Gone Country

After finally escaping the mountains of Arizona, where better to stretch one's wings than Nashville?  I traveled here with the intention of visiting two very dear friends, but separately, so I find myself having to kill a few hours between check-out from my first hotel and check-in at the next.  After the very sweet front-desk agent at the Club Hotel Nashville near the airport allowed me to store my bags in their closet, I was pondering how to hide out when magically a downtown shuttle arrived, requesting a mere ten-dollar-fare for a round-trip into the heart of Nashville.  The driver suggested a coffee shop on the drive in and the five riders all agreed we should visit.  The first couple, two college aged females who were nursing their hangovers from the night before, were nabbed by the nearby Panera.  The other couple lasted a little while longer before finding themselves in a corner Starbucks.  I alone managed to continue the trek, following the misguided directions of the driver, referring to GoogleMaps, and finally finding the elusive coffee shop: The Frothy Monkey.

If the fun and funky vibe of the place didn't convince me this was the kind of place I'd been hoping to find, the reasonably long line confirmed that the fare was worth the adventure.  Operating on the equivalent of a college student's budget, I was keeping my fingers crossed that this place was more reasonable than the prices I'd seen on street-side menus.  I was not disappointed.  For a mere ten bucks (including tip), I managed to get a Plain Jane (everything bagel, farm fresh eggs, baby swiss and tomato) and a chai latte, plus great conversation in line and free wi-fi.  And really, what is a late breakfast without free wi-fi?

So now, I am ensconced on a barstool, surrounded by a unique blend of people, exposed brick walls, eclectic art, and the self-satisfaction of eating in a place that isn't a Starbucks.  (I am a #whitegirl, I do enjoy my chestnut praline frappucinos, however I do like breaking the trend of overpriced lattes on occasion.)  This also gives me time to think about all that has happened in the last week, namely ending my time in the Army.

To say leaving the Army was bittersweet is an understatement.
Will I miss not being allowed to sit next to a guy without a fraternization complaint being filed?  No.
Will I miss getting yelled at for taking a step while my phone is in hand?  No.
Will I miss having my hair having to be scraped up into a bun daily?  No.
Will I miss waking up at 0400 every morning?  No.

However, there's more to it than that.  I enjoyed going out into the field, I liked shooting guns and "playing army" in field exercises.  I was living every eight-year-old boy's dream: I got to go camping and play paintball and get paid for it.  The biggest thing I had in the Army though was the family.  It's been two days and I already miss giving my "little brothers" a hard time for their most recent infatuation and getting into bullsh*tting competitions with the ones more my age.

Civilians.  I have a new set of pet peeves and this civilian creature embodies ALL of them.  I don't understand how they can move SO slow.  I'm practically running circles around them and that's just my normal walking speed.  Keep in mind that I got the boot for a bum knee and I'm rocking a 25lb assault pack (backpack for you civvies) around town and that statement has even more kick.  Some guy in line was surprised I was carrying something so heavy around town.  Um, excuse me?  My buddies do between four and ten mile rucks with 35lb rucksacks, and that's only in training.  The real army?  Deployments?  That ruck is going to way closer to 90lbs.  This 25lb pup pack ain't nuthin.

Also, how can they be so rude??  Watching people rip the desk agents to shreds at the airport almost made me blow my top.  The beauty of the army is that as a private, you know what it's like to be at the bottom of the foodchain.  I've been a gardener, janitor, laundress, lunch-lady, tent-builder, and any other number of things.

My uncle told me that I am now part of a new fraternity.  I understand the lingo, the jokes, and so much more.  One of my all time favorite films is White Christmas, the singing-dancing film with Bing Crosby and Rosemary Clooney.  Classic.  Well, it is on Netflix and I flipped it on last night for a bit before bed.  At the very beginning, the exiting general directs a staff sergeant to take the "short-cut" back to base with the incoming sergeant, and as they drive away, the captain says "That sergeant will be a private in the morning."  I had never noticed that line before.  I can practically recite this entire film and I missed a joke with is actually quite funny now.  The beauty of the army, amiright?

So, into the civilian world I go.  I'll adapt with time, I know I will, but I will certainly never be the same.  I can't even imagine what it must be like to get out after years of service, after a deployment, after more training... I was only in a year and I'm having this much annoyance with civilians?  Then again my civilian access was almost nil, but still.  *Shudder*

Well, I will sit here and continue to enjoy my Plain Jane and Chai, both recently reordered, and continue to people watch.  Seeing fat people again is still blowing my mind. I was obese in the Army.  I'm considered slim now.  Maybe there will be some perks to returning to the real world.

-Sam

Visit the Frothy Monkey Website!

