I've certainly come a long way since my last post here. I was so sad, lonely, mad at the world for something that happened to me. I felt like it was all my fault, that I was lied to and brushed aside for something opposite. I'll probably never know the whole truth or the why behind what happened, but the conclusion that I come to is that shit just happens sometimes.
Life just isn't as simple as consistently doing the right thing and expecting good outcomes. Sometimes you just get thrown a curveball, swing, miss (horribly), and almost get in a fight with the umpire. Working like a mule isn't a bad approach to life, but things just aren't as cut and dry as we'd all like them to be.
Oh, big news. I passed my exams and am looking for work. I knew I would eventually, but I wasn't completely sure that I would go 7 for 7. Between the government shutdown during early January (I spent most of it alone and studying at school for 8 hours a day) and the consistent studying throughout the second semester, I was prepared and accomplished the goal that I had set out since the beginning of my time here. Talk about getting a monkey off your back. I'm about to start on what will probably be the most freedom I've ever had. Finding work and having the ability to travel, to see the world unrestricted, has been something that I've always wanted and its finally going to happen.
Anywho, I'm not mad at the world anymore. There wasn't a profound moment of forgiveness or a sudden moment of clarity, but rather a long and slow build up to moving on to better days. Don't get me wrong, you can still shoot a cannonball right through me and make me topple like an end to an intense Jenga game, but at least now I've come to the realization that there is no place for you in the next stage of my life. Morality is a weird thing - we don't all play by the same rules.
Trust me, I didn't come to this conclusion on my own. I've got better friends than I deserve; acquaintances took me under their wing and shared pearls of wisdom from their experiences, giving me both books and recommendations to lead a better existence. I've never thought so much about meaning - maybe I did put too many eggs in one basket and got drunk on the idea of a future that wasn't meant to be. Finding meaning with someone else was probably the happiest I have ever been, but it was false happiness that was finite; I was naive and idealistic, hungry for something worthwhile to lose.
Yeah, my conscience may still echo your name, but I know that our paths will more than likely not cross again. I don't (and didn't) deserve to be treated the way that I was, and I will never do that to someone. I'd be an idiot to ever let my guard down around you again; I have my confidence back. I like who I am and who I am becoming, although there will surely be more ups and downs to come. I have a much better understanding of who I am because of this whole year.
I mean, we are all looking for purpose in our otherwise meaningless lives, and finding direction give us something to work towards at least. This meaning will and should change as time goes on, but maybe things are better because of it. I'm not really sure what I'm trying to say, but yeah. I guess we are all up against it sometimes and looking for the quiet morning-moments and the feeling of knowing everything is going to be alright as the sun pops up over the mountains on that lake. Blam, isn't that a pretty picture?
That pretty much rounds out this post. Having a little bit of faith can go a long way and I'm fortunate to have the experiences that I have. Maybe this whole ordeal was exactly what I needed, a kickstart to growth so to speak. If it was, it was one hell of a kick to the balls but it made me one tough sum'bitch in the process (cuz that's how it works, right?).
SO much has changed since my last entry. I've been away from writing for so long and I've had so many new life experiences. Twenty and Twenty-one brought with it a sense of extreme happiness; I had the world by the balls (or I certainly felt like it). I was sailing and building my skills in my career. I was confident that I had everything under control. Life seemed so in place- I had a sense of direction that was solid. I even found myself in a relationship that seemed too good to be true. I couldn't believe it, how could I be so lucky to have everything falling into place? Why did I deserve to be so happy?
"If something feels too good to be true it probably is."
The hardest part of growing up has never been the increased responsibility and autonomy over my existence, but the challenges that come with learning that not everyone in this world is who they seem. Sometimes, it is those that we hold closest and trust the most that hurt us the most.
She was amazing, and I felt like she was out of my league from the first moment I met her. I knew her from around campus, but she was a year ahead of me and we didn't run in the same circles. We met at a party, and things just kind of went naturally from there. She felt right. It seemed like everyone approved of us and wanted us to work out.
We spent many fall nights together. One night early on, we lay out on her porch and looked up at the stars pointing out constellations (with a beer). We talked, and talked, and talked until it was so late that I started to fall asleep. We spent many evenings like this; she was becoming not only my interest but my closest friend.
She understood me.
