slow your roll

"there is a world of difference between being offensive and saying something that offends...the man who makes a racial slur betrays something ugly in him. The friend who says you've had too much to drink spares you something ugly in you." - John Eldredge, Beautiful Outlaw

And so I sat willingly tonight with the guy who's willing to hold up the mirror to who I am. I've created another romantic disaster, and I'm at a place where I'm so wanting to change and stop making the same mistakes. No more carnage. I'm terrified of the havoc I might wreak in Japan, surrounded by Marines and fighter pilots.

So I got this advice:

- back off-- too much enthusiasm and effort scares guys away

- don't be so harsh-- my rough, critical edge are too abrasive

- communicate-- say exactly what you want and expect

I'm only spelling this out because I want my friends to hold me to this. Please hold me to this.

soldiers don't cry

Dear Ulysses S. Grant- I have failed to live up to the family name today. I've put on the game face for the gas chamber, the great heights obstacle course, water survival, and NIC at Night. But the clinch drill did me in today.

This drill involves going up against an NCO who will punch you until you get them in a clinch (hold). Somehow I got paired with the meanest/most aggressive NCO out of the 16 who showed up to the fight house. He punched me in the nose right off the bat. I never achieved the proper clinch. I got off the mats & started crying. I had never been punched in the face before. Not fun. Now I am humiliated & not looking forward to returning to class today.

I got an email from a female in the unit I'm going to. She says there are very few females and they are "butchy and rough around the edges." I'm screwed. Must dig deep and find a way to man up.

Later today-- Found out I was only one of 7 struggling to keep my composure. 2 guys got broken noses. Everyone has to call in tomorrow to verify they don't have concussions. The NCOs running the event got in trouble for beating up on us.

mending fences

I feel compelled to mend U.S. fences before I go reek havoc on Japan. Sometimes I feel like a relationship special needs child who learns SO s-l-o-w-l-y. Maybe I should have joined AA just for the general life wisdom of making amends. I found myself sending messages today to the guy who spread untrue rumors about me at OCS, the guy who cheated on me here and let his new girlfriend be mean to me, and my estranged sister who I haven't spoken with in years. Maybe all of this will whittle my pride down to a more manageable size. Maybe I'll just feel more at peace if I let things go. I've always been championship grudge holder, so feels totally reckless. God grant me the maturity not to care when they don't respond.

miscommunications

My little niece got the grand notion at Awana Cubbies last year that Santa is our intermediary to God. She's got big plans for leaving letters under the tree for Santa to deliver to the Big Man, The Boss, the Grand Gifter. My sister is alarmed at the theological accuracy issue, but I think Summer's imagination is well-placed. I understand her.

I have my own communication gaffe this week. I posted a facebook message about my weariness with guys into strippers and cheating. Now my main group of guy friends is very offended since they went to a strip club this weekend. They took it as a public insult to them. They're not open to the idea that there were other events and conversations over the weekend that didn't involve them. They don't understand why their perviness weirds me out. But are the hurt feelings worth it since one of them started wearing his wedding ring again? I will take one for the team.

They say as a female in the army you have to play the role of the slut or the bitch. I think I'm currently pulling off prudish ice princess.

Lonely Chicago Pie

Did you see the movie, "The Waitress" with Keri Russell? She baked life-inspired pies which have been on my mind. There was, I Don't Want Earl's Baby pie, I Can't Have no Affair Because it's Wrong & I Don't Want Earl to Kill Me pie, & Baby Screamin' It's Head Off in the Middle of the Night & Ruinin' My Life pie. So I found myself in need of my own concoction today.

I'm getting ready to leave the country shortly and am bothered by the trail of destruction left by my dating disasters. So it was time to bake Lonely Chicago Day of Reckoning pie. I emailed Jordan and told him I told him I loved him and wished him a whole lot of luck in his career. Then I baked. Take one pre-fab pie crust and bake it brown. Cook chocolate pudding on the stove. Add crushed up berries for sweet little memories, throw in a handful of cranberries and squares of dark chocolate for your bitterness. Mix with cinnamon and prove that the sweetness of reckoning can overpower the bitterness of regret. Eat with friends. Know that since they are guys they will have no idea what you're talking about when you name your pie, but they might unknowingly come under it's influence.

How did this go?

