Confessions, Part I.

It's been over a week. I can't hold it in any longer.

My birthday sucked.

The end.

Michael Phelps was BORN to win.

Do you know when 9-11 happened??

A conversation was started the other night, before events went south, concerning 9-11. Nick relayed to myself and The Boyfriend a conversation between himself and potential bed partner. Here it is, as best as my memory can conjure it:

"When did 9-11 happen??"

"I think in August. Yeah, August 4th."

"So why do they call in 9-11??"

"Because that's the number for the emergency line."

Needless to say, he was turned off. So Rich recalled asking the same question of a girl he was sorta seeing before I came along and snatched him out of singlehood. Once again, here it is as best as my memory will allow me to 'member:

"Do you know when 9-11 happened."

"Yeah."

"When??"

"Two thousand-three."

Can you tell me when 9-11 happened?? And why it's called 9-11??

Physical fitness is such a pain.

I managed to pass my PT test. And I scored a decent run time, a mile-and-a-half in thirteen minutes and four seconds. My dumb ass didn't stretch before taking off, though, so guess who was doing a speedy version of the Keesler Shuffle towards the end?? (If you went to tech school in Mississippi, you know what I'm talkin' 'bout.)

I came back to the office in my sweaty workout gear, and when I had my back turn a birthday card and package of cookies appeared on my desk. (Thanks, DM.) Then ML and MG came back into the office with armfuls of sodas for everyone. I am smiling as I write this.

Birthday headlines.

Looks like I wasn't the only one pissed off at the pundits blocking speeches here and there at the Democratic National Convention. The speeches I did get to hear were very rousing, very inspirational. I just wish I'd been able to hear the other speeches. Guess I should watch C-SPAN tonight instead of my usual CNN. I also wish Rich hadn't walked in and changed the channel to a Jean Claude Van Dame movie. Gr.

And, yes, I will also be watching the Republican National Convention next week. If I can stomach it.

We should all be as ballsy as this gal. Her husband hired a hitman to kill her. So what did she do?? She killed the hitman. Susan, you are my hero.

Attacking children?? Yes. McCain went there.

I went to escort NM into the office, and as soon as I opened the door I said to him, "Ask me how old I am."

"How old are you??"

"I am twenty-three." It was the first time today I've said it aloud. I am twenty-three years old. One year older. One year wiser?? Meh. I feel the same as I did yesterday.

Shit that happened on my birthday.

Happy Birthday to me...Twenty-three years ago, I was born on an island that sits on top of a volcano. Here's other shit that happened on this day:

• In the year 410, the Visigoths ended their sack of Rome after three days.
• In the year 1776, Americans under General George Washington were defeated by British forces led by General William Howe at the Battle of Long Island in Brooklyn.
• In the year 1813, French Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte defeated a very large force of Austrians, Russians, and Prussians at the Battle of Dresden.
• In the year 1859, petroleum was discovered in Titusville, Pennsylvania. This was the world's first successful oil well. Ugh.
• In the year 1896, the world's shortest war, the Anglo-Zanzibar War, was fought between Great Britain and Zanzibar between nine o' clock and nine-forty-five. We could take a page out of their book.
  
• In the year 1916, Romania declared war against Austria-Hungary, entering World War I as one of the Allied nations.
• In the year 1928, sixty nations signed the Kellogg-Briand Pact, outlawing war. Hm.
• In the year 2003, Mars makes its closest approach to Earth in nearly 60,000 years.

Lyndon B Johnson and Mother Theresa share my birthday.

I don't know what class I'm going to tonight.

O Gray Saturn Station Wagon, why dost thy license plate read RABIES 9??

I like watching the news, but the voices of some of these people make me want to shove a pencil deep into each of my ears and smack said pencils with a hammer for good measure.

I want to marry the freecreditreport.com guy.

Aw, you shouldn't have.

A birthday card?? For me?? From the commander?? How lovely. And he addressed me by my nickname?? That couldn't possibly have ANYTHING to do with the e-mail sent last month asking for everyone with a birthday in August to submit a name they prefer to go by. And that's his real signature, not a photocopy.

Ha ha...It's kinda cool, actually. Previous commanders always sent them a month or two late. This one is actually a day early!! Oh, shit. I turn twenty-three tomorrow.

...

Oh, so that's how we're gonna play this game??

Hey, I have an idea. Let's just pretend it never happened. Better than coming to terms with it before happily moving on, right?? Alright. I'll play your game...for now. But when you least expect it, I will POUNCE, and the charade will end. 'Cause I say so. So sit back, relax as the days slip by in peace. And I will watch, and I will wait for an opening.

My coffee is making me a little silly.

I was let off work pretty damn early yesterday, and I literally ran out of my area like a kid released after a half-day of school. Of course, once I was out in the main area, I slowed to a more professional stroll. But I was in a pretty damn good mood. I decided to head right over to The Boyfriend's to help with moving. We manage to pack one large box before he strolled over to his computer and popped a squat in front of it.