Because Shiny Buildings are Cool

Chai and Plain Jane *drool*

Irish Lass at Heart

In an effort to improve my mind and body, and being limited in the ability to improve my body thanks to the extremely restrictive profile I am currently on, I have decided to learn.  I've still got a some dead time as a hold to kill, so academic pursuits are the boredom crushers of choice.

Now, most of America is aware that high demand languages include Spanish and Chinese.  So, naturally, I want to learn Gaelic.  Because, reasons.

As an Irish girl by birth with a full blood Irish mother to keep me on the straight and narrow, I have always been fascinated by the Emerald Isle.  Childhood nights spent watching Riverdance and Lord of the Dance specials on PBS started the fire of Irish pride at a young age.  Add to that a best friend who was a tri-state champion in Irish Step Dance and a music major of a mother who loved Celtic music and you have a love of Eire born.  As I grew older, my fascination with Greek Mythology transformed into a love of all mythology, especially the mythology of the Celts.  I can blame some of that fascination on a romance novel series that referenced the Tuatha de Danann, which ignited a love of all things ancient, celtic and magical.

During the college years, much time was spent on Netflix and YouTube.  Watching The Boondock Saints led me to Billy Connolly's comedy skits (which are an absolute gut buster).  Then came the night I heard him talk about Ireland.  He said going to Ireland was like going home.  Something about the island just made you feel like you'd been traveling the world, waiting for this moment, where you are well and truly home.  I understand that completely, having seen photos of the Cliffs of Moher or wee Irish cottages and feeling that pang of homesickness despite never having visited.

Now, the big push behind my desire to understand all things Irish: my father.  Some people have dads who fish for a hobby, or work on cars, or ride motorcycles, or play soccer with the guys.  My father, being the history buff and computer geek he is, studies genealogy as a hobby.  My family tree is extensive, comprehensive, and impresses the shiz out of just about everyone I've shown.  I know in what counties, what cities, my ancestors lived in, how they lived, I even have old photos of some of them.  Recently, Pops was even contacted by a distant relative who lives in Dublin.

And so I've got a hankering to learn the language of my people.  And why not?  It's a fun parlor trick, and I'm friends with one of the few people in this country who is fluent in Gaelic and speaks it regularly with his father.  Learning languages is always easier with a tutor.

The past few posts have spoken of my desire for a grand adventure.  What better adventure than to travel back to the Old Country and study my family history and the mythology of the Celts?

Now if only I had a sudden windfall of cash with which to fund this adventure...

Off to find hidden, rich, recently dead relatives.

-Sam

The End is Near

Finally, after seven months, my time in limbo is at an end.  In a few weeks time, I will once again be free to roam without need of a battle buddy at my side constantly.  I will be allowed to go where I please, when I please, visit my room whenever I like, go to the doctor whenever I like instead of at 0430 in the morning, drive myself places instead of relying on a shuttle that has a different driver each day with their own interpretation of the schedule, drink alcohol, go to bed when I want and not have to worry about doing bed checks, sleep past 0445 on weekdays... People who say transitioning from this is no different than transitioning out of college are full of bull-hooey.
My travel plans for leaving here and for the holidays are already in place with tickets bought, I'll be hitting up a few major cities in the brisk winter weather, get to see my beloved Chicago at Christmastime (my favorite time to be in any major northern city), but most importantly I'll be able to see the friends and family I was unable to see for the past year.

Of course, now that I am out of here, the first thing everyone worries about is getting a job and going back to school.  The popular option in the eyes of the wise elders in my life is that I ought to go to a big wig school in DC or Saint Louis or a city like that, get a degree in Political Science, and go be a brilliant government contractor.  Would that be lucrative? Yes.  Would I likely be good at it?  Yes.  However, I hated government in school.  Hands down least favorite subject.  Is it ironic that I hate studying the very thing I joined to protect, along with the citizens of this great nation?  Yes.  But I find the inner-workings of the American Political System to be tedious and boring.  Sorry.

Thanks to the plethora of articles that cross my Facebook feed daily, I am aware that the modern American woman often has no idea what the f...udge she wants to do with her life until she's about thirty, and that this indecisiveness is perfectly normal.  That doesn't make you feel like any less of an idiot for being completely at a loss as to what you should do with your life.

I've got a helluva college back-up thanks to the GI Bill, I just need to decide what to do.  There are a large number of states who will waive the residency requirements for in-state tuition for Vets, which makes my life that much easier because my lovely GI Bill will pay 100% of in-state tuition costs, so picking a place to study is one problem.  Picking what to study is another issue as well.

I've tried and failed nursing school, and I've tried and ended up broken in the Army.  While neither plan worked out, I did enjoy both of them immensely.  Would becoming an EMT be a good way to join the two?  Possibly.  I also like to travel and love to study languages, so maybe working with a travel agency or a college's study-abroad program would work best with my dreams.  Or maybe I should go to culinary school and enjoy becoming a pastry chef or a sous chef.

