Wednesday, March 28, 2012

What It Means When...

When all you feel is down when you write When a blog seems vindictive and full of a past that needs let go When your blog is read by people who don't have lives, and just want to criticize yours If those things are true, it's probably time to end your blog. Good luck, readers, and the best of life to you.

Saturday, March 17, 2012

Completing the Puzzle

When the pieces

Came together, that last stubborn cardboard tease

Fell into place with a smug click

Smirking, "took you long enough

To find me"

I was awestruck.

I shook my head,

Barely able to believe

All the time spent, made me lose sight

Of the bigger picture

Caught up in sorting each scenario

Inside the entire scene.

But now it's there,

And I see the outcome

Of the endless task I undertook

And it has an end,

May have taken a while to get here

All the more reason to celebrate.

I gently glue

All the pieces into a frame

Mentally name this project

"A Season of Joyful Tragedy"

Hang it on the wall of learned lessons

And dive in on the next puzzle.

Published with Blogger-droid v2.0.4

Friday, March 16, 2012


His piercing blue eyes smile. Yes, eyes can actually laugh, and his do, as he makes a joke I'd love to roll my eyes at but I don't. As his arms encircle my body, his soft baritone voice assures me that I have his full affections, and perhaps always will.

Sometimes I think about all the girls he used to date, and I wonder how he slipped through all those adolescent fingers, until he came to mine. I brush my hands through his hair, and I'm glad that it's my privilege to hold him, to claim this amazing man as mine. Somehow, by a genius stroke of luck, I got the best gift life could offer me. In our mid twenties, it's a bit rare to find such a perfect match. I'd think all the good, handsome men would be snapped up quickly. But here I am, looking at the best of them all, inside and out.

When we first talked, it was with trepidation. I had meet him before. Tall, striking and quiet, my first impression of him was that he was sullen and proud. His lip ring and gauges made him look like a rebel sailor. He even grew his hair a little long and spiked it, something Navy men don't do. I was charmed, but not in the mood for a relationship, and pretty sure he was very taken.

But nope! He turned out to be interested in me, a thought I could hardly fathom. I don't see a lot of guys whose looks impress me, and the ones I do are often arrogant and rarely possess a good personality.

A good persona is definitely what he has. His compliments are many and sincere. My absolute favorite quality of his is that he can make me laugh when I'm set on having a low mood. If I'm anxious or embarrassed, he can put me at ease naturally, I'm a way no one has ever been able to. And he devotes generous, sweet words and gestures to me every day.

I realize some people aren't going to be impressed. But it's not necessary to post about it here. Because I'm not going to listen. I know I said kind things about other guys on this blog, and made it sound like things were great. But I was never so sure as I am now that I'm in the company of the man who is my near perfect match.

We like to stay up and watch seasons of 24. We cook amazing meals together. On nice days, we walk for miles and talk about our goals. Sometimes we just go on adventures. He works on our cars, and talks pretty constantly about the Mazda 3 that he wants to trade his mustang in for, one day. At night, we whisper about K.R.M. And sometimes, we hold each other as tightly as we can and hope that we'll never have to let go.

Yup, 2012 is my lucky year. The year that is changing my life from an average struggle to a beautiful adventure that I don't want to ever end.

Published with Blogger-droid v2.0.4

Thursday, March 15, 2012


Well, This is my first time blogging with an IPad! And, so far it's pretty super. The little on-screen keyboard works just like a real one. Not really what this post is about, but... I thought you would enjoy hearing about my fun new toy. I got it to help me publish pictures from my camera, and so far it far exceeds my expectations. Next week, our command has some special operations going on for about five days. The best thing about this is that I get an extended weekend. It will be the first since Christmas, and a much needed one at that. Since it has been in the upper eighties all week, I'm planning on hanging at the beach all weekend, getting some R & R, and prepping my house for a mom visit!!! Thats right, I finally talked my mom into coming to Florida for spring break. Who wouldn't Kill for that? Five days in paradise, pretty much. Spending time with the kid, drinking, going out, meeting a bunch of sailors, tanning every day, good southern food and reggae music. It should be a blast. I'm bursting with excitement. She got the tickets, and we both went wow, it's actually gonna happen. Yes! Let's hope Gabe is still here by then and can meet mom. This morning I took the E-4 advancement test. It was six in the morning when we started the test, and I finished at eight thirty. Not shabby... I think I got a decent score. The bad thing is that now I have to wait for may for the scores to come out. Here's hoping...I did get my NIOC ribbon, rocker, patch, and some other little Decors for my uniform. I really enjoy the rewards system of the military. :) Want to know what else in the military I love? Next month I should be getting LASIK eye surgery! The navy is paying for corrective surgery so I no longer have to wear contacts. This has me beside myself, but that's not all... This summer I'm also getting braces, courtesy of the navy. It's good to get all this out of the way while it's free, along with a bachelor degree and some extra schooling, not to mention great job training and skills for everyday managements and goal processing. This is by far the best job I could dream of for this time in my life. A few weeks ago, Gabe and I went to the local pet store. We met my future puppy, a little st Charles dog. He was absolutely the cutest thing I ever saw, cuddled up against us with sleepy eyes and little droopy ears... I want the baby so bad! I can't get him right now, I'm getting ready to go on a ship. But one day! Oh yeah. I might be getting re-stationed elsewhere in a few months. In fact, very likely. San Diego and Hawaii are my two top ports, but Japan is being offered as well. I'll keep you updated on that. And, that is all... Early day tomorrow,nfollowed by a weekend in which I shall finish a post I've been working on for a while, and hopefully some pictures took...!

