Rant Warning

Maybe I should give up FB…
So this was going to start out as an injunction to others to be careful what they post on FB, and not just in the mundane security senses ie, never post “I’m going on vacation for the next three weeks and I’m leaving the key under the mat so that the person who waters my exotic plants and feeds my expensive cat can get in” unless you want someone to nick both your plants and the cat… and the more I started thinking the more I began to think that maybe the problem wasn’t the other people it was me. Or FB. Or something. Probably mainly me and a bit FB too.
On a tangentially related topic- related because I saw it on FB- I followed a link from a FB-friend to an article talking about how even nominal Christians were engaging in premarital ‘relations’ at a rate pretty much on par with their secular counterparts of the same age and gender. What my FB-friend had commented on it (on FB not on the post which had a hilariously flame-filled comments section btw) was ‘Get married earlier. Seriously. What’s the worst that could happen, you’d be poor?’ I felt as though someone had prodded me in the stomach with the ‘it’s-all-your-fault-western-civilization-is-failing’ stick…

What.

The.

Hell.

Really?? Obviously, that’s the answer, get married younger! You! Lovey-dovey young people! Get your rears in gear and get yourselves properly wedded! Quick! Better to marry than to burn! You must be afraid of poverty but DON’T worry, God will provide! And if He doesn’t at least there’s WIC so you won’t starve!

The fb-friend in question is someone I’ve never met in real life. She’s married to a guy I went to college with. I felt like posting back words to the effect of “I’d love to get married but I’m just not as fortunate at getting a guy as you are, Mrs. Jones.”

One of her other friends shortly thereafter did post something like ‘Takes two to tango’ and I had to like that instead of posting what I wanted to…

I would _happily_ have accepted poverty, a crappy place to live, no car and a stack of student loans if it meant marrying Mr. RightForMe (Writing it all down like that though looks a bit wrong-headed…). Unfortunately he hasn’t turned up yet and I am assuming he must either be somewhere with lousy GPS reception or he’s got his map the wrong way around… so until he does show up, I will *gaspshockhorror* have to manage on my own. Which, by the way, means having student loans steadily getting paid off, living in a decent place and working a decent job which is practically a vocation. I’m getting debt-free and sorting my life out. There are worse places and ways to do it than this.

It was a kind of flippant comment for the woman in question to make but she underlined it by saying ‘no seriously’… seriously… Okay lady. Seriously. You go out there and find some eligible guys for me, club them over the head a few times and convince them that they have to marry me in order to save western civilization... Because I’m not going to be chasing anyone. Goes against my everything.

Oh, and I read the linked article, I found it hilarious in its unimaginativeness. There was a line in there that said something about ‘People waiting into their twenties and thirties- what do we tell them, keep waiting?’… Duh.
Ooh…and my other favourite line was a quote from a subject matter expert who was talking about how in biblical times people married young and didn’t really play the field prior to marriage due to that.

So…marry young hm? Setting aside for a moment the (for some poor unfortunates) insurmountable obstacle of NOT KNOWING MR/MS RIGHT, at what age should people be getting married?

And this is what really gets under my skin and burrows around like a creepy horrible bug… This line of thought ‘Better to marry than to burn, quick marry ‘em off before they disgrace themselves/us’ is unpleasantly familiar sounding. Now where have I heard that before? Oh right. From crazed ayatollahs. From people who say it’s okay to marry an eight year old as long as you promise not to consummate the marriage until she’s 12….

Now, no Christians would do something crazy like that, right? … Right? …

I feel as though there is a distant but shrill and hysterical chorus of people chanting an angry chant at ‘heretical’ successful young single women of the faith. “Misguided Women with Feminist Leanings! Marriage and babies! Western Civilisation depends on YOU! Marriage and babies! Repent and be married and have lots of babies!”
Not quite as distant/shrill/hysterical is the burbling of newly-marrieds “We’re pregnant! Life is awesome when you’re married! We’re awesome and happily married! Did we mention we’re pregnant? Life! Maternity! We’re pregnant again!”

And realistically I know that these women are artfully leaving out the messy/squick moments of marriage/pregnancy/childrearing. And I know that. But they are in the enviable position where the segments of society that we actually care about- ie friends/family/Church-at-Large approve of them. The working single women are looked upon by the same segments as a bit unfortunate and secular coworkers are apt to mistake ‘doesn’t do casual relationships’ for ‘never gets out and don’t bother trying to get to know her’.

