In boot camp, there are a couple of awards that confer extra rank right away. The two most significant were the overall top recruit and the academic top recruit. Academic conferred advancement to E-2 upon graduation. Overall conferred advancement to E-3.
Now, you have to understand, for me, boot camp was a joke. Everyone tells stories about how boot camp changes people. My mother had heard for months and months that I would be different after boot camp. As far as she could tell, I didn't change at all.
You see, boot camp is primarily about discipline. It is about learning to accept that someone else has absolute authority over you, accepting that and doing what you are told, when you are told to do it and how you are told to do it. I knew that before I started. I knew it and I understood the reasons for it. They never had to break me. They never had to change me. I got in so little trouble, that by the end, I had a hard time keeping up with the fitness of the company. I just didn't do enough disciplinary pushups to keep up.
I literally coasted through boot camp. Classes were a breeze. I'd always learned well, and the subjects were not challenging. I'd done drill in junior ROTC in high school so marching was easy. I even sang songs to myself while we marched just to make following cadence more challenging.
When every other recruit in the company except the watches was in bed with forced lights out, I was up late into the night sitting with my commanders joking and telling stories. They even recommended places I should go when I got to Monterey.
The hardest challenge in boot camp was during service week. The first day, I was assigned to the mess hall. It was okay, but required you to work before everyone else got up and after everyone else was gone. The second day, I was ill and went to the infirmary. When I came back on the third day, they changed my assignment to the worst job in the mess hall, pots & pans scullery.
Pots & pans scullery is where you clean every pot and pan used to cook food for everyone in boot camp. It is hot, steamy, and disgustingly greasy. At the end of the week, I had to replace my shoes because the grease would not come out. But through all of this, I found the job cathartic. Spraying down greasy, smelly pots with high power water and all the banging and lifting and moving was wonderful. At the end of a day, I was tired, but relaxed and happy.
So, considering all of this, it isn't that surprising that my company commanders considered me the top recruit. What actually happened though, might be a little surprising. They didn't want to give both awards to the same person. Because I scored so well academically, I was the top academic recruit. Instead of giving me the overall award, they gave it to my friend. And that is how I lost my first stripe in the Navy.
Saturday, April 21, 2012
Avoiding Responsibility
While I was in the Navy, I didn't want any responsibility for other people. It was a constant theme. In boot camp, they called me in to the office to meet with one of the company commanders and the base minister. My grandfather had passed away. Because I was in boot camp, I wouldn't be able to attend the funeral. They were so impressed by how I took the news that they asked if I wanted to go to officer candidate school. I declined.
During boot camp, I was a squad leader. I carefully managed to avoid becoming the recruit commander, even to the point of declining the position when it was offered. My commander even threatened me that if another had to be chosen, he would force me to take the position.
The rest of my Navy career, I avoided advancement like an illness I was afraid of. I even didn't take the courses required to advance so I wouldn't have to take the advancement test.
After my first deployment, they offered to send me to a seminar at BYU. I was really looking forward to it.
A week before I left, one of my chiefs found out that I was ducking advancement. To qualify to take the next test, you had to have all your correspondence courses done in four days. He told me that if I didn't qualify for the test, I couldn't go to the seminar.
Because most of my courses contained classified material, I could only do them at the detachment. I couldn't do them from my barracks. In four days, I spent nearly 70 hours completing 5 correspondence courses on various subjects, like radio theory, encryption protocols, and geographic and military characteristics of Arab countries in the Mediterranean, gripping stuff.
I qualified to take the test. And the really funny thing is, because I was at a seminar at BYU, I couldn't take the test that year. Irony for the win.
During boot camp, I was a squad leader. I carefully managed to avoid becoming the recruit commander, even to the point of declining the position when it was offered. My commander even threatened me that if another had to be chosen, he would force me to take the position.
The rest of my Navy career, I avoided advancement like an illness I was afraid of. I even didn't take the courses required to advance so I wouldn't have to take the advancement test.
After my first deployment, they offered to send me to a seminar at BYU. I was really looking forward to it.
A week before I left, one of my chiefs found out that I was ducking advancement. To qualify to take the next test, you had to have all your correspondence courses done in four days. He told me that if I didn't qualify for the test, I couldn't go to the seminar.
Because most of my courses contained classified material, I could only do them at the detachment. I couldn't do them from my barracks. In four days, I spent nearly 70 hours completing 5 correspondence courses on various subjects, like radio theory, encryption protocols, and geographic and military characteristics of Arab countries in the Mediterranean, gripping stuff.
