Okay, now they're just pushing my buttons.
Today, they decided that I walk like I'm on a runway. Note - this is while I'm wearing digis (a fairly asexual uniform) and drill boots. And I thought, nah, they're just excited and trying to see how much they can get away with.
Until Adam heard this one, and took to studying this. Adam's one of those kids that no one realized needed glasses until about the sixth grade - he just assumed the world looked like that to everybody. So when he identifies or recognizes someone, it's by the way they move - facial details are just perks.
So, I was coming up after chow, we usually sit on the hill in the grass and talk for a bit before going back to class. I'm happy because it's Fall, and all that's in my mind is a wistfulness for the hills and woods that I feel I should be climbing when the weather's this lovely, and he interrupted my thoughts: "They're right!"
"Hmm?"
"You DO walk like you're on a runway!"
*whap!*
He just laughed. "Pikachu" was the first nickname he handed me, six months ago, and the class has referenced, "Going all Pikachu," for what it looks like when I get mad. Like Pikachu, the madder I get, the more adorable they think it is.
I am not an adorable person, I would have them know. I'm strong, solid, kick-butt, and I'm good with kids. Adorable is for more petite girls. Or so I'd like to think. Sigh.
They'll find something more interesting in a week or so. Nothing to do but wait it out.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
"Reading Rainbow"
This is my new nickname.
While I was in ATT, my class nicknamed me "Shakespeare," in reference to my speech patterns. For awhile, I was picking up a new nickname every two weeks or so, so I didn't think anything of it - I'm of the opinion that if you ignore a nickname, it'll go away when they find something new to amuse themselves.
This one came up while we were going through homework. In the sixth week of "A" school, we've become fairly comfortable with each other. The class had been rather free with the new handles that week, awarding "Skittles" (the kid ate some off the floor) and "Dum-Dum." We'd just received a new instructor on Monday (through ET "A" school, each class changes instructors about 6-12 times), and were settling into this new teaching method.
Going through that day's homework, we were firing off answers, just reading off from what we'd written the night before. After my turn, though, there was a long silence. I looked up to find everyone, including the instructor, staring at me. "What?"
"You sound like you're reading a novel."
At the daycare, I would usually read six or more books to the kids each afternoon. I don't read the same way that I talk, because...I don't know. I just developed a "reading voice." And apparently it stuck.
With the exception of the Bible in study groups (and that's different. No, I don't know why.), I don't think any of my friends have really heard me read aloud. So, I didn't know about this. But they continued developing this idea (we tend to volley ideas around the class - it drives our assistant class leader nuts), and decided that I was supposed to read for kids on tv. Like Reading Rainbow!
Personally, I'd have preferred Wishbone. I loved that show.
One of the guys has really gotten into it - every time I walk into class now, I hear, "Butterfly in the sky..."
Nothing like friends to let you know what you don't know you're doing. Sigh. I guess it could be worse.
While I was in ATT, my class nicknamed me "Shakespeare," in reference to my speech patterns. For awhile, I was picking up a new nickname every two weeks or so, so I didn't think anything of it - I'm of the opinion that if you ignore a nickname, it'll go away when they find something new to amuse themselves.
This one came up while we were going through homework. In the sixth week of "A" school, we've become fairly comfortable with each other. The class had been rather free with the new handles that week, awarding "Skittles" (the kid ate some off the floor) and "Dum-Dum." We'd just received a new instructor on Monday (through ET "A" school, each class changes instructors about 6-12 times), and were settling into this new teaching method.
Going through that day's homework, we were firing off answers, just reading off from what we'd written the night before. After my turn, though, there was a long silence. I looked up to find everyone, including the instructor, staring at me. "What?"
"You sound like you're reading a novel."
At the daycare, I would usually read six or more books to the kids each afternoon. I don't read the same way that I talk, because...I don't know. I just developed a "reading voice." And apparently it stuck.
With the exception of the Bible in study groups (and that's different. No, I don't know why.), I don't think any of my friends have really heard me read aloud. So, I didn't know about this. But they continued developing this idea (we tend to volley ideas around the class - it drives our assistant class leader nuts), and decided that I was supposed to read for kids on tv. Like Reading Rainbow!
Personally, I'd have preferred Wishbone. I loved that show.
One of the guys has really gotten into it - every time I walk into class now, I hear, "Butterfly in the sky..."
Nothing like friends to let you know what you don't know you're doing. Sigh. I guess it could be worse.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
FLOOD!!
Any friends of Camp Victory, check out their Facebook page. They have photos, and continuing updates, and can do a much better job of explaining what's going on.
Camp used to be rather nomadic. For about fifteen years, they settled on property on Lake Zumbro - my sister was a camper there during that time. A few years ago, they purchased their own property just on the other side of the dam, running along the Zumbro River until it crossed one of the back country highways. Started building, we've been adding more every year.
Zumbro River ran high this year. If anyone remembers the flood back in '07, my second year of Camp - that was about half this high, I hear tell. That one was mostly fun, actually. We had to relocate archery, we couldn't get to paintball, and Doc was paddling kids across the impromptu river in a canoe because the ropes course was on a temporary island. We all just sort of waited for everything to dry out, I think we lost some of archery and low ropes was pretty soggy for awhile.
Caribou's referred to this as a "double-flood", because flood stage is 18' feet above the usual waterline, and this was twice that. Made it clear across the soccer field, and into the lower section of the dining hall (big downstairs meeting room we use as a chapel until we can get the one on the hilltop built). Not sure how much it did around Old Town. Took out some of the roads, seems to have wrecked mini-golf (this is rather painful, as that was a gift in memory of someone else) -
Part of Camp is the camp director's house - it's a smallish house, with a separate garage, and there's a small chapel on the property. (My friend Holly and I were helping clean out the chapel last spring, and I ran across a bunch of the old Hanna-Barbera tapes that we used to watch in Sunday School - took me back.) Big yard - I'd often see the boys ATVing around or playing with the dogs in said yard when I was coming back from a week at Camp. Entire yard's now underwater - house is really damaged.
It is frankly driving me CRAZY that I can't be there helping. If I was in the area right now, I'd be LIVING at Camp - rise at sunrise, work all day, shower off the sludge, sleep the sleep of the dead - do it until the work's done. It's not that I think they can't do it - people care about Camp, and naturally respond to need. It's that Camp is my second home, really. My friends at Camp are like my extended family. And I'm stuck HERE, can't be helping them.