Marginalized by one and ignored by the other. Lovely.

Thankfully I know some sane marrieds with sweet kid/s and they are awesome. There aren’t as many of them as there are of the other type, but nonetheless, they are awesome.

End Rant...

Dear Myself,

You still haven't learned that you are to 'Never Again Volunteer Yourself'?! I know the offer was couched in terms of a 'safe, fun, learning experience' but are you out of your mind? You have tests next week! You're not feeling so great! You have a roommate moving in this weekend! Your room is a disaster area! Besides which, your stuff isn't ready and you'll probably spend all weekend in a haze of confusion, only to come back in time for PT bright and early. What are you thinking?
...
I see.
....
Argh. Fine. Whatever. But I told you here first that it wasn't a brilliant idea.
.....

Sincerely,
Me, Myself and I.

DADT Repeal: Rant

So much to say, so little inclination to actually write....argh. Okay, here goes...

Regarding DADT, its recent repeal and the implications of aforementioned repeal

I wish I could give some people at the highest levels of my chain of command a small piece of my mind. I wish I could give them a deck-plate view (I used deck-plate therefore I am steeped in Navy traditions..), but they clearly aren't interested in getting it. Not once in all the media hype and coverage surrounding this 'historic' event that I have seen, has anyone interviewed a literate, currently-serving member of the armed forces who is opposed to the repeal of DADT.
On the whole, the armed forces have been portrayed as anywhere from apathetic to whole-heartedly enthusiastic about an instant repeal of DADT...
To my fellow servicemembers who approve of the repeal: think of the GMTs, people. If NOTHING else, think of the hours of your life that you will never get back doing GMTs (sensitivity training/annual training/'awareness' training for you civilian readers). Don't we already have enough GMTs to do?
If that doesn't motivate you, little will.

Here's a thought, Washington and Assorted Brass- the reason why you didn't get most of those surveys you sent out back is because the vast majority of us are too damn busy doing our jobs to fill out anything that won't directly affect our pay, housing or access to food. You think I'm joking but I'm not. If you REALLY wanted to know what everyone thought, you'd send that damn survey to every single servicemember out there and make it MANDATORY to return it. 100% contact. We do that with NMCRS donation forms every year. It can be done. You won't do it though, because the news will be depressing. I heard somewhere that about forty percent of Marines surveyed said they won't re-up. I'd say probably half that number are not in a financial position to decide that- but that their numbers will be made up for by people who haven't yet realized the full impact that the repeal of DADT will have.

Here's what I want and what I won't get- I want to get out and keep my bonus money and my GI bill because I signed up for a different Navy. People who disagree with my point of view may say "Get out, we can't get rid of your bigoted kind fast enough."
My answer? I have some very specialized skills that I'm taking with me as I leave. To train up my replacement will take you two years, minimum. My departure will impact mission readiness. But if it was free pass to get out, I know I wouldn't be the only one to take it.

But that won't happen. I'll grind my teeth and fulfill my contractual obligation. I'll be damned if I re-up though.

Now I'm done shooting my mouth off.
Bring it on.

What class today felt like

Sweaty palms, clenched toes (of all things), sloshy stomach, aching head, ringing ears, knotted chest- no deep breaths, hyper-awareness of every sound, smell of fear, stiff back and neck.
Worse than thesis semester? Yup. Worse than previous school? Yup. 4-5 weeks left to go, three tests next week? Yup.

Really, sir? Really truly?

When your SEL is giving you the hairy eyeball, there is probably a reason why. And part of that might have something to do with you saying "I will personally inspect my entire command" when said command consists of slightly over one thousand souls.
I might add that this is after said command has already been inspected by division heads. So chiefs and senior chiefs have already given up what could have been a normal morning to inspect everyone in the near dark at a different location than usual. Everyone's done this already in recent memory.
Why are we repeating this evolution?
I guess we clearly have nothing better to do than get up at oh dark thirty on the Monday after Halloween weekend to go to a place we've never been before with the rest of our department and get there an hour before he does and get heightlined by an OCD first class.
Yup.
Oh- and this isn't going to be a 'Good shoes, hm... you'll do' inspection. This is going to be a "What is your seventh general order?" inspection.
Again, really?
With all respect, the vast majority of us have been out of bootcamp for more than one year, will never stand such a watch and have our heads filled to the bursting point with other JOB RELATED bits of info that will help us carry out the mission.
Rargh.
'Cause this guy wants to make admiral. Or he hates us all or something. I mean, there were something like five DUIs right after he took command so I could see why he'd be pissy, but consider the fact that all of those people are on the way out- and we're not! We're the more-or-less good ones who can be trusted to show up for work on time, do our job and not complain until we get home.
And then he goes and does something like this....
It's just a little contrary to good order and discipline if you ask me. Which of course no one has.
Also, it doesn't say much about his faith in his department heads- doesn't he think they can be trusted to do a good job?
It's special. So very special...

