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...