Snow came and covered the little town. We exchanged gifts. It felt more right. Her friends accepted me and gradually became my friends. It felt like we were beginning to be a family like I gained the approval of her brothers. She seemed to shine whenever I saw her, her eyes sparkling and the beauty mark on her face scrunching when she smiled back.
I remember the first time I said the words to her. It was a few months after Christmas and we actually had a fight. "I don't understand all these rules!" Lent was here and I was trying my hardest to be observant. There was obviously some tension and it came to a head. We came back from sushi (the stem of her tire broke on the way there, we changed the tire in the gas station parking lot with a van full of drunk people) and she was acting funny. I asked her about it, and she became upset.
I felt horrible. I wasn't as open as I should have been, and I told her why I was doing what I was doing. I told her that I needed to see if this was going to work within the lifestyle I wanted to live because I wanted it to last. I thought I was falling in love with her, and I told her that. What I felt was real and terrifying. How could I feel so strongly about someone else?
Why did I want better for her than myself?
When she heard this, she turned around. We were in my room and alone. Tears filled her eyes, her bottom lip quivered and her jaw shifts to one side - the way it always does. She threw her arms around me and began to cry, whispering 'I think I do too." We were both scared. What did this mean? Did I truly love this woman at that moment? Did she?
More time past and I think I began to fall harder with each day. The routine of waking up next to her, kissing her on the forehead as I got ready to leave the house. The completeness that came with a quiet night shared together. She was what I looked forward to after class. The feeling that welled up inside of me when we were together was one of intense warmth and happiness. We met each other's families, almost receiving their blessings with each occasion. Was this truly love?
As her graduation neared, so did the sense of anxiety around her. Was it the uncertainty her summer co-op, or was it the prospect of losing some of her close friends? What could it be? The co-op was a much simpler fix, an afternoon in the library and that was checked off. Her friends, well that was a part of this thing called youth. Easy enough for me to say, but college is not the real world. (It is insular. At no other time will I ever be surrounded by so many people my age. I will never share a house with four other twenty-somethings. I am about to be more lonely than I ever have been.) She graduated, but there were a few tears shed. She was coming back for a fifth year to complete her program, which at the time, was a good thing.
After a tearful goodbye, we went our separate ways for the summer. I knew communication would be sparse at best, but we made sincere promises. She gave me a journal to write to her while I was away. I wrote a lot to her that summer, every time I put pen to paper was like another night out on her porch under the stars. We'd go days without talking, but I trusted her completely and knew that she would never do anything to hurt me. My feelings grew over the summer; she was what I thought of during the early mornings spent on the bridge, the sun coming up over the horizon to announce the start of another day.
This last training cruise was testy at times and I was challenged by a lot of different angles. There really is no excuse or explanation why I acted the way that I did, but I was pretty terrible to some of my closest friends here at school. Family life at home was trying as well, a sickness in the family made for a trying summer. It was just so much from so many different things, I guess I couldn't keep a handle on it all. The one thing that helped, though, was the ability to write to her through the journal that she gave me. It was my space to vent, to be completely honest. I worked through a lot of things in those pages.
Eventually, things got better onboard. Friendships mended over sincere communication, even if it made me an asshole. The trip ended well and everyone got along after a few bumps.
All I wanted was to see her after the trip. She was sailing down in Martha's Vinyard and I thought everything was well. I couldn't have been more wrong. When I asked when I could come down, he deflected the question, she was too far behind on her project. This continued for a month, yet I held on to the idea of her. I felt like I could hold out forever if that's what it took.
I'd wait for the girl with flowers in her hair.
And then I stopped sleeping. You didn't call me on my birthday, you said you lost your phone. I understood in the way that a doormat understands as you wipe the mud off your boots before entering a home. I would see pictures of you online and you looked different; something in your eyes said that you were not mine anymore.
When we got back to school, you deflected me again. All I had wanted was to see you. For months I dreamed of spending time with you; I missed the woman that I loved. After finally pinning you down, we got some food at the bar. Oddly enough, you wanted to talk to the tall-guy who just came back after a year off more than you wanted to talk to me. It's ironic, isn't it?
But I was blind; I looked at you across the table. This was the one I would sail across an ocean for. The one that I would wait months for. The one that I wanted.
The next day you avoided me. That night you dropped the bomb on me.
"I don't love you."
I still have dreams about that interaction. The way you looked at me, with changed eyes, rocked my world.
