The Chains Are Rusting Through

There's a lot to cover.

A lot.


It's going to take time, and I can almost guarantee that I'm not going to touch on all of it.  Hell, this might be a turnaround point, it might be more of my usual flash-in-the-pan temporary crap and hollow promises.

I'm not sure where to start, and that's ok.  So I'll start now.  I'm currently still in the army, but not for much longer.  The army was good for a time, it served my needs, but the army has changed.  With the financial draw-down, we junior enlisted are being sacrificed to the higher beings that are in charge of who keeps their jobs.  Senior enlisted have the ability to cut us down and kick us out.  It's not right, so I'm not staying.


I'm trying for a welding apprenticeship, which, if I get into it, will secure a job for at least 5 years, being a union program.  I hope it works out.  I miss Utah.

At least I tried.

If I don't type this up, I'll forget. Here's the dream:
I'm on a base somewhere in Afghanistan, I think. Might have been here in the states. Anyway. Everything's fine and normal, everyone just talking, or filing, or eating, or whatever. Suddenly and silently, there are a small group of intruders in the base. I don't know why, but all weapons are in a room adjacent to the one I am in, and stored in unlocked weapon racks. They are all locked and loaded and ready to go. So me and a couple other soldiers decide to get to that room.
I only have to make it about 25 feet, and I have a little cover to crawl behind. So I decide to get a look at my enemy. There are somewhere between 3-5 girls. YOUNG girls. Like 15, or so. Russian, I think. They were laughing and joking around. In the dream, no one was taking them seriously. I high-crawled to the arms room alone.
They had seen me, and were suddenly trying to come through the door, which didn't have a lock. (Come on! Really? It's an ARMS ROOM. Stupid dream...) So I just held my body against the door until they went away. Then I started searching the racks for 206, my assigned rifle at the time. After locating it, I found that my sling was caught in the rack, so I lost time trying to free it. Shots began firing. Once I finally got it untangled and switched the lever to semi, I moved to the door. I thought I was being sneaky by peering through the hinge-side of the now open door, but they saw me immediately, and began firing at me. So I put my barrel through that crack in the door and rested it on one of the hinges, and took up a good position. In my dream I actually was looking down the barrel, and I centered my sights on one of the girls.
And then I was killed. As this wasn't an actual arms room, just a temporary one, it wasn't reinforced. Metal doors of this sort can't stop most military rounds. A bullet came through the door and got me. Not sure where. Then I woke up, very slowly, and feeling very washed-warm. It was peaceful in a strange way.
I'm not sure the dream has any meaning, or is in any way prophetic, or anything. I just wanted to put it out there, and get your thoughts before I forgot it.

Fighting For It

First and foremost, if you have not read Wisp's latest, do so now. Do it. Go on, I'll wait here for you. *looks at watch* .....Done? Ok. Then let's proceed, shall we?

The house that we moved into is SO what I needed. I never understood just how much a place can make you feel...valid. We're finally in a place that Wisp deserves. Every other place we've lived in made me feel so cramped, irritated, and like everything was temporary. Here, though, I finally feel grown-up, you know? Like life can finally make that ever-so-treacherous transition into...dare I speak it....permanence. Like I can finally REALLY unpack.

I know it may be kind of a dumb thing, but the first night we moved in, I realized that I know people that have never been without this comfort. They have never lived in a sketchy, questionable, and unstable life. They went from their parent's house to their own house. Not apartment....HOUSE. I have no respect for these people, as they fail to know true hardship. I respect those who have fought hard for what they have. Those of you who lead an entitled life...you know who you are.

Anyway, this is why I wouldn't change my past for anything. It made me strong, honest, and proud. Kanye West is a moron, but I live by one on his lines: Everything I'm not made me everything I am.

Bottles? No, these are aircraft controls.

Another good gap between my last post and this one. I know why, now. I've always tried too hard to make each post meaningful, important, and heartfelt. While a worthy standard, this made it so that I didn't want to post without having a full cart of subject matter, made heavy with an excessive amount of callous sobriety.
That said, what the hell happened to the fun me, that was more spontaneous, irreverent, and off-the-cuff? I lost track of him in West Virginia. Something about "quiet dignity", or some crap. Anyway, now that I'm back on the east coast, it seems I've bumped into him again. He's been doing pretty well, but he was lonely. So I invited him back. Now we're tearing it up, like we used to, but keeping a handle on it. Still a pretty responsible guy, but I like to break out and have fun, too. I dance in the car, with people watching. And I don't care, even if they ARE fellow soldiers. They need to loosen up, anyway. And they will, once I get my paws on a 4-pack of Red Bull and some aviator goggles...

Where I Stand

This one is for my family. I realize that if you have kept up with Wisp's musings at all, you are probably wondering "where the hell was his family during all of that?" Well, let me put it right here, in bold undeniable words: They were not absent. They were there for me, as much as they could be, as much as I let them be, and somewhere in between.