"I haven't played Counter-Strike in forever!!"

"Yeah, not since Jay left." He opened it up and began scrolling through servers. "Don't you dare start playing, we have to move stuff!!"

"I'm gonna play, just watch!!"

"Don't you dare!!"

"Just sit down for ten minutes while I play." Goddamnit. I threw myself down on the chair next to him and crossed my arms. Then I became distracted by the little curls that were sticking out of the side of his head at that exact moment. I commented on them, because they looked so damn cute.

So I called my sister.

"Hello."

"Hey, Trish."

"Hey, what's up??"

"My boyfriend is so damn cute. He's growing his hair out, and there are random little curls sticking out the side of his head."

"... You called me to tell me about your boyfriend's hair??"

"Yes."

Rich ignored me the whole time. He had some counter-terrorists to kill, and the man was FOCUSED. I stopped gushing about the curls (Have you vomited yet?? No?? No, worries, I'll get you next time...), chatted a bit more with Trish, and then let her go so I could yell at Rich. He actually LISTENED TO ME (Holy shit!!) and stopped playing to load up the truck.

I finally saw pictures of poor Lola. She's missing her rear bumper. Oh, well. Shit happens.

I had my first Spanish class last night. What a fucking snooze fest...until she had us reading out of the book and spelling words in Spanish. Oh. My. God. You English speakers are HILARIOUS.

We did one exercise that involved filling in the names of a couple of celebrities with the missing vowels. A guy wearing a Pirates hat had no idea who Roberto Clemente was. He said he was more into basketball. Ah. I see. The hat is a fashion statement. LAME.

Thank Christ, we got out of there half-hour early. The next few weeks may be the death of me. Tonight, it's Algebra...I think.

Oh, and before I sign off, I will share with you the bullshit of all bullshit. Rich called that company to find out if they had a departure date for him yet. They have no openings for September. Unemployment, anyone??

Lost and confused...but slowly I am filled with hope.

My heart is a bit sore. The white flag is up. But negotiation terms have yet to be even touched upon. The words of a friend leave me confused and wondering.

A wicked combination released a Mr Hyde, and there was nothing I could do about it. I stitched up my wounds all by myself. When will they be acknowledged??

For a moment my world was turned upside down, and you were a stranger. You're back now, but my world has been left teetering on the brink. What am I to make of this??

If I were on the outside looking in, I know what my advice would be. However, I've never been good at taking my own advice and applying it to my life. But this is different. I'm on the inside looking around, and I have a different perspective from everyone else. I will not make excuses, but I can see the good and the bad. And I know on the deepest level that the good outweighs the bad in great numbers.

So I won't turn away. I'll stand my ground, and do what I can to shield you and those you love from the bad so that the good may prevail. I just hope you'll listen, I just hope you'll understand. I'm not here to change who you are. I'm not here to hold you back. Just sit right here next to me, let me take your hand in mine, and we'll work this out. Because nothing in this world means more to me than this. Nothing is worth fighting for more than this. I stumbled upon this by accident, and it was the best accident of my life.

We will talk, we will listen, we will get through this.

Abortion and wreckage in the eleventy-first.

I was at my place late yesterday doing some more cleaning. The focus was on my bedroom, since The Boyfriend had moved his bed and would start staying at my apartment.

Let's go ahead and focus on two of the three pillows I had on my bed.They're average pillows wearing pillow shams, decorative and whatnot. I moved them from the bed to the floor. From the floor to one of the couches. From that couch to the other couch. And finally back to my bed. And when I was placing them on my now bare bed, I noticed two fluffs of foam (the kinda foam you find in bedding or pillows), and without thinking reached out to pick them off.

One of those "fluffs" squished between my thumb and index finger. It was then I knew, yet I was in denial. I quickly moved on to the next task.

I went back into my room and short time later to examine the area on the floor where the "fluffs" had been tossed. I didn't see them, so I leaned over the pillows to examine them for more "fluff" when I spotted the fluff culprit and my suspicions were confirmed.

A SPIDER HAD BEEN LAYING EGGS ON MY PILLOWS.

I killed it, and left it at that.

Later, The Boyfriend and I set out to get clothes and a lamp from his place, with a detour to Jack-in-the-Box on the way back home. His phone rang, and he answered to speak with his friend Brandon. At first I heard him laughingly tell Brandon to cut it out with the jokes and what have you. But the more his friend spoke, the more grim my lover's face became. And even before I heard the words from Brandon's end, I knew: "...I hydroplaned...flipped over three times..." (Bear in mind I was in the passenger seat with the phone facing away from me two feet away. This may have been what I heard). All I could do was pray that he was talking about his bike, and not Lola, The Boyfriend's darling, his sexy Mitsubishi Escape. Of course, logic told me that if Brandon had hydroplaned on his bike and flipped it over three times, he would most likely not be in a position to call The Boyfriend to tell him about it.