Joseph is familiar with this, even kind of used to having to serve one place while your heart is hauling on you to go serve somewhere else. He calmly reminded me of what I CAN do from here, which doesn't feel like much, and talks me down about it. Denise reminded me of what I know but don't want to pay attention to - she and I both saw the gymnastics that went into me getting into the Navy, getting the ET rate, going through Boot Camp - we both know God's been working to get me right here, right now, and He knew this was coming. For whatever reason, me being here is what needs to be happening. It doesn't feel like it. I'm sitting in a classroom.
As soon as I mentioned it to home, Dad said he'd bring it up with one of the team's he's on. My Dad's awesome, by the way. I talk about Mom's music stuff far more often, I know - really, both of my parents are amazing. But, he's part of a team that helps out with this sort of thing - when Richland was hit a few years ago, they were helping to clean out and rebuild some of the houses.
One of my friends who has NO association with Camp (and is actually remarkably introverted) offered to go out, as he had a random Tuesday off. I practically tackled him over the phone in gratitude. If I can't be there, I at least want to know that someone CAN be.
Staff manage to scatter pretty well through the school year - Ethan and I've been commiserating over this, because we KNOW how hard they're working (not that we know the workload - we just know the team), and we want to BE there, helping. It just seems WRONG to not be. The analytical side of my brain's running through my friends from Camp and a few Bible studies I was part of, figuring out what kind of human resources we have available. He's got good experience with drywall, those two were on that brush-clearing project with me, she's solid with long hours and staying cheerful and encouraging, he's good with the Bobcat and can be trusted to manage a chainsaw...the list goes on.
Of course, the flip side to the list of human resources is if they're NOT helping. That just hurts. I know, I know, free will and all that. But I can't be there, and she can, but she doesn't feel comfortable being there. It's frustrating. I think I came out with, "Well, go anyway and worry about whether you're comfortable after you're done!" Military-mindset people probably shouldn't give civilians work-related advice.
So, that's in the back of my mind all the time now. And if I'd ever doubted that I was planning to return to Camp - man, just try having someone threaten what you love to figure out whether or not you really love it. I want to come back and grow ROOTS there. They won't be able to kick me out unless they shut down - I'm going to do EVERYTHING!!
(This is slightly ludicrous, I realize. I'm not qualified to do everything. I end up bringing in friends who are, but don't realize it - this seems to be my addition to Camp.)
So, all of that aside, if you want to help out, give them a call. The Camp Director's house really needs help, and there's a lot of work to be done around the rest of Camp, too. Also, a LOT needs to be replaced; check out the list.
Camp used to be rather nomadic. For about fifteen years, they settled on property on Lake Zumbro - my sister was a camper there during that time. A few years ago, they purchased their own property just on the other side of the dam, running along the Zumbro River until it crossed one of the back country highways. Started building, we've been adding more every year.
Zumbro River ran high this year. If anyone remembers the flood back in '07, my second year of Camp - that was about half this high, I hear tell. That one was mostly fun, actually. We had to relocate archery, we couldn't get to paintball, and Doc was paddling kids across the impromptu river in a canoe because the ropes course was on a temporary island. We all just sort of waited for everything to dry out, I think we lost some of archery and low ropes was pretty soggy for awhile.
Caribou's referred to this as a "double-flood", because flood stage is 18' feet above the usual waterline, and this was twice that. Made it clear across the soccer field, and into the lower section of the dining hall (big downstairs meeting room we use as a chapel until we can get the one on the hilltop built). Not sure how much it did around Old Town. Took out some of the roads, seems to have wrecked mini-golf (this is rather painful, as that was a gift in memory of someone else) -
Part of Camp is the camp director's house - it's a smallish house, with a separate garage, and there's a small chapel on the property. (My friend Holly and I were helping clean out the chapel last spring, and I ran across a bunch of the old Hanna-Barbera tapes that we used to watch in Sunday School - took me back.) Big yard - I'd often see the boys ATVing around or playing with the dogs in said yard when I was coming back from a week at Camp. Entire yard's now underwater - house is really damaged.
It is frankly driving me CRAZY that I can't be there helping. If I was in the area right now, I'd be LIVING at Camp - rise at sunrise, work all day, shower off the sludge, sleep the sleep of the dead - do it until the work's done. It's not that I think they can't do it - people care about Camp, and naturally respond to need. It's that Camp is my second home, really. My friends at Camp are like my extended family. And I'm stuck HERE, can't be helping them.
Joseph is familiar with this, even kind of used to having to serve one place while your heart is hauling on you to go serve somewhere else. He calmly reminded me of what I CAN do from here, which doesn't feel like much, and talks me down about it. Denise reminded me of what I know but don't want to pay attention to - she and I both saw the gymnastics that went into me getting into the Navy, getting the ET rate, going through Boot Camp - we both know God's been working to get me right here, right now, and He knew this was coming. For whatever reason, me being here is what needs to be happening. It doesn't feel like it. I'm sitting in a classroom.
As soon as I mentioned it to home, Dad said he'd bring it up with one of the team's he's on. My Dad's awesome, by the way. I talk about Mom's music stuff far more often, I know - really, both of my parents are amazing. But, he's part of a team that helps out with this sort of thing - when Richland was hit a few years ago, they were helping to clean out and rebuild some of the houses.
One of my friends who has NO association with Camp (and is actually remarkably introverted) offered to go out, as he had a random Tuesday off. I practically tackled him over the phone in gratitude. If I can't be there, I at least want to know that someone CAN be.
Staff manage to scatter pretty well through the school year - Ethan and I've been commiserating over this, because we KNOW how hard they're working (not that we know the workload - we just know the team), and we want to BE there, helping. It just seems WRONG to not be. The analytical side of my brain's running through my friends from Camp and a few Bible studies I was part of, figuring out what kind of human resources we have available. He's got good experience with drywall, those two were on that brush-clearing project with me, she's solid with long hours and staying cheerful and encouraging, he's good with the Bobcat and can be trusted to manage a chainsaw...the list goes on.
Of course, the flip side to the list of human resources is if they're NOT helping. That just hurts. I know, I know, free will and all that. But I can't be there, and she can, but she doesn't feel comfortable being there. It's frustrating. I think I came out with, "Well, go anyway and worry about whether you're comfortable after you're done!" Military-mindset people probably shouldn't give civilians work-related advice.
So, that's in the back of my mind all the time now. And if I'd ever doubted that I was planning to return to Camp - man, just try having someone threaten what you love to figure out whether or not you really love it. I want to come back and grow ROOTS there. They won't be able to kick me out unless they shut down - I'm going to do EVERYTHING!!
(This is slightly ludicrous, I realize. I'm not qualified to do everything. I end up bringing in friends who are, but don't realize it - this seems to be my addition to Camp.)
