Othello

I was doing a Tarot reading today and found an interesting parallel- during the reading a Seven of Swords came up, along with a Four of Pentacles and The Chariot. These images come from the Rider-Waite Tarot, generally held to be the standard by which decks are created, although variations do exist.

At any rate, what does this combination mean? First, let's look at the Chariot- one of the most noticeable features is the two sphinxes in the foreground. Why sphinxes? I couldn't tell you, but notice that one is black and the other white. It's to symbolize a union of opposites, although not necessarily a happy or easy one. These two opposites are held in check by the charioteer- it's his force of will and power that keeps the two from going all over the place. Interesting that when these two are combined, they provide an incredible force-the charioteer looks pretty ready to kick some ass. So this card denotes a strong will holding everything together, even when its natural tendency may be towards chaos.

The next card is the Seven of Swords- this is a card indicating deception or trickery, and as the picture implies, you may not be aware of it. Whatever this force is, it's insidious and sneaky, and you probably never even saw it coming. It indicates a need for close vigilance and watching what's going on around you. This isn't always easy, as it'll require thinking ahead and thinking outside the proverbial box. Or tent, as the picture shows.

The last card is the Four of Pentacles, which I've heard two interpretations of- first, that it's a card indicating a miser- he won't let go of the disks he holds, no matter what. But another interpretation is caution- neither waste nor hoard, seems to be the message. Sure, the guy's holding onto something of value, but only until he's certain the decision to use it is the right one. Prudence might be a good name for this card.

Now the next question- what the hell does this have to do with Shakespeare? Well, Othello has always been one of my favorite literary works, and one of my favorite plays of all time. It's a ready-made disaster- here we have Othello, who is one bad mother... (okay, that joke is too bad even for me) but can't seem to get a handle on his emotions. He's ready to believe anything his heart tells him, evidence or no. Then there's Cassio- not the sharpest sword in the kingdom, but basically innocent and wanting to do a good job. Add to this mix Desdemona, the catalyst. I've noticed Shakespeare was occasionally less than generous to his female characters, and Desdemona is a prime example. She's basically a sheltered little kid, and falls for Othello because of all the incredible adventures he has had. There's a telling line that says how Desdemona "wished Heaven had made her such a man". In other words, she's not in love with Othello, she's caught up in her idea of him, and what he represents to her- a life beyond the dreary walls of her father's house.

Then into this already volatile mixture throw in an Iago- the one character in the play who makes no sense whatsoever. He acts against his own self-interest, and seems to delight in making everyone else suffer. This seems to be his sole motivation- destruction for destruction's sake. He brings down Cassio, gets Othello to murder his wife, and in the end winds up dead himself, mainly because he manages to get inside Othello's head, or heart, making him furious and doubting of his wife's intentions.

This play, at least Othello's character, applies to modern life in a similar way as the three Tarot cards. First, Othello can be seen as The Chariot- tough, ready to fight and a hard worker. His iron will and general badass-edness make for a formidable opponent or an indestructible ally. We all have a little bit of Othello in us- our best and most noble natures, our willpower and determination. However, the thing about Othello is that he can be corrupted- he's passionate about everything, and needs a good balance before he goes flying off a hundred directions at once. And we also have an Iago in our lives- for some people, it may even be themselves! Iago is the voice of doubt, that tells us no, you can't do that- what are you thinking? Those heights you dream of are for better men than you, don't do it, you'll fall flat on your face and wind up worse off than before! But the thing about Iago is he never has your best interest in mind- sure, he may say "Oh, I only am concerned about you getting hurt", but don't believe it. Iago is the self-destructive tendencies we don't see, either in ourselves or the world around us. Iago is almost always disguised as a friend, and the advice he gives us sounds good to our ears.

Which brings us to the third card, and an element noticeably absent in the play- common sense or good judgement. We're not Othello, subject to whatever way the wind blows, and though sometimes Iago's advice turns out to be true, the fact is that we have reason and good judgement, and can call our own shots. We should avoid jumping to conclusions, and wait to get all the facts before making a decision- this is what Othello fails to do, and disaster results. So in the end, if we keep our heads on straight and think things through, Iago's advice can be taken with a grain of salt.

I know I'm guilty of jumping to conclusions and acting rashly too- in the long run, it's a lesson learned. Some of these are easy- some a little harder, but all useful.

Door Kicking 101

It looks like a long and uneventful weekend- not that I'm complaining, as it's a nice change from the normal busy day routine. It still seems like there's not enough time during the day to do everything that needs to get done, although I suppose that's always the case. Never enough time, and never enough money. But life goes along. I think we've both had the fleeting thought that things will never get better, but then again, life is really what you make of it- from the same building blocks can come success or disaster. Or just a quiet, normal life. But all of them take work.
I managed to come across something I had been trying to track down since basic training, and found it in pdf format for free download. Go figure. It's FM 7-8, one of the main manuals for the infantry, covering movements, fire team formations and drills. A good deal of this was covered in basic training, although it's useful to have it on hand as other jobs don't often get into the same depth that the infantry does. The funny thing is, we (especially drivers) are sometimes called to fill in for infantry in the field. So it's always good to show the infantrymen that we know what we're doing. The actual information dates back quite a ways, as does the infantry itself- the infantry is the oldest branch of any US military force, dating all the way back to the colonies, although the US was a country before the military was officially commissioned.
In other news, we're digging ourselves out from an ice storm- in a broader sense, not really that much of a big deal, although for Oklahoma, apparently it's the end times. Actually the trees down here are clearly not used to ice, as an amazing number of them suffered damage and lost limbs due to the added weight of ice on them. Our own tree in the backyard took quite a beating- I fear it may not survive, although time will tell.
Oklahomans are an interesting lot- standing in line at the store, where pretty much everyone in town had come out to pick up a month's worth of supplies, I got involved in a conversation with a woman who was of the opinion that all this (i.e. storms, disasters and the like) were foretold in the Bible, and were an indication of the end of the world. They could very well be, for all I know, although it seems that every natural disaster has someone pointing to a prediction in the Bible. With all these events happening now and in the past, how do we know which disaster to look for? I don't think humans are going anywhere, although if society does eventually collapse, and we're reduced to barbarism and anarchy, won't that be a laugh? I tend to agree with Karl Marx, that change is inevitable, one way or another. Could be a nice, peaceful awakening, as human intellect increases and understanding continues, or it could be that the revolution will come and knock down a good many walls. But I'd like to structure all of this according to a positive outlook and faith in humanity- at any rate, I'm curious to see what the future holds.

