the girl in the supply room of the diagnosis on this one, she raised her eyebrows, and I selected a more conventional model. "Let me know if you need an exorcism on it later - I'm good at that sort of thing!"
"You're a priest?"
"No, I'm insufferably cheerful! Demons hate that!"
She laughed again.

I did finally get to take a nap around 0800 this morning. Then I had church. :)


*We know it's not his fault.

"The Human Flag"

We've been working on a particular evolution for the last three or four weeks. Everyone's tired of it, but if I get a chance to post a photo of the completed thing, it'll hopefully look cool.

Lately, the higher-ups have been canceling liberty for this practice, including weekend liberty. Nobody's happy. We've been told so many times that this is a good thing that we don't believe it anymore. Today, Chief came out to address us on the subject.

"There will be times in your Navy career..." everyone groans, and he grins. We hear this line more than we ever want to, and it always leads to the same thing. Well, almost.

"You've been hearing for weeks what a historic event this is, and what an honor it is that we get to be a part of it, and I know you don't believe any of it. But months from now, maybe years, you're going to look back on today, and it will just be another Friday that sucked."

We all cheered. :D

Ain't Been Nothin' But Bad

I am so, so thankful for Allan.

Allan is my buddy. Allan is an Eagle Scout. Allan is our choir techie. Allan is nineteen, but usually acts like a good-hearted fourteen. But, most importantly (today, anyway), Allan is six-and-a-half feet tall.

Because on our way out of the Combat Systems School today, we goofed up. It's Friday, okay, we're more organized than college students, but now and again we still slip up and lose our military bearing. And EM1 walked by. He was not pleased. Not pleased at all. Called us all back into ranks, and started in on us. One ship at a time, because a few of them were actually okay.

And as soon as he yelled, "Franklin, stand by!" I heard, from that rebellious little corner of my brain that thinks its funny, Tommy Arachtingi's little-Christmas-punk voice, "I'm in trouble!" And while, yes, I do take EM1 seriously, I simply could not manage to keep the grin off my face. There's something about sudden terror that makes humor so much funnier.

And this would have landed me in a world of hurt, had Allan not been standing directly in front of me.

So, yes. Saved, and dangerously entertained. Just another day. :)

Parting

Our division started with 88 recruits.

At our lowest point, we were down to something like 58, but we got some back before graduation.

Eight of us came from said division and brother division to the Enterprise.

Six of us (five female) came to the Franklin. The USS Franklin is the main ship for Electronics Technicians and Fire Controlmen - the two are sort of buddy programs. We work with the same concepts, our usual work will be applying said concepts to different systems, but there'll be a fair amount of crossover once we get to the Fleet.

So we're told, anyways.

The five of us girls ended up on the same deck. Julia is three rooms down from mine, Hergz is across the hall, etc. We like this arrangement. We even all started Apprentice Technical Training at the same time.

But, of the five girls, the other four are all FCs. The one male and I are both ETs - we'll be in school longer at just about every stage. And this week, most of them are comping - completing the course - and I've got another month to go.

It's not nearly the same as it'll be when we get our orders and get sent to different sides of the country, different ships, but man, talk about feeling left out. For one, they're no longer in school with me. For another, they're moving on to the next piece of the adventure in about two weeks. Er, supposedly - it is the Navy, after all. Le sigh.

So then Julia comes by with peanut-butter M&Ms. I love this girl. :)

Nastygram

During a series of freak circumstances (including the worst blizzard I've yet encountered in this life), a friend got my mailing address while I was in Boot Camp. Actually, he ended up getting it before my family did, also due to said circumstances.

But, someone mentioned during this process that "mail is the lifeline" to recruits while they're in Boot Camp. This is absolutely true. We get more excited about mail than we do about sleep, and sleep earns high appreciation during Basic.

It's still a lifeline after Basic. Actually, even more so. Going through Basic feels like a failed suicide attempt on your emotions. If you think that joke was in poor taste, I don't find a lot of humor in it, either. After Boot Camp, your emotional self is pretty much in a coma, trying to remember what emotions are, and getting fed whatever sustenance it can find through the IV that is the US Postal Service.

Also, you have the kind of relationship with people back home that you can't have with anybody on base. Realistically, I have no real problem if no one on base loves me - I just have huge issues if none of them respect me. My family and civilian friends love me.

(Note: Julia wishes it to be known that she loves me. Everybody say, "Awwwww," for Julia. :P)

There are other methods for communication, of course. I do have my cell, and tend to check it on a nightly basis. Sometimes a friend will allow me to use their internet (this may be four times a week, or it might be once in two weeks - not the most dependable method). Mail is really something cool, though.

The delay only adds to the anticipation. I may find out that I have mail waiting for me, but it could be three days before schedule permits me to pick it up. So, what's going in my emotional IV this time? Adrenaline, saline, Kool-Aid? Joe likes to play with it and dump Mountain Dew in there from time to time.


...abuse of the mail system would be today. Somebody back home took the opportunity to dump diesel in my IV. That hurt. That hurt a lot.

