back at it...

so I’ve been hit lately with this overwhelming sense of guilt, of being “behind” in my reading and writing. which, if I were on some sort of schedule… I would be. so I find myself stalling… ever so effectively, as if I were back in college and looking to do anything but write that term paper. it’s not so much that I really enjoyed pulling those last minute, late night all nighters… I was just so good at procrastinating. and so here I am, procrastinating again, but this time I don’t have a deadline. nothing to force me into an all nighter. which means my procrastinating nature could rule indefinitely…so I’ve got to seek the source. why is the procrastination so prevalent? it’s only in activities that I really don’t want to do. now, to clarify, I’m not writing for a class… no one is forcing me to write, or read for that matter. I feel scheduled for the simple fact that I’ve continued to write down keywords to trigger my memory about topics I’ve thought of writing about… quite simply, because the list exists – and is getting quite long – I feel like I’m “behind”. I guess it’s years of conditioning… “my god, my ‘to do’ list is so long, I’ll never catch up at this rate… how long has it been since I changed my bedsheets?” …now, I don’t want to get rid of the list… because it’s such a wonderful source of ideas when I have nothing new coming to me… it will totally delay my inevitable writer’s block… if I ever start writing again. I’m basically working on convincing myself that I enjoy writing again… and that it is, in fact, on my schedule and at my convenience. what I did was cut my list into little strips… so I can’t see how many accumulate… so it feels like less of a must-get-done kind of list and more like a luck of the draw. which was working out great until I spilled my cup of lists, and some drifted into the hallway. the guys are finding random notes like “foreign hairstylists” and “girl scout mobs”. as if they didn’t think I was unbalanced already…

speaking of which...

since i'm on the topic of exercise... (apparently one journal entry qualifies as being "on the topic"...)i had a friend ask me once exactly how strong/big/inshape enough was "enough". i can't remember exactly how i responded... just that i wasn't too confident in my answer so i felt like i was stammering around the question by discussing how long workouts make the time go by faster out here. or something. it may be a year later... but i think i finally have an answer... there is something rather disgraceful, even dishonorable, about "falling out". for those of you that don't know, if your fellow ff's have to pull you out of a fire... or if you have to get checked by the medics and aren't allowed back in the game afterwards... you fell out. if you fall out more than once, you get an unspoken reputation as a liability to the crew and mission. this is a concern anywhere you go, but becomes very evident when the daytime temps soar above 120F......so in short, you don't ever want to be the one to fall out, or to fail at an assigned task. every day is a battle of hydration... another possible scenario to test the limits of your conditioning... another chance to prove the critics right or wrong. so how much is enough? when i can be sure i *won't* be the one to fall out... when i have enough confidence to work beyond the mental block of physical agility tests... when i know i have more than "enough" to get through or around every obsticle that could ever be put in my way... that's "enough". i don't think i'm there yet.

call your local congressman...

i intensely dislike "legs day". ("intensely dislike" is an understatement... more like "hate with the intensity of 1000 burning suns", but that seemed a little harsh to begin the entry with.) i don't actually know anyone who likes it... who thinks to themselves, "yay, today is legs day..." but i'm sure someone is out there who gets satisfaction and spiritual fulfillment from lunges and squats. me, i abhor them. ...once every 5 weeks legs day falls on monday. as if motivation isn't hard enough... now it involves pulling energy and willpower directly out of my ass. i've decided no more. no more legs days on mondays. (people have run for president with weaker platforms... just look at bush) i'm putting a stop to it here and now, i just had my last legs day on a monday. it's good to have a plan...

open letter to my exes...

no, this is not going to be one of *those* kinds of entries… i promise.it was recently brought to my attention of the changes in the life of one of my exes, and whereas previously it may have been true to my form to perhaps be critical, spiteful, jealous or any number of emotions… i found that i was truly happy for her and hoping for the best for her. this applies to all of my exes… i *do* hope for their happiness. (for one or two of them, that also involves me hoping that they can become better people more capable of finding said happiness…) anyways, it made me realize that i had a few things to say. true to form, i will not be including names… you know who you are. some persons got more than one statement, and a few of the statements apply to more than one person. so there, that’ll keep you on your toes…i hope for you to never grow up. never neglect your inner child… and don’t ever stop playing. thank you for teaching me the importance in this.i hope for you to remember to breathe… and you can embrace every moment for what it has to offer. thank you for allowing me to share this with you. thank you for teaching me what it is to love beyond myself.i hope you find something that can fulfill you, that whatever you are searching for is within your grasp. i’m sorry i couldn’t be everything you wanted. thank you for inspiring me and setting me on my path.i hope you find the stability you need, that you can be comfortable in. i’m sorry that our paths diverged and i couldn’t be that for you.i hope you find someone worth risking truly opening yourself to. i’m sorry that i wasn’t truly present with you, and that my heart wasn’t truly open to you. i hope you find a path out of the cycle you’re in… i hope you find the strength to reach out when you need it, and i’m sorry i couldn’t be either of those for you. thank you for showing me that cycle, and allowing me to learn from your mistakes.i hope for your health… that you find love, happiness, and fulfillment. thank you for being a part of my life.

do they have a 12 step program for that?

having spent the better part of a decade as either single or nearly single, i have a finely tuned, jaded part of me that can look past the romantic poetic vision of a relationship or single romantic act… and see it for the pathetic and/or nauseating display it is. (if you aren’t familiar with the term “nearly single” then it’s been a while since you’ve been there, now, hasn’t it?) even as i’m in the midst of a lasting relationship with someone i really love… i can pick out things i do and say and see the quality in it that could make someone physically ill. likewise, having been a permanent resident on the other side of the fence, i can also curb some of those gag-inducing actions to kind of respect the space of that single person who “doesn’t really want to hear it.” what i’m really trying to say is… well, it’s pathetic and nausating. i know that… but i can’t quit. i also know some of ya’ll will think it’s the most adorable, romantic thing you’ve heard all day… and it’s either because you are a hopeless romantic, or you are in one of those disgustingly sweet relationships that make the rest of the population hurl. i thought i managed to eradicate the inner hopeless romantic in myself… but it turns out he’s just tied and gagged in the corner. apparently he got a hold of a pencil and has been trying to write occasional messages to me by gripping it with his toes… which could completely explain the interesting choices of gifts for the last several valentine’s days… but that’s a whole other story…*sigh* …so i miss my girlfriend. a lot. i miss everything about her… but it seems to be worse at night, when i have time to lie awake and think. so every night i take her sweatshirt… which doesn’t smell like her anymore, but it’s *her’s* and therefore like a part of her… and wrap it around me and fall asleep with it blanketing me. yes, i am 29 years old, and i have a blanky. for those of you that feel the urge to vomit, please turn away from the computer screen at this time… they don’t clean up nearly as well as you think they would…

oh for the love of...

