Recluse

Why am I having waiter dreams? And moreover why are they in McDonalds? If you've ever been a waiter, you probably sympathize. But usually they come in the few weeks or months when you first start working someplace. Oh no, I forgot that or...I've made this table wait forever or...How am I gonna do this special order.

But last night the McDonald's customers in my head had me running around getting chocolate mousse covered pretzels and low carb fish hash browns. At one point I was putting the order in to the computer and the food just popped out of the machine - then I had to work backwards cause it didn't give me a receipt for everything. My manager was some big gangly dark looking guy that couldn't figure out what was going on and didn't seem to care.

How very strange. I spent all of yesterday shut in and maybe it's cabin fever or something. I'd better go out and gamble away some money or anything else to get me out of these three rooms.

The Road Goes Ever On and On...

I'm ready to go on to morning shift. That's 6 am to noon here, and I'll be trying to wake up at 4:30, to leave the house by 5:30, and have some room for sanity before I go.

But I was reading my sister's blog, and she was talking about hiking around Santa Clarita, and was asking about some of the places around there.

I thought back to where I would go, and what I would do, because I realize now that I used to go sort of wilderness romping quite a lot - something I haven't done nearly as much in the military. I keep talking about it but never really bother to plan to do it.

When I was in elementary school my best friend was Mike Lightner, of the lightner clan, and behind their house was a hill that was too sheer for track homes to crawl up, I guess. It was also too sheer for bikes, generally, so we used to walk up around there. I can't imagine it was very big, but we somehow found places to go. I particularly remember there was some sort of naturally enclosed, sort of "secret garden" place, that found once and couldn't find again. There was also a long, deep drain running down one part, I think it was while they were building houses on top. Mike broke his arm or sprained his wrist or something when we were climbing around in there.

During that time, and after, I'd take my bike behind...I think it was Bouquet Park. It was on the other Wellston. There was always a section in the fence that could be pushed thru to get back to the hills back behind there. I almost guarantee there are track homes there now, but it was all sort of chapparell (or however that's spelled) desert when I went. There we tons of jumps on little trails that someone or other had smashed and dug at some point before I got there.

I remember at least once I was riding or walking on this long horseshoe shaped road on top of one of the hills. It was probably a service road. I got back to the very back of it...the portion furthest from the park, probably at least a mile back (as the crow flies, if you will), and I looked out and there were these hills literally as far as I could see, without any sign of people or buildings on them. I compared it to the Lord of the Rings (in my mind), which I'm also rereading right now. I loved having those seemingly endless swathes of "wilderness" outside my door.

I do miss those places and I know of little that's comparable right here. It probably would be difficult to find a comparison to my child's memory anyway, as these places were undoubtedly far less pristine than I remember, and here everything is bound by roads or farms. Just fly over this place and look at the window. Every square mile is covered with farms...quite literally, in some areas.

But I've resolved to do at least one camping trip this summer, somewhere near here, or else I'm sure I'll regret my homebodyness while I was here. This weekend I'm going back up to duck lake, so we'll see if we can't find some buried treasure this time.

Eat, Drink, and Be Merry, for Tomorrow, we Fly

Except I probably shouldn't eat anything crazy, I definitely shouldn't drink, and "crew rest" fairly prohibits me from being merry with anything more than what's already in my apartment - which, don't get me wrong, aint bad.

I'm fairly nervous, as I always am when going into something new or very different. Every time I go to a new place or start a new class or a new activity I get somewhat nervous the day or so before, so I guess this is expected. Thinking back in recent memory, I think the only things I was really justifiably nervous about were Survival School, and Basic Training. Everything else has been no big deal. This also, I'm sure, will be no big deal, and might end up being actually kind of cool.

There's some kind of psychological therapy that focuses on just thinking about things rationally. An example of this would be something like if your significant other was an hour or two late from work. Instead of automatically assuming the worst, it would have you stop, and think about all the more realistic possibilities (their phone died and they had to stay late, they had car trouble on the way home, they had some other appointment you forgot about or maybe they forgot to tell you) and realize the reality of your worst fear being true is pretty slim. In this situation, even though my worst fear isn't very solidified, the flight will probably, nevertheless, go by with a minimum of incident. I know the stuff I'm supposed to know, and I've never come across much of anything that I couldn't handle with relative ease - at least as far as these standardized things go.

I look at some of the people that have gone before me, and I figure they might as well skip the five flights and just graduate me after this one. Sorry if this post isn't exciting, it's more to myself. By 1630 tomorrow, hopefully, it'll all be done. And in three months or so it'll just be a dim memory.

Drip Down

Rumors, rumors and ill feelings. No matter who we're put together with, our own pride maybe, or expectations, or maybe the illusion of permanence, as the Buddhists think, make every kind of secret complaining or outright animosity spring out of initially stand-offish people. I've also heard that familiarity breeds contempt, which may be the case.

I think I may be cursed to apathy as well, controllable, but difficult to push back once it gets hold. It's just that once it gets going I have a damned time mustering the will to change it. All becomes bad and nothing good. If I can use the boredom and hatred, by historical figures, of their respective situations and occupations I still have to accept the revulsion of the present moment they must have experienced, and the suffering they must have endured for what we can justify in retrospect.