Stores, restaurants, salons started piping out ye old Christmas songs early this year-- right around the first day of November. It's making my Christmas memories fuzzy. This is how I think the story goes now:

Mary and Joseph had to travel to New York for a family reuntion. Joe had a large family, so Mary tagged along reluctantly, owing to the fact she was vastly pregnant. Also, with the swarm of reuniting relatives from accross the coast and Joe's late RSVP, they were without room to stay with any of the families in the area as basements and guest rooms filled to capacity. They would have to hope for space at a Super 8 along the way. So they loaded up the station wagon to head north on the highway. Just outside of NYC, it broke down. Trying to make the best of the situation, Mary and Joe dropped the car off with a mechanic and headed into the city to check out glittering department stores until Uncle Marco could shuttle them out to the burbs.

Wanting to fit in with the festive environs, Mary wore a red sequined shirt and Joe sported a green sweater vest. They had just made it through the handbags sections when Mary's water broke and labor came fast and furious. Baby arrived, and the first to greet him were the janitors who showed up with mops in hand to clean up the mess. They brought the weary family some McDonald's and found a cardboard box recently emptied of a belts and wallets delivery to lay the sleeping newborn in while relatives were contacted.

Some international business men heard of the commotion. Having just secured some lucrative IT contracts in the city, they felt magnanimous and came to see the happy couple with good luck gifts. One brought a diamond tennis bracelet, another a Coach shoulder bag, and the final a generous bottle of Chanel. A high school show choir was performing in the mall and came to gather round the new baby, dazzling in the tinsel stapled around their wrists, and singing "A Very Jingly Night in Bethlehem." They thought the baby was the cutest.

The store was about to close when Joe's family had gotten word of the recent events. They decended upon the mall as a large mob with many flashing cameras and hurried the family out to their waiting cars to hasten them to the suburbs where suddenly space became available in cousin Marco's guest room.

Culinary Legacy

It was a weekend of Halloween madness. The females from class turned drunken sluts. The males, fawning drunks. I managed to march to beat of my own drum, with a full coverage owl costume and the designated driving CR-V. I discovered a leftover pocket bottle of rum in my car yesterday, and the seats still smell of the cigarette smoke imparted by my passengers. And a drunk guy tried to kiss me. Another asked me out but seemed to have forgotten once he was sober.

So I found solace in the kitchen and made French Viniagrette. I'm fairly certain the people whose recipes I default to would have never offered up my hold-on as their signature dish. Beth's salad dressing, Susan's egg burritos, Polly's chili dip, Shannon's cranberry brie pizza, Taryn's corn salsa, my mother's everything. Anyway, the smell of crushed garlic reminds me of Beth and brings comforting memories of good company.

I think there's something to this Day of the Dead thing. I read a TV chef say her family made the favorite foods of departed relatives. I should start celebrating this instead of drunken, costume-y chaos.

The whole package

I've needed to expand my social circle. My best pal here who I was dating started also seeing someone else. He forgot to tell me. My classmates mostly gather for beer pong. So I decided to make Joanne proud and try out Officers Christian Fellowship. I arrived at a lovely house filled with sweet children and met the friendly hosts. All good.

Then people started arriving and it took a bad turn. I should have high tailed it out at the first mention of "apologetics," but I had freshly curled my hair for the event to sway any potential friends. I tried not to outwordly cringe but am pretty sure I looked shocked at least when I was asked what my husband did for the Army. And they homeschool. And they hate public schools and evolution and how those dumb 'ol teachers try to make kiddos think they came from apes. And "HA!" how could scientists claim to know anything about evolution when they weren't there to watch it? I think I know of 3 up-close spectators. J.C. in the front row. It was the whole fundy package complete with dogged devotion to dressing really badly (like you're trying to not try). Shake it off and regroup.

inspiration

Searching for inspiration in Lawton takes a little effort. There are no trees or water, so one has to get accustomed to finding the beauty of the long, flat plains. I'm mostly finding this in the pretty orange sunsets and the nice, flat running surfaces. Then there's the human element. I've been through the most ridiculous, humiliating set of circumstances with a man who came to visit me, had a panic attack, immediately fled 9 hours in the opposite direction, and stopped speaking because he is very busy wallowing in self-pity. My maturity and kindness to him in this situation meant nothing to his selfish ass.