I was dropped off and left alone with food for two, waiting and wondering what had happened. I saw Rich again briefly when he came to drop off my clothes for me, and he didn't seem too upset, which I took to mean he'd seen the damage and that it wasn't all bad. He told me that Brandon had lost control and hit the median, and then took off for the rest of the night to sort it out.

I took my sheets out of the dryer and went to fix my bed. As I reached into the back right corner to tuck the sheet in, I felt some webbing and jumped back, hitting my arm very hard against the nightstand. I vacuumed up that and it's minuscule occupant with a quickness, and vacuumed the other corner to be on the safe side. But I decided I didn't want to spend my night paranoid, so I put my new slip covers onto my couches and crashed on one of them for the evening.

Oh, and I definitely vacuumed more than 20 friggin' dead rolly pollies. Yuck.

Nine more months until I can move out this apartment.

Purpose II: The Joys of Purposelessness.

I forgot to mention yesterday the reason why I don’t care that my blog is about nothing; why I actually prefer it that way. I was reminded this morning when reading the comments on Black Hockey Jesus’ latest blog post. He has a daddy blog. But he doesn’t always post about being a dad. Sometimes he gets into some really deep shit. And when he does, he sometimes gets criticized for straying from the “approved” subject matter. “Hey, you’re a dad writing a dad blog. Write about dad stuff, and nothing else.” Fuck that, I say.

My blog, being about nothing in particular, can go in any direction that I desire. I can share anecdotes from my life. I can discuss my plans for my future. I can wax poetic/furiously vent about my boyfriend. I can post links to articles and share my thoughts on them. I can post my written pieces.

I CAN DO WHATEVER THE HELL I WANT. And who’s gonna stop me?? No one. As a blogger, I have the same freedom as any other blogger out there in the Blogosphere: I can write about whatever strikes my fancy. Black Hockey Jesus has this right. Yes, he has declared himself a daddy blogger, so it makes sense for him to blog often about the trials and tribulations of parenthood, but why should this restrict him?? Why should he not wax poetic on metaphoric staining and so on??

The blogospheric sky is the limit. Let anyone try to hold me back, and you’ll be choking on the dust that I leave in my wake.

Purpose??

Re-did my layout. Duh.

I was browsing through under the roof of a great house a couple of weeks back when I saw some information posted by laggin concerning a woman doing her thesis on blogging. I decided to jump on board and help out (I can't for the life of my find the link to the site now, sorry). I can't remember exactly what the thesis is about, but if you're curious you can e-mail her at aboutyourblog@gmail.com.

So she's sent me two rounds of questions thus far concerning my blog, and some of them got me thinking. "What is your blog about?? Why are you blogging??" Etcetera.

Why am I blogging?? What is the purpose of my blog?? Who am I blogging for?? All the blogs I link to have a purpose. But mine...is just a journal on the web. Earlier today as I was considering, I didn't like this at all. But right at this moment, I could care less. This blog is about nothing in particular, and I write it for me. I like knowing that people are reading it, that they find what I have to say mildly interesting. But I don't expect them to take away anything from this. If they do, good for them and kudos to me. If not, oh well.

Hooray for not making staff!!

I have once again failed in my half-hearted attempts to make the next rank and put another blue stripe on each sleeve of this oh-so-fashionable uniform. Which means I have once again avoided the responsibility of supervising some snot-nosed troop fresh out of tech school with the rosy and naive expectation of an Air Force that is more fair than anything they've encountered thus far in their early months of their enlistment. My only disappointment is not being able to crush that view and splatter its guts all over the wall.

Oh, and not being the next NCO D in a line of NCO Ds. My uncle and godfather, the patriarch of the D Family, retired as an E-7 from the guard. My dad retired as an E-6 from the guard. I suppose it shall be my fate as well, only I plan on retiring from the reserves. And with a rank higher than Staff Sergeant, thank you very much.

I am only a Senior Airman. And I guess I'm okay with that for now. It was too much pressure to have to study anyhow. And with the workload I've signed on for this semester, I'd rather not go to Airman Leadership School anytime soon.

Besides...Grandpa only made it as far as Private First Class in the army. So, nyeh.

I'm drinking tonight.

I feel like depressing you.

Maybe, if I'm feeling like it, I'll post some cheerier links later.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

"The Afghan women jailed for being rape victims." Because it's all their fault that some guys forced their way under their burqas.

"Mexico's Cocaine Capital." I know what the theme of my next Cinco de Mayo party will be!!

"At JFK Airport, Denying Basic Rights Is Just Another Day at the Office." Welcome to America, land of the free. Not really.

"Toddler 'starved to death by religious cult because he wouldn't say amen'." The apostles said amen, and all they got was dry bread and cheap wine.

"Saudi girl drinks bleach to escape marriage." What would you do if your dad was giving you to a seventy-something-year-old man in exchange for a pre-pubescent bride?? Cutting off his balls would have been my choice.