So, all of that aside, if you want to help out, give them a call. The Camp Director's house really needs help, and there's a lot of work to be done around the rest of Camp, too. Also, a LOT needs to be replaced; check out the list.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Blagh.
Been sick all week.
Food-cravings are getting pretty entertaining, though. I end up consuming about three oranges a night, and surprising amounts of peanut butter.
Hopefully be out of it soon. Sunday was the worst so far.
Food-cravings are getting pretty entertaining, though. I end up consuming about three oranges a night, and surprising amounts of peanut butter.
Hopefully be out of it soon. Sunday was the worst so far.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Cello Thoughts
I'm starting to think that emotions are only linked to events about half the time. That is, the internal and the external don't match up.
My first few months on this base, I'd been hearing from some of the longer-term residents about how awful it was here, and how much they hated it. Baffled, I turned to my then-roommate, Mills, for an explanation. I was under the impression that it was pretty good here. I had my own bed, my door had a lock on it, there was a small fridge in my room, and room to keep some books if I wanted. Best of all, we had our own head, WITH a bathtub (this barracks used to be a hotel), and we almost always had hot water. And I could work out whenever I wanted, and we were right on the edge of Chicago - if you couldn't find something to do in Chicago, you really weren't trying.
Mills explained that I hadn't been here long enough to get it. And maybe now I have, because I'm starting to see a little bit of what's rough on this base (though I still think it's going to have NOTHING on ship life, especially on a deployment). And there's some other annoyances (50% of them could be cleared up if every male could just understand that I don't WANT a boyfriend right now, but I really need solid friends), and having crested one mountain, I've glanced up to see six or seven others, greater than the ones I've been struggling to clear this summer. I miss my family, and the distance is pulling away more relationships that I can only hope will resurrect when I come back.
But tonight, the emotions don't match that at all. I'm listening to a beautiful cello trio that I love, and feeling that sweet ache from memories that are so, so good, and having had friends that are so, so good. Times at Camp, with the kids, or late at night in my bunk, listening to everyone fall asleep, being ready for anything they need. Going for long treks with another counselor, late late so that the lights of Camp are off and we're relying on the moon to get us around, and if we get caught being out this late we'll be washing Delta's car with a toothbrush in the morning, but the conversations are so GOOD that it'd be worth it. Josie. Ethan. Myles. Rose. Ducky. One day when some of us were wrapping up the ropes course late, and two of us sat on top of the tower and watched Camp settle down for the night, and the sun recede behind the valley.
The band - somehow, between St. Charles, Autumn Ridge, Fort Wilderness, Sheridan, Riverland, Camp Lebanon, RCTC, early morning jazz rehearsals, late night play rehearsals, all the musicians I've played with form one massive ensemble in here. The band.
Sheridan, mountains, the intensely happy friendship Ross and I shared in the midst of a lot of other junk, hiking, my kids, Britni, The Well, late nights out by the horse paddock in the middle of a snowstorm, Ross coming to find me when I was just stressed by all that was going on and went out to clear my head at the far end of campus, happy mornings, all the antics with Ashley, late nights with Ross where we both had too much to struggle with and went out to the soccer field to pass a ball around for a few hours and yell over the wind about what we were mad about. We could solve each other's problems, but not our own. And somehow, with all of that struggling, Sheridan was a really happy time for me. Volunteering at the animal shelter. Having a fantastic job working with kids. Learning in show choir, and collecting stories in Biology and A&P. Disagreeing with the pastor, but walking to church in the sunrise. A LOT of time with Charlie, my Park Avenue. Late nights calling home, and home coming to visit. Blinding snowstorms where you'd get ticketed for driving, but we could walk anywhere and have ninja-battles. Watching Firefly with Doritos and getting back to Davis way too late. Clowning around with Chris, Ross, and Ashley in show choir. Beautiful sunny mornings when I could see Cloud Peak from my front step.
I think here, we're afraid to make those friendships. Or we simply recognize that we can't. My two closest friends on base are both male - one will be going for officer in two years, and the other's on a separate rate, which means separate schedules, separate departure dates, and separate assignments. If we DID end up on the same ship, we'd be stuck like glue, because the people that know you through these transitions mean so much more to you. The people who wrote to me during Boot Camp ended up being people that I stayed tied to, somehow, just stronger. I have one friend who's known me since I was fourteen, and went Army - he's now occupying an interesting position to have seen the transition, be on both sides of it, but also understand a lot of what's going ON in the transition. And then there's Josie's inherent beauty and Ethan's strength, Myles' joyful humility, Rose's quirky whimsy, Ross' trust, Ducky's indomitable spirit, the amazing spark that lives in Bjorn, Ashley's pride and goofy self-deprecation, Britni's...SUNSHINE! Layne...wow, Layne was all-around awesome as a girlfriend.
Other things go back further, but it's as though the sweeter something is, the more painful it is to contemplate now. There's so much in my life that's been beautiful, and for some reason that hurts tonight, but it's what we used to call a happy-hurt. You hurt because there was (or is) something good out there.
And as soon as I think about my family when I'm feeling like this, I just start tearing up, because they've been AMAZING. They encourage me (hugely needed these days). They inspire me, because they're already proud of me, and I want to earn that pride. And no matter how much this changes me, they will always be there for me. And the memories of what we've done together, and the unique colors in all our personalities - it's overwhelming. I'm so blessed.
Life is getting a little rougher on base. But there's SO much more to life than this base. Maybe that's all that's going on tonight.
My first few months on this base, I'd been hearing from some of the longer-term residents about how awful it was here, and how much they hated it. Baffled, I turned to my then-roommate, Mills, for an explanation. I was under the impression that it was pretty good here. I had my own bed, my door had a lock on it, there was a small fridge in my room, and room to keep some books if I wanted. Best of all, we had our own head, WITH a bathtub (this barracks used to be a hotel), and we almost always had hot water. And I could work out whenever I wanted, and we were right on the edge of Chicago - if you couldn't find something to do in Chicago, you really weren't trying.
Mills explained that I hadn't been here long enough to get it. And maybe now I have, because I'm starting to see a little bit of what's rough on this base (though I still think it's going to have NOTHING on ship life, especially on a deployment). And there's some other annoyances (50% of them could be cleared up if every male could just understand that I don't WANT a boyfriend right now, but I really need solid friends), and having crested one mountain, I've glanced up to see six or seven others, greater than the ones I've been struggling to clear this summer. I miss my family, and the distance is pulling away more relationships that I can only hope will resurrect when I come back.
