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November 23, 2008
eric's graduation
November 19, 2008
do your jeans hang low...?
When President-elect Barack Obama spoke of the country's need for change he wasn't referring to just the economy . The GQ, Men's Vogue and Ebony poster king duly noted that when it comes to those wearing baggy pants with their underwear exposed, he just ain't feeling it. In one of his pre-election win interviews with MTV, Obama answered questions submitted by viewers emailed through Facebook.
One asked how he felt about the attempted (and successful) ban on baggy pants. Several cities in Michigan, Florida, Georgia and even a suburb in Chicago (Barack's hometown) have already passed a "Baggy Pants Bill" where an arrest for overexposure of your underwear can have you serve jail time, do community service and/or be fined as much as $500 (see chart).
Obama's comment: "Here is my attitude: I think people passing a law against people wearing sagging pants is a waste of time. We should be focused on creating jobs, improving our schools, health care, dealing with the war in Iraq , and anybody, any public official, that is worrying about sagging pants probably needs to spend some time focusing on real problems out there. Having said that, brothers should pull up their pants. You are walking by your mother, your grandmother, your underwear is showing. What's wrong with that? Come on. There are some issues that we face, that you don't have to pass a law, but that doesn't mean folks can't have some sense and some respect for other people and, you know, some people might not want to see your underwear -- I'm one of them."
November 12, 2008
rememberance of veterans
“
For the most part, soldiers are kids. People forget that sometimes. Eighteen, nineteen, twenty – half of the servicemen weren’t old enough to even buy a beer. They were confident and well trained and excited to go, but it was impossible to ignore the reality of what was coming. Some of them were going to die. Some talked openly about it, others wrote letters to their families and handed them to the chaplain. Tempers were short. Some had trouble sleeping; others slept almost all the time. Thibault observed it all with a strange sense of detachment. Welcome to war, he could hear his father saying. It’s always a SNAFU: situation normal, all fucked up.
”Nicholas Sparks
November 11, 2008
lets get ready to rumble
So it's been a bit since I have blogged. Sincerest apologies. For the past two weeks we have been working out after work with a personal trainer (a Marine Drill Instructor), and after chow and a shower - the last thing I feel like doing is mustering to the lib center to get online.
How is it going you may be wondering? Well by the Friday of our first week we could barely walk. It was a sight to see. Imagine 20-something year olds hobbling around as if they were 80-years-old and just tried to pt. Heaven forbid you made me laugh, lift my arms above my head, or try to sit up in bed.
The second week was better. Although, I never want to be on a stair climber again after 'stepping' for an hour one evening. And just when you think you are done for the evening, a few more push-ups and some type of ab exercise.
It is now our third week into pt-ing and today we again used weights and even got to box. My much pent up angst and frustration was taken out on the poor punching bag. I felt a little like Rocky. However, I am seeing the results! To date I have lost 12 pounds and everything is getting tighter, toner and leaner, and SMALLER!! When ya'll see me for the holidays, I will be a power house. HA.
As it stands now, I am slated to class back up on the 11th of January. Our D.I. is new, Staff Sgnt Mendes, LT Crestetto and the Chief is up in the air. Okay, I know that listing the class team doesn't mean much to you maybe, but the D.I., Class Officer and Class Chief can make or break you and your class. Let's just hope this doesn't happen, I haven't insured my feet yet. ;)
October 27, 2008
form of communication
As you know, when it comes to certain matters (white skirts post Labor Day, underwear as outerwear) I'm hopelessly old fashioned—and I prefer it that way! But when it comes to communication, I absolutely must be plugged in at all times—whether it's iPhone blogging in the back of a cab or Facebook friending in the waiting room. Yet sometimes, a text doesn't take the place of an old-fashioned phone call—or does it?
When you hear a piece of up-to-the-minute gossip do you spill it via text or make a few phone calls to share it with friends? And how do you prefer to hear from the gossips in your life?