My brother spent much of his time among his friends, but once in a while would come to Salt Lake City, where my mother and I lived at the time, and rescue me in a way only he could. Once, a Jazz-Nuggets game. (The one where Mutumbo was shoved from behind mid-dunk and slammed his head into the rim.) Another time, four-wheeling with him and his buddies. Because of him, I grew very comfortable in places such as cold auto-shops, around the scents of gasoline, burnt oil, and fresh rubber. Yet, our relationship remained that of a big brother-little brother. He would visit mainly out of necessity, family gatherings, and other such obligations. But a true relationship stirred like the air before a storm.

My eldest sister, whom I absolutely adore and cherish, was a huge support. She had so much of her own life to look after, though. Her daughter was still an infant, and that took a great deal of her time. Who could fault her for trying to be a good and devoted mother? She had a family. But even so, she did her best to make time for me, as she always has. We have so many great memories that I still replay in my head, always trying to keep the colors vivid. She made little things so special.

My youngest sister, still 5 years older than me, has proven a special sort of test for my family. She is fiercely intelligent, sensationally quick minded, powerful...well...she was. She had a weakness for "the Man in her life", whoever it was at the time. She tossed her potential out the window to pursue a delusion. Sound harsh? Let me tell you, it's been a long time coming. This was a sibling who was very...what's a good word? Ah. Apathetic. She would strive and struggle with no goal to meet, and would hand herself over, lock and key, to the next guy that would give her any attention at all. The whole time surviving in a decidedly parasitic fashion off of her family. A family that seems to have finally had enough of it.

There was a sister in between these two, but alas, there is no record. Because I choose for there not to be. I love her, and she was supportive while she was there, but she has become like an appendage which has been amputated. Sure, I could keep that arm, but why? A pointless nostalgic, I am not. Thus, I choose to let it go. Maybe that limb can be useful is some way, to someone. But I don't want to know about it.

My mother. Oh, my mother. The reader. The learner. The student of anyone claiming to have the smallest shard of truth. I pitied her, in those years. I kept all the darkness from her. What good would it have done to tell her? I was already undergoing counseling, I was already struggling in school. She had my siblings to deal with, some of which operated with rather Machiavellian agendas, a series of jobs, none of which she was actually qualified for but somehow learned them anyway, various incarnations of debt, a car to maintain, my school fees, etc. I felt I was a horrible burden at the time. Somehow, she still found time to be a friend to me. Not a mother so much, anymore. She was far to tired and stressed for that. I wanted to go for a walk at 3am in the city alone on a schoolnight? Go ahead. That's what it was like. I lost myself to music, videogames, any escape I could find. God bless her, though. We had escapes in common. We would escape together. Music, Sunday drives to nowhere in particular, sharing a cigarette on the front porch, we somehow survived. She saw the effects of the darkness, and it scared her. But she didn't hassle me too much about it. She seems happy now. I can only pray she finds what she's looking for.

Which leaves my father. He left when I was 9 or 10, somewhere around there. I hated him for it. I didn't understand why he left, and he didn't bother to explain. Back then, I always thought my father perceived me as an embarrassment, a failure, a thing you hide in the basement when company comes over. My ADD at the time seemed to bother him. I had a...bladder control issue that I know drove him nuts, but he never really addressed it. I wanted so much to live up to his expectations. Problem is, I never knew what those expectations were.
I know why now. My father left me behind out of absolute necessity. He had to trust that I would be alright. I like to think that perhaps he thought of me as he drove away, and knew that I had it in me. Because I did. I've turned out to be resilient as a weed. Not the gorgeous flowers you see around you in the springtime, true, but this plant had to make it without the water, fertilizer, sunlight and care that the flowers got. You had to know, Dad, that I'd be ok. That I'd learn why, eventually.

I was a nurtured wolf, released into the wild. It sucked. But because of it, I am more than a common dog. I do not live a sheltered life. I fight hard and strong for what is mine.

Thank you for leaving, Dad. I needed it more than you know. Thank you then, for being my enemy. Thank you now, for being my friend. It is an honor to be your son. Thank you for making me strong. For making me real. Thank you for letting me go.

I love you all.

Well, as I'm sure everyone expected the delay between posts, I won't say anything more about it. Now then: Christine, Miles, The Army....these are the big factors in my life, currently. My life is beautifully streamlined, and I like it that way. Sort of filling your own glass first, you know? I neglected my own glass for far too long. But it seemed like everyone else drank theirs, or dumped it out so fast, I tried to keep up, but couldn't. I'm finally in a position to get my ducks in a row. (They keep wandering off! They must have ADD. You know, since everyone does, these days.)

Anyway, I've been on Funeral Detail for the last little while, and I enjoy it. It gives me a sense of reverence for those who have lost their lives in pursuit of something larger than themselves. I can only hope that when it's my turn to kick it, I kick it HARD. I want that bucket to ricochet off the moon into the sun and burn up in a brilliant flash......don't I? Upon further speculation, maybe I'm ok with a quiet and dignified exit. To be the one that is ready for the show to end, and is prepared for it. I'll have to give it some thought. Not like I can choose when, where, and how, obviously, but it'll help me with how I choose to conduct the rest of this trip.

For the record: I'm happy.

Where does a soldier go to cry?