But tonight, the emotions don't match that at all. I'm listening to a beautiful cello trio that I love, and feeling that sweet ache from memories that are so, so good, and having had friends that are so, so good. Times at Camp, with the kids, or late at night in my bunk, listening to everyone fall asleep, being ready for anything they need. Going for long treks with another counselor, late late so that the lights of Camp are off and we're relying on the moon to get us around, and if we get caught being out this late we'll be washing Delta's car with a toothbrush in the morning, but the conversations are so GOOD that it'd be worth it. Josie. Ethan. Myles. Rose. Ducky. One day when some of us were wrapping up the ropes course late, and two of us sat on top of the tower and watched Camp settle down for the night, and the sun recede behind the valley.
The band - somehow, between St. Charles, Autumn Ridge, Fort Wilderness, Sheridan, Riverland, Camp Lebanon, RCTC, early morning jazz rehearsals, late night play rehearsals, all the musicians I've played with form one massive ensemble in here. The band.
Sheridan, mountains, the intensely happy friendship Ross and I shared in the midst of a lot of other junk, hiking, my kids, Britni, The Well, late nights out by the horse paddock in the middle of a snowstorm, Ross coming to find me when I was just stressed by all that was going on and went out to clear my head at the far end of campus, happy mornings, all the antics with Ashley, late nights with Ross where we both had too much to struggle with and went out to the soccer field to pass a ball around for a few hours and yell over the wind about what we were mad about. We could solve each other's problems, but not our own. And somehow, with all of that struggling, Sheridan was a really happy time for me. Volunteering at the animal shelter. Having a fantastic job working with kids. Learning in show choir, and collecting stories in Biology and A&P. Disagreeing with the pastor, but walking to church in the sunrise. A LOT of time with Charlie, my Park Avenue. Late nights calling home, and home coming to visit. Blinding snowstorms where you'd get ticketed for driving, but we could walk anywhere and have ninja-battles. Watching Firefly with Doritos and getting back to Davis way too late. Clowning around with Chris, Ross, and Ashley in show choir. Beautiful sunny mornings when I could see Cloud Peak from my front step.
I think here, we're afraid to make those friendships. Or we simply recognize that we can't. My two closest friends on base are both male - one will be going for officer in two years, and the other's on a separate rate, which means separate schedules, separate departure dates, and separate assignments. If we DID end up on the same ship, we'd be stuck like glue, because the people that know you through these transitions mean so much more to you. The people who wrote to me during Boot Camp ended up being people that I stayed tied to, somehow, just stronger. I have one friend who's known me since I was fourteen, and went Army - he's now occupying an interesting position to have seen the transition, be on both sides of it, but also understand a lot of what's going ON in the transition. And then there's Josie's inherent beauty and Ethan's strength, Myles' joyful humility, Rose's quirky whimsy, Ross' trust, Ducky's indomitable spirit, the amazing spark that lives in Bjorn, Ashley's pride and goofy self-deprecation, Britni's...SUNSHINE! Layne...wow, Layne was all-around awesome as a girlfriend.
Other things go back further, but it's as though the sweeter something is, the more painful it is to contemplate now. There's so much in my life that's been beautiful, and for some reason that hurts tonight, but it's what we used to call a happy-hurt. You hurt because there was (or is) something good out there.
And as soon as I think about my family when I'm feeling like this, I just start tearing up, because they've been AMAZING. They encourage me (hugely needed these days). They inspire me, because they're already proud of me, and I want to earn that pride. And no matter how much this changes me, they will always be there for me. And the memories of what we've done together, and the unique colors in all our personalities - it's overwhelming. I'm so blessed.
Life is getting a little rougher on base. But there's SO much more to life than this base. Maybe that's all that's going on tonight.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Morning Thoughts
"I hate a Roman named Status Quo." "Stuff your eyes with wonder, live as if you'd drop dead in ten seconds. See the world. It's more fantastic than any dream made or paid for in factories. Ask no guarantees, ask for no security, there never was such an animal. And if there were, it would be related to the great sloth which hangs upside down in a tree all day every day, sleeping its life away."
-Fahrenheit 451
Excellent book. At my high school, they had a class or two that were supposed to read it because it's about the evils of censorship. Except, after the first chapter, it isn't. It's a lot better than that. But I'll let you read it.
There's been a thought running around and pulling on pieces of my brain. Suggests that I don't want to be a nurse because I want to, but because it's stable and will make my family happy. Not that they're not happy now, just the idea that they'd worry about me less. Suggests that I don't want to join the Peace Corps because I want to, but some psychological combination of trying to atone for my blot on this world, and at the same time trying to escape something back home. Suggests that I'm living things on too small a scale again.
But, for now, I have an academic and a physical test coming up, and if I live through those, a celebration weekend. And, as it's now Fall, I will DRAG Adam to the woods if I have to. It's simply been too long.
Cheers!
-Fahrenheit 451
Excellent book. At my high school, they had a class or two that were supposed to read it because it's about the evils of censorship. Except, after the first chapter, it isn't. It's a lot better than that. But I'll let you read it.
There's been a thought running around and pulling on pieces of my brain. Suggests that I don't want to be a nurse because I want to, but because it's stable and will make my family happy. Not that they're not happy now, just the idea that they'd worry about me less. Suggests that I don't want to join the Peace Corps because I want to, but some psychological combination of trying to atone for my blot on this world, and at the same time trying to escape something back home. Suggests that I'm living things on too small a scale again.
But, for now, I have an academic and a physical test coming up, and if I live through those, a celebration weekend. And, as it's now Fall, I will DRAG Adam to the woods if I have to. It's simply been too long.
Cheers!
Friday, September 10, 2010
"When I Grow Up..."
I do not remember WHAT I dreamed about last night, but I woke up with the end conversation in my head. Apparently I was some six-year-old version of me, mapping out my career plans. I think I pin this one on working in the daycare.
"First I'm gonna be a musician, and then I'm gonna be a camp counselor like YOU, Janie. And then I wanna be a sailor 'cause my daddy's a sailor*. Then I'm gonna be a fireman. And then I wanna be a nurse like Aunt JJ**. And then I'm gonna be a forest ranger over at Yellowstone with the bears.*** And then I'm gonna be a teacher, 'cause teachers are old!"
"And when I die, I'm not gonna die. I'm gonna turn into a sea dragon and live in the ocean and every time they try to catch me I'll just dive way down deep in the deep parts an' they'll never find me, and I'll swim all over the world for the rest of forever because dragons live forever until Jesus comes back, and He'll say, "Dragon, I know who you are. It is time for you to come home." And because He knows my real name, He'll say it, even though everybody thinks I'm a dragon I really wasn't, and when I hear my real name I'll turn back into me and go with Him and then we'll go into Heaven together."