So, true to form, I will call Elizabeth about the bugger, she will become outraged, grab Joseph (who's back on Army base, but trifle her not with such details!), and the two of them will go a-hunting.

In case anyone was wondering, if you have something nasty to say to somebody military, please don't use the mail to do it.

Mondays Aren't Manic

H is my buddy from class. Kind of sleepy, good-natured GM.

He's decided that his new word is, "Monday." As in, "What the Monday." "Son of a Monday." "My card's all Mondayed up."

Because, honestly, Mondays are rough. Everyone's spent the weekend trying to forget that they live on base (we're proud to be Navy, we're just not so keen on the living situation sometimes), having fun, forgetting about class and all the military trappings - and then we get up at five a.m. for a Personnel Inspection and head off to try to reengage our minds with material that half of us haven't touched since Friday (and weekends are LONG in our mentality, for how much we stuff into them), for one of the two longest days of class. Everyone's tired, and struggling, often cranky.

So, R takes an issue with H's word, claiming that it's stupid, comes over to make a nuisance of himself.
Grins up at R. "Monday off."

This one could actually last. :D

The Mac's!

Can I say that I love these guys?

The Mac's (shortened rendition of their name - we call them Mama Mac and Big Daddy Mac) have two daughters who both left home a few years ago. Having the girls out of the house, they said, "Well, what can we do next?"

I love these guys, because this completely falls under the category of "ministry", but isn't shoving anything down anybody's throat.

Friday nights, they have kind of a hangout time for a bunch of the Christian Sailors and anybody else who wants to come get real food down in the basement of the chapel. Mama Mac makes food - good food, not galley, not McD's - and it's okay to relax a little bit and be with friends. Sometimes we do a Bible study, sometimes we watch movies, it's cool.

Every other Sunday (I love this one), they take the same party over to their house. Mama Mac makes more food, we get way too into board games, the yard is beautiful and completely un-military. Adam and I spent about an hour kicking a soccer ball around with a three-year-old and his sister. Beautiful sunny day. Best day I've had down here in weeks, and my life down here is not that bad.

People can actually hug each other there! It's amazing!

I'm failing at describing how lovely this is. Being invited to take off your shoes when you come in. Sitting on the deck drinking from a cold can of pop. Watching one of the dads with his kids. Helping a little girl get a huge moth out of her insect trap (not entirely sure how she got it in there in the first place). Irises blooming. Adam earning the name "Irisbane" for taking out an iris with the soccer ball. Full green grass that you could run on. Getting to wear civvies and connect with people who weren't military (some people from their church show up, too. Feeling the sun on your bare arms. Beautiful, beautiful day. Making friends with the family cat (er, sort of - turns out he doesn't like people, and it was a freak event that he let me pet him). The touch on your shoulder when someone needs to get around you. Salad that was actually fresh. Getting to help make food - this sounds weird, but not getting to make food when you eat all the time just messes with you. Listening to people's stories. Playing the piano. Running up under the trees after the ball (I apparently had it in for the hostas).

It was so, so...good!

And then Adam and I got back to base and spent the rest of the day hanging out on the beach. So that was cool, too.

Special Kind of Stupid

This is how I explained the post Cinco-de-Mayo crackdown to my roommates, who arrived in the Franklin after all of that settled.

Today, we had a new example of Special Kind of Stupid.

It will come as no surprise that underage drinking is considered unacceptable for personnel here. Can earn you your own special private trial with the Captain. Aren't you lucky.

What does come as a bit of a surprise is how often people forget that we're not a college campus; we're a military base. Your methods of escaping detection and consequences need to be adjusted accordingly.

For example, in any other country in the world, climbing the fence instead of coming in the main gate would very likely get you shot. Here, they'd be justified in shooting you, but we're gas first, ask questions second sort of deal.

Special Kind of Stupid. Sigh.

Poor Planning?

Common pasttime for Sailors.

Aside from the first one that comes to mind, one of the others is going and getting tattoos. Sometimes pretty randomly. My friend's roommate has a smiley exactly the way she'd do one with green and purple marker if she was writing a note to somebody. Another one of my shipmates has the nickname, "Ninjacheeks," from the last time she and her friends got fairly sloshed; she didn't remember getting it and didn't find it until the next day.

There's hope that next week she'll do it again and get a pirate on the other side. :)

So, it's a common pasttime. Carries about as much weight for identity as what kind of car you drive. "Hey, what's your tat?" "Where'd you get it?" "Where'd you get yours done?"

We're also, surprisingly, into a lot of the more athletic pursuits. Between Milwaukee and Chicago, there's actually a lot to do, as long as you can work out your transportation. A couple of the guys invited me along for their weekend plans, but I had duty and declined.

It only clicked when I got back to my ship, "Wait. They're going and getting tats, and then going paintballing??"

Maybe that's just the tough guy's way of saying he's impervious to pain. As for myself, I may very well end up partaking in both at some point, but they will most definitely be on separate weekends. :P

Moments from ATT

Math instincts, for starters. I knew about English instincts. English instincts are when you look over a friend's paper, and you know where six semi-colons go, and correct about twelve other mistakes, but you have no idea why that's right, you just know it is. I HAVE my Little Brown Handbook (yes, we intentionally knock out the commas; no, I don't have it here with me), all the rules are in there, but I couldn't tell you any of them off the top of my head. I just know that that comma doesn't go there, so take it out because it's driving me nuts!