I'm not one to cry, honestly. I don't like doing it. It hurts. Every time I do, someone usually asks me, "doesn't that feel better?" ......no. It doesn't. Not to me. Crying hurts. Something to do with the fights when I was younger, my head got all jacked up somehow. Crying used to be a lot worse than it is now, though. My wonderful wife has made crying bearable. Only with her does it ever feel better. She's just that way, you know; she makes time stop, and she takes away the pain, so I can let it all out. Here's the rub:

I'm across the country, and if you have kept up on her blog, then you know that the current situation has been all but desirable. I spent every available hour trying to get things done: leave arranged, housing, transportation, travel, each one requiring five more pieces of paper that someone else needs to sign.

Now, I like to think I'm a pretty robust individual. I am a soldier, after all. But I have a limit. It's a distant limit, to be sure, but I found it, all the same. I can deal with losing our nice house, having to accept a rather significant downgrade. I can deal with miles of B.S., red tape, hoops and signatures. I can do that. I can deal with time being decidedly against me. (Thanks to DHL for that one.) But if it affects my wife...I lose it. I can't handle that.  Call me weak if you like, but if she feels the stress and the pain, she let's me know.  If I'm feeling it, I rarely say a thing. 

Except that this time, I broke down.  There were about 10 other soldiers in the next room, all of which could hear me crying, and I didn't care.  Finally, a good soldier I had befriended decided to come and check on me.  He recommended going to see the chaplain.  I needed to do something, so on that lunch break, I peeked in the chaplain's office, and knocked timidly.  He turned around and asked what he could do for me.  I didn't say anything, I just started to well up on the spot.  He lovingly said, "shut the door behind you, and have a seat.  I know what you need."  I shut the door, sat down, and lost control.  I cried so hard my lungs charlie-horsed.  My lips went dry and cracked, there was a wavy line from each eye to each side of my jaw that chapped.  I cried so hard my blood sounded it's protest loudly in my ears.  And this rough-looking, yet gentle soldier cried with me.  "It's not easy being a soldier, is it?"  It wasn't a question.  I simply nodded through my tears.  It was after I calmed down that I told him that I simply needed a place to cry.  He told me his door is always open.  And will always close, should I require it.  I'm grateful to those that understand what it means to truly be a soldier, to put the lives of others first, to place yourself between the enemy and those that refuse to admit that there is an enemy.  People that, when the attack comes, they scream for protection, defense, and swift, brutal, justice.  And then, when we give the people what they want, they hate us for it, or they will not accept responsibilty for the nearly unanimous outcry for bloodshed.  And we, the soldiers, take it.  We will be the bridge this country may tread on for safety.  I give you all full permission to shove me in harms way, so that you may raise your children "in peace." 

Sorry for the tangent.  We're going to be ok.  All good things come with sacrifice.  I'll sacrifice it all to be with her again.

Let's Go For It

Hello, again, to the Requiem's readers. :) This is Spyder/John's wife, Wisp/Christine writing to let his friends and family know how he's doing.
John was able to fly out to Fort Bragg on Dec. 10 (a day later than had been scheduled). But, it allowed the storms to finish passing through so he had a nice flight out of Salt Lake City. He spent from the time he arrived until today doing in-processing (paperwork and getting put into the system, basically). Today John joined his unit. He will be with the 82nd Combat Aviation Brigade. He has a buddy out there he knew threw all of Basic and AIT and now they will even be in the same unit! However, this buddy deployed to Afghanistan the day before John got there so they won't actually get to see each other until April. :S But they're both glad, just the same.
We were able to get on the housing list, and we will most likely have a place to live in 2-3 weeks. We are glad that the wait will not be very long. We won't have Christmas together, though, but we'll talk together on the phone and once we're together we'll celebrate the holiday in full force. :)
Also, for anyone that doesn't know through facebook or my blog, John was promoted to Private First Class a few days before shipping out. It helped him to be more confident about joining a new unit at such a big base.
John is suffering a bit with a cold, though. It isn't a surprise, though. He has changed elevation, humidity, climate, time zone, sleeping schedule (he's been working graveyards for several months), and he got a swine flu vaccine the day after he landed. His body's going through a lot. He's tough, though - practically untouchable - and he will be fine.
We're really looking forward to this new part of our lives. It's going to be scary and exciting and full of changes. But, if you've seen his eyes when he's talking about the military, it's definitely worth it. :)

A Boat Is Safest In The Harbor. (But That's Not What Boats Are For!)

Well, I think that was hiatus enough for any. I'm back, after much chiding, mostly by my own conscience. A few friendly reminders from Wisp didn't hurt, either. In any case, the current situation in which I find myself is thus: Life have become exponentially difficult, of late. What with the scam situation, (See Wisp's blog for much clearer details than I could give) the various job applications, trying to make things work when the box only had half the puzzle. So, after much painstaking assembly of what puzzle pieces were contained therein, onlookers yet demand the rest of the puzzle be brought together. With pieces that I don't have. I don't know where to acquire them. It seems like all of the wealthy and successful people in the world all have this book, this manual, of what to do to be that way. Was there some college fraternity that I wasn't aware of that teaches you all the right things? Introduces you into all the right social circles? It almost smacks of aristocracy, the way it's treated by some of it's members.
I'll tell you one thing I know for sure. We're all US until money hits the table. Then suddenly there's a THEM. I don't understand the division. At the heart of my life, though, is my strength. My rock. My stability throughout the storm. My wife. The strongest, most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes on. And she's OK with the fact that the boat that is my life is small. It's easy to turn, maneuverable. It can survive the harshest waves. And after all, the Titanic tanked on it's maiden voyage...