The hiatus

So... yep. It's been almost a month since I've posted on this blog. And I have a perfectly good excuse- class has been trampling me into a fine paste. Well, that and the unfall. Seriously not cool.

So what's happened in the past month? I had my birthday- a midweek birthday so not a whole lot to shout about. I didn't even have a drink on my birthday as I'm prepping for the upcoming PRT on Tuesday- probably.

And the accident... I'm not going to forget that in a hurry and I wish I could. I really wish I could. It wasn't my fault, I wasn't hurt and Roderich's still driveable, but...

But every time I have to hit my breaks, or every time a driver on these stupid roads around Ft. SINYF fails to indicate/rides my rear/does something incredibly stupid, I break out in a cold sweat and start to think my time may have come- again. It was really bad, the week of the incident. I couldn't drive. Thankfully it was my carpool's turn anyway, but I couldn't have driven if my life depended on it. Even now, I can still remember what it felt like. The feeling first, the noise of it second, the terror throughout.

But I have good shipmates- they found me after my hysterical phone call once all the cars were safely off the highway. Greg7 and BigScaryJ showed up and I'd never been so happy to see them before. Greg7 hugged me and told me everything was going to be fine. I hugged him back. I was so upset and scared and unhappy and just knowing that there was a friendly person right there that I could hold onto was very comforting. The police actually asked if we were married and made some comment about my ring and I made a shaky, angry comment back about being married to the Navy. There were a lot of phone calls to/from chain of command people, but the most important thing was that Greg7 and BigScaryJ were there when the cops wanted to throw me in jail for driving without insurance. Needless to say I DID have insurance, but my insurance company had failed to communicate adequately with the DMV. Without Greg7 and BigScaryJ there, I don't think I would have had the presence of mind to ask the police to call my insurance company- which they did, and immediately found that I DID have insurance, just like I said.

BigScaryJ drove my car somewhere safe and Greg7 gave me a ride to the party I had been going to- the one that he had left to come find me. I drank some horrible tea that was surprisingly enough a pretty good remedy for shock, and spent the whole party in a daze on the couch- not really asleep but not really there. Not concussed, just really, truly freaked out. But I have good friends. They made sure I got home and everything was fine. I don't think Greg7 really will ever know how helpful he was and how glad I was to see him. He can be a difficult person to deal with/understand sometimes, but I am glad that he is one of my shipmates.

Of bills and deadlines

So I'm pretty good about making sure the bills stay paid. I pay my phone bill on the fourth of every month because for whatever reason that seems easy for me to remember. I have an electricity bill now that I try to pay after my second paycheck though I still haven't fixed a date for that. I have an automatic payment set up for my car the day after my second paycheck. And this month, my student loan, my biggest, baddest concern, may or may not have gotten away from me. You may ask, how did this happen?
I'll tell you.
So, it was about the eighteenth of this month that I tried to pay my student loan online. I hadn't had to do that in a while. Usually I pay via money order or check- more frequently by check these days. But in a fit of stupidity, I had packed my checks and mailed them in one of the boxes to my parents' house. Ooops. And my mailing address had still not quite caught up with me. So there I was, without my checks. I tried to pay online. I submitted all the information correctly, I thought and called it good.
Then today, on a whim, I checked my bank account balance. It said I had a lot of money. This was both surprising and alarming, because the vast sum of money I had in it, I had already designated for paying off my student loan this month, and in fact had thought I succeeded in that. I called them today, at quarter to five and asked if the payment had in fact gone through and they told me... drumroll... No. It hadn't. Something about the account number being wrong.
But had they told me or notified me in any way? No.
I was just going to proceed under the assumption that all was well until I got an angry letter from them, apparently. Good thing I checked today, and not at minute too soon.
I got back into my account and tried desperately to right things. I resubmitted a vast sum of money to them and got a screen telling me that my payement would be processed as paid today since it wasn't five yet, but as I now know from my previous experience that could be totally useless if I have mistyped a number or have some kind of incorrect account info.
ARGH!
Why didn't they notify me?! Why?!
You know what? The important thing is now I know that doesn't work. And I've learned- if I have a suspiciously large amount of money in the bank for too long, something has probably gone wrong and I should see to it.
Even if the worst happens and I get in trouble for paying this stupid thing late, I have learned a valuable, painful, costly lesson. Even if I don't get dinged for cash, this is playing merry hell with my nerves. I don't know how I'm going to eat that delicious dinner I smell cooking right now. Argh... Frustration.
Fear.
Unhappiness.