so there’s some things you should never wish for… for instance, i said to myself yesterday, “hmmm… i haven’t had anything really humorous to write about recently…” basically i cursed myself. well, if that doesn’t set the scene, i don’t know what does. of course, there’s always the off chance that *i’m* the only one who finds this amusing… and that now i’ve set ya’ll up for a huge letdown. ohhh, the pressure…just for a little background… there’s been a lot of little projects going on here recently. one of which is that the showers needed to be caulked to be operational. having been an homeowner, and having caulked tubs and sinks on more than one occasion, i felt pretty comfortable taking on this project…well, a tube of silicone was found for me… mind you, i had no caulking gun… but a handle of a hammer would have to make due. (i’m certain someone’s father lived by the motto “the right tool for the right job”. mine shuts off a lawnmower that’s older than i am with a screwdriver… so the motto i know is “adapt and overcome”) so i removed the old caulk, mold, and other unmentionables with a pocket knife. (right tool, i’m sure) and sliced the tip of the tube to the recommended 45 degree angle. of course, *this* is about the moment that i noticed that the expiration date on the tube was approximately 2 years ago. hmmm… does silicone *really* expire? after all, it’s not a dairy product or anything… i’m going to smear it on the walls of a 25 year old shower, not dip my french fries in it… should be fine, right?…so insert the handle of the hammer, and a little pressure… and bingo…nothing. so a little harder… and nothing. (now, you *know* me at this point. what do *you* think I did?) so of course, i turned the whole thing so it was upside down (read: tip pointed skyward) and squeezed it between the shower floor and all the force i could put on it. well, when it finally gave, it really gave. all over the shower wall, floor, my pants, my hair, and even up my nose. i think i’m going to have to add that to my list of orifices that i don’t really want sealed with silicone. although, had i let it dry a bit, i could’ve had custom fitted nose plugs. add that to the “something about mary” look i had going on…now, while i could work it into a mean fauxhawk… i decided that the silicone look was a little too permanent for me. after lathering, rinsing, and repeating several times however… all i had succeeded in doing is spreading it in a even layer over every follicle on my head. now i looked like i should be attached to a long chain and swung as a weapon in some medieval battle. and as quiet as i tried to keep it, it was only a matter of time before someone noticed my incessant shampooing…so, that ya’ll may learn from my experience, the makeshift solution to removing silicone from your hair is WD40. this was suggested to me, and while i’m pretty sure it was really just to add insult to injury… or because the other all purpose “fix it” of the fire service wasn’t going to suffice in this situation (duct tape)… apparently WD40 will help in that situation. i ended up not shearing my shaggy, dirty surfer looking locks. i did smell kind of funny the rest of the day… as i was now freshly out of shampoo……on a separate note, WD40 did not out perform VO5 hot oil treatment in the latest survey…

calling dr. phil...

i’m struggling with a bit of a mental block when it comes to physical agility tests. it really doesn’t matter that right now i’m in great shape and *should* be able to pass… it’s really that i failed one, and therefore have this irritating mindset that i’m not going to pass. i created my own slump. since then, i’ve failed 2 physical agility tests that i had no business failing. if you asked me to tell you why, i couldn’t. i need the dr. phil of the sport psychology world. there’s nothing more debilitating than failing, for no apparent reason, and then finding yourself questioning whether you’re capable in the field or not. doubting whether you can get hired for another job. and all the other self doubts and anxieties that can rear their ugly head when they’re riding the waves of an effective blow to the ego. well, on my way back to my base, i got sidelined at HQ for a bit… mostly for inprocessing and to pick up another useless cert… but on our last night there we did an “SCBA confidence course”. basically an obstacle course, but one that they’d put 108 firefighters through so far, and only 17 or so had passed. no females. good odds. *sigh*basically to simulate blacked out conditions and being completely lost in a building… (mind you, a small building, but with 3 separate floors) well, for those of ya’ll who aren’t firefighters… crawling in 40 lbs of gear with a 35 lb pack in 90 degree heat and squeezing through openings, going up floors, down floors, searching for a way out… it can be a hell of a workout. i think i lost 5 lbs of water weight. …but the important part is that i made it out. it took me longer than anyone else, but i also had more air left than anyone on exit. basically, it was a little affirmation that i was looking for. now if i can just find a dept that’s hiring… and invest in hypnosis…

there should be warning signs...

people like me should not be allowed to own plants or lamps. and not just because it loans itself to some interesting poetry. really, i’m a dog person… bring me your leash when you want to walk… your ball when you want to play. bark at me when you’re hungry, thirsty, or need to go out. (is anyone else getting a grasp on why i was single for so long?) i’m good with interaction. i can’t read minds… i’m not part of the plant collective. i am *not* the person you want watering your plants while you’re on sabbatical. really, i’m not much of a cat person either… but that’s a whole other journal entry…well, if you’ll remember… lamps are also subject to my “how much is *too* much” curiosity… there’s singed paint on the wall in my old room from the last lamp-turned-blowtorch. i had done really well since then… someone was nice enough to send me another lamp, which i had with a 220V to 110V converter and used for a few months without incident……so really, and i know i’ve said this before… but it’s really not my fault this time. i walked in the door after my 2 months absence… just glad to be back with a room of my own… and went to flip on my lamp. which was right where i left it. only, it didn’t turn on. so there i was in the dark… checking for a bulb. yep, got that… following the cord… hmmm… it wasn’t plugged in. so i plugged it in. and it lit the room brilliantly for about 12 seconds……which is about the same amount of time for me to think, “is that a 40W bulb? damn, that’s bright. wait, something’s missing. a converter. i know i had a converter. where is my converter…?!”…and with a loud snap and hiss, the bulb exploded and ricocheted off the floor… leaving the room in darkness again after i grabbed the fire extinguisher. the smoke only set off one detector, but i managed to cause a power outage in 3 rooms. …and so it begins…

and we're off, again...