No More Lessons: Time For Action

Woo! So here I sit, 12:09 am Wednesday morning in the Daniels Academy basement, where I am currently working the first day of my new job. Graveyard shift = Happy Spyder. I'm not even half-way into my first energy drink, yet. This is a very good sign. There is a certain amount of freedom in this job, that I didn't think could exist in the workforce. That said, I will now proceed to the ranting portion of the blog: except there isn't one. That's right, folks! I have nothing to complain about, really. Well, I do....I just don't feel like complaining. So there.

I typically try to steer clear of the word "blessed". But nothing else fits. Hopefully this job will act as a doorstop while I raid as much as I possibly can out of this storage shed of opportunities. (wow, that sounded cliche.) But hey: You've all dealt with my negativity long enough.

Lesson Number...whatever. The next one.

Ok, I know I gave a huge post warning, and then...fththththth. Nothing until now. The truth is, the events which have transpired in my life recently, I don't feel ready to share with everyone. I will, soon, when all the details are either solidified or dissolved. (I try to stay positive...) Anyway. When you're unemployed, not a whole lot happens. My wife's birthday recently happened, so now we are the same age. (For another week.)

Also, I've been loving the movie WALL-E more and more. I think it has become my current fave. Something about the way that Wall-e and Eve communicate, it illicits a rather emotional tone between them, proving that the way you say something can be just as important as what you say.
I'm a sucker for higher understanding. Ah, heck. I'll just say it:

I may have accidentally started my own business. It all started a while back when I was delivering for DHL. I had a letter going to a travel agency whose owner I had befriended. I commented on her nice car, and she responded with how much she hates driving anywhere. I told her I LOVE driving. I suggested that if she should ever need a lift to Salt Lake for those meetings she has to attend, to let me know.

Now that I am unemployed, I was searching online job sites when I remembered that conversation. So, I went to go see her. She not only said that she still hates to drive, but she knows others who share her distaste for the road. She put my name on file and we agreed on a price. Now, she considers herself my first client. She also mentioned that because she runs a travel agency, I could make little fliers and she would slip them into the travel packets. Anyone needing a lift to the airport to go on a cruise who doesn't want to leave their car at the airport for a week could call me to run them up there.

It's a lot to knock around my head for a while, but I'll let you know developments as they come. Also, any feedback, questions, suggestions, let me know.

The other thing I've been hoping is that maybe I can get a full time military job. They pay well, and you can't beat the insurance. It's something for me to think about. Anyway, I could really use all of your thoughts on this one...

Lesson 19: "As it turns out, machines can transform into other machines, and it's not a slight against God."

So I'm home, finally. And as it's been a while since my last lengthy and seriously-toned post, I figure it's long overdue. It seems that I have a full plate of issues currently. Job loss in such a way that my military status means positively squat, searching for a job that will pay decently for which I am qualified while trying to convince already-skittish employers that while yes, you could survive just fine without someone filling this position, I would be worth that extra risk and expense. Simple task. Also, there is the seeming dissatisfaction with my recent performance as a son and brother. Frustrations have made themselves evident that I can keep a blog, so why not emails, calls, letters? It's because with blogging, the things I write don't have to have a valid and substantial point. I can write about the Hot Wheels I played with as a kid, or my recent appreciation for Leo's ever-sharpening skills as an actor. Some one reads what I wrote, and they can either comment or not. I can get a "that's weird" from someone, or a "Yeah, Leo's come a long way" or I may even get a "*squeeeeeeeeeeeeeee* LEO'S MY FAVORITE TOO LOL ZOMGWTFBBQ ROFFLECOPTER!!!1!1!!!" (Not at all what I said. Just that he's a good actor.) See, everyone I know for some reason or another seeks definition. A reason not just to exist, but to exist the way they are. No one likes to be told that the way they've chosen to live their life is disagreeable, let alone wrong. Especially if their way of life was a conscious choice. If they've made changes within themselves and their habits to accomodate a new way. As an attempt to combat this before a threat even arises, people will make a profound effort to get others around them to feel the same way about the same things. For instance, while at Ft Rucker, we were allowed to wear civilian clothing on the weekends. For most, this consisted of Nike Air Force Ones (shoes), Fubu or Rocawear or American Eagle Brand Brand Brand crap. So I show up to formation in a plain grey t-shirt, blue jeans, and some decent looking shoes whose brand I can't remember. So I was a little thrown when this kid that was branded to the nines (He had a grill even!) walks up to me, looks me up and down and asks, "Seriously?" I simply said that brand doesn't matter much to me. He then tried his hardest to convince me that I should dress like him. I thought individuality was the name of the game, here? "We need to rebel! Let's ALL wear My Chemical Romance shirts! THAT'll make us unique!" I just don't understand it.
The reason for all this diatribe is simple. I like to avoid people whose mission in life is to convince either me or themselves that everyone needs to be a certain way. When I'm told, "no pressure! Be who you are!" so I do, and I'm resented for it.
I enjoy the military. You report to who you need to when you're supposed to. You do what you're asked and you're done. My free time is mine. They don't give a half-a-damn what I do with my time, or if I've socialized with my fellow soldiers enough. They don't care what video games I play, or what movies I watch. They don't need me to need them. I don't have to pretend my past was rainbows, unicorns and Sunday school. I don't have to pretend that I was abused, kept chained up in the basement and regularly beaten with a truck, either. This is the thing that I have accepted about myself that hopefully everyone else will understand: I'm normal. I'm average. I get just as many breaks as anybody else. Sure, I had a learning disability! Look how much time and energy my mother devoted to ME because of it! Did I ACTUALLY have ADD? Maybe. Doesn't matter much now. In AIT I was third in my class! I can focus just fine! The difference? I choose to. I make no excuses for myself. It's hard, yes! But why does the main driving force behind everything humanity does have to be making things as easy as possible? For those striving for the Celestial Kingdom, guess what? There is no autopilot. You will not get to just lay around and make worlds with your mind. It's going to be more difficult than this life could ever be. It's a state of constant sacrifice. Your entire existence will be based on others. (Yeah you say that's what you want now, but how many of you are doing that currently?)
Wow, I went off for a while there. I've had a lot stored up, I guess. *sigh* It's good to be back.