I wish I could say that the worst of it, but as the truth began to surface I realized that what I thought I had was a lie. Nothing was as it seemed this summer; you had moved past me long before you told me your true feelings. There were other guys; how could you do that to me?
I trusted you completely, but you decided to slip away. I thought I knew you, but I was so wrong.
I knew who you were, and I loved who you were. What I felt was real and it nearly destroyed me to have it all come crashing down. The facade that was built up over the year caught fire as you stood on the front lawn, watching me roast.
You became so cold, so incrediblydistant. You moved on and replaced me after a few weeks; was all that you said about your independence bullshit?
Who the hell are you? Is this who you really want to be?
I should despise you. I should hate you for flicking the switch off and seemingly not caring about the repercussions. You carried on as if nothing was wrong, and now you moved on to the same tall-guy you flirted with at the bar while we saw each other for the first time in so long. How could you be so cruel?
And yet, here I am. Spending my Thanksgiving studying for my exam and writing about my senior year of college. What should be a great time has literally been the most miserable few months of my existence (I laughed as I wrote that sentence). My family asked about you over the table, apparently the news never really got out to them. I just said that it didn't work out, they patted me on the back and cast down their wisdom on breakups. Everyone seemed to have the same message. "You've got your life ahead of you, be happy dammit!" I smiled, yeah you're right.
I miss her though. I miss you, and but not in the same way that I did. I miss the idea of you, not who you have become. Wheverever happened to you, I am sorry. I'm sorry I acted the way that I did. The hurt that I felt was misplaced and misdirected.
I hope to talk to you again, to maybe get some answers or to see where you are at. When I see you on campus now I don't say anything, as you told me to. I am doing exactly what you said to do in the note you gave me. God, I regret so much of that weekend.
I don't know what I'm chasing and I'll probably never know. The girl that I knew is gone, but there is someone that looks a lot like her (and reminds me of the cannonball you shot through my chest). I know I mean nothing to you now, even though I thought I did.
I'm back, and a little bit more salty than when I left. Let me tell ya, I've grown a lot over this summer; something like eight major cities in three months can make you grow up pretty quickly. I've learned so much about what it means to be a traveler, and how life is different when you're on the go. This cruise was also a huge affirmation that I'm doing the right thing for myself. A year ago, I was a little unsure, but now I've never been more sure of anything in my life. This is what I want to do more than anything else right now.
Coming back to school after such a short break wasn't the easiest. The parent's sold the house and I'm happy for them, but that meant floating around for a little while before we had a chance to get into where we live now. I also went to Montreal with my bro to celebrate his bachelor party. (That's another post in itself.) The thirteen days I had were great at home, albeit not as restful as I would have really liked, but hey. I was home and that's what is important.
Working RPT and being apart of the Training Staff was pretty unique too. I do plan on talking more about this at some point, but there is really a lot to talk about when it comes to this. From the whole 'being put in a position of responsibility and therefore some power.' Lets just say some people responded differently than other with this situation, but I digress.
Classes have been going pretty well so far. I've being doing pretty well in the test/quizzes but I still need to bear down. I'm not feeling so great for one of my classes, but I'm getting the help that I need to do better. I do enjoy being a true deckie now; finally done with all that engineering stuff that i had to suffer through to get to this point. I will say that I did enjoy some of it on cruise, but thank God I'm done with it.
I'll write more soon, this was just a quick blurb to get back into it. I'll also post my cruise journal at some point, all fifty-some-odd pages of it. Yeah, I wrote a lot on cruise...
Tomorrow is officially the first day of my cruise, and I've never been more ready to sail across the Atlantic in my life. This is the culmination of all my work this year, and I've wanted nothing more than to get to this point. Now that I'm here, the cliche feeling of "Jumping Jehoshaphat this is actually happnin'!" takes over, and I smile at the knot in my stomach. This is what I've urged myself to do. My time to adventure begins today.
During this cruise, I've decided to hold myself to a contact of sorts. If you're readying this, you probably know that I enjoy writing and find it very relaxing. Recording your thoughts on paper/computer is cathartic and offers much in the way of sentiment. Ultimately, my plan is to keep a daily journal/posting and keep it in a word document. I'm trying to shoot for at least five-hundred words an entry, around fifteen to twenty-five minutes of writing and processing the day. I realize that setting a bar like this may force me to feel like I have to write more than I actually have to say, but I want this work to be profound when I look back on it. I want to be proud of what I've done, and have a memory forever recorded on paper (I'm going to need to buy a printer when I get back, damn!).
