Shouldn't we be sleeping? No, I don't think we could.
Still living in the moment, enjoying it. Still not freaked out.
I crunched some financial numbers and ended up going through the emotional wringer, but that has passed. Nothing that can be done about it right now.
It helps that he's not going straight to the Depot (or wherever the first phase happens), and won't even be there till after I've landed in TN and am in my own unfamiliar world (though a much friendlier one).
I can feel the reality of boot camp at the edges... just beyond my peripheral vision, lurking in the wings. Don't really want to focus on that right now. I prefer to focus on dinner, snuggles, a little sleep, and kissing him goodbye in... just over seven hours.
Showing posts with label before boot. Show all posts
Showing posts with label before boot. Show all posts
11 January 2009
T Minus One Day
Last night DH asked me to wake him up when I got up.
This morning I woke up at 7 and he told me he didn't fall asleep till close to 2 and asked for an extra hour (of course, dear :) ).
Now it's the hour later and I have to make the determination to let him sleep more and write about the party last night and how I'm doing right now, or wake him up so he can make me breakfast.
Or I can wake him up and ask if he wants more sleep.
...
He asked for 30 minutes more. Writing it is!
I have about 12 posts in draft format, some of which are time-sensitive for times that have passed. I still plan to write them up to the best of my ability.
----
Part of me is very very calm. Not worried at all. Actually, that's wrong. Most of me is not worried at all. The closer we get to DH leaving, the more confident I am that I'll hold it together and be just fine while he's gone. So fine that I won't even need this blog as a coping mechanism.
Not to say that I won't miss him, I will! But for all I love him, I doubt that I'm going to miss him in a gut wrenching way. I tell myself "change is coming, nothing will ever be the same", but deep down I am very assured that this exact situation will come up again. I'm pretty sure that during his 10 day leave in April, we'll spend time here at my parent's house. He'll be sleeping, I'll be up early writing or surfing the net.
Five percent of my mind is going crazy... because it thinks it should be. That part is aghast at how calm most of my brain is.
Ten percent of my mind is calm, but looks warily at the neurotic five percent, wondering if maybe that 5% is right, and this is something to freak out about.
The remaining 85% is chill. Confident in DH's ability to hack it (physically) in boot camp, and his ability to play the mental game. Also confident in my own ability to be happy and productive in his absence.
(Writing time is up, reflections on the send-off party later)
This morning I woke up at 7 and he told me he didn't fall asleep till close to 2 and asked for an extra hour (of course, dear :) ).
Now it's the hour later and I have to make the determination to let him sleep more and write about the party last night and how I'm doing right now, or wake him up so he can make me breakfast.
Or I can wake him up and ask if he wants more sleep.
...
He asked for 30 minutes more. Writing it is!
I have about 12 posts in draft format, some of which are time-sensitive for times that have passed. I still plan to write them up to the best of my ability.
----
Part of me is very very calm. Not worried at all. Actually, that's wrong. Most of me is not worried at all. The closer we get to DH leaving, the more confident I am that I'll hold it together and be just fine while he's gone. So fine that I won't even need this blog as a coping mechanism.
Not to say that I won't miss him, I will! But for all I love him, I doubt that I'm going to miss him in a gut wrenching way. I tell myself "change is coming, nothing will ever be the same", but deep down I am very assured that this exact situation will come up again. I'm pretty sure that during his 10 day leave in April, we'll spend time here at my parent's house. He'll be sleeping, I'll be up early writing or surfing the net.
Five percent of my mind is going crazy... because it thinks it should be. That part is aghast at how calm most of my brain is.
Ten percent of my mind is calm, but looks warily at the neurotic five percent, wondering if maybe that 5% is right, and this is something to freak out about.
The remaining 85% is chill. Confident in DH's ability to hack it (physically) in boot camp, and his ability to play the mental game. Also confident in my own ability to be happy and productive in his absence.
(Writing time is up, reflections on the send-off party later)
09 January 2009
T Minus Three Days
The Marines, being the Marines, switched DH's MEPS check-up from today (Friday) to tomorrow at the last minute.
The good news is that I now have him to myself today and Sunday. The bad news is he might be in lousy shape for being sociable tomorrow evening. His recruiter will pick him up around 4am for the drive into LA.
It's also bittersweet for us to have two days to spend as we wish because we left our car with DH's dad yesterday. Fortunately we don't have to go anywhere to snuggle! He's still sleeping right now, though, so I don't feel bad for poking around the internet.
As usual, some of that poking included time on a forum for military wives. Someone asked a question that I'd been wondering about for some time: How long is your DH in for?
