Healthy Drama

After about a year of knowing a particular boy (which is as long as I've known anyone in the Navy), we initiated a casual conversation via text message while I lied in my borrowed bed and tried to de-stress from my irritatingly difficult day. We were talking about how interesting it is when you stumble upon a first class or chief's Facebook page and find pictures of them, in their personal lives, doing all the same things you like to do; BBQs with family, drunk parties with friends and simple hobbies...that same person that runs your career, tells you what to do all day, and acts like they're running a serious brigade... they go home and pop open a beer and chill out with their buddies and play Madden football, just like you do.
Anyway, the conversation carried on to conflict (because inevitably, these people are a source of conflict in our lives)...and my friend, whom I've never credited with a lot of insight (no offense to him, he's just uber private about these types of things), confessed that he likes "drama" because it keeps him on his toes....this text took me by surprise. For someone that never expresses any kind of thought other than simple small talk and shop talk, he made an interesting point that I've never heard anyone admit before. Upon him admitting that he likes to stir the shit from time-to-time to keep himself occupied, I realized, this whole time, I'm the same way...I've just never been able to admit it. I always insist that I hate conflict. But a little manageable conflict is entertaining. And I don't believe we're unique in this. I think most people seek conflict; at least a little. To me, liking drama makes you a pain in the ass. But ultimately, liking drama (in moderation) means you like a challenge, you like to see how things play out if you play your cards a certain way; a social experiment, so to speak. I'm starting to see a trend in my own life. My response to him was, 'So we entertain ourselves at the expense of others?' and he responded, "Yeah, pretty much. Fuck it." Okay....simplicity. But in actuality, impressive truth. This is how we found each other and this is why we keep each other around. Both of us have a pattern of complicated relationships with less than available people...both of us have continuously put ourselves in situations that were potentially dangerous to ourselves, could cause pain and extreme feelings. It's almost like we're masochistic, but we're not. We come out of these situations with a mere scratch and find the next difficult situation....Ultimately, neither of us have really hurt anyone. It's kind of like playing with fire; we know how to do it and make a brilliant campfire, and keep it from spreading to the forrest.
It must correlate with the fact that we're both adrenaline junkies....although I secretly believe that this new found fact about myself, as real as it may be, is not abnormal. And I think people with less desire to seek adventure and thrill are the same people that dwell on the social drama and cause problems for everyone. A little adrenaline pumping excitement coupled with a little innocent, manageable drama is a happy life.
Another interesting spin to this new observation is....where does this leave my friend and I? Does this mean we're going to continue down these parallel trails and keep utilizing each other for entertainment? That's a pretty epic idea. I wonder if it can be done without escalating the entertaining conflict into full-blown damage.....

Avoiding the Wet Dream

No one ever reads this blog but me, and guess I prefer it that way....
When I was in high school, my mind was a sadistic floodgate of creative, disgusting ideas that I transferred onto a word document (I'm not old enough to have ever enjoyed the written word; my hand's just not fast enough for my brain.)...there was one time in particular when I popped a couple Vicodin after a minor foot injury, sat in my giant studio apartment room above my parent's garage, sneaked a couple Utah strength Bud Lights and wrote for hours and hours reflecting on the crazy shit that had happened to me in the last few months. When I was done spewing words and analysis and humor and sorrow and rhetoric and anecdotes and lies and truths, I felt like a new person, like I had just psychoanalyzed the fuck out of everyone, everything and especially myself.
Well now I'm a grown up. I don't have a narcotic prescription (although I must admit it feels like my metacarpals are dislocating as we speak) but I do have plenty of beer. I have attempted numerous times to start writing again, as the written word, despite how cheesy it sounds, is a large part of my soul. Without it, I'm frustrated. I used to compare it to being constipated. But now I think it's more like a sexually frustrated 18 year old. It's not something I need to do everyday, although I probably would if I could. If I hold back long enough, it makes me irritable. Eventually I'll resort to making bad decisions if I can't find a way to release the tension....
So now my writing skills are dull and my sense of humor is suffering and my insight is all gone. Especially because my life is so incredibly different now than it was last year, or any year before. I have a lot of catching up to do. And it's going to take a certain amount of commitment that I may or may not have. But I'm about to try. SO I'm going to start by trying a 30 day writing exercise....
Here we go....