Almost Home

Well, Private Spyder has almost completed his training. He's finished with his classes. Tomorrow he will undergo surgery to remove a root that was overlooked by the shoddy surgeon that removed his wisdom teeth. He'll be on recovery for that for a couple of days, then he graduates from AIT on the 12th and will receive his wings. He should be flying home on Friday, if everything goes according to plan. Once home, he'll begin hunting for a new job. We're hoping he finds one soon. The economy is pretty scary right now. And then we'll be back to "normal" life. I might also find a job to supplement our income and keep taking lighter class loads to work toward my Bachelor's degree. It's an exciting time of life for us because we're getting closer to more and more changes.
We're both very excited for Spydey to come home, and we are grateful to everyone for being so supportive of our boy while he's been at training. I'm sorry that I neglected to send out his new mailing address for Fort Rucker. I actually thought that I had and now have realized my mistake. I've given too much of my brain power to school, and I apologize for my failure to pay attention.
So, soon our boy will be back, posting his life's lessons and funny anecdotes. Thanks for reading my little updates.
~Wisp

Update on AIT

Well, Private Spyder has been back at AIT for 2 weeks now. His classes have been going well and he likes the specialty he's chosen. He's excited about it. He's learning maps and how to track how much fuel has been used and so on. He'll be the one that checks through everything and gives the Apache pilot the go-ahead to fly. Sadly, though, some of the other guys have not been taking the military very seriously. Sneaking out after curfew, pulling the fire alarms, hiding alcohol (and getting drunk), and other stupidity that shows complete lack of respect for their authorities. So, last weekend, they spent all day Saturday packing their things and putting everything outside. Then they had to move everything back in and unpack it all according to regulations. Sunday they attended a finances class (not as punishment) which took up most of his day, but he actually enjoyed it a lot. He loves learning. Today, because of more and more pushing of boundaries by a few, everyone was punished. They spent the day thusly: meeting in formation in their uniforms, having roll call, then being told they have half an hour to be back in formation in their physical training clothes. They go change, come back, get into formation, have roll call, are told they have half an hour to be back in formation in the uniforms... Needless to say, it's been a hard couple of weeks. He's had little phone time, but we've used up what we could. He's keeping a positive attitude and refusing to complain. He's such a good man. He nevers gives up, he just keeps going (like the real Spidey). No news yet of what tomorrow will hold for him, but it will probably be more hard lessons the stubborn ones make everyone learn together. So, I might still be the one updating his blog for a while. I'm sure you'll miss his wit and clever writing style. :) He is doing very well in class and he has few class sessions left. Then they'll be taking care of his mouth surgery (removing the root left by the sloppy surgeon that removed his wisdom teeth years ago), he'll have a campout-thing (I don't know all the words) similar to the one he'd had during Basic Training, and then he'll be done. He graduates February 12th. It will take some processing time, though, but he'll be home soon after that. He's finding out he was even stronger than he thought. He'll start job hunting when he gets home, so keep us in your prayers. Maybe he'll be able to find a job doing what he just finished his training in! :) I'll keep you guys updated on the details as much as I can. 2 weeks have already gone by fast and there are just a few more to go!

Lesson 18: Bob Ross Is Awesome.

Seriously. Happy Trees aside, the man was an inspiration. I say this because of how ridiculously easy he made painting seem. Ever known people like that? They can pick up on something enormously difficult, and make it look simple. I love and hate those people all at the same time. I wish I was that way. My brother understands things of a mechanical nature whose inner workings I can't even begin to fathom. For me, the only thing I've got like that is being a soldier.

For the sake of explanation, I am not yet back for good. I got to come home for Christmas from the 20th to Jan 2nd. As of one hour and 38 minutes ago, it is the 1st. (Oh yeah, Happy New Year. Try to make resolutions that are feasible, yet challenging.) Anyway, my time here is already over. The good news is that I was granted internet access at AIT just before leaving Ft Rucker. That said, I only have definite access on weekends. Updates by yours truly may still be far and few between. Anyway, 2009 awaits!