Inside My Head, With a Rush of Golden Wings

First beach day of the season! Today after work, Gabe and I headed to Perdido Keys and set up camp, as it were. We have a public beach here, completely full of tourists and visiting grandkids, and probably a few gallons of pee in the water thanks to diapers, not little swimmers...but I live closer to a lovely private beach. The only drawback is that monstrous jellyfish are always washing up on shore, which is awesome, until you go skinny dipping in the dark. Even then, they are pretty cool, glowing and dancing around you. Just the horrific sting and welting are bad enough to make you wary of these mysterious wonders.

Published with Blogger-droid v2.0.4

Sunday, March 11, 2012

To a Man I Promised

This is more of an obligatory post, from my troubled soul. Normally if brought up, I would call this a closed subject. No one wants to bring up their past continually, relive it every time they get a chance. (well, I know a few people who do. But not me.) However, I have found that when something I'd like to deal with is struggled through on this blog, it brings closure to my mind and the matter is laid to rest.

Many things will probably never be understood to our full satisfaction. I know there are people, who I care about, who are left not knowing what happened in the event of one certain relationship that was supposed to last a lot longer than a year. Even for myself, and him, some things won't ever make sense. Not everything is black and white when you blur the lines with something as muddy as a breakup. If I could whip out a full confessional, and know that we would both only speak truth as we reflected on our history together, then I would be more hopeful for all the questions being laid to rest. But we are human and individuals, and too complex for a simple explanation. We may not even realize the amount of blame we each share in this situation. But I do my best to own up to my share of faults. There are more than faults, though, to break a contact such as marriage.

Family. This is the big one I want to address. Yeah, it's a really uncomfortable topic. I know my family is crazy. And very human. And a lot of the time, hard for you to put up with. But your grandma once shared a piece of wisdom with me that hit home, though she might not like the way I took it. She said that a partner may talk poorly about his or her parents in a moment of frustration, but the other partner must never talk badly about the same. You respect your partner's family even if they make you angry at times. That didn't happen. I always felt the need to 'lose my family' to make you happy. You really insulted my mom and sisters, and they reacted to that. In a really dramatic way. It forced me to make a choice that I regretted, and still do. You degraded my family to a place that I'm still working to heal.

And you told me that your family was the only family you would allow to see our kids, should we have them. That hurt. Your family has it together a lot more than mine, you insisted. Yeah, they seem to. But I was a foreigner. Some of them really tried, I know and it hurts to know that. Because as much as I appreciated the efforts, I always felt judged. I was the pretty one, but not smart like Kathy, not successful like everyone else... Nothing I did was right, and I heard about it. I'm not a confrontational woman, and I'm usually judged for that by women who are. It was a painful process, trying to earn my way into a group of people who obviously thought I was wrong for you. I guess they were right.

The men of your family were another story. I respect very few older gentlemen, and your dad and grandpa were among them early on. I grew up longing to trust men in the father role, and that was hard to come by in my childhood. I didn't feel judged, except by your brother, but instead I actually cared about your family because of the kindness I was shown by the fathers. So when you told me that your dad instantly blamed me for everything when he had heard nothing yet? Yeah, I was more than a little crushed. But that's an easy fix, because I was a fool to let my guard down and I can put it right back up.

Next: the Navy. This one seems to be a big one too. I kept hearing that boot camp visibly changes you physically, mentally, and emotionally. I scoffed a little because I went in older than your typical 18 year old recruit. I expected to gain some muscle, maybe improve some work ethic, but that was all. As we can both admit, that was not the case. I gained confidence in myself that I never, ever had. Confidence that you don't understand, and it scared and angered you. I came out if those 8 Weeks with a sense of purpose, direction, pride, and integrity. One if the first things I realized was that the things I'd been letting go in our relationship needed addressed. You didn't like that. I think if you had been able to go through what I did, things might have been drastically different for you. I wish you could go to boot camp. What I have from it, I want to see so badly in you.

Because that was another huge detriment. You talked so badly about yourself, I really felt you needed more help than I could offer. Your insecurity was such that I list all my guy friends and any close friends because of it. You felt threatened by girl friends even, that I would chose them emotionally, when you needed to be all I could ever need. That's not healthy. It also made it hard to see you as an equal. When you would say I was so much smarter than you, and more popular, and better in every way, it just made me sad, that you couldn't value yourself, and the more you enveloped that attitude, the more true it became. You let yourself go, and I saw the lack of motivation, caring. You didn't care about your grades, your social life, anything, as long as you didn't lose me. I can't handle that responsibility. I can't be what you needed. I don't want to take the blame for you doing out of college, but you handed me that blame anyway. And when you lost motivation that I had never lost, even when going through what most people would call hell, it almost made me feel stringer than you. Which is an awful thing to feel when you want your partner to be a man.

