I was told that Friday was the last day I would be able to take my swim evaluation for two weeks. On top of that I was told that if I did not take it that my leave would not be granted. You can imagine how upset I was when the alarm went off after we had gone back to sleep following the zero seven muster. -beep- -beep- -beep- -beep-
"Hey what time is it?" I said.
Sitting out of bed turning the alarm off he said, "It's late."
"How late?" I said, worrying now because swim qual is at twelve and I need to be downstairs at eleven.
"Twelve forty-five." he said, as I jumped up in a panic.
"Shit!" I threw on my clothes and ran downstairs. I stepped out to the smoking deck where I ran into a shipmate, James. "What's going on?" he said. "Ah" I went on angrily " I just slept through my swim call. "Dude no you didn't it's only nine thirty eight." and with these words, I felt that somehow my life had been spared.

"Ok listen up." The instructor said firmly, to show authority to the line of recruits waiting behind me. "When we get up to the platform you will cross your arms over your chest, look straight ahead, and shut up."
I hope this isn't what I have to look forward to at A school. I've already been through this shit. I really want me E-4 back I thought to myself.
...i thought to my self...
What does that mean? "I thought to my self"? Of course I did who else would I think it to other than me. This sort of ties in to a piece of conversation that has come up again and again within my group of friends. My group being my wife Leah and Matthew. Wouldn't it be easier if we could just give each other memories? Just so we'd all have a better understanding of what we were all talking about. Until this conversation came up I always felt I had this "If you could have any super power in the world what would it be?" problem figured out. I thought I had beaten the system by choosing 'The ability to teleport through time and space. With this I could fake the sensation of flying by essentually falling and every so often I would teleport upward. I could also travel back and forth through time, and essentially if I did this fast enough between fixed point A and mathematically calculated current moving point in time C in an exact frequency I would appear to the human eye to be invisible. I could go anywhere I wanted to. To Rome and back in the blink of an eye. Chinese carry out? Why settle for my father's China Buffet when I could have the real thing. I could build a suit and go to the moon, anywhere in the universe, and when things started to get a little harry, -zip- back at home safe in my bed. But this new concept opened up all sorts of new avenues and exciting ideas. What if we could share memories? Like in the Giver only we would still be able to hold on to them. We only use ten percent of our gray matter. Wouldn't it be great to fill the rest up with other peoples memories? Wouldn't it make us all a little more humane? If passed down enough from generation to generation, I would remember things someone long before me did, at the Parthenon. I could share my dreams with out fumbling with Ideas, such as "It was my house but it wasn't my house." Writing would become a lost art form of the few. No more blogs written by fourteen year old girls, no more entries from another squid. You want to go through boot camp and not actually have to go? I'll give it to you. Instead of story telling we could instantly experience the punch line or the tragedy. Late at night when I stare into the darkness I could call out to my wife, and share every moment of my day. It would almost be like never leaving home.

"Now there's going to be two commands. First I'll say 'to the line' and I want all ten of your toes hanging over this edge." His voice went out across the Olympic size swimming pool, bouncing off of the back wall fifty five meters away and scattering over the water in every direction as it played off of the waves and came back down again, hundreds of times off of the ceiling, the walls, and water again, back into my ear. The acoustics of this room could not be mocked by any add on in Cool Edit pro. Nor would you ever want it to be. Below his voice you could hear dripping water, echoing amid the water from the pool flowing into the side drains of the pool. A candy for the ear that I get to hear every Sunday night in thirty second increments as I watch Adult Swim.
"Next I'll say 'Step' and at that point I want you to take a step out, do not jump, dive, or hesitate or you will fail."
I was the first to go.
"To the line."
The platform didn't look this high but I figure from my viewpoint. The water was in fact 16'3" down. That was only from my eyes of course, my feet would only experience ten. His hand touched the small of my back.
"Step."
And I did. The water came rushing up at me in a most exciting way. I gasped for air. Mistiming the jump I managed to hit the water just as I was breathing out to take another gasp for air. It was fun. I need to find something higher next time. I swam my fifty meters, jumped in while inflating my clothes, and floated for my five minutes face down in the water, coming up only for air and immediately putting my face back down in the water. It was very relaxing. I can imagine this being the only true moment of solitude during these recruits boot camp. Five minute of free-floating void, the lights put on a show for your inner eyelids, and every muscle in your body is relaxed. I want to be floating right now.

For as chronically boring as this place is and as much as I want to write I sure do put off writing in here a lot.
So here to make up for it should be paragraphs of rambling with no particular theme.