I'm assuming this was in answer to, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" but, I don't remember any of the other person's side of the conversation. The kids are just like that, though - they get really into a concept sometimes, very detailed, and then they haul the whole thing off on another tangent entirely, and if you just sit and wait and listen, it's fantastic where they'll end up. Nearly always unexpected, but fascinating.
*There was a point, I don't remember how old I was, but I remember my parents having an interest in sailing. I think this predated the ski boat, actually.
**I have no idea who Aunt JJ is. Evidently she's a nurse.
***I went to Yellowstone with some friends for a weekend when I was 21. Yeah, the park rangers were cool.
"First I'm gonna be a musician, and then I'm gonna be a camp counselor like YOU, Janie. And then I wanna be a sailor 'cause my daddy's a sailor*. Then I'm gonna be a fireman. And then I wanna be a nurse like Aunt JJ**. And then I'm gonna be a forest ranger over at Yellowstone with the bears.*** And then I'm gonna be a teacher, 'cause teachers are old!"
"And when I die, I'm not gonna die. I'm gonna turn into a sea dragon and live in the ocean and every time they try to catch me I'll just dive way down deep in the deep parts an' they'll never find me, and I'll swim all over the world for the rest of forever because dragons live forever until Jesus comes back, and He'll say, "Dragon, I know who you are. It is time for you to come home." And because He knows my real name, He'll say it, even though everybody thinks I'm a dragon I really wasn't, and when I hear my real name I'll turn back into me and go with Him and then we'll go into Heaven together."
I'm assuming this was in answer to, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" but, I don't remember any of the other person's side of the conversation. The kids are just like that, though - they get really into a concept sometimes, very detailed, and then they haul the whole thing off on another tangent entirely, and if you just sit and wait and listen, it's fantastic where they'll end up. Nearly always unexpected, but fascinating.
*There was a point, I don't remember how old I was, but I remember my parents having an interest in sailing. I think this predated the ski boat, actually.
**I have no idea who Aunt JJ is. Evidently she's a nurse.
***I went to Yellowstone with some friends for a weekend when I was 21. Yeah, the park rangers were cool.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Weekend in Review
We might live on the most stressful Naval base on the planet, but there are benefits to being a student. The occasional four-day weekend, for starters.
Friday, I got to meet Allan's mom and grandma. Wildfire would be the best steakhouse I've been to in the Great Lakes area. So, so good. Admittedly, it's probably also the first steakhouse I've been to this year, but it was wonderful.
Saturday, I was on duty. Spent the day doing laundry and watching movies that I hadn't seen before. Cars was good and fun and I now want to take two weeks out of a summer to drive Route 66.
I made the mistake of watching Alien late at night - wrapped up around 0100. This would be the first time I'd seen it - had it recommended to me by my mild-natured Pixar-loving friend. I forgot that my mild-natured Pixar-loving friend also loves Sci Fi, and has a much higher fear tolerance than anyone would suspect. Owing to the fact that I'm a night student, I was up late with the lights off out of respect for my sleeping roommates. Owing to the fact that I'm a little behind on sleep and it's the middle of the night, the phantoms of my imagination seem much more solid. Owing to the business of me sleeping on the floor...it's just really easy to picture an adult Alien coming in and leaning ominously over your vulnerable, unconscious form. I didn't fall asleep for about an hour, just shaking.
Note: For anyone concerned about how we DOD personnel handle fear - there is a massive difference between imminent danger and movie-fear. Movie-fear is confined to the screen, and there isn't anything you can do to change the situation, because it's in there and you're out here. You can't help the physiological response, and that actually kind of makes you mad, because you're not really scared, your body is just jacked up on adrenaline. Real situations are different, because there's enough time to drop a load of adrenaline in your system, but you're anything but paralyzed - you know exactly what to do and where to go. This actually came up at Camp a few times - as long as we have something to do, we're not going to melt down. I need to be actively engaged on some kind of work, even if it's just talking someone else down from a meltdown, or hauling down some tents or something completely unrelated to the situation. Throw myself into something, and we'll be cool until everything's quieted down again. Tell me that there's nothing I can do or work on here, and then all the adrenaline meets up with all the emotion, and you get a big mess.
Sunday, Julia foisted a Harvard Lampoon parody on me. "Night Light." You can guess what it's parodying. I have indeed read the Twilight series, but I don't feel the need to repeat the experience. (It was mostly, "Well, I work in a bookstore; I should probably at least be able to TALK about these. I don't have to like them." Similar viewpoint on Hemingway, but for different reasons. Can't stand Hemingway.) I finished Night Light in about an hour, and returned it to Julia's roommate with the words, "Tell her that this is the worst thing I have read in my life." And it was. If you haven't read Twilight, you'll still be thinking of Night Light, "This is awful," but you won't entirely grasp WHY it's so awful. The simple fact is that if you're parodying something that's already pretty bad, your best option is just to make the result REALLY bad. I'm pretty sure this was indeed the worst thing I've read in my life.
I make no apologies to vampire fans I have just offended. You want good vampire lit, read an Anne Rice novel.
Also met up with Allan and family for the base theater's showing of Inception. That was a good time. The first time I saw this with friends, we had to skip out on the ending in order to make it back before liberty expired. So, seeing this the second time, caught a few more details, don't know if I enjoyed it more, but it was still good. Ending had me thinking of the story we three girls heard, about a man who leaves home looking for Paradise, has his course thrown off by a demon, and comes into a house with a woman who looks like his wife, and children who look like his whoask him to stay. To please them he agrees, and lives there to this day, "never knowing if he is in Paradise or not."
Monday was a splendid day. The night before, my friend Avery was on the watch closest to my deck of the barracks. The best part about late-night ladderwell watches is that you can do a LOT that isn't exactly watch-related, as long as you're standing where you need to be and keeping an eye on who's coming and going. (Myself, I prefer sudoku or having a decent book - this most likely will not fly in the Fleet.) So, my friend Wilki and I are keeping Avery company - she's coloring a velvet highlighter poster (these are oddly popular on base), and I'm reading excerpts of the Harvard Lampoon travesty. And somehow over the course of the hours, Avery and I make plans for Emily's the next morning.
Emily's isn't in the same category as Wildfire at all. It's not as pricey, not as amazing, and, well, they're not a steakhouse. They're a pancake house. And they're pretty good. Wildfire's more like, "We're going out to celebrate something special," but Emily's is the place that I'd go every Saturday morning, if I had every Saturday morning off. They have pancakes. They have waffles. They have blintzes. They have crepes. And they're really, really nice.