ah, travel. there’s nothing like the freedom of having your bag on your back, the ticket in your hand, and being frisked head to toe while in your stocking feet. *sigh* after the dozens of flights i had over the last couple of months… culminating with the delightful 18 hour trip back to the middle east… i am really, really sick of flying. i have also become somewhat of a connoisseur of the customer service of the airline industry. i could tell you which airlines seem to handle delays better than others… which ones have the best beverage and snack services… which ones have damaged my luggage the least… and (of course) which one i will *not* be giving my money to again. …losing your luggage may be an inconvenience in the states. try doing it where the native language is arabic. somewhere between houston, london, and dubai, they lost one of my two bags. luckily, being as worn out and lethargic from allergies as i was, i had no interest in doing anything but sleeping… which is good… because all my civvy clothes, my workout clothes, my running shoes… yeah, all in that bag. and amazingly enough, the powers that be don’t really want you wearing your uniform though the streets of a middle eastern country. they want you to “blend in”. yeah… short, white lesbians blend so well in countries where the average female is covered head to toe in black. anyways… so i slept, and i watched tv……there’s nothing lonelier than watching hotel tv with nothing better to do and no one to talk to. although flipping through 20 some arabic channels with english subtitles has got a unique air of isolation to it. i got to watch some arabic MTV, and one of the world cup games. couldn’t tell you who was playing… i’m not a big enough soccer fan to know the teams on sight. i did find one of the only 2 english based channels and watched the same two episodes of “king of queens” about 3 times through until I fell back asleep… some jokes never get old. unfortunately, KOQ isn’t one of them…

what i did on my summer vacation...

well, i’m back and settled in my cozy accommodations in iraq… i got placed at the same base i came off of, which is kind of bittersweet. i am familiar with the base, the surroundings, the equipment, the risks, and the routine… what i miss are the people. the guys i lived with… well, most of us came in within about 8 weeks of each other. within the month before i left, a bunch of them left. when i came back, the rest were gone. all new faces. other than officer staff… i know one firefighter.not that i won’t get to know these guys… it just takes a while. i’m not exactly an extraverted, socializing kind of person. (people who know me will dispute this fact… although people who have known me for years have discovered there’s a lot they *don’t* know about me just by reading this journal…) speaking of meeting new people… you’ll be glad to hear that the stress of initially meeting my gf’s close friends and parents is pretty well over and done with. (just in case any of you read this… don’t worry… it’s not you, it’s others…) but seriously, i enjoyed meeting them… they all seemed like wonderful people. doesn’t stop the fact that it’s a bit nervewracking for an introvert like me. so that’s what i did over my summer vacation… i traveled… i saw a lot of old friends (and some new ones)… ate thai, drank chai, and didn’t really workout seriously for about 2 months… which put me in serious hurting condition for the festivities that awaited me in Baghdad. …but that’s another journal entry altogether…

return to texas... land of steers and...

beers! (what were *you* thinking?)so i got to make a little 5 day trip to san antonio... see one of my good friends, her husband, and my boy. and by "my boy" i mean my dog, of course. although, i can certainly tell who's been feeding him and spoiling him for the last year, cuz he was glued to her side... it was very cute.i also realized that while i lived in texas for a couple years in elementary school, i didn't remember that much about it. or the other 2nd and 3rd graders that made up my social circle hadn't fully developed into native "texas-americans" yet. i love architecture, and i love history and visiting historical sites... and my friends were awesome hosts, making sure i was well entertained and the full tour. as well as a taste of the texas culture......not that they could help it, i was surrounded by it. if i learned only this, it's that texans love 3 things above all else...1. They love texas. unfortunately, they seem to love it in the way that bible thumpers love their religion, and that is to shove it down your throat in such an overkill fashion that natural born noncomformists like me end up absolutely hating it. and then, they seem totally confused as to why on earth would you *not* want to be a texan. doesn't everyone?2. They love texas sports teams. which, while they're a little fanatical about this, i can't fault them for. 3. They love churches. and crosses. a lot. i was quite entertained by the uniformed police officers out on 4 lane roads to direct traffic in and out of the churches. although, the warning signs, which looked identical to a "yield" sign... only, with "church" in the middle... yeah, those took the cake. well, i figure it's about time those things came with a warning...

timeshare assault, continued...

...now, the real question is why were WE being targeted? it's true that a number of companies began targeting the gay and lesbian populations a while ago... based on the traditional makeup of the homosexual families and the buying power they hold. that is, to say, we're largely "DINKS". (Double Income, No Kids) They run adds in queer culture publications, commercials during TV shows, support booths during pride weekends... we were just blindsided by the aggressive marketing we experienced. so of course (in the true nature of the lesbian overanalysis gene) we started discussing this. So were we being targeted? well, since neither one of us were wearing our "We (heart) timeshares" t-shirts... and both of us were avoiding eye contact as if it were sodom and gomorrah itself... i'm going to have to say yes. now, HOW? i imagine these entrepenuring salesmen and women going through timeshare peddling orientation... with a special session on "customer identification" Instructor: "Now, THIS is the homosexual male" (points to slide) "...Notice the tailored t-shirt, the evenness of the his tan, the manicure of his fingernails. But the real give away is always the shoes... can everyone see the shoes? ...Matthew, can you identify those shoes?"Matthew: "Those would be Prada, sir."Instructor: (thinks to himself that matthew needs to come out of the closet already) "Good. Now, this is the textbook lesbian. Short hair might be a clue, along with a more masculine dress... but really if you're looking beyond the butch and andryogenous quota... you're looking at fingernails and shoes again. Repeat after me... 'Lesbians are women in comfortable shoes'..."alright... really, i'm done with this...

time(share) well spent...

alright, i apologize for being MIA... i thoroughly jumped into enjoying travel and seeing people during my break here, and have been away from a computer for a good long time. as those of you waiting patiently for replies to emails can attest...so i made it back to the US... adjusted for the time difference... and set off for the first place that would serve as "full immersion" therapy for the aversion to crowds, lights, and all things stimulating that i experienced 4 months ago on my last break. yep, we set off for vegas...it was a wonderful experience... with very few notable exceptions. the biggest and only real complaint i'd like to air right now...the aggressiveness that was displayed by the timeshare recruiters was unbelievable. i applaud them for their efforts, which were truly impressive. we were targeted as a lesbian couple on walkways, in casinos, leaving hotels, at traffic intersections... even walking into a pharmacy. don't tell me that straight couples get approached as much... we had couples walking all around us, and they would step AROUND these folks to get to us. i would say we probably had about 3 good days of walking... and got approached well over 50 times. and that's a lowball number. i figure about once every 15 or 20 minutes we were fending off someone. there were times we were still shaking off one when a second one was waiting in the wings to approach us. WTF? are they playing a zone defense here? now, i'm not really a person who likes to lie... which is fortunate, since i'm really bad at it. so we started off by being polite and telling the truth. we found the truth was effective, but inefficient. 5 minutes of conversation to just say "no". by the end of the week, we had told so many stories to these people... "do we live together? naw, we just met." "our flight leaves this afternoon" "we've already seen that show" "no hablo ingles" "yep, i'm a marine." ...pretty much anything to draw a close to the conversation. oh, and my favorite, which i never got to use... "oh, i'd LOVE to own property out here... love the weather, love the entertainment... but i can't STAND the timeshare peddlers..."