I guess there are other factors, enough to write a book. But those are the ones that I never confronted that mean the most and have been on my mind. I want so much to move on, and for you to have that luxury. That's why I dealt with the issue so firmly a few months ago. The carrying on was pulling us both into a depression. And you were becoming something I never knew you had in you. Something cruel, fake, and really hard to watch. I hope that you can work out your problems. When I told you, several times, how I was afraid things wouldn't work out, you assured me it was worth the risk to you, that you would let me go if it didn't work out, and that you only hoped we could at least still talk once it was over. I don't know. It could take years to be over. But at least for now we can take advantage of being young. And seize new opportunities. Both of us.

Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Campbell Compound Blues

What was supposed to happen:

A young Christian girl, home grown in the heart of Nebraska, sent to aid a sweety New Zealander with her heart mission of encouraging young mothers to lead a life of joy and happiness. My job was to help her ministry flourish, while providing a submissive, cheerful countenance and a willingness to serve her husband and children. It was the ideal situation; sheltered, volunteer work, biblical training, a woman of God serving men and their helpmeets.

What really happened:
Mr. Colin Campbell is used to getting his own way. He really doesn't question his position in the house. He simply assumes a full power authority, including over his wife, and treats everyone equally: like his attendants. He actually believes that anything he wants, he can order to happen and it will!

After church one day, I passed out with dizziness and fatigue. I was taken to the er, unconscious. As I slowly came to, I heard Mr. Campbell, loudly informing the doctors and nurses that this was all an act, that I was seeking attention and nothing more. He roughly shook me awake and ordered me out of the bed. Against the doctor's incredulous protests, I stumbled out to his car. He took me to his house, telling me that my next deceptive move would be faking a pregnancy. I was too out of it to protest his treatment, so he took that as a willing confession. I slept fourteen hours at his place, waking up in terror because I had somehow forgotten to breathe.

Mrs. Campbell is a very firm believer in the submissive role of the wife. I saw her, many times, come to Colin with a most valid point, only to be thoroughly shot down and treated like a nuisance. Her reaction to that was to quietly do her husband's will, and praise him for his keen mind. When he obviously knew nothing about a subject, say about a suicidal teen who just wanted to be believed, he would come to his own conclusion about what was really wrong. If the teen complained about her father abusing her, he instantly informed her that her misery was caused by her rebellion toward her father. No dad is perfect, and a girl should never question him. Because he is working under God's authority. Even if that means fingering his daughter in the night.

The Campbell kids. Namely, the girls... The girls all lived on their dad's land. And I got to know Pearl and Serene the best. Specifically Pearl. Serene was a very flaky, lively woman with way too much responsibility that she ignored. Several times I watched her 6 year old girl drop baby boy on his head, or her 2 year old boy step on nails and go unattended for most of the day. I stayed away from her house because horror was inevitable there.

I lived with Pearl, though. She was the most modern of the sisters. I wore her jeans and shorts, thrilled to wear pants for the first time in years. I watched star trek with her boys, and converted them into little trekkies. Her husband, a quiet, agreeable man, accepted me as one of his own little brood. I loved him.

But the girls were obsessed with their dad. In a really creepy way. One night, we went to supper at Colin and Nancy's. After supper, while Charlie (Pearl's husband) was out with the kids playing, Pearl curled up on her father's layup and kissed him on the lips. She lay in his lap for several minutes. I felt sick, and later asked her why she did that as a grown woman. She explained that although she WAS a mother now, she was still her dad's little girl, and she loved to please him by letting him hold his beautiful daughter. I wondered if it was strange that I felt so disturbed, but I never got over that.

When Colin decided that I was a habitual liar, he told the girls that I had infiltrated their children's pure minds and that they would do well to catch every lie the kids told, because the devil was now in the camp. And so I watched, as Pearl's 11 year old daughter, Serene's 8 year old son, and 6 year old girl were severely punished for presumed lies. Pearl's daughter agreed to do the dishes. When she got sidetracked, Pearl found her, called her a liar, and punished her. The daughter, one of the sweetest children I ever met, was very broken and confused-she hadn't lied, or hadn't meant to. And when Serene's son ran through her garden, she screamed that he could not go on a weekend outing planned Weeks before with his dad. He protested, saying he hadn't been running through to play, he was catching his brother. She then accused him of lying. His dad stripped him naked and beat him for several minutes. I was in shock with the brutality of the punishment, and all because of me. Or so Colin made it seem.

Evangeline was just...psycho. I didn't dare go near her house alone. Her pet wolf, Congo, has been known to bite the children, let alone adults. I once observed him kill Pearl's daughter's Dalmatian, as an 8 month pregnant Vangie danced in and out of the fight, pulling them apart with her bare hands, dogs snapping at her swollen belly. Inside her house was insane. She had a one room house. Eleven children! A king-sized bunk bed next to the kitchen sink. Mom, dad, and baby slept in the bottom bunk, and ALL ten siblings shared the top. She dominated her quiet husband, and raised her boys to be fierce, judgmental, and superior. The boys often struck their younger sister when they deemed she wasn't watching the baby well enough. It was seriously like stepping into a third world country. I always left in a daze, thankful for a bed of my own and a sense of personal space.