My peers and classmates are almost all 22 year old males who just graduated from West Point and can chalk up their sum total of life experiences to West Point and how awesome the prom was. Few have worked or travelled. They tend to do everything in groups of twos and threes and hang out almost exclusively at 2 bars and the swimming pool. Too easy not to cross paths on weekends.

My closest companion here is an atheist, and it is extremely comforting to be near someone with zero expectations of me to say nice things. Another friend gave me a big lecture this week about being less nice as a student leader who the guys were taking advantage of. I spent yesterday practicing being a bitch, and while it's effective it doesn't sit well with me.

I realize I can't tie any of this together, but I did find something pretty today in an unexpected place. Check out http://www.aartipaarti.com/2011/07/27/singing-through-the-pain/

It's a lovely picture of who I am not but will maybe become in the very distant future.

Run for Your Life

I think living and working with so many males this year has put me in touch with aspects of my inner machismo I never knew existed. It's not so much about lifting weights or belching. It's more of a commitment-phobe thing. I met someone great at OCS. We were so desperately wanting to spend time together. He said he would visit next weekend. I got excited. I planned. I researched. He's not calling is delaying the trip. Ghosts of boyfriends past are coming back to haunt me, and now I think I should run for my life into the arms of the multitude. It seems like a better idea right now to be dating several people at once. Because 1. I could have a busy social calendar 2. everyone would be replaceable 3. I would probably have someone to talk to on the phone every night before bed

Don't worry. I don't know anyone here to go to the dark side with right now. I'm just saying I understand for the first time why this would be attractive. Could I become a player if I tried?

mystery roommates

Because of the deep suckitude of a 24-year-old male with a large mole on his head (I feel very petty today), I am now in a position to get mystery roommates. I flew to OK with one young buck who wanted to be roommates. We dreamt up elaborate dinner parties. We shopped apartments in town tirelessly, looking for the perfect 2 bedroom. This morning he bailed. He's from a wealthy community in Boston and decided none of the 2 bedrooms would be big enough for him to share. So I made a major leap of faith and signed on at the trendy apartment complex that is furnished with couches and friends. You just commit to a 3 bedroom at a reasonable-ish price and they surprise you with roommies. I'm crossing my fingers and hoping for 2 reasonably sober people who like to sleep and own headphones. This could be really awful.

Welcome to Lawton

I joined the Army in search of adventure and excitement. It seemed I was well on my way. I learned how to shoot an M-16, stumbled through a gas chamber, and learned how to call for fire. I've been assigned to gain expertise in missile systems. Then I got assigned to Lawton. And Lawton is the anti-excitement. It's a city with no charm and no pulse. There is no downtown. There are exactly 2 nice apartment complexes. Both are completely full. The only places to buy food are Country Mart and Walmart. I've been warned away from Walmart because it's too expensive. My brother suggests I get involved in the high school football scene and volunteer to do their scouting. He also claims to have seen the musical Oklahoma last night and to now understand completely what life is like here. I could only say that life would improve tremendously if everyone walked around singing all the time.

surrounded

Surrounded last night at our company's first social event. I found myself surrounded by captains in the captains course here and suddenly enveloped in conversations with men above the age of 24. Such a good break from conversations with males who only relate to me through sarcasm and teasing. My platoon is just like having 23 younger brothers. I've been relentlessly teased. I've been told to button my shirt higher. I've been warned I wasn't allowed to cross the street by myself today-- too dangerous.

Surrounded this morning by the sweetest little girls in the art room of the Boys & Girls Club. One of my squad brothers invited them to paint my face. They started out carefully and gently, but soon the more enthusiastic kiddos got me with the big sponge brushes. They wanted me to stay, hugged me, and didn't make fun of me at all. I wanted to stay.

Surrounded by unapologetic males. I told 2 of them tonight they weren't funny with a terrible nagging edge to my voice when they laughed at me for being mad one of them yelled at me for no reason. They made me work at the desk for 2 hours during fireworks.

My very kind friend loaned me a car tomorrow, and it's time to be alone.

nerd happy

This morning got off to kind of a rough start. I was up at midnight buffing the floors. I was not a good buffer and heard about it this morning. Then the 1st Sergeant pulled me aside to tell me I was not a good saluter and to give me saluting lessons. I walked into the building later and he got mad at me for something another girl said. Fortunately she came clean and claimed her remarks. I felt poopy lipped, so I made cards for other girls who are also not feeling very special to cadre.