Mental Pity

Everything makes sense to me, but yet it's like a hurricane in my head.
The storm was so subtle but played up so well and I bought into the hype with my rushing thoughts.
I attempted to over prepare for something I knew nothing about.
So here I am, facing thoughts that are ugly and cruel to my ego...
making empty conversation with people that are far from empty
counter-productive because boredom is my enemy
but yet I'm too lazy to find another way
so many things could have happened; so much more of what I love
but instead here I am being annoyed, and I really have no excuse.
I don't feel like I ask a whole lot of my life; I like to be surrounded by friends having fun when I play
and I like to be elbow deep in challenging, demanding tasks when I work...
why is it never enough....or is this a legitimate concern?
Once my mind comes to terms with the confusion and the weird, painful truths that reality smacks me with every day,
I don't want to think about the journey anymore...
instead of remembering details, the whole memory gets repressed after the issue is resolved. And when I face it again, it fucks me up for days at a time.
I also figured out why I'm such a terrible writer now days.......I'm too scared to be honest with myself.
Alright, telephone tough girl. Someday you'll stop acting like a grown up and actually become one.

Note to self: Tequila is a powerful drug.

Desiderata

:::Desiderata:::

Go placidly amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant, they too have their story. Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit.


If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.


Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let not this blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism. Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass. Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.


Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.


Therefore, be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be. And whatever your labors and aspirations in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul. With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams; it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful.


Strive to be happy

Cinderella the Mercenary

This is the story of modern-day Cinderella; a tribute to all the female sailors in A school trying to survive the culture shock...

Once upon a time, there was a cute, bubbly and fairly intelligent girl; we'll call her Cinderella, from a generic city in the United States. She was mommy and daddy's little princess but she had hopes and dreams of being much more. So one day, she swallowed her fear, let the Department of Defense poke her with needles and test her urine and assess her intelligence to determine if she was qualified to become a sailor for the United States Navy....

Upon physical and intellectual approval, she was sent to a camp, where she learned, along with hundreds of other princes and princesses (some with a little more complex than others) how to shine boots, fold clothes, march, and manage time. The 2 month camp was an attempt to transform the royal civillians into self-disciplined mercenaries.

Cinderella made it through the camp with less hassle than she had expected, and realized that she was a little stronger, and a little more capable than she had been previously aware.

Following the ceremony to celebrate their achievements, the newly transformed princes and princesses were dispersed to their appropriate schools, for training in the fields granted to them according to the needs of the Navy.

Cinderella had long ago lost her princess complex. She knew she was no longer a spoiled girl with a golden spoon; she had elected to lose that title long ago. She was prepared for the future.

The future was quite astonishingly different from what she had expected, though. Cinderella put on her uniform, learned her trade and followed the rules. She cleaned and cleaned and learned and learned and adhered to the strict curfew.

She, among the other members of her battalion, had been warned several times a day, every day, of the potential consequences of missing curfew...

And she hadn't worked this hard to become a pumpkin. So she knew the rules must apply; despite the lack of logic that may exist from time to time....

Cinderella worked and worked and cleaned and cleaned and learned and learned and showed up on time. She shined her boots and ironed her blouse and polished her collar devices. She studied on the weekends, stood watch in the middle of the night, learned to be louder than ever before and sing cadence louder than the callers. She strived for excellence because that's what chief expected of her. None of it was with reward, other than the simple feeling of self-gratification; accomplishment, success.

Cleaning and learning and looking proper and acting proper and making the right decisions did not come without a price. For, not everyone shared her philosophy. Most of the mercenaries strived for excellence, but there were a few un-transformed princes and princesses that were starting to stench of rotten pumpkin. In an attempt to keep the pandemic from spreading, the chief decided to make school and home rules more strict. He didn't want the rotten ones to spread their disease.

The strict expectations set upon Cinderella and the rest of her battalion in an attempt to protect them from the spreading disease, grew them tired and weary. No reward or recognition were manageable characteristics of their new lives as mercenaries. But having no chance to escape the curse set upon them from the rotting pumpkins was something to cause morale loss. The sailors were starting to stench of another disease all together; resentment.

The sailors needed a chance to escape the reality and the lack thereof in their new and overbearing lives. They tried many different ways to find temporary escape.

Cinderella, from recommendation of her roommate, was set up on a date with Prince Charming. She was weary of the set up. Her hair was short, she was tired and stressed and it was not a good time to meet the prince. But then she discovered that the prince was also a mercenary. And he had escaped the tightly bound rules of A school long ago.

So just for one night....the two mercenaries could be a prince and a princess again. She agreed to the arrangement, and hoped that he was as charming as his name.

She was so nervous to escape the tight binds of her new life for fear of becoming a pumpkin. But she knew if she didn't escape, she would rot of resentment and loss of morale. Cinderella and a fellow shipmate drank beer at the mercenary's bowling alley until Prince Charming arrived in his coach (Dodge Ram).