Proud of my boy.

Well, as long as Spyder can call me frequently, I think the letters will be sparse. So, I thought I'd update you all on what's been going on with him. :)
He's in Fort Rucker, Alabama now in a much more relaxed atmosphere. The difficulty of this is that now he has to be self-disciplined with his exercise, diet, and so on. He's staying in the army's equivalent of a college dorm. He and two other guys share a room. He was finally able to start classes this week. Because they are a bit crowded, they have day classes and night classes. So Spyder ended up in night classes, attending from about 5pm-2am. Thankfully, he doesn't have to be to formation until 11 the next morning. He had his first test last night. I often stay up until 1 or 2 am to talk to him. He gave me a call after the test was over and graded. He told me that he did his best, turned his test in and went down to the room he had been told to wait in. But, he was the only one there. Another class that wasn't testing came into the room for their break, went back for more classes, came out for their second break... and Spyder was still the only one from his class waiting in the room. He started to get nervous that he'd done something wrong. He even went and checked with a sargeant. Well, after around an hour and a half some people started coming in from his class. When everyone had finished, they all went back to their classroom. On Spyder's desk was his test folder, on top of which rested a Snickers bar. He got 100%! And he was the first one in the class to finish. He broke the time record for the course, finishing his exam in a mere 14 minutes. They had been alotted 2 hours. So, he's doing very well and is keeping busy. We talk late at night to tell each other good night and get up early in the morning to tell each other to have a good day. (Man, am I tired! :)
He'll be flying home on Dec. 20th and staying until Jan. 2nd. I can hardly contain myself! It's only 15 days away. (But, who's counting?) I've already sent him his Gameboy, however, to sustain him until he gets home. ;) I am so proud of him. I tried to tell him how much potential he has and how amazing he is. So, when he told me about his test, I said, "Now do you see what I mean?" His answer was suitably sheepish. ;)
Well, I'll try to keep you guys up to date. But, finals end the day before he gets home, so if I don't get a chance before he comes, please forgive me!

Letter #10

Fri., Oct. 24; 1:23 am
Yesterday was a good day. Easily one of my favorite days of basic. You know how I am with heights. Eagle tower is a 55-foot tower with various bridges, cargo nets, and other such apparatus attached. The order went: 2-line bridge, 1-line bridge, 3-line bridge, cargo net, huge ladder, rope swing, main wall. 1-line bridge is actually a single rope that you have to commando-crawl across. I can't draw it. I'll have to demonstrate for you later. When I got to the main wall, at the top was my Drill Sergeant. Woo. When it's my turn, he motions me over to him on top of the wall. He asks a loaded question: "Are you nervous?" "F@#% no, Drill Sgt." He's a little surprised by this response. "How would you feel about it if I only put one line through your harness? If I basically sent you down fast like a sack of rocks?" I smiled a HYOOOGE smile and said, "Please? That would be awesome, Drill Sgt." Again, not the response he expected. So, he threaded me a single rope, instead of a double. I was on the wall, L-shaped, gloves on, brake hand ready before he could tell me to get ready. He asked, "You done this before?" "Yes, Drill Sgt." "How well?" "Very well, Drill Sgt. I love heights." "In that case, hold on." He turned and faced the line of soldiers on the ground, waiting to go. "Watch, men. You're about to see how it's done!" That's a lot of pressure. But, it's rappelling. It'd be like calling "chopsticks" on the piano a challenge for you. So then he turns to me. "Go." I was down in three bounds. Most soldiers did theirs in 10. So when I get to the bottom, he yells down to me, "You going to Airborne School?" "No, Drill Sgt." "Well, that's a waste." It rocked.
4:54 am
Yuck. It's raining right now, but it's the nasty, not-fun kind. And I gotta go do PT in this. Yippee. I'll write more later.
7:51 pm