The great consolation of the day was that we began our study of 200 years of military history. I sat pen poised, coffee cup full, and laptop at hand. Just like college. Instead of a booming, fast talking sergeant or captain, our instructor was a lovely older man. I don't think he'll yell at us or insult us at all. We don't have to talk to him at the position of attention. And this is the first topic I may actually understand better than my hands-on counterparts. Having homework that's effortless was thrilling.

I have learned to salute. I've learned to use the buffer effectively. Tomorrow may be better.

We belong to each other

I've always had a pretty independent streak, so belonging to an organization where everyone is responsible for each other has been a big change. If one person on a team does the wrong thing, their leadership is in trouble. If half of the company messes up, the whole company loses privileges (i.e. having to sleep at attention). This groupiness is counteracted by the fact that we have to critique and rate each other every week.

This is how things went down this week where I belong. 7 of the 10 people on my squad went to basic together. The team was feeling the team love and agreed that every week we would change the order of how we rated people so no one would end up in the bottom twice. It was our pact. Today I found out the pact was really only created to benefit the 7 old friends who always rated each other in the top and that they were choosing amongst themselves which of the remaining three of us would get the bottom slot. I don't belong to them. Then they critiqued me for not spending enough time with them. I do belong to them. Our sergeant figured out ways they were rigging the system and created new squads. I don't belong to them.

The tricky thing is that we need each other to survive here. We need them to rate us well. But there are weasels amongst us. Survivor island continues.

combatives

The morning got off to a rough start with a run I almost fell out of before the guy in back of me refused to pass and screamed a motivational "Get your ass up there!" Good pep talk in a pinch. We had a little pre-breakfast combatives, which is like wrestling school. Unlike Basic, here they make females pair up with males. Thank God my partner was 1. not married so I didn't feel disrespectful of his special person, 2. not a creeper, and 3. a former wrestler. It's actually pretty empowering to know how to choke someone out with your legs should the opportunity ever present itself.

Then I learned machine gun theory. We had lectures all day of defensive positions-- where to position troops to your greatest advantage. War movies will make way more sense to me know. It was interesting.

One girl packed up and left today. A guy was asking if I would ever quit. I said I told God I wasn't coordinated enough for this, and he told me to stay where I am.

New bedtime procedure here since people got in trouble. 5 minutes before lights out we assemble in the hall with our canteens.
At my command hydrate. We drink in unison.
Prepare to sing. We belt out the alma mater.
Prepare to mount. We get in bed.
At my command, sleep. We lay down in the position of attention and close our eyes. At first I thought it would be ridiculous, but the whole thing is so hilarious I kind of enjoyed it last night.

thick skin II

Why does living surrounded by guys make me lonely for men? In the last 24 hours:

Male on my floor, "You're totally rocking the freshman female look. You know, like when girls gain 15 lbs and just walk around in sweatpants and a beanie cap all the time."

Male in my squad, "What's up with the females and metabolism here? I can't believe how much food you all put on your trays."

Priest at mass-- No great quote, but he just spoke about the evils of contraception. It was his tribute for mother's day to inspire people to go procreate. Nothing was mentioned to males about being careful with who they knock up or sticking around to help out. Weird.

After all of this I found it incredibly reassuring when a female from another platoon related that a guy in her squad thinks I have a nice ass. It's my hallmark moment for the week. At both Basic and here the LDS guys are the safest bet for friends.

Thicker skin

Saturdays are generally something to look forward to here. We get time to catch up on homework, a little more time to be on electronics, and no long lectures. But there is one sad piece of Saturdays which is the Peer Review. Every week we have to rate everyone in our squad and read what each person considers our greatest strength and weakness to be. This counts towards our points. We're told not to take it personally, to approach it with thick skin. I have no such thick skin. Last week I wasn't confident enough. This week I don't try hard enough at PT & suck at the obstacle course. I can't seem to remember any of the strengths through I recall there were words written on that side of the page. I need to get stoic about things, but I always want to withdraw and make new friends after reading my Peers. There are no hugs at OCS. I am achieving some literal thick skin with the calluses on my hands from attempting pull-ups that are the admission ticket into every meal.

Two unofficial peer reviews this week: "you would make a great pothead." "Your calluses look like a bear's hand."