The  Campbells gave me quite an experience. The only person who treated me kindly was Charlie, and he was looked down on by everyone except Pearl. A few years later, in an interview, Colin described me as disturbed, mentally, a psychological liar, needing help, and yet he NEVER once attempted to give me any help while I was under his roof. He said that I had no respect for my father, but refused to believe me when I gave a very valid reason not to respect him. He pronounced himself one of the saaviest preachers of his time. Now he's producing a series of articles called Meat for Men. Heh heh.. He doesn't get out much.

The end.

Thursday, February 23, 2012

A Most Necessary Introduction

Sometimes, when I'm feeling really good about something, I don't write about it. It's almost like some superstitious idea, that if I focus on the good, it will suddenly vanish into the depths of an evil presence that wishes me nothing but bad. But every now and then, I will lay aside my concerns and write. I write down the things I don't want to forget. I write them, and if people want to judge me, that's their choice and I am unconcerned with their problems.

Something good happened to me. Something beautiful. Unexpected. I made a new friend. An unlikely friend. Someone who brings a smile to my face and comfort to my soul.

I'm not one for sharing everything about my friends on here. Colton got a lot of negative attention when I mentioned him. And I know, some people just can't understand how Aaron and I went wrong. But you weren't there. If you were, you would have been hesitant. I know. I didn't claim to know what I was doing. I still don't. But I claim to know myself a whole lot better than I did.

And I know that I trust my colors. My new friend has colors that are tinted golden. He's funny, he's a little strange. And he knows what to say to make me happy. He knows how to reassure me when I'm worried. He's smart. We think a lot alike, and we enjoy each other's company.

I wrote, because I'm not sure how to say this, but he is a good thing in my life. I'd love to keep him all to myself, but part of me is this blog, and people wonder why he hasn't been on it. So here is the introduction, and rest assured: now that's out of the way, you'll be hearing a bit more about him. Be nice.

Monday, February 20, 2012

The Enabler

Here I am, preaching equality.

But I'm the biggest hypocrite if I don't confess my weakness.

I enable men to hit me.

The concept of sexism is new. I don't know if I believe men shouldn't hit women but can hit other men. I don't know. I'm young on the scene. But I can say this with experience, it doesn't feel good to be hit. It's demeaning, it's sometimes painful, and it breaks a little piece of the trust you should have for a man you love.

There have been two occasions in which I have hit a man in anger. One was my stepfather. When he struck me in my nineteenth year, for the first time in several months, I struck back. All the rage for what he had done to my mother, my sweet sister, my tiny brother, was empowering my fists. And when Aaron humiliated me in front of a crowd of people, in a really terrible manner, I slapped him. Not hard. It shocked him, and me. I felt awful for doing it.

But now a new, terrible fear has come to light. Tonight, I realized that every partner I've had, except one, has hit, punched, or otherwise struck me. And I absolutely make excuses for them. I shouldn't have scared him with my clumsy banging. I should watch my words-of course he would hit me after being insulted! And eventually, I just expect it, because I get it from almost every guy I endear to.

Take my first boyfriend. He would strike me, then suddenly tear up and apologize. He would tell me how his dad had fits of rage, ripping holes in things, and compare himself. Only, his dad never hit a girl. He became progressively more willing to hit me. If I did something he didn't like during sex, I would be roughly informed not to do it. He was a dear, sweet guy to me other than that little habit he formed, because I let him.

I dated a man named John. Actually, John was very much a boy. A deeply disturbed boy with a dark past. He told me how much he hated man who hit girls, and wanted to kill them.
One day, I was in the passenger seat of my car. I was moving my feet in time with the radio. One of my shoes accidently struck the dashboard. Before I knew what had happened, John had reached over and struck my leg. Hard. I looked up in shock, and saw his eyes mirroring mine. He looked at that moment like he hated himself. I heard myself telling him I was okay, that it hadn't hurt, and not to worry. His expression didn't change. He dropped me off at home and I hoped some time alone would help him get over the hurt he had suffered.

But guess what? By the end of that summer, John had struck me three more times. I wore bruises on my arm in the shape of his hand for over a week. And he wasn't making excuses like my ex had. His face turned passive, uncaring, and I think that's when he lost respect for me.

Tonight, I was reminded that men really don't have a good enough reason to hit a girl. It shook me to hear that I don't deserve that treatment, no matter what I did. But then I remembered how both of those men were gentle and sweet, and by the time we parted, they had become hardened and merciless.

Maybe I deserve to be hit, after all.

Sunday, February 12, 2012

On Dreaming

Have you ever heard an awesome story about something someone did and want to make that experience your own? Or have you watched a show or movie and felt like you'd give anything to jump through the screen, like Mary Poppins into a sidewalk chalk picture, and become a character there?

I have. My favorite is looking in a dream home magazine, spotting a lodge in Colorado somewhere with fireplaces and hot tubs and lots of bay windows, and imagining that I was snowed in in one. I'd love to go skiing sometime, just to be able to spend a night in a lodge and drink hot cocoa while wearing my favorite cozy outfit. I even know that I would love to have my pals Emily and Robert along on that specific adventure.