Improv + packages= NOT cool...

Okay, I have to rant here because if I do it in real life it'll get messy. WTF...
I asked my parents to send me some uniform items that I had to ship to them in the messy/confused process of moving myself and all my earthly goods to Ft. SINYF. I gave them specifics- coveralls, NWUs, ballcap. Nothing more, less or other, please. Then I remembered that I still had a package I was waiting for- a small one that I'd had sent to them. It was a custom made keychain. I asked for that to be included. For some reason unbeknownst to God or man, my dad thought I needed my crocs.
Let me elaborate on these crocs. They are a hideous shade of green- like Kitchenaid green. I bought them for about five dollars when they were no longer the hip thing. I bought them not because they ever were the hip thing, but because I was going off to summer camp and needed some shower shoes. Recap: they are cheap, hideous and not-cool. Why the hell did he feel the need to add them to the package and NOT my keychain?
Noobody knows...
I'm not happy about this. I called and asked my mom if I'd mentioned crocs at any point in the list-making process and she said no, but that Dad thought that I needed them. My dad has a history of thinking I need things that I have no earthly use for. He has the best intentions but it drives me nuts when his thoughtfulness is so completely screwy. I mean, I will never forget what happened when I was in first grade.
I was not a fan of breakfast at that age, I never really had time for it, I thought. A large part of the morning was Mom running a comb through my hair to get all the knots out and braid it so I could go to school looking halfway decent. I didn't need or want breakfast. At all. I might be persuaded to eat some oatmeal but that was it. My dad was concerned.
It was a day like any other. I picked up my pink backpack with my name written on it in shaky red sharpie and headed off for school. My lunch was in my lunch box and I was a relatively happy camper. I took the bus to school, stuffing my backpack between me and the side of the bus for added comfort. I dropped said backpack a few times at school because I was a clumsy kid, and then I hung it up and forgot about it until it was time to go home. And then the most irritating kid in my class, a white-blond twerp who probably thought that 'tact' was something you used to put up posters said "Hey, your backpack pooped!"
I stared at the nasty looking brownish smear on my beautiful pink backpack and a horrible feeling filled me. Something of mine was defaced, and not by me! The injustice of it all hit me like a hammer. I'd ruined things on my own more than once. I regretted those things, I felt so miserable when that happened, but it was my fault, I'd been the sole instigator. That another person with the best of intentions but the very worst of execution had ruined one of my things brought little me perilously close to tears. I came home and yelled at my dad for ruining my backpack. Now I feel a little bit bad about that, but still kind of not. If he'd treated me like a grownup, asked me if I wanted breakfast, what I'd like for breakfast, if I minded if he packed me a breakfast, I would have told him: "I would love some awesome organic dry cereal, or maybe a granola bar. That would be very yummy. You can put it in my lunch box and I'll eat it on the bus."
But there was no asking. There was no communication there was just a perceived problem and a messy, unfortunate solution, because I was a child.
When stuff like this whole package shebang happens, I feel like a child again. And I hate it with every fiber of my being.
Update: This post was going to languish forever in my 'edit posts' page. I thought I'd overcome my baser nature and decided to give the parents a pass as they're old and senile and if you want anything done right you've got to do it yourself. I was going to do that until I opened the other bags in the package.
They sent me a Navy ballcap all right. A Navy ballcap with an elastic headband and '1-800 Navy' embroidered on the back of it. I don't remember getting it from my recruiter but it probably came in my Navy backpack that I got for free after signing up. That was the straw that pretty much broke the camel's back. We'd packed all my earthly goods into four boxes that we shipped (at their expense, so I should try very hard to be more charitable) to their house. In one of those damn boxes is my actual Navy ballcap, the one I went through Battlestations to get. I know it's not a trident. I know it could be worse- they could have mailed me my 'Recruit' ballcap. They could have... I dunno. It's just so damn frustrating. I was really looking forward to getting to wear my coveralls at long, long last, but no such damn luck. I called, ready to give them a piece of my mind, but the phone rang and rang, so I called Tbro instead and ranted to him. He told me (pretty nicely) to quit whining and that he'd call and ask them about sending me my ballcap... at this point I think I may just buy a damn command ballcap. Or forget about it until the fourday when I can go and get my damn ballcap. I just want to throw a temper tantrum. This is as close as I'll get to doing that. I desperately want to though, I'm so pissed off that I'm not sure this is going to be enough. I seriously want to go out there and start hitting things.
Oh- and one final insult. In another well-intentioned but completely stupid gesture, they sent me my purse. I didn't ask for it. I didn't want it. I have TWO damn purses out here, and none of the THREE that I have now is within the damn regs. Not a single flipping one. I've had it, I've had it, I really would like to run around screaming now. I know, I sound like a complete and total ingrate, but I don't care. I'm so sick of being treated like a child. I know, part of the way to avoid being treated like a child is to stop acting like one. I know that having the temper tantrum I want so desperately right now would be part of acting like a child. I know I need to get everything I own from their place because right now that's still a dependence on them- free storage. I just don't want to move the books! They need to stay somewhere temperate and safe. I don't know what to do. I can't have that much stuff. I know I'll be able to downsize once I get there. I'm thinking of pulling everything that I hate but have kept because of Mom or another relative and taking it to the thrift store. Get rid of the ugly, get rid of the guilt, get a good dinner afterwards. I think that's a pretty awesome plan.
I hate improv in packages.
Gentle readership, it is HIGHLY unlikely I'll ever ask you to send me random crap that I've left at your house. And honestly, since you're not family and you don't treat me like a child, if you DID send me the wrong stuff, I'd be sad, but I wouldn't be pissed like this. Honestly.
And if you ever just want to send me random stuff, that's cool too. I gladly accept books, sweets and cash. ;)