I qualified to take the test. And the really funny thing is, because I was at a seminar at BYU, I couldn't take the test that year. Irony for the win.
Do Strippers Make Better Lovers?
While I was in the Navy, I went to a three month seminar on the Libyan dialect of Arabic at Brigham Young University in Provo, Utah. BYU is a Mormon college. I have no idea why the seminar was there. The instructor was married to a Mormon woman. I think it was just a location of convenience.
Being in the Navy and going to a seminar meant that I lived in a hotel for three months. As I was living in a hotel, I used the pool almost every day. The hotel had a pool and a hot tub. Most of the time, I had both completely to myself.
One day, I went down to the pool and there were five or six women in the hot tub. Apparently, one of them had turned 21 and they were having a party. When I arrived, they thought I was a stripper for the party. After clearing up the misunderstanding, and narrowly keeping my shorts, I talked to a couple of them for a while.
The next day, I wanted to ask one of them out, but I couldn't remember her name. All I could remember was where she had said she worked. I called the store where she worked and described her, eventually getting her on the phone. She was surprised that I called to ask her out. She expected me to ask about her friend.
Linda and I went out several times over the next months. She had two children and an evil ex-boyfriend. While I was at her house once, he stopped by to throw insults and threats and tried to damage her car. He was such a wonderful guy. I'm glad I didn't get to know him.
There is an evil party game you can play with people. It is a sort of brain teaser. Take an empty bottle, wine bottle, beer bottle, something with a decent neck. The bottle needs to be dry. Place the bottle on its side on a table and place a cigarette in the neck, flush with the top of the bottle. Now, challenge people to get the cigarette out without touching the bottle. The most common response is to try to suck it out by sucking really hard. This can lead to all kinds of interesting innuendo.
One day, in my hotel room, I challenged Linda to this puzzle. I had some innuendo in mind. Our flirting grew pretty serious and I offered to give her a massage. We had been seeing each other for a week or two and had never done more than kiss. She removed her shirt and lay on the bed and I started massaging her back. I can give a pretty good massage when I've a mind to and I made sure she enjoyed it.
After a while, with a beautiful woman lying on the bed under me with no shirt or bra, the obvious was expected to happen. Unfortunately, I realized I had no desire to have sex with her. During the intimate massage, I had smelled her and pheromones were not in my favor. Needless to say, the rest of that evening was uncomfortable.
Being in the Navy and going to a seminar meant that I lived in a hotel for three months. As I was living in a hotel, I used the pool almost every day. The hotel had a pool and a hot tub. Most of the time, I had both completely to myself.
One day, I went down to the pool and there were five or six women in the hot tub. Apparently, one of them had turned 21 and they were having a party. When I arrived, they thought I was a stripper for the party. After clearing up the misunderstanding, and narrowly keeping my shorts, I talked to a couple of them for a while.
The next day, I wanted to ask one of them out, but I couldn't remember her name. All I could remember was where she had said she worked. I called the store where she worked and described her, eventually getting her on the phone. She was surprised that I called to ask her out. She expected me to ask about her friend.
Linda and I went out several times over the next months. She had two children and an evil ex-boyfriend. While I was at her house once, he stopped by to throw insults and threats and tried to damage her car. He was such a wonderful guy. I'm glad I didn't get to know him.
There is an evil party game you can play with people. It is a sort of brain teaser. Take an empty bottle, wine bottle, beer bottle, something with a decent neck. The bottle needs to be dry. Place the bottle on its side on a table and place a cigarette in the neck, flush with the top of the bottle. Now, challenge people to get the cigarette out without touching the bottle. The most common response is to try to suck it out by sucking really hard. This can lead to all kinds of interesting innuendo.
One day, in my hotel room, I challenged Linda to this puzzle. I had some innuendo in mind. Our flirting grew pretty serious and I offered to give her a massage. We had been seeing each other for a week or two and had never done more than kiss. She removed her shirt and lay on the bed and I started massaging her back. I can give a pretty good massage when I've a mind to and I made sure she enjoyed it.
After a while, with a beautiful woman lying on the bed under me with no shirt or bra, the obvious was expected to happen. Unfortunately, I realized I had no desire to have sex with her. During the intimate massage, I had smelled her and pheromones were not in my favor. Needless to say, the rest of that evening was uncomfortable.