Of Ice And Men

Well, it's Friday, looking like the start of a long weekend for me. I got a 'snow day', that is, the post is closed due to weather. Kind of makes sense, it's a real icy mess out there. But like my squad leader pointed out, go up to Ft. Drumm. Drumm is in upstate New York, and apparently is colder than hell. Glad I got stationed in Oklahoma, although I hear it's not bad.
At any rate, yesterday was not a lot better, although I did have to report in to work. I don't mind my job usually, despite the lack of clear direction and/or chain of command. You take the good, you take the bad. However, yesterday I think I could have done without. It began like any other day- morning formation, then report to the office and see what orders the day brings. It was in the middle of this massive ice storm Oklahoma seems to have lost their mind about, although the main component in the morning was rain. No big deal, but darn! Left my wet-weather suit at home. Oh well, there's not going to be a lot of call for supply today, so I probably will sit around the office pushing paper all day. No big deal. The thing was, the day prior we had been out in the field training. When we do this, we need to bring supplies- in this case just food and water. So it was that I was in the truck hauling the water buffalo. No, not a live animal, the water buffalo is a big 4000 gallon tank on a trailer bed- it has pipes and spigots on it, and its purpose is so that we have a supply of drinking water where plumbing may not be available. It's important to keep enough water in your body- believe me, I know, having had heatstroke before. Not in January, but still, you get the idea.
So out we went, filled up the buffalo, and off we go. The day went well, lots of exciting training, and we all came back happy and tired. The buffalo stayed hitched to the truck it was on, and the truck stayed where it was parked. This was not its 'home', that is, the place on the lot where it is supposed to stay. So there it sat all night, with an empty water buffalo attached to it. Now, the water buffalo sits on a frame that looks like a big A, with the hitch end being at the top of the A. This means a single pivot point, which also means that combined with the fact that the trucks have a fairly wide turning radius, that backing it up is not as easy as it sounds. For larger trailers, this isn't a problem, as they too turn slow enough so that the truck can easily maneuver them into place. However, the buffalo is a comparatively small trailer, and as such jackknifes very easily. A jackknife is when the trailer swings around the truck, winding up at a 90 degree or greater angle to the truck- this can happen when the truck is moving forwards or backwards, but is more likely when backing up. To move a truck in the motor pool a ground guide is required- the trucks are pretty big bastards, and so someone on the ground is a safety precaution, just in case the driver misses something. A ground guide also assists in hooking up trailers and things of that nature. Guess who got to pull ground guide duty in the rain? It was pretty brutal, though I don't like to complain. The wind lashed across the lot, driving both rain and ice before it and right into me. Okay, I thought, no big deal, I've dealt with worse. So away we went, trying to back the trailer into a spot diagonally. This is, as a friend once said, like trying to nail Jello to the wall. The truck would turn, the trailer would turn more. The truck would turn back, the trailer would attempt the Watusi behind it. So it went for a good while, me gesturing back and forth and the driver responding, both of us trying to get the trailer to stay the hell put. As you can guess, after about an hour, it was getting a tad chilly outside. I was soaked to the skin and stinging from the ice and sleet that the wind sent my way. Finally the driver decided to simply detach the trailer, set down the wheel on the front and just roll the stupid thing into place. Like any trailer, it has what I think are called landing gear- wheels or stops on the hitch end so that the trailer can sit level when it's not hooked up. Now, a 4000-gallon drum may sound like a chore to move, but actually it's surprisingly light when empty. (The buffalo is drained after each use for sanitary reasons). So we set about detaching our little monster. The only difficulty with this was that in the hour we had been out there, a nice thick layer of ice had developed all over everything- including me, but that's another story. We managed to get the trailer detached, and with three of us holding the hitch end, found we couldn't get the front wheel down- instead of a simple crank, it drops down in a semicircle and locks into place- under ideal conditions. We managed to swing it down, but failed to lock it into place. So we were kind of stuck holding the increasingly heavy trailer hitch while flailing away trying to lock the stupid thing in place. It failed to lock due to-yep- a thick coat of ice all over the locking mechanism. So finally we just dropped the thing and let it sit there, creating a noise loud enough to almost attract the attention of the mechanics, whose job it is to fix stuff like this. Finally, after consultation with several other soldiers who were smart enough to stay inside and not spend an hour in the cold, we got the landing gear down and rolled the trailer into place, set the brakes, and went back inside to recover from frostbite. The total time it took to get the trailer parked once the landing gear was down-less than two minutes. The total time it took to figure out we should have just done this in the first place- about two hours. There's strong, and then there's Army strong.
I love my job, though- if I wasn't doing it, who would be?

