that wedding -- that asshole

So, my friend had her wedding recently. She had decided to have a fairly small wedding on a boat on a lake. Unfortunately, the waves were pretty choppy for marching down the aisle. I was the last to go before them, and I heard her father tell her that if she started to fall, he was just going to let go.

Granted, he is an old man -- older than 3/4 of my grandparents -- and he isn't in the best health. But just letting go of your only daughter if she happens to loose her balance on her wedding day seems awfully assholish.

Fortunately, no one fell, and the biggest catastrophe was that someone had misplaced the forks for the wedding cake.

But now I can see why she's waiting for him to kick the bucket.

Six years

Today, I'm certain that there's somebody at Ground Zero in NYC exercising their right to freedom of speech by proclaiming that 9/11 is a massive government conspiracy. More than likely, there's a group of them, and they're handing their propaganda out. Lots of people aren't going to like what they have to say, and will probably tell that to them too. It might come to shouting, but if no one throws a punch, no one is going to get arrested. This is the US, that's the way we roll.

Today, there's someone out there who's proclaiming that we should probably just "nuke em all," without the depth of insight that our country would again be guilty of genocide. Wouldn't it be foolish to wipe out a whole region of the world, poison it with radiation, just to satisfy a lust for blood and revenge?

Today, there's someone protesting the War in Iraq. Perhaps they'll say that we're killing Iraqis there... and they wouldn't be entirely wrong. Something like 225 Iraqi civilians have died in 2006 as a result of US actions. Some 16,791 Iraqis have been killed by terrorist actions in the same year. I'm reminded of a line from Reading Lolita in Tehran, where the author passing by posters, and one of them says, "The more we die, the stronger we become." What the hell kind of logic is that?

Today, there is a large, quiet gathering at Arlington National Cemetery. Maybe someone's brought a picnic to spend the day there in memory of their loved one. Maybe someone else will yell at them for irreverence. Or not.

But I imagine that almost everyone today sits and thinks about what they were doing, where they were six years ago, at least for a few minutes. I know that I can't forget, though I was hardly the person who I am now then.


I suppose the same could be said, of the whole world.

The Last DEP Meeting, or Today I Blame Myself

I had my last Delayed Entry Program meeting today. It was surprisingly academic; the recruiters mostly asked us questions about things you should know before you go to boot camp. That part was easy, since everything is in my mind pretty firmly. Then we went outside and had a little fun, running relay on a soccer field. One of the recruiters challenged us to complete it in under 20:00 -- giving us each about a 1:30 to complete our leg.

Physically, I'll say that I'm average to above average. I can push out the required push-ups easily, the sit-ups are a breeze. But running? I'm not so sure if I can make the required 15:00 mark for a mile and a half.

So my turn comes up, and I ran at an easy loose pace until the last 100 yards or so. I dug deep and sprinted as hard as I can, and my muscles felt like jelly. And about 12 feet from the tag-off line, my jelly-muscles say, "nope, we're not going to support you!" and I fall on my ass. The recruiter that I was running with asked if I was okei, (yes) and offered a hand to help me up. I jogged back, tagged off, and walked around with my hands on my head, stomach revolting and feeling as though I might pass out.

We missed the 20:00 mark, by five seconds -- about how long I was on the ground. No one else fell, no one else pushed themselves so hard that they hated themselves after it was done. No. If I hadn't literally pushed myself to the limit, we probably would've made the mark. my team failed because I didn't acknowledge this.

For this, I completely blame myself.

Religion of peace?

Catchphrase for V -- and coundown time

I dunno if you're allowed to "win" more than once, but what the hell.

Your pain does not make you special.


I've started counting the days until I leave, literally. 32. I ship out Oct 2nd. (and my b-day is a week later, that's going to be "fun.")

I'm not worried anymore. Maybe writing had a cathartic effect. Yeah, I'll blame it on that. And I gave my notice at the mcjob. I've changed subtly -- I roll out of bed and I want to go for a run, I want to do 50 push-ups in a minute, I want to recite my 11 general orders in phonetic alphabet.

Sweet zombie jesus, I'm crazy...

Dream a dream

There is a certain doubt, internally, when I consider my fitness for the Navy. I've had three brothers go to boot camp, but none have graduated. This, by itself, gives me more pause than mother's passive-aggressive campaign to convince me to believe I will fail. Granted, this was a different time -- these brothers are all 30+ now, and they enlisted in the late 80s. Still, I wonder what was so irreconcilable with who they are and military life. I'm more anxious about this than anything else.

Family lore has it that they couldn't shoot. I... don't believe this. All of them have better eyesight than I do, and in arcade games, I usually hit what I'm aiming at 50% of the time. Not exactly the best indicator of my shooting ability, but I've never shot a real gun before. Although one of my brothers has admitted to doing "something" to an Army captain that made his separation more expedient.

I'll probably be fine. I try not to think about this too often, still it's kinda worrying.

wedding

A friend of mine has asked me to be maid of honor for her wedding, and I accepted. We had a nice, long chat and I asked her what color dress she's wearing.

She's always been a dark sort of person. She wrote a book where no one has more than one redeeming quality. Once, a group of our friends dressed up in dark robes, went to a cemetery and had pizza delivered, and after eating the pizza, we picked up the garbage until the police came to scare us off. She's decided that rather than having a proper "wedding night," she's going to invite the whole wedding party back to the suite, hang a "do not disturb" sign outside, and likely jump on the beds and play with the jacuzzi and make a lot of noise. (her fiancé has the same sort of personality. This is going to be a fun wedding) And she hates white.

So I fully expected her dress to be blood red or even black. So I was surprised when she said it was white. Apparently, her mom threw a fit when she said she wanted a black wedding dress. So they had a trade-off, she gets a themed wedding in a white dress for her mother's... non-bickeringness?

Whatever makes her happy, I guess.