I started a small group for females last night that we're unofficially categorizing as tears, fears, and first names. It's where we bring our secret lives that aren't meant for sharing with the combat males. To be confident, we don't admit to doubts about making it here. To be strong, we don't shed tears when we feel like we're failing, misunderstood, or insulted. Our first names are irrelevant and only appear in letters from home. But for one hour a week I will have a first name, will share in group confessions, will have a romantic past, and will hear my name. It's the anti-peer review.

creature comforts

This morning we completed our first release run-- just 3 miles. I came through with consistency more than drive with all about 8 minute miles. Sustainable if not speedy. Than it was a loooonnnnggg day of power point. They covered about 2 hours worth of content over a mere 7 hour span. Tomorrow is the obstacle course where I am bound to humiliate myself and get a little black and blue. If I survive I'll feel like I've reached a turning point where I can handle the next 3 weeks.

I don't really miss creature comforts at this point. Sleep is adequate if not indulgent. Coffee is allowable as are long showers. We have dessert. I have my phone without much time to use it. I just miss spirituality and good conversation. Surrounded by people without the chance to get to know them well.

ruck

It was a 4:40 a.m. wake-up for our 2nd 5 mile ruck carrying about 45 lbs. We headed off in the darkness piled down with gear at a rapid clip. I tend to spend the first mile imagining the stress fractures my hips are enduring and feeling like I'll incur damage that will leave me with a walker at the age of 60. These visions always include me wearing ugly stretch waist polyester pants and being angry with the way life turned out from that one unfortunate ruck march that broke me. I spend the second mile imagining the faces of my best pals at holdover company, and thinking of the good times we'll have together if I fall out, get recycled, and have to start over with them. Mile 3 I've moved on to remembering that if I get recycled and have to class up again it must occur by Monday when Alpha begins. If I miss Alpha, Bravo is said to be run by tyrants with fangs. Panic. Shortness of breath. Mile 4 I think about how life could be okay if I go to AIT as enlisted. What can I see myself as more? A plumber or electrician? Leaning towards plumber. Mile 5 I remember I suck at fixing stuff. I pray my way every step up cardiac hill. Jesus gets me up that hill. Another march survived.

I tell myself these days that either I become an officer, and it's a job that requires everything I am plus some. If I don't make it, the Army gives me a mechanical job that requires almost nothing of me but showing up--no soul required. Odd options here.

This night

Tonight should be full of champagne and buying beer & wings for soldiers to celebrate the death of Bin Laden. Whoo-hoo! There is no formal celebration at Fort Benning for the OCS, but there is still a huge sense of elation. I thank the tattooed wonders who have worked so hard for this.

infantry

Today was a relatively relaxed day here. It was PT-- mostly push-ups. Breakfast. Then we got to head to the Infantry Museum. Walking through exhibits about extraordinary men made me think about my ancestors whose stories I never heard. I think my grandma's twin brother and another brother died in WWII. My grandfather on the other side was a naval plane mechanic. My dad was in the finance corps in Vietnam. Even if I had heard their stories before I couldn't understand them like I might now.

Seeing infantry heros makes me think about what they have that I don't. 1. Coordination (seriously) 2. Courage to run towards instead of away from danger 3. Confidence. 4. Willingness to be extremely uncomfortable. I admire the guys here who are choosing that life. Females can't be infantry, and now I feel a little guilty that I don't want to be. I also feel (at least today) that even if I don't make it through OCS that I still owe the country my 3 years serving as enlisted to fulfill my commitment.

less interpretation

It dawned on me that someday I may want to remember the actual events that happened here and not just use the old blog for inspired impressions. So...

Today started well as I was chosen to attend a breakfast with OCS graduates who were being inducted into the OCS Hall of Fame. We were supposed to mingle and get to hear their war tales. Sadly, only one veteran showed up. Happily, I still got to eat a leisurely breakfast with coffee!! Than it was off to a team obstacle course where we tooks turns in crazy problem solving involving boards, ropes, and moving people over water. I contributed least to my team but am glad I have a really strong team. Took a test over Call for Fire (how to order an antillery team to bring in the big guns). Then I freaked out about the fact that squads do peer evaluations this weekend, and I could get lowest rated because the guys in my squad all went to basic together and are best battles. Sought guidance from my infantry friend who said I'm not weird enough to be worried about ratings. He did confirm my suspicions that leadership is practicing social darwinism and trying to push hard enough on running, sprints, and rucking to shake out people with any possible physical weakness or injury. 5 females have gotten kicked out in the last 48 hours. I just was informed I get my first go at leadership next week as team leader. 2nd platoon-- get ready to feel the love. The counselor is taking over!