Here a chief, there a chief, everywhere a chief-chief...

Ack. So I feel stupid but I think I can blame it on the near-heatstroke.
Today I had to do lots of stuff at the annoying place. Actually I didn't even have that much I had to do, but it took a REALLY long time. I was supposed to get a ride back with some guys instead of having to walk back across base. I got abandoned though. I was pretty pissed too, especially since it took me a while to figure this out because I didn't have my phone on me and couldn't call them to see where the hell they were. So after waiting about twenty minutes, I gave up and hiked back across base. Ft. SINYF is not like Sunny Point. Sunny Point was built on a fairly impressive hill but everything isn't that far away- it's just UP. On Ft. SINYF, everything is far apart. I feel for the Army newbs. Their life must really suck...
Anyway, I managed to get across base without dying of heatstroke only to present a copy of my Very Important Chit to the wrong Chief...
I should have realised there was something wrong when I saw that he was a chief not a senior chief. And I should have realized I was in the wrong building. Should have. Didn't. I blame the heatstroke. After profuse apologies, I made my escape. I really hope that chief doesn't remember I was also the idiot who turned up at oh-dark-thirty, hella early for a weigh in... I guess none of it is a very big deal. I mean, I wasted less than a minute of his time.
It's just I hate feeling stupid. I hate not knowing who I'm supposed to talk to or why.
I'd like to add in my own defence here that I was told to give this VIC to this senior RIGHT AFTER the run at morning PT. In my humble opinion, I think I did good remembering anything at all. It's usually all a blur until I get some water and walk around for a bit. Oh- I found a way to beat the morning run blues too! If it's at-your-own-pace, skip the five minute break and just start rolling. It's very psychologically satisfying to not be the dead-last person sometimes, and to not hold up the works. And to think for a few dizzy seconds that you managed to run the whole damn two miles and change in 16.__. In reality it was like 21 something. But that's not bad. And I got further without stopping this time than I did last time. Got all the way to the second corner! My goal for Saturday morning or Sunday evening is to the Fitness center!