Just had breakfast. I do eat pretty well, when I have the timing down. Usually bacon, eggs, grits with maple syrup, applesauce and/or cottage cheese, a slice of french toast. Mmmm. And now, Boxing! (I'm a little nervous. It's such a foreign form, to me. It's so rigid.) We'll see how I do.
4:20 pm
We've been boxing all day. I never got to, though! I was going to fight a guy, and our turn was close, then another company came over and challenged us. Our 10 best vs. their 10 best. We won 6/10. (3 of the 6 were from 1st platoon.) We kicked some ass today. I don't mind not getting to fight. The other guy kind of didn't want to, anyway. I take back what I said about the rain before. No rain is fun when you aren't with me. I miss you. So...
Sat., Oct. 25; 4:34 pm
Today has been meh. We have the final PT test on Monday, and we leave for FTX that night. So today we've been packing ALL DAY. I'm bored as hell. But I got to call! I'd do a million pushups to hear your voice.
Wed., Oct. 29; 2:07 pm
I'm out at the FTX now. Have been since Monday. I didn't expect it, but they brought your latest letter out here to me.
I'm still so sorry that school has become such a struggle. I can't wait to be home with you. Is it strange that I look forward to the day when I can devote all my time to you?
4:26 pm
I don't have a huge amount of time to write. (Plus, on such tiny paper.) We have to have 50% security at all times in this little 2 man foxhole. (He drew a picture of he and his battle buddy in the foxhole with their rucksacks, him "writing sneakily.") Georgia gets f-ing cold! I had no idea. We're only here til Friday, though. Then we come back to base and get ready for graduation. Don't worry about coming out here. I'm serious. It's not that I wouldn't love to have you out here, it's just that: what happens to "us" is more important than what happens to "me." You flying out here, me flying out at Christmas, flying back... it'd hurt us, in the long run. So, no worries, babe.
Sat., Nov. 1; 6:24 pm
We got back from the FTX last night. Ended up rucking around 10 miles or so. We've spent the day cleaning up our gear to turn in. Supposedly I get to call you tonight, but 2nd platoon is being stupid with their calls. So we'll see if I actually get to.
FTX was cold. And actually a little disappointing. I was looking forward to roughing it, and next thing I know we're marched out to a central point where we're being served breakfast. MRE for lunch. Served dinner. That part of it was kind of dumb. The rest was ok. I felt you so strongly and wanted you with me. It would have been so much more fun with you.
I'm sorry we weren't together on Halloween. It felt empty and hollow. We'll make the next one extra special! Big punkins. Yup. Decorations. The works.
Tue., Nov, 4; 1:37 pm
A lot has been going on latley. This "recovery week" is turning out to be a pain in the ass. The FTX blurb I wrote and then talked to you about, I'll include it in this letter, I guess. This is just going to have to be my last letter for a little while. (Not Happy.) It has been wonderful being able to call a little more often, lately. It's good for me. I want AIT to start so I can be in contact with you better. But it's taking so damn long! All we do is clean right now. And GFT. But they suck the fun out of even that.
Wed., Nov. 5; 8:21 am
So! The pictures/DVD/stuff order form that I was supposed to get in 30th AG (reception) I got today. I had to make a few hasty decisions. I saw the DVD, and you wouldn't care. It's boring, and you never see me at all. Instead I got the Individual picture package, photo CD, and group photo. I hope that's ok.
7:45 pm
More GFT. More cleaning. All our TA-50 gear is on our beds, so we slept on the floor. Kind of nice, actually. One of the Drill Sergeants said we had a "surprise coming tomorrow." We'll see. Last time I heard that, I ended up on duty squad. Meh. It's ok, though. I can make it. I'll make you proud. I'll be an awesome soldier. For you. For us. I wish I could call you right now!
You can probably tell how I'm feeling right now. I'm the 6th oldest in the platoon, and I can't wait to be around adults again. All the 17-21-year-olds all pretend they're so dangerous all the time. I'm whooping all their asses in GFT. Anyway, I'll send this off. I love you sweetheart. We'll be together soon.
Spyder
P.S.: I don't know what was up with that last paragraph. Just do me a favor: watch Whisper of the Heart and think of me.