time(share) well spent...

alright, i apologize for being MIA... i thoroughly jumped into enjoying travel and seeing people during my break here, and have been away from a computer for a good long time. as those of you waiting patiently for replies to emails can attest...so i made it back to the US... adjusted for the time difference... and set off for the first place that would serve as "full immersion" therapy for the aversion to crowds, lights, and all things stimulating that i experienced 4 months ago on my last break. yep, we set off for vegas...it was a wonderful experience... with very few notable exceptions. the biggest and only real complaint i'd like to air right now...the aggressiveness that was displayed by the timeshare recruiters was unbelievable. i applaud them for their efforts, which were truly impressive. we were targeted as a lesbian couple on walkways, in casinos, leaving hotels, at traffic intersections... even walking into a pharmacy. don't tell me that straight couples get approached as much... we had couples walking all around us, and they would step AROUND these folks to get to us. i would say we probably had about 3 good days of walking... and got approached well over 50 times. and that's a lowball number. i figure about once every 15 or 20 minutes we were fending off someone. there were times we were still shaking off one when a second one was waiting in the wings to approach us. WTF? are they playing a zone defense here? now, i'm not really a person who likes to lie... which is fortunate, since i'm really bad at it. so we started off by being polite and telling the truth. we found the truth was effective, but inefficient. 5 minutes of conversation to just say "no". by the end of the week, we had told so many stories to these people... "do we live together? naw, we just met." "our flight leaves this afternoon" "we've already seen that show" "no hablo ingles" "yep, i'm a marine." ...pretty much anything to draw a close to the conversation. oh, and my favorite, which i never got to use... "oh, i'd LOVE to own property out here... love the weather, love the entertainment... but i can't STAND the timeshare peddlers..."

we all have our limits...

i'm watching the harry potter collection in dispatch tonight. it's been a different trilogy night all week... the matrix trilogy... the LOTR trilogy... i think i'll split star wars over the last two nights...i had to start the first one pretty early... 8 hours of movies in 12 hours... plus bathroom breaks. and i've had enough coffee to necessitate several of those...so it was early when i started the first one... scrappy stuck his head in to remind me *again* of how many days we have left... i don't need to carry a calendar with him around... and he kind of got sucked into part of it. it was the quidditch scene... it sucks everyone in. my gf asked me one time if i could relive any scene out of any movie, what would it be. not sure what she was looking for, but of course my brain went right to the impossible. i want to play quidditch. or swing through the city, like when spiderman was first honing his skills. anyways... he got sucked in. he asked, i had to give him some history... how harry was orphaned, who voldemort is, who might be trying to kill harry.......well, we can all voluntarily suspend disbelief up to a point. we've all got that line, you know? scrappy's absorbing it all... apparently he can understand flying on broomsticks, wizards and witches, schools of magic, even mountain trolls. where is his line? at what point could he no longer suspend disbelief? "if that troll fell face first like that... that wand would've been shoved into his brain..." indeed...

no pictures, please...

there's a lot of things you shouldn't do angry. like drive, or dental work... especially if you're the one *doing* the dental work. i suppose it might not matter much if you receive the dental work angry... maybe just cause for extra suctioning to get rid of the excess froth in the mouth... but i digress...i'm going to have to say that cutting hair, especially if you're cutting your own, is something best done both sober and with a balanced state of mind... this may seem fairly obvious. in fact, i'll go so far as to say the sheer frustration and emotion associated with anger probably clouds one's judgement almost as effectively as intoxicants... things seem like a very feasible ideas when really they're probably not. grace goes out the window... movements are choppy and sloppy, done in haste with little control or planning... mostly because one doesn't have the foresight to think about the possible consequences......and this was the state of mind i found myself in a few weeks back, frustrated and irritated... for some reason that is not leaping to the tip of my tongue right now... fed up with being in iraq, and with a lot of pent up energy to burn off. now, for a little background, i've been very lazy about cutting my hair. it's pretty much been growing however it wants... and without mirrors i don't really care. until it hits the back of my neck. then it drives me crazy. i'd been doing pretty well keeping it trimmed at the nape of my neck, but it had gotten a bit long... enough that i could pull it into a slight ponytail in the back. ...so i'm getting ready to run, and i pulled my hair off of the back of my neck. and also proceeded to break my favorite pair of headphones. (which helped my irritation immensely) and my backup headphones hit me across the back of the neck... specifically, right where a smallish ponytail might be. i guess that was the final straw, if i had to pick one anyways, i guess that would be it....so the trauma shears were handy in the gym, and the ponytail was bugging me when the headphones hit against it... and it all seemed like a good idea at the moment... well, you know how the story goes....oh, what i wouldn't give for a cost cutters...

delay of game penalty!

in the world of emergency services, there are no holidays considered too sacred to have to work. thanksgiving, xmas... i've spent them all in some service or another... since people don't wait to call for help until after the weekend/holiday/opening of business. working one of these holidays doesn't bother me though......the ones i really try to never to miss... the super bowl, pride weekend, and the now-defunct lilith fair... *these* are the ones that really matter. but even these aren't sacred. i've missed the second halves due to calls... i've skipped now 2 pride weekends from lack of time or funds. and they're definitely things that i've missed in their full glory over here...but the other things i've missed... like riding my bike, playing softball in the summer, lounging on the couch for sunday football, getting the last game of golf in at the end of the year and the first in the spring... man, i miss those things.i got a little taste of softball this last weekend... we went up and played the F18 crews on a makeshift field they had been working on. evening out the "moon dust" as we refer to the kind of sand. you know you've been in iraq too long when you can classify the types of sand...alright... i'm rambling... so i was out playing 2nd base. on the ankle deep moondust, where i had been playing for, oh, about 4 innings. i'm walking out there between innings, and must have kicked around some sand... now i'm looking at some aluminum tube. "hmmm... well, it might be nothing..." this is my thought, as i'm leaning over, gingerly brushing away sand. then i look up to realize that i'm surrounded by hangers, multi-million dollar aircraft, AND ALL THEIR ARMAMENT. *and* i've now brushed away enough to now see a wire...so i calmly wave the pitcher over, who comes a-trotting cuz he thinks i'm looking for a lost contact. "what the hell is that?" i ask. "hmmm... i don't know..." "yeah, me either... but i sure as fuck don't want to play on top of it..." ...so there's a delay in the game while we get a munitions expert to remove the offending object. ...only in iraq...