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Oubliette
I went to three high schools, two middle schools, and two elementary schools. I've lived in three countries. One of the things my identity does not contain is a sense of place. I was born in Seattle but I haven't lived there since I was one. In fact, the only place I have lived long enough to count is the midwest of the United States, and I feel as alienated there as an illegal immigrant in Arizona. The best compliments I've ever received have been foreign nationals telling me they don't believe I'm American.
Certainly, the armpit of America, where I currently reside, has no bonds on my heart. There is nothing about this pedestrian-unfriendly, humidity-ridden backwater that encourages my continued presence. It does, however, demonstrate a foible of my character. Having moved somewhere, having started a new job, I am loath to leave.
Moving to Florida really only had one thing going for it; it wasn't St. Louis. I'd lived a couple hours away for my last two years of high school and they certainly didn't commend it to my memory. Although, I did have two good friends here, Herb and John, they were both in the military and weren't really tied to location. I moved because I had a job offer outside of St. Louis. And, to be completely honest, that was probably the best choice I've made in years.
To be sure, moving to a place with few prospects and dubious weather simply because you need to leave where you are isn't the smartest choice in the world. Still, I have a job, and I don't have memories haunting my every breath. Nothing here reminds me of anyone.
I do wish I could forge some new memories that have nothing to do with a computer screen. I guess that will be part of stage two. If stage one was breaking my ties to my past, then stage two is finding someplace to make new ties.
This story doesn't really have a point. It is more of a literary dead end.
Certainly, the armpit of America, where I currently reside, has no bonds on my heart. There is nothing about this pedestrian-unfriendly, humidity-ridden backwater that encourages my continued presence. It does, however, demonstrate a foible of my character. Having moved somewhere, having started a new job, I am loath to leave.
Moving to Florida really only had one thing going for it; it wasn't St. Louis. I'd lived a couple hours away for my last two years of high school and they certainly didn't commend it to my memory. Although, I did have two good friends here, Herb and John, they were both in the military and weren't really tied to location. I moved because I had a job offer outside of St. Louis. And, to be completely honest, that was probably the best choice I've made in years.
To be sure, moving to a place with few prospects and dubious weather simply because you need to leave where you are isn't the smartest choice in the world. Still, I have a job, and I don't have memories haunting my every breath. Nothing here reminds me of anyone.
I do wish I could forge some new memories that have nothing to do with a computer screen. I guess that will be part of stage two. If stage one was breaking my ties to my past, then stage two is finding someplace to make new ties.
This story doesn't really have a point. It is more of a literary dead end.
Requiem for a Car
Our paths diverged in the woods and I took the one without you on it.
The last time my ex wife and I had to buy a car, she was upset because I had essentially chosen all of our cars before. Never mind that I made more practical choices, it wasn't fair. After weeks of browbeating, I acquiesced. "You know how broke we are. Choose whatever you want and we will live with the consequences." Little did I know, I would be living with them well past the end of our marriage.
You see, given freedom to choose whatever she wanted, instead of choosing a car for herself, she choose a Volkswagen Beetle. The problem there might not be immediately obvious. You see, she could only drive an automatic. She couldn't be bothered to learn to drive a stick, certainly not from me. She choose a five year old, manual transmission, Volkswagen Beetle. You see, she cared more about appearances than about practicality or even courtesy. She didn't care if I liked it. She cared only that we would own a Beetle.
I'm probably short-changing her, but considering that I had to drive the car for the next 5-7 years, I'm okay with that. We even got a 49cc scooter out of it, not that she ever rode the scooter. And to make it worse, the scooter wasn't really powerful enough to carry my large, overweight torso, though I tried for a while. I stopped when I got tired of frequent stalls anytime we (me and the scooter) went up a short incline.
I drove the beetle faithfully for years. When we were divorced, I still drove it. Last year, it cost me over $3,000 to keep it running. When I chose a job in Florida (I lived in St. Louis, MO), the car was dying if I ever failed to run it for more than 24 hours. I knew it wasn't long for this world.
I packed the car, drove to Florida, parked the car and left it. And, there it sat for months. Finally, just this week, in fact, I donated the car to charity. It had been sitting in the parking lot for nearly 6 months. I am no longer insured. I don't drive at all.
Goodbye, VW Beetle. We've been through some really bad times, you and I. I hope your next owner appreciates you way more than I did.
The last time my ex wife and I had to buy a car, she was upset because I had essentially chosen all of our cars before. Never mind that I made more practical choices, it wasn't fair. After weeks of browbeating, I acquiesced. "You know how broke we are. Choose whatever you want and we will live with the consequences." Little did I know, I would be living with them well past the end of our marriage.