New Vital Stats

Favorite Song: I Will Survive has replaced Peaceful Easy Feeling (this fact summarizes everything about OCS)
Favorite Time of Day: Taking boots off now replaces sunset over Garden of the Gods
Favorite Dessert: the saltines I pretend are cookies have replaced Chunky Monkey
Favorite Food: peanut butter served in tiny packets has replaced chips & salsa
Favorite Outfit: PT shorts, t-shirt, flipflops, & fleece winter PT hat has replaced sundress
Favorite Quote: Our drill sergeants made us eat sawdust and expected us to poop two by fours (that's just classically good)
Favorite Social Event: The ten minutes of meet and greet before and after church on Sundays have replaced happy hour in my backyard
Favorite hobby: sit-ups and stretching have replaced book clubs
Favorite color: the pink on my notebook cover & sneakers has replaced yellow

Man's World

Can I live well in a man's world? I'm in a platoon of 40 made up of approximately 25% females. We have 17 leadership positions. 15 of those are filled by males. One of the females in leadership is chief paperwork collector. I'm bitter-- I admit it. It's a man's world. I would be singing the blues tonight if I had an audience and a slinky black dress.
Imagine with bass and harmonica:

I sing a man's cadence
I wear a man's clothes
I march to a long stride
I don't cringe at rude jokes

And it's sooo hard
Living where I'm less than the dudes
I've got the basic, basic, basic candidate blues

Georgia

Curious about the experience of whoever wrote Georgia on my Mind. They probably visited in October or January or sometime they needed a respite from the cold and snow in Cincinnati. Not summer when it's so humid you spend all day sweating, drinking sports drinks, and having to pee from the hydration efforts. Maybe they had air conditioning and a big pool. We here at Delta live on the 3rd floor, sleep on wool blankets, and have to wear long sleeves, pants, and wool hats every day. It's made room 374 declare itself a nudist colony for 5 minutes every day. Now I know the author of Midnight Train to Georgia was truly anguished over leaving L.A., and the pain in her voice meant he was leaving in the summer.

Cool Like You

Today we learned fun factoids about other people in our class. The group don't look intimidating, but looks can be deceiving. Among the candidates we have: a bull rider, an Versace underwear model, a musician who played on American Idol, a Bowflex model for TV infomercials, a former UN staffer, someone whose photos have been in National Geographic 3 times, a CNN foreign correspondent, a jazz musician, and someone who used to do voiceovers for American commercials playing in China. I am flannel. They are sequins. with beads and glitter and special lighting. We're told they'll drop 25% of us out of the class. Yikes! Time to become spectacular.

Here We Go

Today I classed up at OCS. Gone are the days of leisurely meals, reading, and waiting for life to pick up the pace. It's hurry, hurry, threat, threat now. But I'm grateful to be in motion. When I arrived I couldn't see doing this without Kinney. Then she left. So I built a little bit of new community. But we didn't all class up together. I fear some of the more remarkable candidates have been overlooked for people who will not do well here. And I feel like the instinct to take care of soldiers makes me want to fix everything for the friends I left behind. But back to the good--God pulled a rabbit out of his hat and gave me a 287 on my AFPT test today. My friend Sproul is my roommate. I now own a velcro-on ascot, which looks ridiculous but connotes progress. Forward march.

Position Open

Highlight of my week was a job offer from my friends Shannon and Paul, as follows:

Dear Officer Candidate:

I am writing to notify you that there is a position open as Commander of our small child. The pay is not competitive and the hours are long, but the company is small (one baby, one flat-coat retriever, one smelly cat) and therefore, quite manageable.

Perks of this position:

Rooming comes with PS3 gaming system and includes newest version of popular games, Madden '10 and Gran Turismo (Paul must have written this part if viewed as perk)

Homemade chocolate chip cookies

No push-ups...unless you want to

Japanese-engineered vehicle to drive-- remarkably similar to the one you sold (she has a red CRV)

Sex and the City DVD Box set on hand

A multitude of baby hugs and giggles

This job sounds so tempting. I miss being around people who love me. And Shannon is an excellent baker and very good company. I met aforementioned baby right after she was born and am sure she will be remarkable.