don't hesitate, procrastinate today

*sigh*so i'm still talking about R&R... 3 months later i haven't wrapped this up yet. procrastination is one of the things i'm best at... and my mom said to stick with what i was best at...i think that procrastination is definitely a strong point of mine. people pay perfectly good money for silence and to try to slow the momentum of their lives... we take for granted that there's never enough time, never enough hours in the day. i don't really consider it "procrastination"... i just think i'm making time to slow the momentum of my life. ...or maybe that's just sugarcoating it a little. :)had "Procrastination and Bullshit Sciences" been offered in college, i could've had a degree easy. well, i could have CLEP'ed out, anyways. actually attending class wasn't a strong point. neither was actually doing the studying. this is where the procrastination part kicked in... i could find any number of things to do other than just study... like sort my socks by type, color, and level of wear......so anyways, stalling and procrastination are definitely something i'm good at. and i've been successfully employing both of those skills in delaying and detaining some significant details of my life during and since the last R&R. in short, i've met someone, and i've fallen completely and totally in love with her. for those of ya'll who've known me over the last few (or several) years, this probably sounds very strange coming out of my mouth. yes, the staff at "livejournal.com" continues to bombard me with warnings that my password is too easy and my account could be hijacked. seriously, though, that's not what happened... it's really me, and i'm really in love and really happy. except for the fact that i'm in iraq. (there's always something, isn't there?)so there it is... shew! i do promise to catch up on some serious storytelling, since i have some ideas waiting in the wings but was trying to get through R&R first. and i didn't feel like i could wrap up R&R without mentioning this... since it *is* pretty much a radical, life changing event for me. (no, no rings have been exchanged... per lesbian ettiquette, i think one of us has to show up with a U-Haul first) and i also should mention that this in no way should affect my dark, sarcastic, dry sense of humor... i promise not to go all soft on ya'll.

off to a rough start...

right... so we're back to R&R. which of course includes travel, and myself being put in very odd and entertaining positions… not that I think so at the time… but it gives me random things to write about later…so I’d like to think I have a stomach of steel. I *used* to be able to eat anything. apparently after 8 months of MRE’s, local cuisine, and nonpotable water, I’ve come under the false impression that I have one again. it’s just not true…apparently lactose intolerance is not affected by any of this, not for the better and thankfully not for the worse. but here’s a little hint, if you have problems with dairy, you shouldn’t eat unrecognizable foods… especially when the list of ingredients is also unrecognizable. (yeah, I don’t read dutch either…) in the effort of giving fair warning, i'm assuming that no one is reading this post while eating. because, like a lot of things i say... it's probably not great dinner conversation. but for those of you who were eating, i'd suggest coming back to this post later... like after dessert. needless to say, I was having some GI issues when we landed in dubai. as a side note… dubai isn’t like traveling through, say, chicago-o hare. first off, very few people speak english. signs are useless, unless you read Arabic or can make sense out of the broken english-esque language. and western people, especially women, stick out like republicans at pride. about half stare, and the other half consciously try to avoid eye contact… anyways, what I’m trying to say is it’s just different here, and I’m way out of place. oh, and as another side note… per the local culture, they have daily public prayers. it’s kind of crazy, how the corridors will suddenly be deserted, and overhead on the sound system is this 2 minutes worth of singing/chanting in Arabic. where do they go, you ask? …some go to mosques, which about as abundant as Baptist churches in the south, and have 20 minute prayer parking out front for your convenience. in other public places, malls… airports and so on, they have prayer rooms. seems that the men have theirs and the women have their own. apparently coed praying is not acceptable. makes the amish look like heathens. but I digress….…so these prayer rooms in the dubai airport are located adjacent to the bathroom… kind of a one stop shop. the Arabic sign could possibly say “Pee and Pray” and I wouldn’t know the difference. so I’m off the flight, and waiting for my luggage I’m not feeling all that great. if I were in the middle of the woods, I wouldn’t be wasting time picking out a good spot, any bush would do. so I’m doing the “shuffle/sprint” to the nearest restroom. (you know the one I’m talking about… don’t act like you don’t.) now, 3 flights had just off loaded, and I figured it was just my luck that I needed a bathroom and it was at full capacity. it was a sea of cloaked women. I was beyond desperate… handicapped stall, large sink… explosive diarrhea doesn’t wait. so the end door opens and I nearly run over someone’s grandmother in the race against time. I slam the door, drop my bag, and as I’m fumbling with my belt I turn around to see that I’m in the hodji style bidet stall. there’s a tile floor with a 6” diameter hole in the ground… with little grooved areas to indicate where you’re supposed to put your feet to perch. oh, and a nozzle. so now I’m trying to unbuckle my belt and think at the same time… how do the hodji’s *do* this? there should really be instructions posted… there’s got to be a trick to not making a mess all over your pants without completely removing them. of course, the instructions would be in Arabic most likely…so I didn’t know the accepted squatting technique, but I knew I was going to learn in a hurry. so the pants, being the only ones I had with me, came all the way off. of course, the shoes had to come off first… so we did that. and I could just see myself slipping on the tiles in my socks, cracking my head against the wall and getting myself stuck to the ankle in this little hole… so they came off… better traction barefoot. I was stripped waist down in a matter of seconds… I’m pretty sure it would take longer to get actively flaming clothes off of me.…and then the prayers start. which I’m actually thinking is a good thing for a couple of seconds, cover noise is always appreciated with an impending explosion. I just wasn’t, um, exploding like I was used to. I think it was the squatting position… it was delaying the process. and then the prayers were over. and the silent meditation started. ever seen the movie “american pie”? probably 40 or so women piled into the next room with no door to divide us… obviously trying to have a pious experience… and I was trying so hard to let them. I really was. I held it until I couldn’t anymore, then all hell broke loose… like some candid camera bit. to add insult to injury… I had to figure out how to use the sprayer. nope, no toilet paper. now, with a fire extinguisher we teach people how to do a little “test squirt” to make sure it’s charged and works and you’re familiar with the reach of the stream before you approach the fire. *this* would’ve been a great strategy… too bad it’s not the one I employed. on a positive note, I was very glad I had removed my pants and shoes… but I wished I had removed my shirt as well, because I managed to drench that also. I’m not sure what you’re supposed to dry with… so pretty much I was stuck drip drying. the good news is that it gave all 40 or so prayer goers plenty of time to clear out and leave me alone with my shreds of dignity. what a crappy way to start my R&R. (i couldn't resist... sorry.)

about the toe...