Never Gonna Stop

Okay, how many of you get the reference? I read the book at least four times when I was younger, and may actually still have a copy. At any rate, it's a kind of weird-ass tribute to Stanley Kubrick's film version of A Clockwork Orange, which is in turn based on the book by Anthony Burgess. Why include it here? Well, primarily because it's been a pretty dull week, all considered. Although on the other hand, I always liked this book and movie as a portrait of a monster. I like monsters, finding them to be interesting literary figures. The main character of Clockwork is definitely a monster, completely lacking in conscience or scruples, acting only out of purest self-interest and immediate self-gratification. However, he does display a surprising amount of intelligence and self-preservation. Is this a moral tale, to show the things we should avoid? Difficult to say. Is it just a freak show, to show us the Alex in our own lives, pure id, devoid of even the slightest bit of thought for the consequences of his actions? Nothing so melodramatic. There is a little bit of Alex in each of us, just as there's a Mr. Hyde for every virtuous Dr. Jekyll. Not that we do good out of this same bizarre self-preservation- I'm a firm believer in something higher than oneself. However, I think the point is that we need to acknowldege that Alex within us, and that any sensible moral system will make room for him, and put his considerable energies to some good use. Alex is not actually evil per se, just that he lacks any other outlet for his abilities. Is this to say the mass murderer was simply not put into the gifted class as a kid? No, although that may well be the case. We do the best we can and hope everything turns out all right in the end. The big bad forces of society attempt to re-channel Alex's hostile nature in a classic negative-reinforcement paradigm- this was originally proposed by psychologists B.F. Skinner and John Watson. However, Alex's violent nature remains ultimately unconquered, and he returns to his violent past. It seems somewhat arbitrary, and there is little doubt that Alex is a genuine psychopath, completely devoid of any compassion or feeling for his victims. However, if he became a psychopath by the same means that were later attempted to cure him or if he was born that way, is left for the reader to decide. Ultimately, Skinner's psychological model has one flaw- without constant reinforcement, (this is exactly what we see in the book) the connection between stimulus and reaction is broken, and it's back to dark old human nature to take over. And so on it goes.

However, this connection between stimulus and response can be self-generated. In fact, it's been one of the key mechanisms by which we survive. Pain is a good example- you get hurt doing something, you will then form a link between that stimulus/action and the negative response- that is, you get hurt. So we learn not to do whatever it was anymore. Animals do the same thing- feed an animal something that makes them sick, and they will not eat it again. What this says for human nature is something of a mystery. Are we just the sum total of our responses? Personally, I'd like to think conscious thought and decision also play a role in it, leading us to think through our actions, as again, the system can be self-reinforcing.

The Natural Mystic

Well, this one came out of left field! It seems my darling fiancee is a medium! I always suspected as much, although I lack her clarity, and had to struggle and study for what abilities I have. Not that it ever occurred to me to talk to the dead- my area of expertise (such as it is) is mysticism and shamanism, which does not come naturally to me, but has developed with practice. I don't have the precision to target single individuals, that would be like trying to dot an i with a cannon. I just don't have that kind of talent. However, I do have an analytical mind and am hoping to be able to interpret some of the more confusing visions she has.
Like yesterday. She really threw me for a loop when she described two people I knew and hadn't thought about in years, one my grandmother and another an old friend who passed away. There were others, although I'm having a tougher time with them. From T's notes, I was able to piece together a message, which was a fascinating one.
First, Tabatha mentioned that it seemed that I had called them- whoops, sorry to trouble you guys. Like I said, I'm really not that sophisticated in my abilities. However, what I noticed was that it was pretty obviously an encrypted message. If they wanted to talk to me, they wouldn't come right out and say it, they would send a coded message, knowing full well that I would look for patterns in it and try to decipher meaning from it. And so I did. There were four people who showed her letters- G, J, L and E. All these letters fall within the first 22 letters of the alphabet- there are also 22 cards in the Major Arcana of a Tarot deck, although I have yet to follow up on this angle at the time of writing.
The first thing I did was to find the rune equivalents to each one- this produced an interesting and meaningful result. First, the letter G corresponds to the rune Gebo, that is, a gift- more like a gift in terms of a talent or something given to make the world a better place- the type of thing that would benefit and enrich both the giver and the recipient. (If my father reads this, I'm sure I'll hear about any errors in interpretation, as he is much more knowledgeable about runes than I am). The second letter was L, corresponding to Laguz, the water rune. Water is a pretty expansive concept- I took it here to mean water as a source of life and sustainment, especially in light of the next rune. The next letter was J, corresponding to Jera- literally translated, either year or harvest. From this I took the meaning of both time and something developing- a harvest is both supported by the earth and develops over time- that is, it can't be rushed, but comes when it's darn good and ready to. The next letter is E, which corresponds to Ehwaz, meaning a horse. Again, a pretty broad concept, so I looked at how it interacted with the other runes. I saw how a horse is a symbol of strength and power, and is also a symbol that seems to keep cropping up (pun not intended) in my life. In light of the other runes, the horse seems to mean something sustained and kept going by the good earth that he walks on- in other words, he's supported by the earth that he himself is composed of. He receives the gifts the gods give to him, and is perfectly content to go about his daily task knowing that he's powerful enough to meet whatever challenge he may encounter.
There was also a figure of an old mentor, someone who passed away. I think he was there to be just that- a mentor. A horse is a good thing, and a powerful tool, but like all tools it needs a skilled hand to guide it- otherwise it can go astray, possibly hurting others or causing damage. Am I this horse? No, rather I'm perhaps in command of the horse, also sustained by the very earth I walk on. But use it wisely, seems to be the message. What has been given can be made to serve you, or it can destroy you.
I was able to identify two of the figures Tabatha saw, one as my grandmother, the other, oddly enough as former Trinity professor Hugh Ogden, who passed away several years ago in a New Year's day mishap. This was the mentor figure I saw, while I think my grandmother was there to offer a little encouragement- for some time I felt like I was on the wrong path, was making a mistake in my life. Her message seemed to be no, you're good- for once you found the right path, now don't go screwing it up!
Another interesting aspect to this is that T. described the Summerland, where many Pagans believe they go when they die. She described a field with a pond in the background, with a break between a stone wall and wooden fence- there were trees, and it was a large open field. The people she saw were standing in this gate- not going in, but rather having come from the field beyond the wall. It looked to me like they had come to deliver this message, and needed to pass on their message before either going back one way or the other- the Summerland is often thought of as not a permanent abode, but rather a way station on the way to one's next life or next incarnation. So either these people are back in the world, or are heading back out into the world. I'm not certain of this, however, and the message seems to contain no indication on this front. But the message is clear, although there are more layers of meaning in it that I have yet to uncover. I'll keep at it and see what else I can find. Apart from that, I get the feeling that before I can really make use of whatever is available, I need to first learn how to use it. At this point, I'm looking for a starting point, some clue that will provide enough insight to take me to the starting point- from there, I guess it's just a question of following the road.