It would be easy to lose yourself in the dreams you create. When the movie Avatar was released in 3D and IMax, there was a flurry of news reports about people committing suicide after watching the film. The world of Pandora seems to be a utopia in a world of really discontented workers.

It's so sad to realize that people go to work every day for the sole purpose of collecting a paycheck to support themselves. Such an overwhelming number of citizens in this country despise their careers, but believe they have no choice but to slave away the best years of their lives. They don't have a passion for what they do. There is no pride in a cause that changes the world, and they are a part of it. To me, that is a fruitless and very desolate way to live. So many hours are spent at work, that it's really almost half, if not more, of your livelihood.

I joined the Navy. Not for everyone. It's hard. I can't just call in sick, ever. I'm thousands of miles away from my loved ones. My friends here aren't here to stay. In three years or less, I'll be uprooted and start a tour elsewhere. I have to be at work early in the morning.

But I can say this. I wear my uniform with pride. I own a set of dog tags that remind me that my job is the one I used to envy, that sets my patriotic heart on boom. I'm immersed in training and working out to stay fit for call of duty. I stand watchful for threats to my loved ones and I'm their protector. My job is the greatest thing that ever happened to me.

When someone can honestly say that about their job, then they are set for some rich and happy years. It's what I wish for my little sister. It's what I hope for the tired old lady at the dollar store down the street. It's a joy to talk to my seamstress and know that she is doing something she loves. It's the American dream, baby! If you have the opportunity and the motivation, you CAN achieve success! I want my sister to realize that, because I love her and would like to see her finally find herself and love who she is-a unique person, like me, but nothing like me! But every bit as valuable and successful.

Wouldn't you love to love who you turn out to be? Isn't it great to think your dream can come true-it's not a fairy tale? It's all about seeing what you want, and setting your goals to work towards that dream.

'Great it is to dream the dream
When you stand in youth by the starry stream
But a greater thing to fight life through
And to say, "The dream is true."'
-Joel Osteen

Saturday, February 11, 2012

Some People Are Dumb.

Sometimes people are really dumb.

I'm watching a show, currently, called Dance Moms. The reason i'm watching it is because all the women on it are absolute bitches. The funny part is that I'm pretty sure they have no idea how dumb they are looking to all of America. (and any other country who might tune in.) These ladies have little girls who dance for hours a day on this dance team. The girls are all really sweet, really good friends. The moms are the ones who fight like little kids! They all scream at a mom if her kid gets a solo. Then they all pay the fat dance teacher favors to try and buy their kid a solo, but it doesn't work. I'm addicted to the show because it gets more dramatic every episode. I'm pretty sure this Tuesday one of the moms is going to hit this other mom and get her kid kicked off the dance team.

But I don't have to watch this show to get my dose of dumb. I was at the mall today with my boyfriend Gabe. We were shopping for some dress shirts for him. (we found some really nice ones.) I walked by a young couple, like probably college age. The girl picked up some ugly guy shorts and said, "ew, look at these really short shorts, haha..." And the guy said, "I would wear those shorts if you wanted me to! I would wear them in front of a whole crowd, proudly!" That was a pretty dumb thing to promise. I left laughing, because I was pretty sure I saw an evil glint in his girlfriend's eye.

You don't even have to look hard to find dumb people that you know. I met a guy in boot camp who was really fun to tease. I don't usually poke fun at other's expense, but in boot camp, you get torn down so much that if you don't bring someone else down sometimes, you might just cry the whole time. This boy was named Scott. He looked like the Pillsbury dough boy. When he got mad, he turned very red. He got mad super easily. One time he was mocking some other recruits. They were talking at meal time. At boot camp, you don't talk at the table. He saw an RDC and started telling him, "ha, those shitbags won't shut up!" He said that like six times. Then the RDC made him do pushups for talking. When he sat back down, I laughed at him for being dumb. He turned red and flipped me off. Guess who had to do a million more pushups?

Sometimes, it's not too hard to be dumb myself. Last year, I thought that men ejaculated the same color as their skin. Last month, I brushed my teeth with shoe polish. Last week in the shower, I whipped my hair back and forth, cause the song was on, and I fell out of the shower and hit my head. I bet Willow Smith was never that dumb. Last night I scared myself when I touched my head in the theater and thought someone else touched me.

Today I was making dinner. I put a pot of water on to boil. After about twenty minutes, I noticed that I had turned on the wrong side of the stove top.

Some people are really dumb.

What's In the Box?

Oh look,
Beneath the flap tops
Sits a tiny girl.
Huddled in a corner
Clutching her knees
Eyes brimming with unshed tears.

You forgot
She was placed there
Kept safe from the outside
You know, the world you lived.
While you were groped
She was safe in here
In the darkest and safest place she knew.

Every time
Dad found you, and held you
She hid in the box
Pulled the top closed
And covered her ears
She sang a lone melody
And shut out the sound of your cries.