Also, thanks to Avery and this Monday, I now have a decent, reliable cab service in the area to call. This is a big deal to us - we're dependent on the cabs to get around, and we don't particularly LIKE the ones that just show up to base. They're okay, not great.
After breakfast, we regroup. What's next? Well, Avery's got something to return at Best Buy. Pulls out his phone, which in his case is also his gps. Best Buy's six miles from here. No problem. We start walking.
Found a thrift store - closed for Labor Day, but logged that away for later. Thrift stores are a lot of fun. Found a Salvation Army - went in looking for flannel shirts. Fall's coming, that's why. No luck. Flannel suit coat is something I didn't need to know existed in this universe - although if I'd been thinking, I would have gotten the lot for the Aires for their Christmas show. Red, green, and tacky seems to be the theme for our elf-gear. Randomly ran across a Frank Peretti book - got that instead. Yay.
Crossed from Waukegan into Gurnee. Learned that Avery doesn't do so well identifying plants, pointed out a half-dozen that he's planning to forget as soon as he gets back home. Found a church that looks interesting. Found a park that holds a Farmer's Market every Friday - had Avery send a picture of it to Julia, it's a lot closer to base than the other one we found. Found a Dairy Queen. Stopped for Blizzards, had a conversation about family (mine's awesome, his drives him nuts). Passed the road to Six Flags, and the hotel where everyone stays when they do a Six Flags weekend. Found a Starbucks, and a Chuck E. Cheese (the last is significant to Avery - he's planning on coming back). Found the Interstate. Huh.
Look at Avery. He looks at me. One of us is wearing a Navy t-shirt. One of us CLEARLY has a military haircut. Both of us probably shouldn't be doing something visibly illegal like walking across the highway. If word gets back to base (as word has a sneaky way of doing when one does not expect it), we will be in A Lot Of Trouble. And neither one of us can afford to lose our program, which is one avenue that Trouble can take if the Captain's feeling cranky. We go back to Starbucks. Call a cab. Get Starbucks.
Travel two miles via cab, hit Best Buy. In my experience, sending a guy into Best Buy is right up there with...well, a guy sending me into a bookstore. I took the opportunity to catch up with people-I'm-supposed-to-call. Right in the middle of a decent debate about DADT with one of my civilian buddies when he came back. Headed over to the mall.
Salt was good. I have a thing about kick-butt girls in movies. I simply have little use for any other kind. Princess Buttercup and Snow White come to mind. Yes, they're pretty and all, but crisis situation, their first response is to throw up their hands and desperately sigh, "Oh dear." This is well and good when the guys are around and get to play the part of the bold and brave hero, and we applaud them for that, but if it's just you waiting on a hero to manifest, you're probably going to get eaten.
Note: I'm not sure WHY I feel this way, because for the next six years, I will probably NEVER be in a situation where there aren't any guys around. 10:1 ratio's the best one I've heard so far, my base is 35:1, and carriers are still 50:1.
But, yes, Salt was good. Open-ended, but you get the feeling that it's supposed to be, that this is establishing where the character Salt came from for the future saga. Really felt like a prequel, just out of order.
We got decent Chinese food (not great, but quite a bit ahead of the nonsense that the galley masquerades as being Chinese). We'd already had Dairy Queen, Starbucks, and Emily's. Foodwise, it was a very good day.
Company-wise, it was splendid - Avery's like everyone's big brother, with a very solid element of weird-goofy to balance it all out. He's also like a big Doberman that has the personality of a Labrador - everyone's really intimidated by him, but he's a huge goof. Good friend. Good food. Good day.
Friday, I got to meet Allan's mom and grandma. Wildfire would be the best steakhouse I've been to in the Great Lakes area. So, so good. Admittedly, it's probably also the first steakhouse I've been to this year, but it was wonderful.
Saturday, I was on duty. Spent the day doing laundry and watching movies that I hadn't seen before. Cars was good and fun and I now want to take two weeks out of a summer to drive Route 66.
I made the mistake of watching Alien late at night - wrapped up around 0100. This would be the first time I'd seen it - had it recommended to me by my mild-natured Pixar-loving friend. I forgot that my mild-natured Pixar-loving friend also loves Sci Fi, and has a much higher fear tolerance than anyone would suspect. Owing to the fact that I'm a night student, I was up late with the lights off out of respect for my sleeping roommates. Owing to the fact that I'm a little behind on sleep and it's the middle of the night, the phantoms of my imagination seem much more solid. Owing to the business of me sleeping on the floor...it's just really easy to picture an adult Alien coming in and leaning ominously over your vulnerable, unconscious form. I didn't fall asleep for about an hour, just shaking.
Note: For anyone concerned about how we DOD personnel handle fear - there is a massive difference between imminent danger and movie-fear. Movie-fear is confined to the screen, and there isn't anything you can do to change the situation, because it's in there and you're out here. You can't help the physiological response, and that actually kind of makes you mad, because you're not really scared, your body is just jacked up on adrenaline. Real situations are different, because there's enough time to drop a load of adrenaline in your system, but you're anything but paralyzed - you know exactly what to do and where to go. This actually came up at Camp a few times - as long as we have something to do, we're not going to melt down. I need to be actively engaged on some kind of work, even if it's just talking someone else down from a meltdown, or hauling down some tents or something completely unrelated to the situation. Throw myself into something, and we'll be cool until everything's quieted down again. Tell me that there's nothing I can do or work on here, and then all the adrenaline meets up with all the emotion, and you get a big mess.
Sunday, Julia foisted a Harvard Lampoon parody on me. "Night Light." You can guess what it's parodying. I have indeed read the Twilight series, but I don't feel the need to repeat the experience. (It was mostly, "Well, I work in a bookstore; I should probably at least be able to TALK about these. I don't have to like them." Similar viewpoint on Hemingway, but for different reasons. Can't stand Hemingway.) I finished Night Light in about an hour, and returned it to Julia's roommate with the words, "Tell her that this is the worst thing I have read in my life." And it was. If you haven't read Twilight, you'll still be thinking of Night Light, "This is awful," but you won't entirely grasp WHY it's so awful. The simple fact is that if you're parodying something that's already pretty bad, your best option is just to make the result REALLY bad. I'm pretty sure this was indeed the worst thing I've read in my life.
I make no apologies to vampire fans I have just offended. You want good vampire lit, read an Anne Rice novel.