This is one of those times where I really just wish an estranged uncle would come out of the blue and give me ten million dollars so I could just travel around and unload some of the wanderlust that has plagued me since last winter.  I just want to get in my trust Subaru and drive as I did the summer of 2013.  Or, better yet, head to Ireland to do some research about the family and the lore of my people.  And party like the Irish girl I am.  Naturally.

At this point, I've decided a couple of things.
One, I will take everything day by day.  Today has enough stress as it is, today does not need the stress of tomorrow or next week to fill it.
Two, I will stand up for the things I want and stop trying to live my life for others.  Family is important, and respecting family is something I value highly, however if living the life your parents dream and dictate for you makes you unhappy, you need to find something that makes you happy.  Your family will get over the "disappointment" and will be happy that you are happy.  That's what family does.
Three, I will stop living so safely.  If the Army taught me anything, it is that something can happen in a moment that can alter your life forever.  You could lose a leg from an IED blast, get shot, die, end up paralyzed, etc.  Granted, my chances to experience IED blasts or getting shot have been greatly reduced thanks to being medically discharged, but the same principles apply in the rest of the world: you never know when you'll end up in a car crash, get diagnosed with cancer, have a heart attack... The world is a dangerous place.  Live the life you want to live while you can.  Don't be on your deathbed, wishing you had climbed more mountains or jumped out of more planes or swam with more sharks.  Sit on that bed and tell your kids and grandkids about the badass life you lived, and how you hope they have such adventures.
Four, I will stop settling.  Find someone that makes you happy, and then hold onto them with all your might.  Someone who brightens your world with a text or a phone call.  I've watched Sleepless in Seattle about a dozen times over the last month and I'm happy to say I've found it.  "I was just taking her hand to help her out of a car, and I knew.  It was like coming home, only to no home I'd ever known.  It was like... magic."

So, now I just wait for the moment I can sign out of the barracks and be free for the first time in nearly a year.

-Sam

Breaking the Silence, and Monotony, With the Possibility of a Grand New Adventure

Few things are as hard to deal with as failure.  Failure when success was so close to being firmly in your grasp (or as firmly as success as ever grasped by twenty-somethings in modern America)?  Talk about a painful punch to the ego and self-belief.  After months of being in limbo, it looks more and more as if this soldier will be a soldier no more.  Now what is a soldier to do when she never got the opportunity to really be a soldier and is about to be kicked out into the cold?  That is the dilemma that I face today.  

There is the safe options of going home to the sunny state of Florida and going to some college that dozens of my high school classmates attended and graduated and continuing on the boring, expected life I had intended when I graduated high school.  There is also the option of moving in with a favorite relative in the midwest and attending a university said relative works at and getting the degree my family feels would be a good fit, plus meeting a smart guy with a bright future while I'm there.  The little rebel inside likes the idea of doing something totally in the opposite direction like attending culinary school in a city I've never been to, or just packing my bags and going to Africa to live with some nuns I know from back in the day for a few months.  

The point of today's post is that I am the typical American twenty-something.  I have no idea what to do.  No driving force to do anything in particular.  I'm not one of the people who wanted to be a doctor from the time they were four with their first Fisher-Price Doctor Kit and have that enviable motivation to go through Med School no matter how difficult it is.  When asked what I wanted to be in first grade, I said I wanted to be a banker model pilot.  All at once.  Banker because my dad was one, model because I liked how beautiful models were and a pilot because I loved Top Gun.  Looking back, I can tell you exactly who inspired each one of my many career aspirations over the past twenty years with the exception of one.  I wanted to own a dude ranch, and I have no idea who... Nevermind.  My best friend went to one one Christmas and I liked the idea.  See? Not a single aspiration that's ever been mine because it's what I want.  I wanted Engineering because the grown ups in my life told me how much money I'd make (I wanted to work in third world countries or for companies to make things run better with Industrial Engineering).  I wanted nursing because it has a solid future and I wanted to work in Africa.  I went for the military because all the people I respect most have a military background and I needed to feel like I could depend on my own strength instead of needing others.  I tested accounting, education, and a few others because people said that's where they always saw me.  The truth is, the only thing I know I want is to travel and to affect people.  

So this is the beginning of my road.  The beginning of trying to figure out what the hell I'm doing.  I know now that figuring out what you want to do for the rest of your life is stupid because no one knows what they want to do forever when they're twenty.  You're going to have a few different careers through your life.  I just need to figure out the next five years.  Who knows, maybe I'll do trade school after trade school and then become a stay at home mom and use my plethora of skills to save money on various household expenses like auto repair, haircuts, massages, fancy meals, etc.  