And now
You have become a dead thing
A memory is all that's left
And a faint one at that
Poor, pathetic child
You rest now, with my tears as your somber tribute

But the little girl, kept safely away in the box?
She is alive, and strong.
Laughing now, and brilliantly happy
No longer in the box that protected her,

But living inside of me.

Song of a Rebel

I knew I shouldn't open my mouth. It wasn't going to help matters any way I looked at it. But I heard myself saying it anyway. "You think we're better than the Heimeses and Metcalfs, don't you?"

My dad's mouth dropped open. "Of course not!" He sputtered, horrified. Of course, he'd just spent the last half hour patiently explaining why I couldn't spend time with their children. Unlike us, these other homeschool, Christian families weren't enlightened and aware of the importance of family, and of the male position of authority in the family structure. These families allowed their daughters to work jobs in the secular community, spends time with young people their own age, and even apply to college and attend youth group.

But I couldn't accept the things I was being taught. I was the challenger, the black sheep. My dad spent hours trying to teach me, but I would find so many flaws with his viewpoint. The problem was that I could see right through what he said. Nothing he believed was thought through. He would listen to his sermons on cassette tape, like the rules he heard, and enforce them without knowing what the reasoning was for applying that teaching. It drove me crazy. Mom would plead with me to just let dad be right, but I couldn't just settle, no mater how hard I tried.

That continued into my college years. I began to question each new viewpoint I came across. At first my style was raw, abrasive, and put people on the defense instantly. When I started English classes, I met a professor who changed my life. In his class, I learned to debate, to approach the table with an open mind, and to exchange respect with all my opponents. The entire class often went over our hour long class time, discussing the environment, governments, religion, and much more.

All this leads up to a revelation I made this past month. I met the Commanding Officer of my new station a few weeks ago. His style instantly won my admiration. He likes to find ways to make things better. The Navy has many customs and practices that are done a certain way just because they've been that way for decades. But if you can find a better way to do them, why the hell not? So he challenges young sailors to constantly look for ways to improve ourselves, the way we do our job, and the command in general. That's the style of living I do best.

A lot of times, challenging age old customs or beliefs can be very uncomfortable. That's why out country is so slow at stamping out discrimination. One of the things I've challenged that met the most opposition was that of marriage. I don't understand the point of it. Which is probably why I was so bad at it. I see it as a kind of risky business. I mean two people, often not old enough to be fully developed, swear on oath to be everything the other needs, for LIFE!!Rather a tall order, to put it lightly! I don't know where the practice of marriage originated, but it is a hard and fast promise that really upsets especially the older generations if broken. I'd rather date for life, same wonderful partner without the piece of paper that suddenly binds you hats and fast, no matter how your feelings may change down the road.

Another idea I've challenged is that of our need for organized religion. It's a bit of a risk, me bringing this up. I have done relationships that I really value, and my view on this subject, sadly, could compromise those friendships if one of those friends should stumble on this. But the fact that religion, an idea, could have that strong a hold over anyone, scares me a lot. I have a soldier friend whose family nearly disowned him because he disapproved of Tim Tebow's extravagant displays of worship on the field. Where I stand right now is on the belief that if religion helps you reach your goals that otherwise you may not have had the motivation to achieve, than by all means, embrace that. Believe it! But in my opinion, religion doesn't work for everyone. I'm not against religion or God! It's just not something that benefits me in ANY way. If that changes down the road, I'll be the first to convert and the most faithful follower you'll know. But I respect you, and it would be nice if you respected me in return.

Now, the most unpopular part of living your life trying new things is that you are, without a doubt, going to fail sometimes. Probably a lot. But watch me blow your mind: failure, in my opinion, is excellent. It means you aren't just quietly doing what you are told to do! Another huge lesson the Navy is currently teaching me is that you need to know failure in order to achieve success. In fact, the way the system works, you are pretty much set up to fail at some of the things you do, simply because  it's known to build character and grow you. So maybe, just maybe, you should feel a little content with your failures. I certainly am learning to.

So, in summary, I guess I'm a rebel. Always have been. As a four year old, trying to find ways around my grandma's direct rules, I was challenging what was, against popular acceptance. And that's how I want to live. Not settling for the way things have always been. That's how we become a stagnant people. No, really living is finding new ways to think and live, even if you make some mistakes on the road to get there. At the very least, you can rest assured that your life will never feel unlived or dull. You've got one short life to live. Live it dangerously and freely.

Sunday, January 29, 2012

The Power of I Love You

"I love you,"
He grinned, as he held the keys
To my car.
The one he routinely took the liberty
Of calling his car.
He drive it more than I did
Of course he drove me to dinner
Which I paid for
Because I loved him too.

"I love you.."
He breathed into my neck
As he sank himself deep
Inside of me
Minus a condom
He loved that too
No worries as far as he cared
He wouldn't contribute
If anything did happen.
So I was lucky it didn't.

'I love you'
Something I don't say
Because it's got the power
To inspire life, and death
Say it to someone
Who deserves it
Unless you mean it
Then guard that love

"I love you!"
He exclaimed
"let's get married."
My heart compromised
I knew he never cared
He wanted the extra money
Not me.
I was the liability
He made it very clear
And here I am.
Wondering why I believed
The first "I love you."