Also met up with Allan and family for the base theater's showing of Inception. That was a good time. The first time I saw this with friends, we had to skip out on the ending in order to make it back before liberty expired. So, seeing this the second time, caught a few more details, don't know if I enjoyed it more, but it was still good. Ending had me thinking of the story we three girls heard, about a man who leaves home looking for Paradise, has his course thrown off by a demon, and comes into a house with a woman who looks like his wife, and children who look like his whoask him to stay. To please them he agrees, and lives there to this day, "never knowing if he is in Paradise or not."
Monday was a splendid day. The night before, my friend Avery was on the watch closest to my deck of the barracks. The best part about late-night ladderwell watches is that you can do a LOT that isn't exactly watch-related, as long as you're standing where you need to be and keeping an eye on who's coming and going. (Myself, I prefer sudoku or having a decent book - this most likely will not fly in the Fleet.) So, my friend Wilki and I are keeping Avery company - she's coloring a velvet highlighter poster (these are oddly popular on base), and I'm reading excerpts of the Harvard Lampoon travesty. And somehow over the course of the hours, Avery and I make plans for Emily's the next morning.
Emily's isn't in the same category as Wildfire at all. It's not as pricey, not as amazing, and, well, they're not a steakhouse. They're a pancake house. And they're pretty good. Wildfire's more like, "We're going out to celebrate something special," but Emily's is the place that I'd go every Saturday morning, if I had every Saturday morning off. They have pancakes. They have waffles. They have blintzes. They have crepes. And they're really, really nice.
Also, thanks to Avery and this Monday, I now have a decent, reliable cab service in the area to call. This is a big deal to us - we're dependent on the cabs to get around, and we don't particularly LIKE the ones that just show up to base. They're okay, not great.
After breakfast, we regroup. What's next? Well, Avery's got something to return at Best Buy. Pulls out his phone, which in his case is also his gps. Best Buy's six miles from here. No problem. We start walking.
Found a thrift store - closed for Labor Day, but logged that away for later. Thrift stores are a lot of fun. Found a Salvation Army - went in looking for flannel shirts. Fall's coming, that's why. No luck. Flannel suit coat is something I didn't need to know existed in this universe - although if I'd been thinking, I would have gotten the lot for the Aires for their Christmas show. Red, green, and tacky seems to be the theme for our elf-gear. Randomly ran across a Frank Peretti book - got that instead. Yay.
Crossed from Waukegan into Gurnee. Learned that Avery doesn't do so well identifying plants, pointed out a half-dozen that he's planning to forget as soon as he gets back home. Found a church that looks interesting. Found a park that holds a Farmer's Market every Friday - had Avery send a picture of it to Julia, it's a lot closer to base than the other one we found. Found a Dairy Queen. Stopped for Blizzards, had a conversation about family (mine's awesome, his drives him nuts). Passed the road to Six Flags, and the hotel where everyone stays when they do a Six Flags weekend. Found a Starbucks, and a Chuck E. Cheese (the last is significant to Avery - he's planning on coming back). Found the Interstate. Huh.
Look at Avery. He looks at me. One of us is wearing a Navy t-shirt. One of us CLEARLY has a military haircut. Both of us probably shouldn't be doing something visibly illegal like walking across the highway. If word gets back to base (as word has a sneaky way of doing when one does not expect it), we will be in A Lot Of Trouble. And neither one of us can afford to lose our program, which is one avenue that Trouble can take if the Captain's feeling cranky. We go back to Starbucks. Call a cab. Get Starbucks.
Travel two miles via cab, hit Best Buy. In my experience, sending a guy into Best Buy is right up there with...well, a guy sending me into a bookstore. I took the opportunity to catch up with people-I'm-supposed-to-call. Right in the middle of a decent debate about DADT with one of my civilian buddies when he came back. Headed over to the mall.
Salt was good. I have a thing about kick-butt girls in movies. I simply have little use for any other kind. Princess Buttercup and Snow White come to mind. Yes, they're pretty and all, but crisis situation, their first response is to throw up their hands and desperately sigh, "Oh dear." This is well and good when the guys are around and get to play the part of the bold and brave hero, and we applaud them for that, but if it's just you waiting on a hero to manifest, you're probably going to get eaten.
Note: I'm not sure WHY I feel this way, because for the next six years, I will probably NEVER be in a situation where there aren't any guys around. 10:1 ratio's the best one I've heard so far, my base is 35:1, and carriers are still 50:1.
But, yes, Salt was good. Open-ended, but you get the feeling that it's supposed to be, that this is establishing where the character Salt came from for the future saga. Really felt like a prequel, just out of order.
We got decent Chinese food (not great, but quite a bit ahead of the nonsense that the galley masquerades as being Chinese). We'd already had Dairy Queen, Starbucks, and Emily's. Foodwise, it was a very good day.
Company-wise, it was splendid - Avery's like everyone's big brother, with a very solid element of weird-goofy to balance it all out. He's also like a big Doberman that has the personality of a Labrador - everyone's really intimidated by him, but he's a huge goof. Good friend. Good food. Good day.
Friday, September 3, 2010
Translation
Nonverbal...
"Hi. So, I think it's great what you're doing with your music. I gave it a listen, and you've got some good things going there. And I'm really impressed with the way that you still have your life ordered with God at the center. I remember that from high school, too. Yeah, you probably don't remember me, I was the shy saxophone who dressed weird. Just forget about that time. But yeah, you were awesome - a lot of us at church looked up to you, and you just took it in stride. I remember you and your best friend doing everything with leading music and being wacky but totally based on God the whole time - you guys really made a difference to all of us. And, yeah, I kind of absolutely had a crush on you then. But...you're with who now? Seriously? How'd you score THAT gig, that's amazing! Of course I've heard of them, I brag to people all the time that they're from my state, but I had no idea YOU'D joined them. Ahhhh, crud. So, you get fangirls all the time, huh? And, yeah, you're probably with the other 90% of college grads that aren't interested in a girl until she gets her degree. I'm working on it, you know - just, military duty has to come first right now. And dating someone who's active duty is about sixteen times more challenging than any NORMAL long-distance relationship. So, well, yeah, that's cool. Keep doing the music thing, you guys really have something going there."
...comes out as...
"Hey, haven't seen you around since graduation. How's the band doing?"