Reading through the many replies, I wasn't surprised by what I saw. Overwhelmingly (ratio of about 3:1), the husbands were either planning to stay in for more than 10 years or had already served 10 years or more. The majority of this group are clearly making a career out of military service, some for 20 years, some for 30 (and others falling in between).
In contrast to the 76 votes for 10 years or more, only 23 answers (at the time of my counting) indicated 10 years or less, and some of these weren't confident that their spouses wouldn't stay in longer. Also, a number of responses fit the format of 'He's done about 8 so far and we're really not sure...' Depending on the exact wording, I dumped them into column A or B, but 10 replies were too on the fence for me to make a ruling, even for a study as unscientific as this.
Similarly, of the 76 answers that said their DH would remain in the military for 10 years or more, a substantial portion had 10 or fewer years of service completed, but were confident about their future, but left open the possibility of minds being changed.
Once again, I feel like someone on the fringes, and wonder if this is why there are fewer resources for people who are just getting into the military. When you know it's a job and experience rather than a career move, are you less inclined to seek out the community? Many people go to college for longer than the 4 years of active duty DH and I are headed into. Are the lifers wanting to tell me, "Four years is really a short time; stop thinking it's such a big deal"?
It is a big deal in your 20s, though. A large percentage of life, and the sort of commitment required is unprecedented. (I am of the opinion that while marriage is a big and important commitment, the military demands more sacrifices of personal freedom.)
It's a big deal, but I'm surviving, and will continue to do so.
--
Photo credit: dimtzanos
07 January 2009
Prior to Parting #1 - START EARLY
While Mary Schmich's primary piece of living advice is to "wear sunscreen", my main bit of advice for couples heading down the road towards boot camp is to start early in planning on things to do before he leaves. This includes both parties and activities to partake of before he ships out, and also putting together something to keep her company in his absence (specifics forthcoming).
Let me reiterate my main point: Plan Early
If your delayed entry process is more than two or three months this is especially important. Despite knowing since July that my DH would be leaving near the end of the year, I let myself ignore the passing of the days until there were only two weeks left. All my ideas and plans that started with "I'd love to...." went out the window and I had to slash my expectations.
Also, it is inevitable that things will come up at the last minute and the final week before he ships will get jammed up with appointments with people he doesn't see often enough, or family BBQs. These are sometimes events out of your control (especially the family BBQs), so be proactive when you can, such as a get-together with friends.
In our situation, where military service is far outside the norm for my family and moderately outside the norm for DH's, we tried to be as accommodating as possible when other people asked for our time. Despite DH not expressing interest in a going-away party with his friends the first few times I mentioned it, I regret letting it go as easily as I did. Less than two weeks before he was scheduled to leave, DH started calling his friends from school to meet up with them. While it was out of my hands, it still saddened me when those plans fell through.
In summary, start planning early, but remember to block out time for the two of you to spend time alone together.
--
Photo credit: Joe Lanman
T Minus Five Days
*big exhale* DH is finally, finally, finally done with his freelance work. Hip-hip-hooray!
Now I still have to share him with his parents and godparents, MEPS, and my family, but at least I don't have to share him with his clients anymore.
I have to say, the work he did was fantastic, despite being under deadline pressure and getting much less sleep than he's used to.
Stress has kept me off the internet lately, except for the escapism of video games. Over the past two or three days I haven't had the concentration to read anything, much less write or draw. It's a big relief to come back, though.
I pitched the concept that started this blog to a literary agency a week or so ago and I got the rejection I expected yesterday. In some ways it makes me want to work harder at making this an awesome project and resources, but in other ways I want to slack off and let it devolve into a half-assed shadow of the potential it represents.
Or at least I thought I might want to relax my standards until I sat down again. Doing so made me realize how much I miss writing. Unless this relaxation comes from DH no longer having a huge workload I can't help with. Now he can help with MY workload! (So this ramble has been pointless.)
That's unfair... I spent a good deal of today tidying up clothes, running errands, and packing up things that need to be mailed. Now I'm up super early and have a big day of writing and traveling and scheming ahead of me!
Now I still have to share him with his parents and godparents, MEPS, and my family, but at least I don't have to share him with his clients anymore.
I have to say, the work he did was fantastic, despite being under deadline pressure and getting much less sleep than he's used to.
Stress has kept me off the internet lately, except for the escapism of video games. Over the past two or three days I haven't had the concentration to read anything, much less write or draw. It's a big relief to come back, though.
I pitched the concept that started this blog to a literary agency a week or so ago and I got the rejection I expected yesterday. In some ways it makes me want to work harder at making this an awesome project and resources, but in other ways I want to slack off and let it devolve into a half-assed shadow of the potential it represents.