Monday, January 23, 2012

Inside My Head With a Shot of Malibu

So, it's January. Of 2012. And I'm having an excellent year. Florida forgot that we had a winter season, so it opted for 70 degree weather with plenty of sunshine.

The darker side of me has finally quieted down. At night it still haunts me on occasion. I'll dream of the perfect summer, how it went so wrong in the end, and wake up torn apart and shaking. On those mornings, I choose to work out until the pain subsides. But those occasions are fading into history.

I have a lot of gratitude towards Aaron, although I can't really express it right now. He was a solid friend while I was
like a wave in the sea. I miss that stability sometimes, and hope that he can find his way back to that part of himself. Maybe I regret rushing into marriage, but his friendship I'll always be glad I experienced. Maybe I'll find forgiveness somewhere down the road.

I find it really disconcerting how little respect some people have for
another person and their beliefs. With Tim Tebow making news every week with his stance for Christ, I've been forced to face the staunch loyalty of Christians to their god and my own past. I'm not proud if that stage in my life. I was a very judgmental teen, and it never crossed my mind that I was just another blot in the stain of humanity. I always just knew I was better. That mindset angers me now, and I'm sorry I ever entertained it.

Now, I'm not actually the opposite of what I was. Balance is a huge stabilizer in my life. I want to experience the middle ground, because to me that's the only way to live contentedly. Radical views and actions only incur drama, and I am not a fan of drama. I do like challenging myself and others to think about why we as a society behave as we do and believe what we do.

I'm aware that approval isn't something I need. It's a welcome gesture, and from a select few, a necessary one. But most of the time, the opinions of others don't apply. Why? Because everyone judges based on their own experiences, and each human has their own story. So it's virtually impossible to please everyone anyway! I know in my deepest inside what is good for me, and I follow that.

I'm the proud owner of a kitchen! The past year has between a flurry of fast food, avoiding the galley and eating canned dinners and ramen noodles. Not a great slogan for the Navy. But I finally got a place, with a kitchen. I made cake. Then burritos. Life is good.

I'm about to take off for work. Thanks for listening. If you know of something else you'd like me to cover in a post, shoot me your suggestion and I'll get on it. :) au revoir...

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

Quick Check In

Sometimes it's really hard to write. I get a mental block and nothing I say sounds good. I'll start three or four posts and discard them all.

It's not really awesome to leave everyone hanging, though. So here's my sad attempt at uninspired blogging.

I've started my first job at a real command! It's absolutely epic and promises to be a huge success. This is going to be a job I'll find extremely rewarding, not to mention fascinating. The benefits the navy and my rate have to offer are overwhelming. I'm going to make rank fast. Also, my chain of command is really a huge support network. This is my kind of life.

I've begun pt again. After a few rounds of chemo, I was left absolutely exhausted. I went from 146 lbs. in October, to 107 in December. So it's a huge relief that I'm back in good health and improving.

My little sister is coming to see me in two months! What an exciting perspective. I am super excited. She was my favorite baby sibling to care for, I can't wait to bond with her one on one.

Tomorrow I'll post pictures, maybe write some more. Don't give up on me! :)

Sunday, January 8, 2012


Take a breath-
Time will only fly faster
Learn to see
Taste the colors
Smell the sights, sounds
Every moment a new sensation.

Normal doesn't exist
Because wonderful does
Nothing is ordinary
Find beauty in a leaf
A smile, a kiss, a tear
So breathe

Take in the senses
Let the Phoenix rise
Embrace the shadows
Soak up the light
Remember your childhood
When wonder abounded
You laughed more
Worried less
Who says you have to grow up?

Take a picture
Scream into the wind
Melt in someone's arms
Let your wild child loose
Savor a puppy's excitement
Eat too much candy.
And don't forget to breathe.

Saturday, January 7, 2012

Comic Relief

In the evenings, I used to slip down the hall in the barracks to my friend Elaine's room. She didn't have a roommate, which was super cool because I had my own bed to chill on. Then would commence all manner of merriment and relaxation.

One night, we did nothing but read all night long. Our faces hurt from laughing so much. Who would have thought vaginal extract would be a secret ingredient for cookies? Or that you're phone could change 'fajitas' to 'babies'? Not me.

Another night, she introduced me to Ricky Gervais, a most excellent british comedian. I highly recommend him to anyone, he's simply hilarious. That was not as epic as the night we read the whole comic book V For Vendetta, in one night, taking turns, aloud. It have me chills reading it, and it reminded us if bedtime stories, only my mom never read me anything quite so intense.

We had fun in the daytime as well. We were both in the same holding unit, so most mornings we worked together. We went by the name Bannett, a mix of both our names. We would have lunch together, take escorts together... Basically I can't imagine being without her.

Which is why when she got orders to a ship in Virginia, I shut down for about a week. I didn't know how to talk to her. I felt like we had just gotten to a point that we trusted each other. I never expected her to open up to me the way she did. I loved to discuss serious topics with her, because she brought a viewpoint I had never thought of. I needed her.

So, I smiled and laughed through her last days. We watched Sherlock Holmes, ate huge mouthfuls of frosting on a little cookie, and danced in the living room. And then she was gone. My intense, Batman loving, sarcastic, loyal capricorn was gone.