alright, so I got asked about the toe… yes, I broke my toe on R&R. my pinky toe, to be specific. enough to make me uncomfortable, and screw up my cardio for 4 weeks or so, but not enough to make me quit working. and no, I don’t even have a cool story to go with it…you see, almost all my injuries are born of either a.) clumsiness on my part or b.) poor judgment on my part. (“poor judgment” sounds better than “stupidity”) in this case, it would be clumsiness. I was walking, barefoot, through my friends’ kitchen and caught just my pinky toe on the corner of the island of cabinets. I was slightly distracted, as I was waiting for the beep on someone’s voicemail. I can’t remember for the life of me who I was calling, but there I was, phone pressed to my ear… and *thwack* broke my toe. following the split second it took for my brain to register the pain in my foot, the tone for the voicemail of course sounded. imagine the sound made by the simultaneous sharp slow gasp of breath, and the sound of a person groaning in pain. did it sound kind of like a poorly maintained oboe being played by someone inhaling? …cuz it should’ve. this is the sound someone got at the beginning of their message…now, of course I couldn’t just hang up. caller id would’ve given me away, and they would’ve returned my call just to tell me I need to work on my prank calls and heavy breathing. no, of course I felt the need to try and compose myself and leave a message… not real sure how that went, but I’m guessing not well. so the lesson learned is: no… I, in fact, cannot walk and talk at the same time. the proof is out there.

two months...

two months ya'll... i'm on the downhill slide of my year. i've (of course) got some catching up to do with my entries, but i think i finally got my email almost under control, so my personal "to do" list is getting shorter... more to come (really).

it coulda been worse...

coulda, shoulda, woulda… i really don’t like thinking about unrealized potential like that. it’s kind of hard not to sometimes though. i've been messing around with the guitar since i left college. i've never really had anyone to play with, and my musical talent is pretty minimal. basically, i've struggled for most every little skill i've learned……pilcher and i have been playing for a couple of months now. he really doesn’t have any inbred musical genius either… we’re both doing it for fun. but seriously, he basically learned in two evenings a song that took me probably a year… to piece together, to learn, to polish. he’s so much faster at picking it up from me than i am, trying to learn it from a piece of paper and listening to recordings... i really think it's a matter of time until he absorbs everything i know… and i can’t learn fast enough to keep having more for him. but of course, i'm not one of those people to try and hold something back for themselves… i don’t need to *look* important. i *am* important. and arrogant. :) i was always told that the learning curve was much faster if you had someone to play with… i just never thought it was that extreme.of course, all this makes me wonder in retrospect where i might be at if i would’ve been playing with someone who challenged me. …apparently, not that far.we were sitting outside playing the other night… it’s getting warm here, so it felt like a late summer night, with a nice breeze. so it’s just the two of us, and we’re playing “you were meant for me” by jewel. now, remember the discussion over how i really can’t sing something by smashing pumpkins? well, jewel really isn’t pilcher’s range or style. admittedly, the range is a stretch for me… but really, it’s just for fun… and for the interest of learning and getting the timing down, it’s one of the ones i sing. …so the breeze is blowing, we’re playing, i'm singing… and ack comes out to smoke. (just to set the scene, ack was in the process of quitting to go home and is a very unhappy person right now.) he proceeds to interrupt us mid verse and tell me that i “really just need to lay off the high notes, because it really doesn’t sound good.” of course, we didn’t miss a beat and finished the song regardless… …now, i know it’s not my best… and yes, it’s out of my range. so we won’t submit that one to american idol, ok? i can also absorb where it’s coming from, and see his state of mind behind it, even if i don’t really understand the motivation. but why would you say something like that to someone? not a big deal to say it to someone like me… i never really cared what he thought of me one way or the other. i won’t say it didn’t sting, because of course it did… that’s what it was meant to do. but what if frankie would’ve been the one singing? he’s sensitive about his voice as it is… it took weeks just to get him to try… even just singing along with me. what kind of damage would that have done? i think something like that might have seriously hurt his feelings, if not broke his heart. i guess ultimately i'm glad it went the way it did…

what a way to end the month...

i heard that one of my favorite teachers growing up recently passed away. of course, being 6000 miles away, i heard about it well after the fact. Mrs. Freeburg was an incredible woman, one of the most influential people in my life. she taught me 8th grade. i remember being absolutely intimidated by her before i was her student, and then not remembering why i used to be so intimidated once i knew her. she was my first taste of grasping a big picture of what was going on in the world, in life. in seeing patterns of social and individual behavior. in the ability to work within a system because you believe in what it can become, not because you share in all the existing components. and in the ability of a person to adapt and overcome. you see, Mrs. Freeburg had muscular dystrophy. i don’t know what it was like for her when she first found out… i don’t know how well she adjusted, how hard it was for her. i know that when i knew her, i saw an incredibly intelligent, strong, gifted woman… who came to work every day and climbed 3 flights of stairs with the cane in her hand, who was loved and respected by her students. i got to visit once with her after she had retired… during my college years. i don’t remember what was said… but i remember leaving with the feeling that i hadn’t said everything i wanted to. funny how you can have the exact same feeling again years later… i don’t even know what i would want to tell her… would i thank her? would i tell her what i truly thought of her? would i find out how she was doing? would i want to tell her that i turned out ok? what i'm doing now? …i dunno… just one of those things that you feel something is missing…which makes me wonder if she would even remember me. with that many students over that many years… I’m sure most every student remembers the teacher, maybe even fondly. I’m sure teachers don’t remember every student. was I memorable in 8th grade? would I *want* to be considered memorable at that age? …buddhist philosophy focuses on the view of no birth, no death. that every sentient being is tied to another… that death is not an end. that parts of ourselves are manifested in other people, because of how and what we share with others, to go on through them. i believe there is a lot of Mrs. Freeburg still in this world, and the world is better for it.