In the Navy there are a few skills one must master. I'm not talking about the brainwashing bullshit you might see on the history channel, but the simple everyday things. Skills that if one doesn't master, ends up talking to them selves, or you could find them locked away in their room, watching cartoons. Back up. I'll start before that. Upon joining any branch of the armed service two things must immediately abandoned. Logic and reason. I can't begin to explain this to those of you who don't understand what I am talking about already. So in absence of these two vitally important things one must replace them with a few skills.
I. The art of the courtesy laugh Standing around the smoke deck, in the lounge, in line at the galley, in the passageway, actually anywhere you might find Naval personnel. The military is full of people with a sense of humor similar to that of my Uncle John. And if there's anyone reading this, who doesn't actually know who he is, think of the Stapler guy from Office Space. By sense of humor from these people I mean blurting out half mumbled nonsense and slightly laughing. I wish I could give you an example but... you wouldn't understand. Wait. Ok here we go. When I was younger, somewhere between fourth grade and high school, I remember talking about the local fire works for the fourth of July. My Uncle muttered something about that they weren't real fireworks, but instead mere puddles. He laughed. Somewhere I missed how this had any comedic value. Fireworks to Puddles? That's the best example from a random memory from youth that I can muster. I know you still probably understand what I am saying.
II. Small talk This one is pretty self-explanatory. Most people in the services of today can hold an intelligent conversation for about as long as some bleach blond floozy, drinking beer at a party down in Newport. Start dipping into irony in any subject matter and they will usually steer the conversation somewhere towards, "I really like guys who wear those shoes you are wearing." The only thing that prevents most people from sinking to this level is the fact that we all have one common interest. That’s right, we are all slaves to the government. So we spin yarns about past time triumphs, and shortcomings, usually with a comedic spin. After the stories and 'little Johnny' jokes run out, we can talk about the places we've been, or what exactly it is we do in the Navy. Ex: "So you're an Operations Specialist? What is that any way? Oh really? That's interesting. Wow. Great, hey can I have a smoke? Wow! So you say you were stationed on an AirCraft Carrier? What was that like?" And so on.
III. Patience Whether you are sitting around waiting. Listening to some jar head ex Marine talk about how different things are in the Corps, or maybe you're hanging out in the lounge and some jack ass puts in Rocky for the third time this weekend. Perhaps you'll find you’re self-talking to one of those people as mentioned above in section two. Patience is virtue.

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Before last month I have never taken a train that wasn't going around on a quarter mile or so track. I have taken the train from Dearborn to Chicago, Chicago to Great Lakes, Great Lakes to Chicago, Chicago to Dearborn, back again to Chicago and up to Great Lakes. And you know what? Next week I'm about to do it again. But I tell you this. The American Train system is decaying for a reason. I may have spent a total of an hour and a half sitting on the tracks with out the view of passing communities, lakes or trees, for this or that technical problems. The romance of riding the rails wore off just outside of Ann Arbor. The first ride was ok; for the most part the car was empty. The rest however were not so fortunate.
The car rocked back and forth as we past through the industrial wasteland known as Gary Indiana. The clickety clack of the train in perfect rhythm to the rocking was pushing me closer to the point of sleep as I sat in my dress blues in my green coach class seat. Clicking, rocking, drifting...drifting...to sleep.
"Praise Jesus!" a voice from the back of the car, or perhaps the front depending on your point of view. Our seats pointed in the opposite direction of our travel. "The Lord is my shepherd" I had to get away from the Tarret like symptoms of the passenger in the back of the car. I got up to move to the dinning car. As I past him he stood up and with the rocking of the train as we slid across to a separating track he fell into me exclaiming "In the name of the Lord!"
To me this was proof that God does not exist in the way most Christians would like to view him. I could be wrong, but if I am he sure knows how to pick spokespeople.
The train is a glorified bus ride
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I hate Detroit.
A part of me was glad to escape the toxic air I had just recently returned to less than seventy-eight hours earlier. Actually almost all of me was glad to leave. There were only two parts of me that actually did not. One is leaving my wife and son, and the other is coming back here to TPU. I'm sick of being here, and really want to be out at the fleet whereever it may be. Somewhere beyond here, and beyond A school. Anywhere. Even Virginia as long as my wife is there.
I am bored.
I apologize for being so indirect.
I'm sure today's writing was not as well written as previous ones, but my brain is rotting from lack of simulation.

Sorry.