Through time, Cinderella and Prince Charming met more often on days when cleaning was light and learning was over. They had a chance to get out of their uniforms and into their prince and princess outfits; the ones they knew and loved. They would walk through the park, drink coffee and talk, sip sake and contemplate peace. They shared every moment together until the hour rolled around for Cinderella to return to the barracks, to avoid the pumpkin curse. They kept this trend going, for the sake of both of them. Cinderella knew they were lonely together. But being lonely together was far better than being lonely alone. They knew it could only last as long as she was within the compounds of her mercenary training center. Soon enough, they'd both move on, as mercenaries do.

Cinderella still cleans and learns and marches and sings and folds and obeys the rule of the land. But between Prince Charming and her fellow shipmates, she does so while still remembering...

The Princess still exists. And she will always be a princess; but she will always be a sailor first.

The promise of relief is the primary incentive for Cinderella to wax the floors, shine the boots and learn her special trade.

The moral of the story: You can take the prince and princesses out of their promise land.

You can turn a prince and a princess into loyal servants.

But the prince and princess can never lose sight of who they really are; or your loyal servants will become complacent, depressed, and lack the morale to serve properly....

Or even worse, they can become pumpkins.

Hooyah, Navy.

Tonight, I'm sitting in the lounge on my base, fucking around on Facebook and Youtube and keeping a close eye on the time, as I have to muster in an hour for duty/watch. I'm wearing my uniform (on duty, you wear the blue cami's or digi's) and combat boots. My cover is patiently awaiting my return to the freezing cold.
This is all well and good and I'm a happy new sailor. Except for the fact that it's Friday night, and all the friends I just made are at a toga party in Norfolk that I can't go to; I haven't earned the liberty to stay out past ten, leave base out of uniform or drink alcohol. All of those things change in 2 weeks....but in the meantime, I have to learn to stay home when everyone else is partying. This is a new concept to me.
I'm still learning to let go of my past and say hello to the present and future. It's strange trying to figure out exactly what that entails. Obviously, some things from my life pre-military will always be around; some good friends, my family...but a lot of things are gone for good....
It's all improvement. This life certainly isn't for everyone, and it's ironic that it works for me, as a stubbornly independent person...but maybe that's why I waited until 25 to do it.
I have so much to say but so little time. Once my laptop arrives from Utah I shall elaborate far past this synopsis. In the meantime, my watch is rapidly approaching. And I need a Dr. Pepper.....

.....

Between school, duty and trying to escape base on the weekend, I have little time to contribute much to my online scrapbook, but I'm going to make a desperate attempt to chip away at it; slowly but surely, as the week's go by....either for myself or whomever may stumble upon this page.

Today was Saturday, the last Saturday I will have in uniform, unless my duty section day falls on it. Last night I went to the mall AGAIN- I HATED the mall before I joined the Navy. It's expensive and I have never had luck with clothes. I usually only enjoy the food court, which is still the case. I have to start my whole wardrobe all over...Doing this is easier said than done. I don't like clothes. I am a scrounge. I want to lie around in yoga pants, go out in jeans and flip-flops and I make no attempt to match...Now that I'm a big girl, and I have Navy values to uphold, it might be a good idea to acquire a wardrobe that looks sophisticated and classy; being that flip-flops and tank tops are prohibited. I walk around the mall aimlessly with a buddy and a Starbucks and continue to find NOTHING because I'm a cheap bastard and Gap sucks.

Also, I just blew $800 to go home for New Years and see my family, friends, dog and get another tattoo...so money's tight, despite the lack of rent payment. I'm excited to go home and I don't feel like anything has changed; I've lived away from Utah for many years so my friends and family have always been available at my appearance; nothing more, nothing less. I wish I could go home to AZ and see all my drunk college friends...I would love to pick up where I left off on Mill Ave with the boys, or cycling down the canal, or live metal shows. But, I realized that I'm getting old and my priorities are shifting; if I have to CHOOSE between partying with friends in Arizona for 4 days or seeing my family, I will always choose my family....awww, I'm growing up.

I start training on Monday which is bittersweet, but mostly sweet. I like to lear, despite the long hours. I'm looking forward to having a "purpose"...I'm not sure why that's always been so important to me, but it only gets worse as I get older. Tomorrow is designated for laundry and phone calls; gotta catch up with my mom, dad, step-dad, sister, cousin and a couple friends. Brace yourself, phone battery.

On Thursday, I'm car pooling with a friend from base to Maryland, then we're going separate ways. I'm spending Thanksgiving weekend with my aunt and uncle...I'm stoked to have family so close to base.

So here's a pic of me on the smoke deck, in my digis....

They chopped my hair...I miss it terribly. I'm impatiently waiting for it to grow back.