Same with the math. I can look at the schematic for a circuit, and tell my buddy H the total resistance or whatever, but when he asks me to show him how I got it on paper, there's a brilliant, "Uhhhhh...."

So then he checks it himself, with the calculator. And I'm right. And I know I'm right. I just don't know how I know that.

We're also getting a little bit psychic. For example, there's a point where H was asking me whether he'll need to know something after this unit. Pairing the two of us may have been a mistake, because I'm an ET - we need to know everything in ATT - and he's a GM. Gunner's Mates have the shortest time in ATT, because their program is designed to barely skim through all the lessons. "I don't know, ask R."
H glances over at R, the only other GM in our class. "Can't. He's taking a test."
I'm back, focused on my lesson. "Yeah, but he's already on number fifteen, he'll be done soon." I stop, look up. "How do I know that?"
H looks at me, looks at R, walks over to check his screen. Comes back, also looking mystified.
"Well?"
"He's on sixteen, now. How did you know that?"

Still have no explanation.

On an unrelated note, we occasionally do a little damage to ourselves. There are all kinds of posted warnings and occasional briefs about safety and don't wear your wedding ring while you're working and nasty ways to lose a finger - so when small damage happens, we're pretty relieved that it's small.

"*$*%!"
Reassuringly, "That'll feel better once it stops hurting."

That'd be our instructor.

Contrast. Oops.

Please, world, accept my apologies.

I come from a strange land. (So strange that Facebook hasn't even heard of it, and instead places me in Chicago.)

Our culture is not like yours.

Our food...er...tries very hard to be like yours. Usually fails.

Our societal customs - please! Understand we mean no disrespect!

Sigh.

I managed to land myself in a disagreement over a misinterpretation. Not this time I was home, but the last time (first time I'd been home in three months), a friend had wanted to spend more time with me.

Understand, please. This does not exist on base. We are happy to see our friends, but it's startling to me whenever anyone wants to be with me specifically - to a certain extent, we're used to being interchangeable. I'm an ET, she's an ET, he's a night-ET, and the six of them are FCs and can probably do the same math, what do you need?

More importantly, there really isn't any stretching time here. If I have to be somewhere at 1800, I have to be there at 1755. Done deal. There is no arguing, no wheedling, no persuading. Doesn't exist, because my schedule carries the power of a military order.

So, I'd forgotten that people actually put value on me as a person, not just my work, and I'd forgotten that someone could want more time than there was, and not because they were blowing off authority or the next item on the agenda. So, I said something about it.

And from what I've heard from my buddies, this happens ALL THE TIME. We get annoyed with civilians...for not being military. Because we forgot how to be civilians.

...in complete contrast to this, I was in disbelief that anyone actually wanted me around this weekend, and had to keep checking to make sure that it was okay that I existed. From a psychological standpoint, this is fascinating. From a personal standpoint, it's a little scary.


As always, my fervent thanks go out to the people who still love me despite me being a loon. You keep me...well, a little less loony than I would be without you. I love you all.

Skittles

Borderline-irritating (but usually funny) classmate on break, eating Sour Skittles. We've been talking about weird food combinations.

"Hey, put a green and a yellow one under your tongue. Just hold 'em there."
The class has somehow come to the conclusion that I know what I'm talking about on the most random matters.
After a few minutes, "What am I waiting for?"
"I don't know, but it kept your mouth shut for five minutes." Grin.

I got paid back for that later, but it was worth it.

All My Titles For This Are Circuitry-Related Puns.

As y'may have guessed by now, one of my closer friends on base is Julia. We've been together since the start of Boot Camp - primarily because we're almost exactly the same height, and share an unholy appreciation for musicals.

And other random oddities.

There is, however, a balance that exists between us. Because we're both some variation of bipolar. I'm either glowing so hard that I'm levitating (a friend offered to tie me down so I wouldn't blow away at Josie's wedding), or I'm calmly amused by the situation. These are the two chief variations. Even on base.

Julia, by contrast, is either absolutely hyper, or terribly morose. There is a middle ground, and it's called "tired".

With most of my friends, we feed off each other. Adam's a fine example - he gets happy, I get happy, and happy just builds. Rahni and I get sillier and sillier as time progresses together (note to Mr. Knutson - I'm sorry about your car. Had we found it later in the evening, it would have likely featured Victor Borge and/or Veggie Tales. Possibly a small caricature of Lilo and Stitch). This is not the case with Julia. We immediately counter each other.

Mills observed this today, because I was excited about something, and Julia came in (we might have the only door on this deck that you have to consciously close) featuring "hyper." The instant she said, "Guess what?!", I had returned to being calmly amused by the world.

Every time. That was actually the first time we'd noticed it, but we started looking at the last few weeks, and this is always going on.

So, hey, cool. Ballast-buddies. Rock on.