I guess the good thing is that we keep in touch a hell of a lot better than I thought we would. We talk nearly every day, and laugh. She is having a crazy new lifestyle on board a carrier. She is stationed with a mutual friend, and near her sister, and I get to see images and hear stories of awesome adventures.

This has a happy ending. Her home of record is in the town I'm stationed in. so she will be forced to come back and visit me. Get ready, there are so many adventures in store for the two of us. Right now, I'm just glad to say I know a girl who is as raw and real as me, a girl I can trust, and I feel pretty damn rich for it.

Friday, January 6, 2012

I Am Old Glory

I am the flag of the United States of America. My name is Old Glory. I fly atop the world’s tallest buildings. I stand watch in America’s halls of justice. I fly majestically over great institutions of learning. I stand guard with the greatest military power in the world. Look up and see me!

I stand for peace – honor – truth and justice. I stand for freedom. I am confident – I am resolved – I am proud.

When I am flown with my fellow banners, my head is a little higher – my colors a little truer.

I am recognized all over the world. I am respected – I am loved and I am feared! And when attacked, my goal is victory.

I have fought in every battle of every war for more than 200 years: Gettysburg, San Juan Hill, the trenches of France, the Argonne Forest, Anzio, Rome, the beaches of Normandy, Guam, Okinawa, Japan, Korea, Vietnam, in the Persian Gulf and a score of places long forgotten, by all but those who were there with me … I was there!

I led my soldiers, sailors, airmen and marines. I followed them and watched over them. They loved me.

I was on a small hill in Iwo Jima, I was dirty, battle worn and tired. But my soldiers cheered me! And I was proud!

I have been soiled, burned, torn and trampled on in the streets of countries I have helped set free, but it does not hurt – for at least and at last, they are free!

I have flown over the rubble in New York City after a dastardly attack on America and the free world, where thousands of my citizens and other nations’ citizens perished - and that does hurt. And my miracle men and women of the armed forces who are fighting to free Iraq and Afghanistan from the control of tyrannical dictators who have held their own people as slaves and who sponsor and train terrorists to bring havoc to all freedom loving people everywhere. The magnificent men and women of our military look up to me as they fight to turn the tide of this ruthless and despicable enemy. And how disheartening and demoralizing it is for my troops to hear the caustic and critical words from those who want and demand immediate success at no cost to anyone. Remember America, freedom doesn’t come overnight – freedom has a cost! And now our troops are working around the clock to bring order and purpose out of “Katrina’s” attack on our own soil, and I am proud of them as over any military victory in our history.

But I shall overcome – for I am stronger than the terrorists cowards and dictators who have now sealed their own fate- defeat! And this nation will not remain incapacitated by the forces of nature. Mark my word - we will not fail.

I have been a silent witness to all of America’s finest hours and I now long to see us united as never before, but my finest hour comes when I am torn in strips to be used as bandages for my wounded comrades on the field of battle. When I fly at half-mast to honor my soldiers, my sailors, my airmen, my marines, firemen and policemen and medical workers, and when I lie in the trembling arms of a grieving mother at the graveside of her fallen son.

America, I am proud to be your flag and your banner for freedom. My name is “Old Glory”. Long may I wave. Dear god, long may I wave!

As presented by: Colonel J. Quincy Collins, Jr., USAF

Wednesday, January 4, 2012


You can't have a romantic relationship just based on conversational compatibility. Or maybe you can, but I can't.

Sometimes the things I know are true, I insist aren't, because I'm afraid to face the truth. This doesn't get me very far.

Texas has better Mexican food than they have in Mexico.

Broncos are from Colorado. So when I asked my friend from Texas for a Broncos Jersey, I wasn't being easy for him. Texas has the Cowboys.

When you miss someone, it's probably better to get mad at them. That way you don't sit and pine for them like a lovesick child.

When you don't exercise for a couple Weeks, it's really hard to get back into it. But it feels awesome when you do!

Maybe insisting on putting your best friend in the friend zone is a weakness.

Your family is the one group of people who always comes through for you, without fail.

If you try hard enough, you can get what you want, even in the military as an E-3. Nothing is impossible.

Some of the best singers in the whole world are black. Their voices thrill me. Arethra, Tina Turner, Lionel Ritchie... Ah.

The best way to live is stepping back from the steering wheel and watching where life takes you.

Respect is a key character trait, and one you may learn slowly, but with it, you can become a very respectable person yourself.

Clean your toilet at least once a week. It's really, really gross if you don't.

If your instincts warn you that someone is dangerous, do your best not to fall for them. You can count on them to hurt you in the end.

Don't try to be funny with a grumpy chief. You will end up having to listen to their life issues for the next the days, and pretend to be interested.

If you want to get a car, go for the one you want instead of the one you think everyone else wants you to get. You are the one who has to drive it for the next however many years. 

I make a decent guy when I try to look like one, but goodness, it's creepy! Andrew, Wes, please don't
grow molestaches ever.

Don't trust anyone with your uniform. You may lose it, and those suckers cost.

Speaking of which, I have to go buy a new dress blue set now. Adios...