"Whatever is lost can be found- if sought."
-Shakespeare

In Which Our Hero Realizes The Identity of the Mysterious Caller

Ok, so I'm running out of stuff to write about- it's been a pretty quiet weekend, which is good. Things continue to crawl along, and so far getting back into shape is going pretty well. It's good to be able to get out once in a while, although I still haven't been able to see much beyond the borders of Lawton.

The above was the result of a lot of time and a little creativity- there is a program out there to let you design your own motivational posters- the website is www.bighugelabs.com - you provide the photo, they provide the template. Almost as cool as the church sign generator-
http://www.says-it.com/churchsigns/ , where you can write whatever message you want on the church sign of your choice. My hard drive begins to get clogged with useless pictures. At any rate, the hour grows late, and it's work in the AM. So for now, I encourage all of you to go stand convention on its head, and go do something creative.

Satori!

I recieved a message on Facebook, that modern answer to the agora, telling me to check out Plum Village-none other than the website of an old teacher (although we've never met in person- how fortunate we live in a world where books are so readily available!!). The actual site is www.plumvillage.org . It was in response to some comment or other on the stresses of modern day life. Perhaps I had forgotten my roots as a Buddhist- like most of us Westerners, my first introduction to Buddhism was Zen. The first book that really generated that satori was The Tao of Pooh, and I continue to recommend it to this day for people interested in learning the fundamentals of Buddhism. True, it's technically a Taoist text, but like many religions, a common thread runs through them- especially Eastern religions like Buddhism, Taoism and Hinduism. There are many paths, but ultimately the same goal.
Satori refers to the sudden insight and flash of understanding Buddhists sometimes experience. There has been a long-standing debate about this- is reaching that state a gradual process, or an immediate one? The most frequent agreement we have is that it's a combination of both- first, that there is a process by which the mind is prepared for a sudden flash of insight, so it's gradual. Yet at the same time, a moment may come that gives a sudden flash of insight. Someone once told me if two people disagree, they may both be wrong. In this case, it seems like both and neither.
But back to the point at hand- I am a Mahayana Buddhist, a little bit different than Zen, although again, there are the same fundamentals of Buddha's teaching. And it would seem that I've been somewhat remiss in remembering these things, as I've been pretty stressed lately. I consider my patroness (that word never gets old) to be Green Tara, a yiddam dating all the way back to the shaman cults that predated Buddhism in Tibet. I say cults with no intention of implying the more negative connotations of this world- merely a secretive religious order. A yiddam is closest in English translated as goddess, although this is something of a misnomer-Green Tara is a Buddha, and Buddhas are not considered gods or goddesses. The name carries the meaning of what they are. They are enlightened beings who stick around to help the rest of us out, having taken the Great Vow- that is, I will not enter enlightenment until every sentient being can enter it with me. (Yes, I took this vow too- hopefully I can fulfill it). At any rate, I went from studying Zen to Mahayana, and from there the rest is history. I guess the point I'm trying to make is that we all need to return to our roots sometimes- the fundamental things we learn that hold our world together. When you get lost, retrace your steps. I for one miss my meditation cushion and my house shrine very much (both are en route as soon as we can pay the #$%^ing moving company), but true enlightenment is not dependent on these things. Rather, it is the coming back to fundamental awareness- breathe in, breathe out- yet be aware of this breath, then, when you're ready, expand this awareness to the world around you. But first and foremost, focus on the most fundamental aspect of our existence- the simple flow of air in and out of our bodies, and the simple beat of our hearts.