Side note: Benefit of the doubt-- If boys hide your laundry bag, pull on your hair, make fun of your shoes, and kick you in a sneaky but not too hard way maybe it just means they need female attention and you're their only hope of getting it.

Man's World

Getting taken off school detail has proven to be a blessing in disguise. Since the holdovers are considered guinea pigs and dispensable for any whim, some of us were taken to a park to practice playing games for an office retreat the battalion staff will go on later this week. They wanted to time us to see how long the games would take. In typical Army fashion, departure was moved up by one hour at the last minute, the driver got lost, and we spent 6 hours at the park to be involved in an hour and a half of activity. Plenty of time to sit on swings, walk in the woods, and story swap.

I was at a loss today in trying to stay flexible about living in a man's world. They don't understand why I wanted to go to the dentist and get my teeth cleaned. If the teeth don't hurt, why fix them? They hate my hot pink running shoes and claim the color burns their eyes. I got called Princess last week for wanting to order vegetables with my lunch. Eyes rolled when I asked about an iron since I was told to wear khaki pants on Thursday. The pink shoes may need to be retired until I can get them a little dirty or faded.

Sunday Funday

Growing up I was always confused as to why the Bangles considered Sunday to be her fun day. In my house, it was the most dreadedly slow day of the week. Fussy clothes, long church service, parents fighting about being on time, long lunch, lots of dishes from long lunch, then rest. Rest meant that God made us take a day off from watching TV, being loud, or playing with friends. Then because my parents were Southern Baptist, they put in for extra credit by making us attend church again at night.

Sundays have always been a challenge for my attention span. Even as an adult attending an Anglican church, I would find myself bored to tears by the long service and need to create my own short recess mid-liturgy to wander around outside and hope for a quick move to communion where the good music started again.

Sundays at HHC are also a long day. The mornings are great--no PT, church with friends, music, donuts, & coffee. But then it's back the cage at 10:30 for a long day of nothing. Reading, watching 30 Rock on my laptop, sweating in an old builidng with no air conditioning. Maybe I'm too midwestern to relax, but I'm ready for Monday rush to begin.

Dorm Life

On the odd day here life at holdover company has moments of feeling like college dorm life. Today we got the odd break of getting to go in vans to shop at the post exchange for an hour. Females seem to have reached their limit with man life and made a mad rush for the beauty salon, body spray and cosmetics. I knew I had reached my limit with boots and camo when I bought new running shoes that are bright pink. Even one of the guys stocked up on room freshener, a loofah, and the febreze he thought the whole male latrine would benefit from. Then it was back for a light lunch of iceberg lettuce and jello on trays. Tonight we got early release for free time. This finds us drenched in body spray, clad in shorts and t-shirts, and clutching pillows as we sit in front of a laptop watching Anchor Man. Guys are downstairs having a foosball tourney. Life rewinds back to freshman year in Boer-Bennick dorm's basement.

Recovery

Last night since I pulled an overnight detail, I was released on Recovery today. It is the most unmilitary of all assignments. I got an immunity sign to hang on my door so leadership would leave me along. This left me complete freedom to eat when I wanted to, wear my hair long and soft around my shoulders, read, and sleep all day. No formations, no cleaning, no ACUs. My mom sent a great package with peanut M&Ms. We're allowed candy here as long as we eat it/share it immediately and don't take any upstairs. All in all, a pretty good day at HHC.

Rules

It was a day at the elementary surrounded by picture books, worksheets, and fun art. Everything was low key since the kids are on spring break. Sadly I returned back to the barracks to find that new rules were instituted while I was gone. No more coffee to drink between meals, an earlier wake-up time, and signs in the hallways marking where the females live so the males can't cross the line to visit. I think said males are working out right now and grunting extra loud to remind of their presence a few doors down. I also got a scary text. A fellow member of my company was at the medical clinic and saw one of my drill sergeants. Here. At Fort Benning. Not far,far away in South Carolina where he's supposed to be. The craziest one. Who got things knocked around too much in the head. I clearly need a guard dog.

Directions

There are various directions my life could take at this point. As I find comfort in planning, these are the scenarios I'm running through.