...the new american sport

well, the olympics are almost over. and with it another spontaneously popular sport will drop into obscurity... at least for another few years. of course, i'm talking about women's curling...(duh, what ELSE would i be referring to?!)so the fire station... and by that i mean all the guys in it... have fallen in love with the US women's curling team. in 4 days, they went from knowing nothing about the sport (what is that? shuffleboard?) to resident experts. they know rules, terms, even what a good shot (i'm sorry, not a shot... a "curl") is. they know the players by name. and you ask why...?...come on now, dig deep, you know the answer. why did they get hooked on the L word right away? cuz the chics were hot. and so was the US women's curling team. hot, blonde, and flexible. and you've got the johnson twins... or sisters... whatever. Jessie and Cassie. reason enough for us all to sit down every night for a couple of hours and watch curling. ok, so it bears to mention that when it's prime watching hours over here... it's like 0400 in the morning over there. so what we're really watching is the crap ya'll don't want to be bothered with. except for the 14 diehard fans who get up at 4 am to watch. not that i know anyone like that... :)

...just a good thing they weren't auctioning cake...

with the new dispatch rotation, everyone has to do one week of dispatching every 2 or 3 months. this is my week. i hate sitting still for this long. there is not enough email sent to me, or things i want to look up on the internet... there is no way i'm going to be entertained for 12 hours at a time for 7 days. that doesn't stop me from trying......i've bought guitar strings, pretty well caught up on email, and have surfed as much as the firewall will let me. i even found the end of the internet. i'm pretty sure it's the end, or a sign the end is near anyways. it's called www.yetisports.org ...countless hours of fun batting penguins. i am assured, however, that no penguins were hurt in the making of these games... ...where i got into trouble was ebay. it all started innocently enough. i bought a pair of flip flops that i had ordered months ago and never got delivered. i guess they were backordered for so long that they decided to cancel the order. so anyways, i got a heck of a deal on the flip flops i wanted. then i decided to followup with my desire for an xbox. ...if you remember, i came damn close to buying a PS2 with the DDR pack a while back. it would've involved buying a tv, and spending $199 was more than i wanted to do. well, i scored a small tv for free over the last couple of months. and i like the xbox better. (and, fyi, they also make DDR for the xbox... it's important to note) and, i can use it as a dvd player...the dvd player option probably doesn't seem real important... after all, i've been playing dvd's on my laptop for 9 months now, right? well, what i've learned is that some dvd's feel the need to add noise to their root menus. not such a big deal when you start the movie... but when you fall asleep to, let's say for example, "harry potter and the prisoner of azkaban" and wake up after 4 hours of the little jamacian shrunken head saying "watch da pea soup...ya bettah eat it before it each-u!" ...well, you wake up from som pretty fucked up dreams. another one is the beginning to "finding nemo". ellen degeneres's voice might not be a bad thing to sleep to... some people might like it. don't knock it till you try it. however, i could do without the "just keep swimming, just keep swimming..." song. but i digress. the point is that the tv has a timer. not, contrary to popular opinion, that i need the remote control. my room is 5' by 9'. i'm not that lazy...wow... so where was i going with this? oh yeah, so i bought an xbox. and with a total of 4 games on their way to me... i will be more than set for the next 2 months. however, if "john madden's football 2006" contains his pearls of wisdom narrated by Captain Obvious himself... well, i'll have to learn to play in the mute mode...

...so i have to tell you

... i know, i still have to talk about R&R a little. it was great, just to be out of the sandbox for a while. class took up a lot of the time, as did recovering from jet lag... but you'll have that. what blew me away, though, was when i went to the mall...i didn't really have this problem my first R&R. maybe it was because it had just been under 4 months since i left and now it was closer to 9... maybe it was because i spent some quality time in Victory where there's more surroundings and things to experience. regardless, we were walking through the new WDSM mall... i needed a nice jacket. i was looking to replace my black leather jacket which has gone AWOL... which led us through a few dept stores. i felt like my eyes were being pulled in every direction at once... there were too many signs and colors and marketing gimmicks. it was really overwhelming. and let me tell you, apparently small men don't wear leather jackets, cuz we were having a hell of a time finding one i liked. and then when we found one, it turned out to be lambskin. i dunno, i'm not real sure i'm ok with wearing a baby lamb. (which i remarked out loud...) to which the reply i got from present company was, "well, maybe they were adult lambs." um, those would be "sheep". :) but i digress...so when i wasn't too exhausted to care, and i started paying attention to the chaos going on in my brain... i started realizing how overstimulated and tense i was. bright lights, unpredictable motions, strange sounds, heavy traffic, bags and coats left unattended... it was just too much. i really wanted to just not go anywhere, and not do anything. it kind of felt like the first time i went to vegas... except back then i felt entertained and dazzled. ...they say it's just a matter of time till you get reaccustomed to all that. i don't think 10 days is sufficient for overcoming jet lag, much less the hyperstimulation. luckily, my EOC is longer. and i'm going through the crash course of reintroduction to western society...

well, were did THAT come from?

it was brought to my attention over R&R that i write a lot about my bathroom experiences. it’s true, there is a lot of amusement to be found in the predicaments i find myself in while in restroom facilities. more so, i think it’s a sign of how little there is to do out here. it's really just not very exciting. we eat at the dfac… which i’ve written various things about, we sleep… which there’s not much there to comment on, and we use the bathrooms. really, it’s a universal experience… one we all have and no one bothers to talk about. …kind of like those thoughts that keep you awake at night. not the big ones, like money, or living in a warzone, or the one that got away… the stupid little ones that come to you out of nowhere, that you haven’t thought of in a long time. but there you are, drifting in that space between “sleep” and “not sleep” and there it is… “remember the time your college roommate caught you dancing naked in front of the mirror?” “remember the time you blanked on your softball coach’s last name and dungy thought you were a dumbass?” “remember when you laid your bike at about 2 mph in front your friends?” awww, man… i haven’t thought of that in a long time. and then of course the next thought… “i wonder if THEY remember that?” which is an absolutely ridiculous question… of course they do. but really, i don’t even talk to that college roommate anymore, i wouldn’t even know how to get a hold of her, so does it matter? it seems to be the instances where you do or say something stupid in front of someone you want to impress… anyways, for some reason, it sticks with you and you’re wondering how strange they must think you are. i don’t know if you do this or not……so yes, i write about experiences i think someone might relate to, or laugh at. occasionally random things will come to mind, and if i feel like putting it down on paper…well, it’s my journal. i can do that. so there. and if most of my experiences out here center around the bathroom or working out… well, what else are you supposed to do in iraq?

you're going to have to excuse me...