Saturday Morning Cartoons

That's pretty much my Saturday morning- watch cartoons, chill out and relax. I'm making an effort to take better care of myself, and nail that PT test coming up. Besides, the gym is relaxing. Last night we were at loose ends for what to do for dinner, so it was Korean barbecue time! I never had ginger root prepared like that, and the food was good and spicy. These are the thrilling chronicles of my life. At any rate, I'm hoping to get over to the gym today and do some lifting. Yesterday was a company run, which went well but was kind of a pain in the ass as some dumb officer decided to come with us and lead the run- good pace, good course, but he insisted on breaking pace every five minutes- drove me nuts, along with everyone else. Apart from that, I finally got an opportunity to clean my rifle, although like most things in the Army, there's procedure and then there's the way you actually do it. Procedure in this case just doesn't work as well as practical experience taught. In basic, we had to get our rifles clean enough to eat out of (don't try this at home, I'm not even sure how you would attempt it), so I said hell with the procedure and got the darn thing clean. Whoever had it prior to me must have followed procedure, because I felt like I dug out about a pound and a half of carbon buildup out of it. But it came back cleaner than it went in, and hopefully will operate a little smoother now.
In other news, the Battle of the Lost Paperwork continues- I know perfectly well where the lost paperwork is, although no one else seems to. Where it is is the inprocessing office. Where it should be is back at my office. Trying to convince anyone that it actually is at the inprocessing department is like trying to squeeze blood from a turnip. So it looks like we start from ground zero and have to do everything all over again. And unfortunately, without orders in triplicate to state that I do in fact exist, I don't. Although not existing could have its advantages, especially when crappy details come up. The problem is primarily that one department doesn't know what the other is doing, unless there is... paperwork. And therein lies the problem. Once again, I find myself saying, gosh, I can't wait to get out there and get into combat. There, most of the paperwork is useful in covering your own ass, or getting supplies to cover your own ass and the asses of your team. But next week is some infantry training, like clearing rooms, fire teams and the like. A standard fire team has five members, each with a different role, and one of several weapons, such as a machine gun or rifle. And these teams are used to engage other troops in ground combat. It's actually surprisingly effective when done properly. Just watch out for fire ants.
In Georgia, where I did my basic training, there are fire ants. Fire ants are aggressive stinging ants that attack in hordes that would make Ghengis Khan green with envy. And they are everywhere on the ground. At several points we were also on the ground, moving as a fire team. When an enemy opens fire or is spotted, we hit the ground under cover- usually a tree, ditch or something like that. On occasion this cover would be the same spot a nest of fire ants was located on. Fire ants, we learned, do not like having people on top of them, and will tend to swarm all over you. More than one of us spent a few days in training covered in red marks from the neck down, although nothing that serious. Hurts like hell while you're getting stung, though. There were also spiders, most notably the brown recluse. The injuries were much rarer, although much more severe. One soldier had a bite on the side, which proceeded to swell, until his entire side had an infection. Apparently necrosis sets in very quickly with spider bites, and the results are never pleasant. A second person, actually in my platoon, got bit on the arm, and again, some necrosis resulted, although in both cases it had not spread enough to cause anything but local damage. The result on this poor bastard was two holes in his forearm, about an inch across and an inch deep, as the affected tissue had to be removed. I actually recall sitting on the side of a dirt road waiting for a training exercise to begin, and looking at an enormous brown spider- I was later to learn that this was in fact a brown recluse, although it didn't seem particularly interested in me, and since we all knew it was there, the day passed without incident.
What does all this have to do with Saturday morning cartoons? Well, nothing, except that's where I'm headed now- I figure it's time to give the brain a rest, let it cool down before my next brilliant idea, whatever that may be.

Sore Shins And A Light Heart

Today we played soccer for PT, and had a great time. We were all feeling pretty good, and laughing and messing around, which sometimes in the day-to-day it's easy to lose. Actually, my team won, which was pretty cool, but we weren't really keeping score. The word is that tomorrow is another drug test, which we seem to have frequently. As a funny coincidence, I just picked up some cranberry juice at the store today- not that I need to cover anything up, I just like cranberry juice, and being in the store made me think of it. I wish I could stay on a high note (whoops, another unintentional drug reference- I'm on a roll tonight!), but know that sometimes the stress of life gets to me. I'm trying to remember, it'll get better, and things will work out in the long run. In the meanwhile, there's the gym. I've been trying to make more of an effort to get down there and put some time in, as not only does it burn through stress and tension, it gets me in prime physical shape for kicking ass and taking names. I've been going to one particular gym on post- there are several, each one with somewhat different facilities, although the indoor pool is closed because the ceiling tiles kept falling on people. At any rate, there is one in particular that's kind of the 'guy's gym'- cinderblock walls, a big basketball court and rubber floors in the large weight room. It also has a large area dedicated to weight training, although large muscles do not necessarily a fit person make. It's kind of dim, echo-y and generally reminds me of some old boxing gym somewhere. I love it. There's always alternatives if you want something a little more modern, and some people do. Personally, I prefer the old-school gym. I know that no matter how much things suck, I can go hit the bench and crank out a few sets and begin to feel better. As long as I don't hurt myself doing it, or overdo it.
Apart from that, I had an ammo handling class today which was actually pretty interesting. I can now haul anything and everything save nuclear material. I don't actually know how nuclear material is moved, or where we would get it from, so I guess it doesn't matter. Interestingly enough, bullets of any type are considered pretty safe to transport, and things like grenades, explosive shells, powder and all that are considered somewhat more hazardous. The rule in the Army is CYA- cover your... assets. So there's a paper trail a few miles long documenting everywhere that ammo goes, and where it's supposed to go. Apart from this, the cardinal rule is don't do anything stupid. Yes, they really teach us that. Don't, for example, bang on the back of a .50 caliber machine gun round with a pair of pliers. Guess what- it explodes! Basically it boils down to follow established procedure, as it's there to ensure safe transport. Deviate from this at your own risk, and unfortunately, at the risk of anyone near you. It has happened, the instructor tells me. That sucks, I tell the instructor. Agreed, says the instructor. But still, it's kind of comforting to know that if I'm hauling ammo, I'm not planning on doing anything unsafe, and following procedure to the letter, both for purposes of preserving my own hide, but more importantly, for the people I work with. I wouldn't want my screw up to mean someone's not going to enjoy meatloaf on Sunday. Or whatever it is they do on Sunday, you get the point. Well, I should go take a shower and count the bruises after today's merriment. But in all seriousness, I had a blast. I almost always do at PT- I figure there are two ways to look at it- one, you have to be there. The other, you have an opportunity to take time away from your desk to get in shape and make yourself (in my case) even hunkier than before. And besides, after a while you get to enjoy running and pushing your body beyond what it could do before.