"Hi. So, I think it's great what you're doing with your music. I gave it a listen, and you've got some good things going there. And I'm really impressed with the way that you still have your life ordered with God at the center. I remember that from high school, too. Yeah, you probably don't remember me, I was the shy saxophone who dressed weird. Just forget about that time. But yeah, you were awesome - a lot of us at church looked up to you, and you just took it in stride. I remember you and your best friend doing everything with leading music and being wacky but totally based on God the whole time - you guys really made a difference to all of us. And, yeah, I kind of absolutely had a crush on you then. But...you're with who now? Seriously? How'd you score THAT gig, that's amazing! Of course I've heard of them, I brag to people all the time that they're from my state, but I had no idea YOU'D joined them. Ahhhh, crud. So, you get fangirls all the time, huh? And, yeah, you're probably with the other 90% of college grads that aren't interested in a girl until she gets her degree. I'm working on it, you know - just, military duty has to come first right now. And dating someone who's active duty is about sixteen times more challenging than any NORMAL long-distance relationship. So, well, yeah, that's cool. Keep doing the music thing, you guys really have something going there."
...comes out as...
"Hey, haven't seen you around since graduation. How's the band doing?"
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Catch-Up
Mentally, I come in breathless, thinking, "I have GOT to post something!" Upon logging in, I am informed that my last post...was really only a week and a half ago. Ah. Well then.
Time differential again. I could have sworn that I hadn't said a word here since the first week of August.
This past weekend was absolutely splendid - my parents and sisters came down to visit. There are a number of attractions around Chicago where a military id gets you in free, so we hit the Shedd Aquarium the first day. I still prefer Underwater World for, well, feeling like you're underwater, but I love dolphins (normally have to go to the MN Zoo for those) and I had never seen belugas before. I have photos, of course, but I had no idea they were so graceful in the water. You don't expect something that weighs a quarter-ton as a baby to ever be 'graceful', but it was like a different take on ballet. Ballet minus legs, you could say.
Or not. That's a really unfortunate mental image.
Sunday we hit the Art Institue and Millennium Park. I evidently love the art of the 16th and 17th centuries - I hadn't realized this before. Stark contrast, the sister with whom I spent the most time wandering the galleries places surrealism at the top of her list. No matter. Also had a great conversation with Dad, because he's got some woodworking background, and really appreciated the intricacies of the way things are put together, while I'd just looked at the pattern and thought, "oh, that looks cool."
Twinks and her family stopped on by Monday afternoon - two weeks ago, we'd been talking about them visiting base on their way back from a family vacation, but when I started night classes, it made a train wreck out of my schedule (I have friends on base that I haven't seen since starting night classes). But, we managed to snag a short time together, and I got the biggest hug I've received from anyone outside the family since I last saw Joseph. We all prayed together before they left, too - I've missed that aspect of all the relationships at Camp.
Night classes mean your liberty is completely whacked out, and it's tough doing anything with your normal daywalker friends during the week, but, unexpectedly, you do get more sleep. That is, you're allotted more time to sleep - the noise through the rest of the barracks during the daylight hours can't really be helped. My roommates have been splendid, though. I see one of them for perhaps a half-hour every morning, and I have over an hour with the other in the afternoons - all three of us are doing the best we can to be respectful of having three wildly different time zones/circadian rhythms existing in the same room.
Classes themselves haven't hit the difficult point, but we're assured they will. At the moment, it's mostly just in a style of soaking in/scribbling down a lot of information, and then testing the next day. Study time is good.
My appreciation for the cello has been renewed. Perhaps it never needed renewing, but that's what happened. I miss making music, and I've never played the cello (nor do I have particular designs to do so - it'd be cool, but right now I just want to get back to performing what I CAN play before I lose it all), and the emotion that gets caught up in it tends to leave me very grateful that I can only watch youtube in my room.
This weekend, I seem to find myself triple-booked once again, but in a scavenging sense - I've assigned one friend as much time as he wants (because I really owe him for skipping out on things the last two weeks), and everyone else can simply come as they please to claim whatever's left over. If nobody comes, fantastic, I will go for a very, very long walk.
I still have yet to find decent woods. Rumor has it that you need to leave the greater Chicago area for these.
Time differential again. I could have sworn that I hadn't said a word here since the first week of August.
This past weekend was absolutely splendid - my parents and sisters came down to visit. There are a number of attractions around Chicago where a military id gets you in free, so we hit the Shedd Aquarium the first day. I still prefer Underwater World for, well, feeling like you're underwater, but I love dolphins (normally have to go to the MN Zoo for those) and I had never seen belugas before. I have photos, of course, but I had no idea they were so graceful in the water. You don't expect something that weighs a quarter-ton as a baby to ever be 'graceful', but it was like a different take on ballet. Ballet minus legs, you could say.
Or not. That's a really unfortunate mental image.
Sunday we hit the Art Institue and Millennium Park. I evidently love the art of the 16th and 17th centuries - I hadn't realized this before. Stark contrast, the sister with whom I spent the most time wandering the galleries places surrealism at the top of her list. No matter. Also had a great conversation with Dad, because he's got some woodworking background, and really appreciated the intricacies of the way things are put together, while I'd just looked at the pattern and thought, "oh, that looks cool."
Twinks and her family stopped on by Monday afternoon - two weeks ago, we'd been talking about them visiting base on their way back from a family vacation, but when I started night classes, it made a train wreck out of my schedule (I have friends on base that I haven't seen since starting night classes). But, we managed to snag a short time together, and I got the biggest hug I've received from anyone outside the family since I last saw Joseph. We all prayed together before they left, too - I've missed that aspect of all the relationships at Camp.
Night classes mean your liberty is completely whacked out, and it's tough doing anything with your normal daywalker friends during the week, but, unexpectedly, you do get more sleep. That is, you're allotted more time to sleep - the noise through the rest of the barracks during the daylight hours can't really be helped. My roommates have been splendid, though. I see one of them for perhaps a half-hour every morning, and I have over an hour with the other in the afternoons - all three of us are doing the best we can to be respectful of having three wildly different time zones/circadian rhythms existing in the same room.
Classes themselves haven't hit the difficult point, but we're assured they will. At the moment, it's mostly just in a style of soaking in/scribbling down a lot of information, and then testing the next day. Study time is good.
My appreciation for the cello has been renewed. Perhaps it never needed renewing, but that's what happened. I miss making music, and I've never played the cello (nor do I have particular designs to do so - it'd be cool, but right now I just want to get back to performing what I CAN play before I lose it all), and the emotion that gets caught up in it tends to leave me very grateful that I can only watch youtube in my room.
This weekend, I seem to find myself triple-booked once again, but in a scavenging sense - I've assigned one friend as much time as he wants (because I really owe him for skipping out on things the last two weeks), and everyone else can simply come as they please to claim whatever's left over. If nobody comes, fantastic, I will go for a very, very long walk.
I still have yet to find decent woods. Rumor has it that you need to leave the greater Chicago area for these.
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