You see, given freedom to choose whatever she wanted, instead of choosing a car for herself, she choose a Volkswagen Beetle. The problem there might not be immediately obvious. You see, she could only drive an automatic. She couldn't be bothered to learn to drive a stick, certainly not from me. She choose a five year old, manual transmission, Volkswagen Beetle. You see, she cared more about appearances than about practicality or even courtesy. She didn't care if I liked it. She cared only that we would own a Beetle.
I'm probably short-changing her, but considering that I had to drive the car for the next 5-7 years, I'm okay with that. We even got a 49cc scooter out of it, not that she ever rode the scooter. And to make it worse, the scooter wasn't really powerful enough to carry my large, overweight torso, though I tried for a while. I stopped when I got tired of frequent stalls anytime we (me and the scooter) went up a short incline.
I drove the beetle faithfully for years. When we were divorced, I still drove it. Last year, it cost me over $3,000 to keep it running. When I chose a job in Florida (I lived in St. Louis, MO), the car was dying if I ever failed to run it for more than 24 hours. I knew it wasn't long for this world.
I packed the car, drove to Florida, parked the car and left it. And, there it sat for months. Finally, just this week, in fact, I donated the car to charity. It had been sitting in the parking lot for nearly 6 months. I am no longer insured. I don't drive at all.
Goodbye, VW Beetle. We've been through some really bad times, you and I. I hope your next owner appreciates you way more than I did.
Why, What-for, and Whereto
This site is a series of vignettes from my life combined with poetry that I write when either, I can't think of a story right now or I hurt too much and the pain bleeds out into words. Someday, I'd like to publish my memoirs. I love storytelling in general and my life is so full of "truth is stranger than fiction" moments that creating and telling stories from my life is one of my simplest joys.
If you like what you read here, please let me know. I'm toying with the idea of writing fiction, but so far, I find the idea too intimidating to tackle. I guess I need to get on doing one thing a day that scares me.
I've written several of the stories here before, sometimes in email, sometimes in some form of chat. I've told most of these stories countless time in person. At parties, if I am silent, most of the time it is because I don't want to hijack the conversation more than I don't have anything to say. My stories might not all be from the sea, but I think they are salty enough for even the most road weary warrior to find some enjoyment inside.
If you enjoy reading these, please let me know. I need a little encouragement to keep writing. Who knows, your kind words could be all that is needed to keep the next Shakespeare going. Or, they could just fuel my rise into obscurity. Either way, I will appreciate it immensely.
If you like what you read here, please let me know. I'm toying with the idea of writing fiction, but so far, I find the idea too intimidating to tackle. I guess I need to get on doing one thing a day that scares me.
I've written several of the stories here before, sometimes in email, sometimes in some form of chat. I've told most of these stories countless time in person. At parties, if I am silent, most of the time it is because I don't want to hijack the conversation more than I don't have anything to say. My stories might not all be from the sea, but I think they are salty enough for even the most road weary warrior to find some enjoyment inside.
If you enjoy reading these, please let me know. I need a little encouragement to keep writing. Who knows, your kind words could be all that is needed to keep the next Shakespeare going. Or, they could just fuel my rise into obscurity. Either way, I will appreciate it immensely.
Biology 101
I was a late starter. I never kissed a girl or went on a date until my senior year of high school. Even then, I only went out with two women. With the first, it ended badly. The second was with a college ballerina with a black belt in tae kwon do who was home on spring break. With both, I never did more than kissing, though hindsight suggests I could probably have done more with both.
I was still a virgin when I started with the Navy. After boot camp, I made my way up to the Presidio of Monterey where the Defense Language Institute would be me home for a year and a half. For my first month at DLI, I couldn't leave the base and I couldn't wear any civilian clothes. The closest I was allowed was PT (physical training) clothes when I wasn't on duty. Basically, this meant sweat pants and a tshirt.
I spent a lot of time hanging out at the barracks. The first week I was there, I also tried out for the imaginary drill team. I'd done drill in junior ROTC and enjoyed the physical dexterity and timing it required. Unfortunately, Monterey didn't really have enough people for a real Navy drill team so that didn't last. I did, however meet Nancy (name changed to protect the guilty). She was trying to start the drill team.
Nancy and I hit it off fairly well. A few days later, I was hanging out with her and 5-6 other people. We were watching a movie in Nancy's room. I was sitting against the wall on Nancy's bed and she had backed up against me between my legs. During the movie, she started rubbing against me. I was very aroused. I think I mentioned, I was still a virgin? Nothing like a virgin 18 year old male to have a hair trigger. Her rubbing made me cream in my pants. This embarrassed me to no end, but I was still hot an bothered.