When everything is said and done, and I've proofread the whole thing a few hundred times, I plan on putting it up on here, and letting everyone who want to read it have at it, It won't be ninety posts, but one large one that is probably more than anyone would ever want to read in one sitting. Nonetheless, I will still print this thing out and have the satisfaction of writing a frickin' stack of paper in a summer.
So thanks Mom and Dad, for coming down today and taking me out to eat, Thanks allowing me to go to some school on the coast that is know for hard work and long summers. Thanks for believing in me and letting me chase my dreams regardless of how far they take me away from you two. I owe you all so much, and I owe it to you to do my best.
That is what I promise I will do.
Wishing you all the best, and have a great summer. God Bless you and may He keep the sun shining bright all summer long. I'll see you all in August, and until then
In my last weekend home before I sail this summer, I went up to see my best friends at the state college about forty five minuets away. Needless to say, it was a very "college experience and I had more fun that weekend than the three before it. Nothing beats hangout out with your true friends and seeing the people make make home so great.
You see, I've been reading a lot lately. The last two book I read, Paper Towns by John Green and Into the Wild by John Krakauer, deal extensively with the themes of adventure and leaving. These two things are very prevalent in my life, especially now that I am on the precipice of a salty summer. My adventure will not be akin of Margo Roth Spiegleman or Chris McCandless; a lot of people will know where I am going and I'll have a phone.
These books have made me think about what I am undertaking though. This adventure will afford me experiences that I couldn't get any other way. Some people may make jokes about how 'crunchy' this picture is I am painting, and I honestly don't care. I'm not doing this for anyone else, I don't really need to defend my choices to people (or this choice at least). I want urgently the freedom of choice and the responsibility to be beholden to myself, meanwhile I value the dear friendships I've made.
I guess this is where the selfish part of the whole adventurism-lifestyle come into play. In order to feel the freedom of the Alaskan countryside or miles of open blacktop with nothing but a backpack and a crosshatch notebook, I need to (simply put) leave. Now, this may sound simple, but when you have great friends and family at home, some of whom you haven't laid eyes on in more than ten months, it's hard to put it on hiatus for even longer and not feel like an ass.This is the price of adventure; I am exchanging a summer for an experience that few people get to have. I committed to this trip long ago, and I will honor my word to myself. I owe it to all those that aided me in wandering into this place, and now that I am here I need to do what it right.
Now, to all my friends I will not see until August third, have a great freakin' summer. You guys have made my first year of college so great and I really owe it to you for helping me get through some pretty crappy times (the month of yelling/the ten days of poop). Just the thought of those late night Smash/Mario Cart sessions made me smile. I'm sure I will be thinking of those nights during some of those really shitty stormy nights that I spend heaving the whatever-the-hell-is-in-my-stomach into a seawater toilet bowl that smells like stale pee and testosterone.
Just to clarify, I typed that last sentence with a smile on my face, because Chris McCandless would say that's a needed experience of the shipboard life, and Margo Roth Spiegleman would say that I would need to clean myself up and take a damn shower (right?).
I can't wait!
AF
P.S. Canada is still a wicked interesting Country. I dig talking to her.
The morning maintenance session was underway as usual, but instead of a usually-petty-boring engine assignment, I was assigned to help take on stores for the cruise that I will be going on this summer. Today, it was bulk dry goods and non-perishables. It a mini-cargo operation; I've never seen the ship so busy.
The first hour was pretty brutal. I have never before carried so much mountain dew. Each load was stacked six cases high in the familiar fire wood fashion. Walking was the easy part, but I think I managed to drop (most) of the cases pretty roughly on the deck. I apologize in advance for those who like the stuff... You're probably going to get a face full of electric green as soon as crack one open.
Soon there after, some hand trucks were given out and the process was expedited even further. The trucks were fully loaded with even more soda and I've never been so sick of damn cans in my life. Eventually the soda ran out, only to replaced by Gatorade syrup and juice concentrate. After that came, pasta, mustard, ketchup, olives, more bulk goods.
Then came flour and honey mustard.
I wasn't on the weather deck at the time, but the main deck standing away from the cargo square like I had been told to do. I was busy loading my truck and thinking about something else to say to my old-OIC. Two contractors were walking down the passage way and were about to go under the cargo hatch, but an upperclassmen put her arm out to stop them. She was doing exactly what she was told to do, and stopped them right in their tracks. I heard one of them swear under his breath and turn around to go the long way to get to the stair well.
