what the tide throws up.
"Yes dear, I'd like a rare steak and a tall glass of common initiative. Power to the people."
Life is fucking strange. And it’s big. Like it’s a big deal, too. I’m in the navy. No longer a civilian, or “civi” as they’re referred to by the cool kids. I feel like a weirdo. In limbo. A mutant millitary larve not yet old enough or strong enough…or learned enough to know how to live. So I puts around in my regular civilian style thinking about how useless I’m being. Funny the things that happen.
And they happen so quickly.
I ship December 15. For boot camp in Great Lakes, MI. In winter. I don’t like the cold, but it’s too late now. Since there’s no point in complaining the inevitable, take it as a statement of fact. I will be going to boot camp in a month and a half. I am nervous only about my athletic ability really. Whether I’ll be able to keep up with the majority or lag behind like a three legged puppy, determined yet pitifully obsolete. And close to death.
Thoughts on mortality have plagued me. I haven’t had a drink in two solid months. Well…just about. I drank four shots of rum and a Mike’s Hard while I was at MEPS. It went down like alcohol, only it didn’t do anything. I felt nothing. No warmth, no head spins, no looseness. What is a drink, if I don’t feel it? Why drink at all if you’re only ultimately depriving your body of liquid. Alcohol is some dark magic. You can drink and drink and never feel your thirst has been quenched…or your soul. And the next morning you’re a dried-up shell. Worse off than you were before you started. It’s a non-entity. It’s as if it doesn’t exist. A vacuum on earth. Who’d have ever imagined a drink that could leave you dehydrated. Doesn’t seem real.
I’m lonely, but I won’t be for long. I keep busy, but I somehow don’t have any money. I am living a strange resigned contentment, that feels…good. Honestly, no matter how low my thoughts at a given moment, I emerge from them unscathed. Completely confident, still, in my ability to do work and do it well. It sustains me. I feel happy having done it.
Princess Kitty is fidgeting at my feet. The bed is warm. The night, uncommonly warm also. Silly bitch slaps at my hand whenever I have food. As if it actually belongs to her, and I’ve filched it. She is such a princess.
Dani comes home tomorrow. If I wake up, I’ll clean.
Maybe.