I got this letter a couple of days ago, but I've been in the middle of tests again this week. (Sorry.) My cute boy and his love of heights. He makes me smile. He's getting pretty homesick.
He's been able to call me more the past week because of graduation. Our calls are mostly mushy now, so I'll just let you know what's been happening. They had family day on the 12th and he graduated yesterday. Today he and a few others traveled by bus over to Alabama to Fort Rucker where he is now. He has a lot more freedom, which he isn't used to. He says that it feels a lot like a college dorm. (I lived in a dorm once. It was LOUD.) Hopefully he gets a good sleep tonight. He's excited to start the next phase of his training. And then come home. ;)

Letter #9

Oct. 17; 8:50 pm
I just got your card. Thank you. You always know how to cheer me up. I love your cheesiness. We have another ruck march in the morning. (I HATE ruck marches.) But, meh. I'll just do it and it'll be done.
The funny thing is I just sent a letter off to you this morning. Anyway, BIG day tomorrow. Need sleep.
Oct. 20; 10:16 am
Ok, so... big couple of days. We've been doing a lot more BTT (Buddy-Team Tactics) such as room clearing, advances, grenade-minor (grenade-major is later). Feels like you've been with me a lot lately. Basic'll be over soon. Then we've got AIT to fight through. But it won't be nearly as difficult, I don't think. I'll have a lot more communication privileges, and I'll get to come home for Christmas. (I don't even care if I get any presents, as long as I can be with you.)
Oct. 21; 4:50 am
This last week has been hectic, if you couldn't tell. We're getting close to blue phase, so things are getting slightly more difficult. In a time-consuming way. We have FTX coming up. That's 6 days, 5 nights of camping out, while battling the other platoons. Rumor has it we get airsoft guns. After it's over, we go to one last range, then we do an 8-10 mile ruck march. I'm thrilled. I've heard a lot of rumors, but I have no real info.
Oct. 22; 2:51 pm
We just finished throwing grenades. As you can imagine, the Drill Sgts. sucked any confidence out of me. Procedure: release secondary safety. Pull pin. Not-throwing hand up as "sight post." Throw, and immediately kneel. Apparently I didn't kneel quite fast enough on the first time practice. (Fuses only. Bang.) Next thing I knew, the Grenadier-cadre guy's got me on the ground yelling at me, "What were you looking for?!?" Hmph. Second practice round. This guy's not such a jerk. I kneel, and he's just like, "You need to kneel a hell of a lot faster." Both times my throw was horrible. Because I was nervous. Then we went to the live range. It was here that I believe God answered one of your prayers. I felt you so strongly suddenly. I'm waiting in a huge 3-file line, packed so tight I can't move my arms and you came. I felt nervous, still. But I knew you were with me in some way. When my turn came up, I went out to the middle bunker, where this heavily-tattooed soldier, (who I knew to be a drill sgt.) was waiting. I stepped into the bunker and heard, "Where you from?"
"What? Oh, Utah, Sar, uh, Drill Sar..." (He wasn't in uniform.)
"Ain't no rank here. Name's Joe."
"Johnny."
"Mormon?"
"Yeah. Afraid so."
"Awesome. I dated a Mormon girl once. Prettiest girl ever."
"Yeah?"
"So are you nervous?"
"Yeah. The other srgts. get to ya, you know?"
"Sure do. No worries, though. You're only throwing a grenade, after all. What part makes you nervous?"
"I guess I don't kneel fast enough?"
"Then I'll remind you as you throw."
"That'd be good."
"That's why I'm here, Johnny. Now, you ready?"
"Yeah, bring it on!"
Oh, it was an awesome throw. It landed right at the target's feet, I knelt fast enough, and when I stood up, he said, "Textbook throw, target 'destroyed,' can't get any better than that. Good work, Johnny. Drive on!"
I fully believe he helped me because of you. I feel you all the time, now. Hang in there. We'll be together soon. For sure for Christmas. I'll try to get you something in time. I should have off-post weekend passes by that time, so it doesn't have to be something from the PX. Let me know if you're doing okay. I just like to know.
9:54 pm
One of my friends has been at sick call all day today. Turns out he's developed stress fractures in his hips and legs, and his spine has compressed. He's afraid he'll be discharged. The doctor put him on so many profiles that he can't march, stand for too long, or even hold his M-16. I've taken it for him a few times already. The drill sergeant is going to try to get him a temporary con leave so he can come back and finish his 2-3 weeks with another cycle. He hates the idea. He hates to quit. But I told him it's like he's a pilot who discovered a problem with the plane. Ya gotta turn back and land, but it's not the pilot's fault. Repair the plane and accept the time delay. He's a good kid.
Anyway, I should wrap this up. We will be doing Eagle Tower. Tomorrow, in fact. I'll get this sent off first thing in the morning.
Spyder
P.S.
I guess don't color envelope corners yellow anymore. My drill sergeant hates that.

Seems like our boy is doing better. I'm glad he got to do the Eagle Tower rapelling. He's been looking forward to that for a long time. Again, I'll let you all know his new address as soon as I get it. Thanks for supporting him. :)

That's twice.

Spyder was able to call me again today! I was shocked. It was so wonderful, but so hard. We both cried. He said he had a dream last night where he and I were standing outside our house - not too big, not too small - with our little girl between us. We were waiting for the bus with her. I was going to work after it came, but he was riding it with her and walking back home. I don't care what else happens, as long as I can help make that dream come true.
About 3 weeks ago, he said they asked him to meet with them for a little bit. He walked into a room and a woman was waiting there and she asked, "Is this the artist?" The drill sergeant said, "The best we've got." She asked him to draw the logo for the graduation shirts. He had twenty minutes. The shirts arrived today and everyone said they look awesome.
One of the guys that started going to church with Spyder - the one that was reading the Book of Mormon really fast - is getting baptized next week. I think that's really cool. He's really excited about it.
I told him about school lately and he said not to give up. He always bolsters me up when I need it. I'm the luckiest.
Christmas will be here before we know it. :)

A Familiar Voice

Spyder was able to call me again today. :) He's doing really good. He is homesick, though. They'll be camping this whole next week to put all they've learned to the test. I sent him a letter today and he said that should probably be my last letter (or maybe one more) until he gets to AIT. Because they'll be gone this week and then getting ready for graduation, there won't be a lot of time for mail and there's a chance he might not receive later letters at all. So, I thought I'd pass that message along to wait until I email you all his new mailing address at AIT (Fort Rucker, Alabama). I won't be able to make it out there for his graduation after all. We talked about it and he isn't upset. He said, "Please, it's like graduation from the 3rd grade to the 4th grade. I'd rather you be able to come for my AIT graduation." I am sad that I won't be there for him. He promises he has some friends to be with out there on Family Day. He's excited to be so close to the finish line. And then at AIT he can learn the specialized training for his MOS, which is basically ground control for the Apache helicopters. He'll be really good at that. We only had eight minutes to talk. He misses everyone. He probably won't be coming home between Basic and AIT, he'll just go straight over. But, Christmas is coming soon. (I can almost hear bells.) Oh, and he mentioned he's gotten pretty buff while he's been out there. He loves working out and improving himself in any way. I'm proud of him and I can tell he is proud of what he's accomplished, too.
Well, as always, I'll let you guys know when I know.
Oh, and the picture is Cloud from Final Fantasy - one of Spyder's favorite video game series, so it'll make him happy when he gets home and sees it. :)