...i haven't written in a month. a full month. and while i have so much to say, i'm still having a hard time making it all tie together in my head. ...so what comes out here for the next few days is like the foam when you first tap a keg. you got to drain off a few pitchers full of crap before you get to the good stuff. so if it sounds like i'm rambling and not really getting to my point... well, duh, of course that's what's going on. you act like you've never read me before! ...but in my defense, it's going to take a couple of days to get rid of the foam and back into a rhythm, so bear with me.

i dunno...

i was terribly nervous to go home the first R&R. i talked a little about the anxiety i was harboring over people having access to a lot of my thoughts and feelings… unlike they had previously had before. i’m not sure what exactly changed in 5 months, but those reservations and concerns weren’t there this time……i’m going to have to do some reading and see what i’ve written in the last few months. was i sharing more of myself and opening myself up more the first few months? that was, ultimately, one of my goals… have i shied away from that? i write a lot about the humor i find… did i get so far away from entries with significant meaning or insight? if that’s true, it could certainly be the reason i didn’t feel vulnerable this time……or maybe i’ve just grown familiar with how it feels? maybe i don’t feel as close to some of the people i did before. maybe i figured out that it’s not so bad to be vulnerable……it always grounds me to find out that someone reads these. especially if i don’t know them very well, or maybe they’re a friend of a friend… but to find out they get some enjoyment out of what i write… that i brightened their day… well, it makes my day. it makes me feel very humble, and surprised… but it gives me warm fuzzies to know i could do that for someone. …and you’ve also got the people i’ve been close to for years, who are getting to know me a little bit more and a little bit differently every entry i write. i forget how deep these can get sometimes, and i think i forget that they read them… until something is said……like an offhand comment when i’m cooking breakfast about how if i throw the bacon in the microwave, it’ll come out really crispy – just like i like it. i stopped dead in my tracks, shocked that someone, ANYONE would know that. you know, when i had a girlfriend i made a purely conscious effort to try and remember her favorite soda, or what she orders at starbucks… but a friend i’ve never eaten breakfast with in my life knows that i like my bacon extra crispy?! i was speechless… and ya’ll know it takes a lot to make me speechless…

...this is just the teaser...

...the one you get during commercials, that convinces you to be home for "must see tv" on thursday night... cuz ER is all new and something big is going to happen. that's my way of saying, "i'm not going to tell you anything good in this entry... just to stay tuned for the upcoming ones, or you might miss something." like what, which brand of baby wipes i don't recommend for adult bathing purposes? ...you just never know, that's the point...so anyways... i'm back from R&R, settled and almost over the jet lag. home again, for another 90-ish days. i have so many things i want to tell ya'll... where do i begin? my firehouse has completely changed... we've now split into 3 stations... our overcrowding of 50 people in one station has dropped to 15 in the station i'm in. the morale has skyrocketed, the leadership has improved... i hardly know what to make of it except to enjoy it while it lasts...i'm back to riding backwards on an engine... which is awesome. i'm delta seat on a makeshift "rescue engine"... we're carrying minimal rescue tools since heavy rescue went to the flightline and we're not slated to get a medium rescue for another 6 months. i'm ok with that...with the low staffing levels, we've gone to 7 16's until further notice, which means i get no days off. unfortunately, i'm battling allergies or some sort of illness, sleeping for a full day would be awesome...and i can't seem to get motivated right now to start a fitness program... my cardio went to hell when i broke my pinky toe over R&R... brand spanking new ugly ass running shoes and i can't use them. so stay tuned, i know it's been damn near a month since i wrote... but of course i've got a few good travel stories, and some other surprises...

awww...

so sometimes i just never cease to be amazed at these guys…wylie is a good guy. tough, but good. he’s well intentioned, has a lot of attitude, doesn’t take shit off of anyone, and is the kind of guy you really want on your side if you ever got in a bar fight. not exactly your sentimental type… just to give you an idea…so scrappy comes out of one of the dorm areas next to the bay last night while pilcher and i are having one of our “jam sessions” (his phrase, not mine)… and says, “i can always tell when wylie goes to bed early…” um, ok…i'll bite… how’s that? “because he’ll block his door open a couple of inches with a block of wood so he can fall asleep listening to ya’ll.” awww…

don't shoot the messenger...

ducky… is on his way home right now. to a well deserved vacation, home, friends, family, and his suspiciously bisexual girlfriend. let’s start by saying that for having known each other since grade school, they have some serious trust and communication issues to begin with. she thinks he’s cheating on her here (with who?!), he thinks she’s hooking up every time she goes out there. she has a hard time talking to him about some issues, so she’ll call and talk to kase (one of the other dispatchers) and make HIM tell ducky what’s going on. …this is how all this came out in the first place. she couldn’t tell ducky, so she told kase and hung up the phone after asking him to tell ducky. what is this, middle school? how old are we, 12? now, since all the guys have been religiously watching “the L Word”… all he had to say was, “um, hi tim…” for ducky (and everyone else) to get what had been said. btw, there aren’t a whole lot of secrets in a firehouse… but i digress… it gets worse…let me clarify by saying that ducky, in spite of his faults and everything so, so wrong with this relationship… he’s in love with her. enough to push aside his commitment issues… and he potentially has more of those than *i* do. so of course, as the local queer education resource, i get saddled with listening to and sorting out the whole story. it doesn’t look good. red flag 1: she’s slept with more women than men. by far. red flag 2: she’s trying to “stay away from that” or “wean herself off” and red flag 3: she literally referred to ducky as “her rehab”, like he’s going to be her savior. …i think i can feel the collective “uh oh…” from the peanut gallery out there. i’m pretty sure i saw those signs in one of my coming out manuals… under the chapter on “denial”. now, I’ve never so much as talked to her… so shut the hell up, i can’t be blamed for any of this… so i might be misreading something. but the question still stands……how do you tell your friend that his girlfriend bats for the other team?

make it stop, someone, please...

i don’t think anyone likes the idea of just wasting time. everyone out here wants to take something away… and with 45 people in the station right now, there’s plenty to learn. we’ve got someone who used to breakdance, wrestlers, martial artists, boxers, kickboxers, salsa dancers… the list goes on. i spend most of my evenings messing around with a guitar… it’s less risky than breakdancing…pilcher got a guitar sent over, and has me out in the bay with him almost every night playing with him. i told him i’d teach him everything i know… which didn’t take long, cuz it isn’t much. i never had anyone to play with, never took lessons… pretty much just what i could pick up and play by ear is what i know. we’ve gone over how to read tab and some basic scales and chords… how to change his strings… that’s about it. now he just wants to get together and play. or “jam”… as he likes to call it……all in all, it’s great for me… i love playing with someone else, and it definitely stretches my abilities and forces me outside my usual repertoire. it’s been 6 weeks, though, and i love him to death… but we’ve got to expand his selection of music. i am so sick of playing metallica, and poison, and pink floyd, and smashing pumpkins that i can hardly stand it. i feel like a radio station, stuck repeating the same 10 songs. only from 80’s metal bands. plus… he wants to learn to sing while he plays. only, when he’s still trying to get the timing down, *i* end up singing. i dunno, but i’m guessing that i don’t have the voice to be doing smashing pumpkins “disarm”… “…the killer in me is a killer in you…” …it’s got to be something like listening to a group of tipsy sorority girls try to do karaoke to eminem. or when the drag queen decides to do the entire 10 minute version of “proud mary”. while laughable for the first verse, it’s like an SNL skit that drags on too long…