Once More, Without A Net

Today was a surprisingly warm day for January in Oklahoma. Things are pretty much the same as usual, except we had a shortened week due to having Monday off. We went running in the afternoon, which went fairly well. I had a hard time enjoying it as much as I usually do, just that there's been so many sources of stress lately. Ideally, I should just blow it off and not let it get to me, but sometimes that's easier said than done. Maybe it's that way for everyone.
And I'm sure I'm not the first person to wish there was some target for all this stress, one person that could be held responsible. Perhaps this is one reason why people choose violence against themselves or suicide- they can blame no one but themselves. But this isn't a good way to be, as violence solves nothing. I find myself wishing for five minutes alone with the representative from the moving company who sounds so sanctimonious and patronizing on the phone- but of course that person is safe in their anonymity, safe at the other end of the phone line, although he seems to think that because he has most of our furniture we'll just roll over and pay whatever they ask. I fully intend to drag them through the courts until they're ready to scream, much as we are from all the delays. Revenge may be a dish best served cold, but so is ice cream. And both can be very sweet. Am I wrong to want to wreak vengeance on the person who dared to cross my family? Should I turn the other cheek, or make them come crawling and begging to me? These are questions that have no ready answers.

So why the video? Well, I've got to admit, Marilyn Manson is a guilty pleasure for me, and a good deal of his lyrics show a surprising amount of insight and understanding of the human condition. Besides, I like heavy metal. This particular song I always liked, thinking it's pretty clear which side of the field a freak like me would find myself on. But then again, it's never that black and white. The world is in color, at least last time I looked up.

Slapjack, Nyx and Phantom Zero

What strange times we live in. In a couple months, the movie Kick-Ass comes out in theaters. Personally, I'm planning to go check it out. There are real life superheroes, or RLSHs, for short. There is a registry of superheroes, and I've personally known a couple, one of whom more or less retired from superhero work and now runs a charitable organization- you can check out the former Stonemason's site at www.saskatonianhelp.org as well as offer assistance where needed.
Youtube is also chock with people showing off their superhero skills and/or strange apparel- some are well-known, and pretty much accepted as a part of the scenery- some of the more well-known ones are Phantom Zero, Nyx and Slapjack, and many have been noted in the papers or news media. Most are just ordinary people who wanted to do something for the community- many do volunteer work, or set up volunteer organizations where none existed. Others have martial arts and/or weapons training, and put this to use in vigilante applications. Can't say I officially condone the use of weapons or violence, so use at your own risk, guys.
So what would inspire someone to do this? I would imagine the reasons are as different as the people themselves. Anonymity is a really useful component, it seems. First, a legend springs up much quicker around a masked figure cloaked in mystery than it does about someone you may know, and besides, there's the psychological factors too- masks mess with people's minds. We're so used to seeing faces that when those faces are concealed or altered, we rarely remember anything but the mask. Also, some of this may be of questionable legality, though it seems most heroes either work with the police or allow the police to take over when the time comes. Besides that, being anonymous conveys a feeling of power, and also protects one's identity should the need arise.
In regards as to why do heroes fight crime, there are also many different reasons. Perhaps because the police aren't always there- a lot of heroes are basically street patrols, calling in police assistance where and when needed. Others live in communities with limited police forces, or higher crime areas. Still others are just plain nuts. But whatever the reasons, being a superhero is technically within your legal rights, as long as you are aware of all laws such as trespassing and wearing a mask (some businesses will not let you keep your face covered on their property, the exception being religious reasons), as well as concealed weapons and use of force. You are technically allowed to use force to defend yourself- when it comes down to defending other people, the law gets a little gray.
At any rate, it seems this aforementioned movie is based on real events- if it inspires someone to become a superhero, as did Watchmen, then good for you! It seems in recent years there have been a lot more of these superheroes, and this is probably not a bad thing. Better to serve your community in a funny costume than not at all! Should you be inspired to put together a costume and go fight crime, remember, the weapons are real, and so are the bad guys.