We live in a technology craved and savvy society. We were raised on computers and completely avoided changing the ribbon in a typewriter. Where email was once considered a great and convenient form of communication, IM quickly followed and replaced such. ICQ, AOL, MSN, and Yahoo! robbed our youth of precious hours, hours that we should have been spent studying or doing anything productive. Text messaging now has become the latest and greatest form of communication. In a situation where you can’t talk or know your recipient will not be available, send a quick SMS. Trying to reach out to the masses? What better way to send a message to 100+ people letting them know the latest gossip or the location of this weekends party, as opposed to individually calling all of them. Face it, we are no longer Chatty Cathy’s, nor can we afford to be so unless the person whom we are calling has the same cell carrier or (choke - $$) you have unlimited minutes.
While we all pine for the new cell, computer, PDA, etc…we luckily were taught (and some of us retained), the value of a dollar. However, it appears that our youngest generation is spoon-fed the latest and hippest of technology. Elementary kids now peruse the malls and movie theaters with iPhones and Blackberries, often with their Louis, Coach or Prada in tow. At that age, what can all of them be gossiping about via text?? I shutter to think if there is any similarity in conversation. Not to mention, this winter’s Chanel might be a fashion staple, but seriously, how much Bonnie Smacker lip gloss can one really use to carry such? You know that it doesn’t or shouldn’t hold the wallet, checkbook, keys – and if for any blessed reason it does, then we really need to ask ourselves, “How and why did we get here?” Kids are growing up even faster now days; provocative clothing, sex, drinking and drugs. Rather than enabling them, shouldn’t we want them and just let them be kids?
We live in a technology craved and savvy society. We were raised on computers and completely avoided changing the ribbon in a typewriter. Where email was once considered a great and convenient form of communication, IM quickly followed and replaced such. ICQ, AOL, MSN, and Yahoo! robbed our youth of precious hours, hours that we should have been spent studying or doing anything productive. Text messaging now has become the latest and greatest form of communication. In a situation where you can’t talk or know your recipient will not be available, send a quick SMS. Trying to reach out to the masses? What better way to send a message to 100+ people letting them know the latest gossip or the location of this weekends party, as opposed to individually calling all of them. Face it, we are no longer Chatty Cathy’s, nor can we afford to be so unless the person whom we are calling has the same cell carrier or (choke - $$) you have unlimited minutes.
While we all pine for the new cell, computer, PDA, etc…we luckily were taught (and some of us retained), the value of a dollar. However, it appears that our youngest generation is spoon-fed the latest and hippest of technology. Elementary kids now peruse the malls and movie theaters with iPhones and Blackberries, often with their Louis, Coach or Prada in tow. At that age, what can all of them be gossiping about via text?? I shutter to think if there is any similarity in conversation. Not to mention, this winter’s Chanel might be a fashion staple, but seriously, how much Bonnie Smacker lip gloss can one really use to carry such? You know that it doesn’t or shouldn’t hold the wallet, checkbook, keys – and if for any blessed reason it does, then we really need to ask ourselves, “How and why did we get here?” Kids are growing up even faster now days; provocative clothing, sex, drinking and drugs. Rather than enabling them, shouldn’t we want them and just let them be kids?
October 22, 2008
just say "f*** it and jump!"
The night before my plane departed 1,000 miles from what I called home, I was fortunate enough to spend the evening with those I hold near and dear to my heart. I was glutenous at my last supper with family and friends, enjoying yet another meal at Dublins, the ambiance, the Coronas, but more so time with those I had to say goodbye to until next time. How do you tell your then three year-old niece it will be months before her Aunt Sissy can see her again?? However, I was ready to go...my bags were packed, my hair was chopped. Let's play the game.
My former roommate and I said our sad goodbyes that evening as she dropped me off at his apartment. His roommate, also a close friend of mine, myself and him sauntered to one of our favorite hangouts in Downtown Lansing, Tavern on the Square. Our last drink together, a send off that would leave me with their wisdom.