After the movie, everyone left and I stayed. Nancy and I made out and started some heavy petting. Eventually, this led me to giving her several orgasms with my fingers. Her pants were still on, but I have a high awareness of tactile sense. In high school, I used to solve three dimensional puzzles with my eyes closed just to develop a higher awareness of what I could feel. I used that well developed sense to explore the female body for the first time. I was awkward and embarrassed at my early ejaculation so that is as much as we did. It turned out, she was a little crazy and I broke it off with her shortly after that. We never did repeat that scene.
A bit later, I got interested in Lisa. I'd met Lisa in Nancy's room that night. Lisa and I hung out our first night in the lounge in her barracks. I don't remember the exact rule, but for some reason, I wasn't allowed to go into her room yet, maybe the restrictions on the first month. One of the watch standers would periodically come through the various barracks lounges checking on people. This chance of getting caught made it all the more exciting when I had her shirt up around her shoulders and I was sucking on her nipples or exploring the generous curves of her breasts with my mouth.
Lisa and I were together for a couple years. She took my virginity. She also took my innocence, but that is a different story. Still, it was quite surprising when Nancy came to me several months later and told me she was pregnant with my child. Yes, I was a virgin when I groped her. I had, however, had basic biology and sex education, not to mention an extremely well rounded education from constant reading. Basic biology suggested that if there were no sperm to vagina contact, impregnation was impossible. It turned out that Nancy tried the "I'm pregnant with your baby" routine on nearly every guy she ever dated. I'm so glad I was ashamed of coming early that first night, or I might have believed her.
I was still a virgin when I started with the Navy. After boot camp, I made my way up to the Presidio of Monterey where the Defense Language Institute would be me home for a year and a half. For my first month at DLI, I couldn't leave the base and I couldn't wear any civilian clothes. The closest I was allowed was PT (physical training) clothes when I wasn't on duty. Basically, this meant sweat pants and a tshirt.
I spent a lot of time hanging out at the barracks. The first week I was there, I also tried out for the imaginary drill team. I'd done drill in junior ROTC and enjoyed the physical dexterity and timing it required. Unfortunately, Monterey didn't really have enough people for a real Navy drill team so that didn't last. I did, however meet Nancy (name changed to protect the guilty). She was trying to start the drill team.
Nancy and I hit it off fairly well. A few days later, I was hanging out with her and 5-6 other people. We were watching a movie in Nancy's room. I was sitting against the wall on Nancy's bed and she had backed up against me between my legs. During the movie, she started rubbing against me. I was very aroused. I think I mentioned, I was still a virgin? Nothing like a virgin 18 year old male to have a hair trigger. Her rubbing made me cream in my pants. This embarrassed me to no end, but I was still hot an bothered.
After the movie, everyone left and I stayed. Nancy and I made out and started some heavy petting. Eventually, this led me to giving her several orgasms with my fingers. Her pants were still on, but I have a high awareness of tactile sense. In high school, I used to solve three dimensional puzzles with my eyes closed just to develop a higher awareness of what I could feel. I used that well developed sense to explore the female body for the first time. I was awkward and embarrassed at my early ejaculation so that is as much as we did. It turned out, she was a little crazy and I broke it off with her shortly after that. We never did repeat that scene.
A bit later, I got interested in Lisa. I'd met Lisa in Nancy's room that night. Lisa and I hung out our first night in the lounge in her barracks. I don't remember the exact rule, but for some reason, I wasn't allowed to go into her room yet, maybe the restrictions on the first month. One of the watch standers would periodically come through the various barracks lounges checking on people. This chance of getting caught made it all the more exciting when I had her shirt up around her shoulders and I was sucking on her nipples or exploring the generous curves of her breasts with my mouth.
Lisa and I were together for a couple years. She took my virginity. She also took my innocence, but that is a different story. Still, it was quite surprising when Nancy came to me several months later and told me she was pregnant with my child. Yes, I was a virgin when I groped her. I had, however, had basic biology and sex education, not to mention an extremely well rounded education from constant reading. Basic biology suggested that if there were no sperm to vagina contact, impregnation was impossible. It turned out that Nancy tried the "I'm pregnant with your baby" routine on nearly every guy she ever dated. I'm so glad I was ashamed of coming early that first night, or I might have believed her.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)