The dream is to be driving through East Asia or Africa writing a blog about my adventures, but the chances of that happening? Who knows.  All I know is I have a big wide open door in front of me and about thirty different roads to pick from, and one of those annoying friends who is constantly right telling me that I need to do something for me, take a risk, and forge my own path.  

Whelp, here goes nothing...

Philanthropy? Sure, let's try philanthropy.

It's amazing what you can achieve when you have a plethora of time on your hands.  Case and point: found out my battle buddy has family in Arkansas.  They had about 50 tornadoes hit in a 24 hour period over the weekend and his house and most of his town was turned into rubble, he lost friends, family... His town and the surrounding areas are destroyed and the death toll keeps rising.  Some friends in his company gave him a few grand and I decided to help the cause, so my battles and I started a GoFundMe account for him and shared it on Facebook.  $100 so far, we'll see how much can be raised. 

I will tell you right now that the look a person gives you after you give them a wad of cash after they've been living in hell for the last few days?  That's the stuff I live for.  That moment where you realize you've made the world a little better. 

As far as projects go, this one is a lot more productive than the menial tasks I was planning (ultimate trail mix is still in the works, but raising money for a national tragedy takes precedence.)

Off to make the world a better place...

Sam

Adventures Abound.... Or Not

So it turns out the big adventures to be had as a med-hold involve being a battle-buddy to people on random appointments.  In case you are not aware of the beauty that is the battle buddy system, let me explain it to you...

TRADOC, the Army umbrella that covers basic combat training (BCT or Boot Camp) and AIT (Advanced something Training. Individual? I could Google it but I don't want to) has a battle buddy system in place.  Wherever an IET (Initial Entry Training) soldier goes, he or she will have a battle buddy of the same gender, or two battle buddies of the opposite gender, at all times.  When you talk to a sergeant, when you go to the latrine at chow, when you walk across the street to grab plastic spoons at the shoppette, when you go to the DFAC (dining facility), when you go anywhere, you will have a battle buddy.  At this point, most of us are actually weirded out by being alone outside of our rooms. 

Since crutches keep me from doing anything useful like moving railroad ties or throwing rocks away (no, really), I get to be a battle buddy to all the other med-holds who need to go to the hospital or some other medical appointment.  I don't mind it... gets me out of the flatulence filled computer room and out into the open air.  Plus, occasionally the trips to the hospital coincide with my pain med schedule and I have to grab human food to eat with my pills. 

Speaking of human food, I am now on a quest to make trail mix that doesn't suck.  Don't get me wrong, I like most trail mixes, but there's always at least one ingredient that I'm picking out.  So I'm determined to make one that is perfect.  At least to me.  However comma, being on crutches makes toting groceries home difficult.  And by difficult I mean near impossible unless I'm buying a bag of chips and nothing else.  But! Being the Amazon.com fiend that I am, I discovered something glorious: Prime Pantry. 

Ever since I got Amazon Prime five years ago, I've been addicted.  Almost out of paper towels or body wash?  Too lazy to hit the drug store to pick up some more?  Buy that shiz on Amazon Prime.  It's usually about the same price, sometimes cheaper (sometimes not), and with free two day shipping, I get it in the same amount of time I would've if I'd actually taken the time to get motivated enough to go to the store.  Hell, I usually forget I need it by the time it arrives and then it's like "Hell yes I don't have to go to Walgreens!!"  It's a happy little surprise.

Prime Pantry is the newest facet of Prime's godliness.  You get a box with a $5.99 shipping rate.  And you fill it with things found in your typical grocery store, each one worth a certain percent.  You can fill it to 100%, or less if you don't need eight gillion dollars worth of groceries.  So buying the things I need for a good trail mix has never been easier.  Success!!

Off to buy more pointless crap off Amazon.  And off to retrieve the recently arrived Batman pajama pants (http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00BJNV4PC/ref=oh_details_o06_s00_i03?ie=UTF8&psc=1) and Trader Joe's creamed honey, both courtesy of Amazon.

-Sam

And so it begins

So it turns out that spraining your knee in the midst of the final event of your final PT test is a terrible idea.  It also turns out that finding out 48 hours before graduation that you're not going to be allowed to graduate is one of the most discouraging things this particular soldier has ever experienced.  And having gone through two colleges, three majors, and three jobs in four years, that's saying something. 

I realize, of course, that this is a terrible start to a blog as it sounds horribly depressing and suggests the beginning of a long, complainy blog.  However, I intend to make the best of a super boring situation and find ways to pass the time and, since I'm spending an ungodly amount of time in a room full of computers waiting to go on details, etc. which are limited due to the Twins (my crutches) and I have nothing better to do (and apparently neither do you), I've decided to blog about it.