The Nice Guy Syndrome

Some of you may have encountered this on Facebook- if not, here's a link-http://divalion.livejournal.com/163615.html
Amazing that there's someone out there more long-winded and wordy than I am. But she brings up an interesting point, although to be honest it doesn't really apply to me, being the age I am and apparently such a 'catch' to start with. At least, that's what they tell me. At any rate, the Nice Guy is not unknown to us old dogs. We see them in bars and social situations, and us generally honestly nice guys laugh at them. Yes, I know I'm a nice guy, at least I try to be, and most of the time succeed. I'm human, like anyone, prone to the occasional screw up, sometimes the occasional screw up on an epic scale. But I learned it's always best to be honest about it, to be able to say, "sorry, completely fucked it all up here- can you give me a hand?" This is a better course instead of trying to fix it yourself- some situations are like pregnant women- neither can be unfucked.
But profanity aside, back to the Nice Guy. I have personally known people like this- it seems real genuine nice guys just don't really give a crap, that is, being nice, respectful and kind (sometimes to a fault) is all we know how to do. We don't get how to be jerks, at least for the most part. This is why I find a lot of female attention, it seems. Not to brag, there's only one female whose attentions I want, and I'm pretty sure I'm set on that front. But at the same time, it's nice to be noticed and perhaps even be the subject of envy. I can see nothing wrong with harmless flirtation, as long as no signals get crossed. If flirting wasn't fun, I would guess there'd be a lm,ot less of it going on right now. And besides, there are occasions when you're genuinely interested in the weird stuff someone is talking about.
Take the gym as a for example- I was in the gym the other day, with a bunch of other people, one of whom was a pretty gal who was talking to pretty much anyone within earshot, which happened to be me on the next weight bench over at the moment. So there we were, her gabbing away without a care in the world, simultaneously to me and maybe two other people, about how sex figures into a relationship, and how intelligence is also important. The conversation turned to how she would rather date a "nerdy" guy than a cute one, as she was looking for intellectual stimulation instead of just sex. So, I pointed out that one does not have to be nerdy to be intellectual, the two are not necessarily the same. This conversation had already taken several turns for the bizarre, and continued on across several more sets of exercises. This would be a case where it could be interpreted as a flirt, although if I talk to someone, it's generally because what they're saying is interesting- vapid, unintelligent people are extremely hard to flirt with. I could have cared less that she was attractive, although typical guy, the fact didn't escape my notice. It was just a friendly and for my own interests, an interesting thing to do while working out. This seems to me to be the nice guy in action- you do something nice not because you expect a reward, but because it seems like the natural or right thing to do. You talk to someone not because you want to make a move on them, but because they are interesting. It could be, if you're a single nice guy, you get shot down. That's ok, you say. No need to say, "well, I'm too good for her," or any such ego-sparing nonsense.
Again, seems nice guys can kind of put ego on the shelf- not that they necessarily have low self-esteem, they just don't need it constantly validated. I'll tell you, when my lady love tells me I'm a hunky guy with gorgeous brown eyes and a wonderful heart, I feel about twenty feet tall! But at the same time, I don't need to be constantly reminded of how awesome I am, or why I'm such a great guy. If I screw up, I know someone will let me know. That doesn't crush me either, it sends me back to the mental drawing board to re-evaluate- why did we suck? How can we not suck in the future?
Then there's sex. Bars used to crack me up, because there would be The Guy in everyone from here to Kathmandu. The Guy will chase after every gal that comes through the door- Family Guy fans, picture Glenn Quagmire on speed and you've pretty much got it. We used to laugh at The Guy. The Guy seems to rebound from endless rejections, then jumps right back into the fray. Weird! On occasion The Guy will score a number, or even rarer occasions, will escort a member of the opposite (or same, I hung out in some pretty unusual places) sex out of the bar. The Guys were to a one transparent and rather phony, and women would usually spot them like they were walking around in an old Max Fleischer cartoon wearing one of those Eat At Joe's sandwich boards. Women have probably guessed that The Guy is a good source for a couple rounds of drinks, then book it on out of there. This too, made me laugh. If I'm buying a round, it's because I like you, not because I want to get in your pants.
So it seems that throughout all of this, nice guys are just that- nice guys. Really all it is is put your ego aside and listen to another person. For some people, this can be tough. And like with all of us, myself included, there are times you're too wrapped up in yourself to notice the world around you. Hey, it happens. Once again, put ego aside, look at the situation for what it is, and look at the world, yourself and your fellow people with truly open eyes. This is the first step towards becoming one of these fabled nice guys, and finding happiness in this life.

