Coffee

"On deployment, some of the female sailors have boyfriends, a few have girlfriends. I have decided, next deployment, I'm going to date the coffee machine."
"...?"
"No, it's great. I always know where to find him, nothing about his lifestyle puts a crimp in mine, and he's got at least a 97% success rate on making me happy whenever we have time together."
"Yeah, but you're exclusive. You'd still have to share it with 2000 people."
"....there is that."




So, over the last six months, I have developed a lovely and apparently quite permanent ("stable" may not be the best term for it) relationship with coffee. This was originally developed of necessity - half my days underway are 16 hours long, some are 20, and a rare few run to the 27-30 range.

I usually lose sanity during a week of the latter.

I take this time as an opportunity to experiment with my physiology, basically see how long I can keep running on various forms of alternative fuel - working out, playing with hot vs. cold showers, these particular foods make me feel heavy and sleepy, these others keep me pretty stable, eating every six hours, eating every two hours...and of course, the experimentation of coffee.

Despite the popularity of the "Monster" energy drink, this isn't considered an option. There was an experience in my Apprenticeship school. Apprentice School was a time when, 5 days a week, we were in class from 4 pm til midnight, covering a week's worth of material every night. The proffered Monster seemed like a good idea at the time. That is all that will be said on the subject.


How much coffee. How often. Try espresso instead (in me, we have found that espresso produces more lasting energy, gradually ramping up to peak, while coffee spikes and then drops a bit to a manageable plateau for about four hours). Mix coffee and cappucino. Mix with plain milk. Drink an equal amount of water (this, interestingly, seems to yield the best energy results, but as long as I maintain it, requires that I go find a bathroom about once an hour).

I really like coffee. More specifically, I really like the emotional spike that I get from it. The two people who most suffer the results of this, however, are my friend Lance and my supervisor. At one point, my supervisor actually forbid me from ever having coffee during work hours again. Considering that at the time, I seem to recall being four inches off the ground, vibrating like a 180-pound hummingbird, grinning madly, and unable to put spaces in between my words, he was probably justified in his assessment. Lance is my very married buddy on the ship - his attitude towards me seems to be a sort of enduring bafflement and amusement. The coffee runs fuel much of the second one.





One of the other women I see sometimes, as I have to run paperwork through her office, asked me the other day if I was all right, that I didn't really seem to be myself anymore. I was taken aback, since I was pretty happy and didn't feel as though I'd been putting on any kind of front. She referenced the way I'd been when I first arrived, and I thought about it, and realized that she was referring to a sort of happy innocence I projected. I'd become much more serious over deployment.

Everyone has some issues wrestling with life on deployment. You miss real food, time to think, seeing someone other than the same 30 people every day (yes, the population of my ship is almost exactly that of my hometown, but the ones I actually WORK with are a more select sampling), your loving schmoopsie-poo back home, real food, hot showers, privacy...etc. This was my first experience of life on a ship, so the transition may have been a little rougher for me, I don't know. You only get one chance to do something the first time. But, of necessity after one's first deployment is a psych eval. They concluded that I had some issues with anxiety, and then investigating my lifestyle, decided that I drink too much coffee and should limit myself to two cups a day

Pooh.

Lance learned at some point that I'd taken some creative liberties with this. Not in the sense of redefining a cup (as was proposed by one of my girlfriends, "You just need one of those quart-size mugs!"), but dividing it up a bit. Now, I could fill up my travel mug...or I could put 2-4 oz in it 4 times a day, cut it with milk or something, and just ride a series of little spikes the whole day. Yes yes yes. Medical should be happy, I am happy, as long as I get my work done my supervisor is happy, and Lance retains his source of entertainment. Brilliance.

I was talking with my Mom about this, who by astonishing coincidence has known me longer than anybody, describing with amusement some of my joyful spazzes with Lance (eg, "It'srainingit'srainingit'srainingit'sraining!" "Sophie, we live in the Pacific Northwest. It rains 4 days out of 5." "It'srainingit'srainingit'sraining!!"). She made an observation that I'd clean forgotten about - that persona isn't at all unusual. Up until Apprentice School, and honestly a good chunk of that time, that's exactly who I was - overhappy joyful spaz celebrating the most menial things.

It seems that coffee simply cuts through all the grey steel of the lifestyle that's weighing everything down, and shows who I really am without the influence of the ship.

I'm very okay with this.

Scent of Rain

Getting out of the car for an early morning McDonalds stop. Breathe. Breathe again.
My Dad refers to McDonalds as, "a fine Scottish restaurant!"
I have experienced rainstorms in Singapore and Malaysia. Around Seattle, three consecutive days without rain is very uncommon.

But the rain here smells different. It's a scent I'd forgotten, that I didn't know I'd missed. Rain everywhere else just seems to be falling water. This, this is HOME.

It helps a bit that my home state is significantly inland by comparison to where I live now, so during the summer months it's much warmer (and during the winter, a good deal colder). Engages more of my senses. 78-degree thunderstorm. Nice.

Coming in, I noticed the absence of mountains. Started thinking about the way I love MN, vs. the way I loved the Bighorns and Olympic Peninsula. I love seeing those mountains, there's so much promise of challenge, interesting places to explore, big quiet to get lost in. MN, feels like I know everything already, there isn't a challenge there...but it's because I know everything well that it's home.

I had a friend who went to both Baghdad and Afghanistan a few years ago. He told me that the reason he could take on the chaos there was because he knew I was a "safe place" waiting for him back home. He could carry the thought of that safe place with him, keep him a little sane on the field, and he could fight to protect that safe place, because the chaos there must not reach here. And maybe that's how I feel about MN. I can go all over the world and take on these big challenging things, while MN doesn't exactly challenge me. Actually, MN's the opposite; here's where I can sit back and breathe. Get my air back, my mind back, so I can go charging up another mountain somewhere else.