Back at the apartment, we held one another that evening and couldn't muster ourselves to break the silence, for we both knew what the morning was going to bring. Tears streamed down our faces - we have been one another's clever medicine for almost a ear. He could always dig me out of what was covering the better part of me, and vice versa. Sadly, I didn't realize that the last few hours of my freedom we spent together would be the last, nor was I prepared for such.
The nest morning at the airport, we held on for dear life, afraid to let go. "Just say fuck it and jump, K. Gage." His final words of encouragement are now my mantra.
Saying "Fuck it and jump," helped me my first week of hell here at OCS. Regardless of preparations made, nothing can fully prepare one for the mind games, the loss of contact with others, the loss of your personal possessions, and the loss of your fredom. Not being able to speak, use the head when needed, scratch your face, pull up your sleeves, eat with silverware, make eye contact, or eat, drink, and sleep as you please. God bless, where is my cell phone?! Can someone please get me a diet?! What the hell happened to my hair...I look like a...!! I'm not gonna lie, I could really use a drink about now! All the bullshit aside, this is what I had worked so hard for. I had to make it through, I wanted to make it through.
I made it alright, through a very difficult first week on jacked ankles, resulting in stress fractures and bone contusions. Nevertheless, time has now passed...slowly I might add (paint dries faster). As I am now training to go back into the program, it is difficult to only have the comfort of your comrades. Although we are one another's family, you still long for home and loved ones. But saying, "Fuck it and jump," still keeps my motivation and passion alive. Those four little words...
So, my dear friend, thank you for giving me what I needed. When we said goodbye, who knew it was the last time. I thought I knew you, but what did I know I was a blind friend. We were the best of friends, and with grave sadness, I am all that remains. I will always hold you in the deepest corner of my heart, and think of you and our time together fondly.
October 21, 2008
the right decision
Only a year ago, it was Halloween. A favorite holiday of mine - the tricks, the treats, the spooks, the freaks. Type A personality - a perpetual planner, Halloween festivities were planned that which included haunted house, scary movies, Uncle John's Cider Mill, carving pumpkins, parties, bar hopping, etc.
As this year's All Hollows Night approaches, I find myself reminiscing about the good 'ol days. Hindsight - things seemed much more simpler, even though they weren't necessarily. Working two jobs, going to school full-time, I surprised many people that I hadn't worn myself thin. One can only imagine the rude awakening (literally) I walked into coming here out east, being put to bed after 0000 and awoken at 0430, with the primary and sole focus to earn my commission in the United States Navy.
Maintain a thousand yard stare. Be ballistic when responding to the Drill Instructors or Chiefs barking commands. Mark time. Stamp and prep uniforms. Memorize an abundance of gouge. Remedial physical beatings. Check your gig line. Shine your cadillacs. Eat by the numbers. Drink by the numbers. Get on line right now. 1, 2, 3, 4 - I love the Marine Corp. And no longer did I have a first name, I was known and am still known only by Gage - to rid the dichotomy of the opposite sexes.
During my initial week of training, I managed to fall in a pothole. Yes, we have excellent training conditions here at Navsta Newport. Nevertheless, I forged ahead with two jacked up feet. I was trying to focus on the end reward, mentally comparing our evolutions to the gameshow, Whammy! Unfortunately, I lost and was rolled to H-Class, eventually being NPQ'd (Not Physically Qualified) due to stress fractures and bone contusions. Fortunately, my great negotiating skills and stellar personality helped convince the Skipper (CO - Commanding Officer) to allow me to stay here and and resume training once I am healed.
And now...almost five months later and still med down, oh how I wish I could go back to the college lifestyle for just a blip where everything seemed so simple. While I miss those good 'ol days, I do not regret my decision to join the USN. In fact, it probably is one of the best and most sound decisions I have ever made in my life.
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