I'm also just tired of this shit.

The deployment was supposed to happen, then was canceled, then was supposedly pushed back a month. As of last week I found that, without being told anything, I had been replaced. Today, the verdict is, we're not sure, you might go.

I can't bring myself to be neutral about this place. Maybe malcontent would be a more accurate description. I just really hate what I'm doing. People have gone thru it with their chins up and bright prospects. That's just not me. And maybe I'm using this situation as an excuse to fan my coals of dissatisfaction. I can almost guarantee I am. I just choose not to put energy into finding the merits. Probably a poor response. I've really lost interest in determining that.

In contrast, here's a bit about the new Bond movie.

Interrupted

I used to live in a suburban city in Southern California. With the exception of an Uncle and Aunt and cousins dodging fires, after 19 years of life there, I have no reason to go back - not in any sort of permanent basis at least. The rest of my family and some friends live in the desert capitol of Arizona, and I was born there, but it's also not my home. No where and at no time will I return to the same high school friends up to the same old antics, and I'll probably never frequent the haunts of my childhood.

It seems romantic to be free with no ties, but it's also very strange.

So Delivered

Atop Mt. Evans
At the campsite at the dunes.

Madness
Retribution.
Assertion


The Journey


Some fools in a raft

The 4th

Took place at the base lake, near Offutt, from 1 pm till about 10. Then it took me a good 45 or an hour to get home, shower, and over to Dom's house. I didn't actually meet Dom, but I've heard good things about him. People like to go over to his house - was a nice place. Drank some nasty drinks, jammed a bit, went home.

Swindlers, Crooks, and Liars

Check it out.

Conclusion:

Forget what you thought you knew.

At First

A benefit to the Air Force is the time you get off. You're "on duty" 24/7, but you get out early some, and usually when there's a three day weekend, it turns into a four day weekend. The downside is getting shot at.

This past weekend was a four dayer and Eric Sward, a friend of mine from back in DLI days, invited/recruited me to drive him (and, sort of unavoidably, myself) to Minnesota and ultimately to an undisclosed location in upper Wisconsin for four days of ski, scrumptiousness, and scruples (nothing starts with "sk").


These are two pictures I took. I'll post more when I go back up there and take more pictures. I took my camera up there, then we'd go out on the boat or drive somewhere and I'd think, I should have brought my camera. These two are from backwoods tour given by the Sward grandpappy that the Sward children often fight over for their turn to go on. I doubt that sentence was grammatically correct. Nevertheless, I thought it was interesting. We checked grandpa's minnow traps, saw that big damn beaver dam in the left one, and learned about the history of the old rail lines that used to haul lumber out of there. I was also scoping out the place for where the holy grail was buried, as it was the Knights Templar Club and you know how those people are with their grails.

In the meantime, between when we got there and left, we did some hot tubbing, some tubing behind the boat, others skied and I oft considered skiing, saw pirates 3, played loads of games, and did all sorts of other things I promised not to disclose (in exchange for which I get treasure). It was much fun. The cast was myself and Eric, Stevo and Carla (the parents, we called them the fantastic 4, which doesn't really make sense), Sarah, Kristen, and Jenna (the girls, who we called the Lone Ranger(s)). It was a time of music and odd nicknames, and I didn't want to go home.

The Mediocre Escape

One: The Professor, caught in this photograph in wicked contemplation of his next devilish plot.

Two: Sunday morning, May the 20th.

Three: A streak of some-to-very hot days finds the home of The Professor often with windows ajar as to let the cool night air calm the teeming innards of the apartment. The Professor could often be found next to these unsuspecting windows, apparently making aggressive noises at birds and children - alledgedy contemplating eating one. In reality, his intentions were far more sinister.

Four: The exit. On said morning in said location at one of said windows the owner of the ne'er do weller cat awoke to find exibit B - a screen cunningly dislodged from its place of...rest. Knowing that the cat would most likely seek to return to his gang - The Jets - with whom he used to "prowl," and not knowing how long The Professor had been at large, due to said owner sleeping a lot, said owner took to the streets.

Five: Several frantic minutes pass as said owner wanders said streets in search of said transient Professor. Finally, when all hope seemed lost, said owner steps back into the hallways of his apartment building, wondering if maybe, just maybe, through the months of a cush life in said apartment, the alley had gone out of the cat.

Six: Tentative meows come from the stairs next to door to said apartment. Indeed, it is the Professor. Lost and alone, he has returned to the hallway in front of said owners door which he frequents frequently. Mystery solved.

Breaking News: Professor apprehended again attempting another buggardly escape attempt during the writing of this very blog. Perhaps we've not yet heard the last of this...Mediocre Escape!!

Round Ball

Played some basketball today. It was one of those experiences where you can remember how you used to be so good at this, and now you're not so much - and you're getting it stolen and blocked and throwing horrible passes and air balling it. If my freshman self could play my now self, my freshman self would be so ashamed now.