A moment later a bridle on the cargo net parted, spilling a pallet's worth of flour nearly fifteen feet through the cargo hatch onto the main deck. It sounded like a gunshot, and I could feel the shock wave through the steel plating. After a few moments, the flour settled and everyone remaind quiets.I think we collectively realized that the two contractors were a few step from being crushed beneath what at one time be pancakes, and simultaneously let out one big "holy f****** shit f***.
To make a long story short, the mates on the ship made sure everyone was okay, check for damage, assigned people to clean up the mess (which was actually kind of fun, have you even had flour up to your shins and cleaned mustard off a bulkhead?) and the operation continued. The cadet that stopped the contractors was given as close to a fist bump as the crew give, and an extra emphasis was placed on the importance of following procedure. A good thing came out of something that could have been very bad; ship rules save lives.
I think this is my first ship story, and I know there are more to come soon. As I prepare to cruise this summer, I decided to hold it upon myself to keep a journal over each of the ninety days. I have no idea what I will do with the work, but I promised myself I would do it.
I have a big test tomorrow in Humanities II, a class that challenges the way I think. Lately, we have been talking about quantum entanglement, and all things that make my head hurt. One way that I have been able to better understand some of the things we have talked about is the game (I'd rather call it a narrative, because it has really made an impact on my life) Life is Strange.
I just completed the third of five episodes, and the volume is picking up. Max, the protagonist, is now capable of altering events even deeper into the past. One of the main points of the story is that Max's friend blames the way her life turned out because of her father's death when she was just a young child. The friend is the definition of a teenage burnout; drugs, ill-fated relationships, and the occasional police run-in are the ordinary. The death altered the friend's path in life drastically, but what if it didn't happen?
The player is presented with a choice at the climax of episode three; to hide the father's keys to prevent him from driving, or let the man die in a car crash that sparked the downward spiral of her friend? After weighing the pros and lack of cons I decided to save the dad, but the repercussions of that decision couldn't have been any larger. When the payer comes back to the 'current" time, Max's friend no longer has the blue punk rock hair, tattoos, or attitude she once has; instead, she has a wheelchair and a hole in her throat.
This is where the episode ends, but why? I thought saving the father would set the friend's life on track to something more productive, no make her an quadriplegic. I haven't played beyond this point, most due to the test tomorrow, but I think I can already see the conclusion on the horizon. Everything happens for a reason, even if it is truly awful and there are no benefits at all. Sometimes, things just need to be the way they are. I can see this in my own life in two big events; a death and a sickness. One before I was on this planet, and one when I was still a young child.
My brother (whom I have written about before) passed away in 1989, which set in motion a series of events that led to a divorce, another marriage, and my birth. I have always wondered if my brother was alive today, would things have happened like they did? Is my life directly tied to the death of my brother? Its a weird notion to have, but I have talked about it with my Mother before. She gave me some insight into the issue, but she really couldn't say that things would be the same.
She did say, however, that she put her faith in God during this whole event. Regardless of what happened, my Mom's faith in God's plan for herself and her family would never have changed, and that the way her life has played out simply is. She truly is one of the strongest people I know, and has always been a role model to me. My Mother has been tested in more ways than I will ever know, but her resilience is what gives me hope and drives me to succeed in my life.
The next big experience that I will talk about was my pretty serious illness in the eight grade. Long story short, I was extremely sick and had long road to recovery, but I did it. The experience of being in an intensive care unit and getting a glimpse of what my brother went though some twenty years prior weighed on me and especially on my Mother. Oddly enough, I feel like having this shared experience is what gave me insight into who he was. I felt like I got to know him without ever hearing his voice or seeing him in person.
Now if I were to go back in time and change all of this, would my life today be anything similar to where I am currently? Honestly, I don't couldn't say one way or another, and I don't really think that is up to me to even contemplate. Things happened, and they are irreversible. My Mother has told me that life is weird, and that these things happen for reasons we may never know. It's our faith in God and the people around us that help us cope with these terrible events; with their help we can push though and do great things.
My Mom is right. I've been givne a great opportunity on this earth and it is up to me to make the most of it. It's up to me to not get caught up in the could-have-beens and memories, but to see the world for what it is worth.
Life truly is strange.
I hope at least understand some of it (and get a good enough grade on yet another test).