The Continuing Adventures of the 69th

It's a long weekend for members of the 696th Forward Support Co., as pretty much all the people we support have the day off. Basically what we do is deliver supplies, food and water to the rest of the 214th Field Artillery Brigade. So it falls to us to maintain trucks and vehicles, as well as to haul the water buffalos. That does sound funny, but is the actual name of the water trailers. Essentially a 400 or so gallon drum, the buffalo has pipes and spigots for water distribution, either to a canteen or those funky hydration systems we wear in hot weather. The big drum sits on a trailer chassis, and hooks onto most any 5-ton truck. They are filled with a long, boom-like armature that hangs over the top of the buffalo. This is not the most exciting job in the military, but one of the most essential. On occasion, as primarily a transport company, the 696th hauls artillery or ammunition. I have an ammo handling class coming up in a week or so, which means basically wake up, go out there and learn how to stack boxes of rounds. These are explosive, however, and full-metal jacketed, so are pretty nasty little critters. Standard armament for the company consists of the M16 rifle, although in a combat situation it would include several .50 caliber machine guns as well as two M240B machine guns we have knocking around our armory. There are also a number of 9mm pistols, although these are not usually standard issue. Senior NCOs will wear a holster on their armor, though if there's any rhyme or reason to who wears one, I have yet to find it.
At any rate, we also have rescue capabilities, as we have access to several M88 tanks. They are smaller and more compact than an Abrams, yet can tow their larger cousin. They are equipped with tow cables, tow shackles, a front winch and a boom winch, which is a large mechanical arm that sits across the top of the tank and can be swung forwards by means of hydraulic lifters in the tank itself. The controls for these things are surprisingly simple, driven by a series of levers in the cockpit of the tank. It all looks very complicated, as most military vehicles do, but is actually surprisingly simple. The thing about the Army is, you go from looking at these things like some massively complex machine to simply looking at the controls. The Army designs these things to be run by a complete fool, so someone with greater faculties than a complete fool can easily figure these things out. In the case of the M88, the design is such that each lever is marked with its function- front cable payout, front cable retract, boom extend, boom winch cable extend. So all you have to do is read it on the panel, pull the lever and you're a hero for the day. Initially, though, we were all civilians, and looked at all these controls, (not necessarily in an M88, but any other vehicle) and were afraid to touch anything. It was the same way with firing a weapon- after a while, you learn that you can control this deadly force and use it for whatever end you want it to. Not that it's much of a power trip, it's just the job they pay us to do. Well, all right, driving a tank is a major power trip, but still, safety first.
In regards to deployment, the rumor mill abounds, but have I heard a definite date? Not yet. I know the Army will keep me up to speed on this, even when our communication is somewhat lacking, as is occasionally the case. I often get asked, am I scared/worried/excited? Scared? No. Worried? A bit. I'm not afraid of my own death, or whatever pain that involves. I always looked at death as kind of a relief, as I know I'll only die when my purpose here has been completed. When I die, I know I'll have done whatever it is I needed to do here. But I do worry about my family, that they will be ok without me. My greatest fear is letting them down. In regards to being excited, well, yes. I feel bad about being excited though; because it means being away from my loved ones for a while, I know it'll be a chance for promotion, a chance for lots of extra pay, and also an opportunity to excel at my chosen profession. I'll be honest with you, reader- Ft. Sill is a pretty backwater little nowhere fort, and the 696th is a pretty uninteresting and uneventful place. We get called on to move stuff on occasion, that's about it. I know I have a lot more talent than that (aced all my exams in training, aced the ASVAB), and am kind of itching to put it to use. I don't like the thought of taking a life, or multiple lives, but there are rules of engagement we follow. Such as- no one is shot or killed who lays down their weapons, and non-combatant civilians are not killed. This is not good military strategy, for one thing. Without the support of the civilian people, the Army's job is going to be a whole hell of a lot harder. It seems the Marines (not to point fingers, it could have just as well been anyone else) lost Fallujah for this reason- the way I've heard the story told was that the Army had set up shop there and was treating the civilians as well as they could, and working with them. But most of all, respecting them and treating them as equals. Then the Marines came, and were unused to this kind of collaboration, so treated the civilians like inferiors. So it was that the US lost their support, and once again all hell broke loose. Now, don't get me wrong- I've worked with Marines before and found them to be a little full of themselves, but apart from that a highly disciplined and skilled military force. Unfortunately, there were a few bad command decisions made, and the results are left to history. Like most soldiers, I wonder if this conflict will ever end. Perhaps, after all there's always hope of peace. But it seems like such a quagmire sometimes, that perhaps we will never get out of. I know I'll go do my job, and do it well, when the time comes. I just hope in the end it'll have made a difference. But then, don't we all hope that in the long run our individual lives held some meaning greater than just ourselves?

High Weirdness And the Stark Fist

The hour grows late, and the time to strike is probably tomorrow. Please enjoy this random and meaningless image. I decided things were getting a little too heavy and gloomy, so needed to be lightened up. I begin to think I'm spending far too much time at work. A complaint I'm sure we're all familiar with! But at any rate, there was a time when I didn't know who I was. And that still seems to be a problem- how do you define something that is essentially defined by the negative? I can identify the world around me as "Not Me", so "Me" must be whatever is left.

But then there are people stark staring insane in this world- how do we know we're the ones who are right? When questions like this keep you up at night, you know you need to get out of Oklahoma. But no such luck. So we ride the wave of madness to its inevitable conclusion. Surf's up.

"You know what'll kill me, don't you?"

It's been a couple weeks in Lawton, and a couple weeks in the motor pool. Both are ok overall. Tabatha has given a great deal to be here, and I keep her in my heart morning, noon and night. It's her that I really want to make this work for. And when obstacles seem impossibly high and large, it's her that I feel I've let down. I came here not to be a hero, but to be what so many other people take for granted- normal and independent. So far I've managed neither. Finances have been all over the place, it seems like everything that could go wrong has gone wrong, and I've been a step away from the asylum more times than I can count.
But it's not how many times you fall down- it's the number of times you get back up again. And as long as that's one more, you won't be beaten. A part of me wants to give up- just call it quits, throw in the towel and stalk off into the night, never to be seen again. But I can't do that- and it's not Tabatha, it's not the fact that I'd go to jail for desertion; it's just some things you don't do. Can you pull your own arms off? No more can I give up. So this makes a kind of interesting psychological quandary; stress without any means to release. Our bodies, like any animal, are designed for fight or flight- that is, a stressful situation calls for us to do one of two things- face the threat and attack, or get the hell out of there and save our skins. Evolution has bred survival into us, and so we've existed until the present time. Man is now an active shaper of his world, and no longer is subject to the environment. So the fight or flight reflex no longer serves a purpose, really. We would need a clear head and calm mind to tackle problems, not a violent and immediate response. Clearly, this response is not designed for prolonged use- it's designed to flood the body with adrenaline and then to allow it to recuperate. Prolonged stress taxes the body beyond what it was meant to endure- thus stress- related mental and physical complaints. I've often wished there were some quick and violent way to resolve problems, although that may be a completely male response. I want to be in control, and woe betide you if you stand in my way. But this is not the way it works. I'm a Libra, as Tabatha likes to point out, therefore predisposed to intelligence, problem-solving and communication. But nonetheless, when you or your family is threatened, it seems we all are not that far removed from other mammals.
The one bright spot in all this mess is the human mind- I have firsthand seen what heights it can reach, and it is for me a source of faith and inspiration. There are men and women who have overcome much more impossible odds than I'm currently facing. So I know that all I need to do ultimately is to sit down, take a deep breath and think about it, knowing whatever pain I feel is only temporary. Fail, and that pain I feel for my loved ones becomes forever. That's my own private, all-inclusive four star hell- the pain I feel when I know I just didn't have what it takes to knock down all the obstacles in my way. But then again, whatever comes along, I know I'll still be here. I've had to swallow my pride and ask for help before, perhaps some day I'll actually get it right.