1. Life goes North: I class up with Delta on 4/18. I learn how to climb a rope. I become amazing at night land navigation. I discover confidence, aggression, and faster legs. I look good in an ascot, graduate, and life goes as intended.

2. Life goes South: I either don't class up with Delta or board out. I am forced to go to AIT where I have to learn how to fix things. I never tell them it takes me a good half hour to install windshield wipers (or decide to ask for help). I take a new identity similar to Kenneth on 30 Rock. I go by Krissy, say I've never left Illinois until Basic, and have just failed out of nail tech school and think books othere than The Shack and Twilight are tools of the devil. Hate living in barracks and marry an illegal immigrant so they get a green card and I can live off base.

3. Life goes West. I chapter out of the Army. I move to Ann Arbor to work at brother-in-law's bank call center. Depressing winter weather causes addiction to tanning beds. Depressing job makes me start collecting beanie babies and forwarding emails with life lessons and pictures of cats. I wear khaki pants, pastel t-shirts, and get a wedge haircut.

4. Life goes East. I join the PeaceCorp if they'll have me. I get dreadlocks and wear long skirts. I reconsider my position on tattoos.

Let me know if I'm missing any of the obvious options.

BCGs

Sorry the posts may get boring here. Just trying to document my life now so I remember. Day started with a run. I heard rumors that run days were rough here and expected the worst as a friend got injured buddy carrying someone 1.5 miles. We hauled at fast pace to cardiac hill and went up in sprints, running backwards, and lunges. Not easy but certainly not impossible. Quick shower and off to the elementary to haul boxes of textbooks around all day. Confession: It's just frustrating at this point to be surrounded by males all the time with strict no fraternization rules. I should be rebounding to feel better about no Greg. There are good dating candidates here. I have to pretend they're all diseased. Even when I think I'm alone, I'm not. I went to the back courtyard to do sit-ups tonight. Nobody else from my dorm was outside. It was a rare moment of silence and solitude. Until a guy from the Airborne dorm across the way opened his window and yelled out to cheer me on. I haven't had remarkable conversations with anyone, but I'm trying to tread shallow water to stay disinterested. I thought it would be helpful to pull out my bcgs (birth control glasses- see photo above) tonight for final formation. Commentary from guys in my platoon-- you look like the secretary guys talk about in the break room saying, "I wonder if she's a freak." Must maintain aura of mystery.

Incarceration

This is how life goes now. Wake up early. Meet in courtyard for PT. Wear uniform. Eat off tray. Clean all morning. Eat off tray. Clean all afternoon. Eat off tray. Clean and hope to get released early for more working out, showering, laundry, and one phone call. Lights out. Sleep with door open so your head on pillow is visible from the hall at all times. Did Uncle Sam really want me? The break in the routine is that due to my degree I get to volunteer at an elementary school 5 days a week. Essentially, I'm right back where I was before joining the military. Glorified room mom. Overeducated cleaning lady. I hope redemption finds me here.

Year in Review

This year I: knew major change needed to happen--asked friends for help and received kindness that still amazes me--dated Mr. Bad Special Forces Guy--discovered dating him was my unfulfilled desire to have his life--went back to dating my best friend--re-taught myself algebra--visited Austin--told Greg I loved him--was told I was not loved--started doing girl push-ups--took the ASVAB--stopped getting haircuts--bought my first real suit--ran--joined a CrossFit--packed up my worldly goods--interviewed with army men who insulted me and thought I would be a better den mother--took I best camping trip ever--soaked in the Pagosa hot springs-- got drunk for the first time-- left Colorado--moved back in with my parents--saw trail fork as closest friends had babies--got a minimum wage job--was reminded how great midwesterners are as I found a group of girlfriends--re-learned how to laugh by visiting old roommate--knew I had no secrets when I met a girl who has all of the same ones--failed at the gym, kept going--gave up dairy, grains, starch, dessert, legumes--got better at the gym--got to know and value my parents as adults--threw my mom a long awaited surprise party--told Greg I would no longer be his special friend and stopped hearing from him--sold my beloved car 4 hours after listing it--threw a tacky craft New Year's party

2010, I am ready to close the door on you and bolt it shut. You are a demolition area. You have challenged my assumptions about God, the value of goodness, and what I wanted for my future. You have pushed me physically beyond what I thought was possible. You have reminded me that there are friends everywhere. Enough demolition. 2011 is the year of reinvention.