Or at least I thought I might want to relax my standards until I sat down again. Doing so made me realize how much I miss writing. Unless this relaxation comes from DH no longer having a huge workload I can't help with. Now he can help with MY workload! (So this ramble has been pointless.)
That's unfair... I spent a good deal of today tidying up clothes, running errands, and packing up things that need to be mailed. Now I'm up super early and have a big day of writing and traveling and scheming ahead of me!
04 January 2009
Not gonna write itself!
Starting back with thoughts stemming from New Year's Eve and Day...
Both were spent with a good friend of ours who wanted to get in one last quality hang-out before DH and I were unavailable. The three of us had a grand old time at the pub, at the ranch, and in town over about 24 hours. We dropped Draco (the friend) back at his place on our own way home, and each of us did some blogging about the experience, as is our norm.
It was a minor thing, but Draco casually mentioned that part of the occasion was DH leaving for boot camp. The post was public, so I asked him to remove that detail about boot camp. While Draco was easy-going about editing, it led to me spending a few minutes trying to explain why DH isn't fully public about his decision to join the Marines.
It's not a secret under lock and key by any means. Our families and most of our personal friends are in the loop, and anyone who did some serious snooping could stumble upon mention of DH's plans. Certain friends, however, and the casual fans of DH's artwork haven't heard about it. They may have picked up on the fact that he's leaving for three months, but not where he's going or why.
The largest reason for keeping DH's enlisting under our hats is, I believe, a noble one: he doesn't want to have any kind of reputation or status hullabaloo over something he hasn't done yet. A minor part of this reasons is not wanting to jinx it or have people paying close attention until it's a sure thing.
Being incapable of finishing boot camp and receiving his Eagle, Globe, and Anchor is not part of DH's vocabulary, but I think it's wise that he doesn't want to tempt fate by saying what he will be. Especially considering how long he's been in the Delayed Entry Process.
I'm fairly confident that waiting for the big reveal until he has something concrete to show would be the case even if backlash for joining the Marines wasn't a concern. I don't mean a kind of backlash that will result in retribution or harm or slander, just one of dramatic hullabaloo that is exhausting to deal with. DH and I experienced some (he more than I) with our sudden marriage at a relatively young age*.
Even among the closer friends who we told late last spring about DH's move towards the military, some initially told him they thought he was making a mistake that could damage his art career. While that argument was rational and well-meaning, other "concerned" friends are expected to have much more visceral reactions.
I'd say that it's merely the fact that a lot of the people he knows through the internet as a result of his art are the sort of left wing pacifists who refuse to understand the honor involved in joining the United States Marines. These are seldom people he devoted time and effort to befriending, but ones who were drawn to his awesomeness like moths to a flame. I'm fairly sure that these aggressive pacifists would also make Iraq and other US military efforts an issue in their reactions to DH's decision, but Iraq and Afghanistan didn't rank among his top 10 reasons for enlisting. As far as people who are simply anti-military... well, I guess they don't grasp the necessity of warriors.
Over the past months I've been complicit in the "need to know" policy of giving out information about DH's pending military status, and it's been easy, as I don't have much contact with the contingent he's waiting to tell. In my own group of people, DH has been fine with me sharing what's been going on in our lives with people who have no reason to pass it on or make a big deal about it. The only aspect of this method if intel control that I've ever worried about is people coming to me when he's out of contact for three months. We talked about it over NYE, and DH actually suggested that I mess with their heads a little bit, pretending not to know what they're talking about. I have to say, if I never get the chance, I might be a tiny bit disappointed.
---
* We met when we were both 21, started dating 1.5 months after meeting, got engaged after 2 months of dating, and married 2 months after that.
Both were spent with a good friend of ours who wanted to get in one last quality hang-out before DH and I were unavailable. The three of us had a grand old time at the pub, at the ranch, and in town over about 24 hours. We dropped Draco (the friend) back at his place on our own way home, and each of us did some blogging about the experience, as is our norm.
It was a minor thing, but Draco casually mentioned that part of the occasion was DH leaving for boot camp. The post was public, so I asked him to remove that detail about boot camp. While Draco was easy-going about editing, it led to me spending a few minutes trying to explain why DH isn't fully public about his decision to join the Marines.
It's not a secret under lock and key by any means. Our families and most of our personal friends are in the loop, and anyone who did some serious snooping could stumble upon mention of DH's plans. Certain friends, however, and the casual fans of DH's artwork haven't heard about it. They may have picked up on the fact that he's leaving for three months, but not where he's going or why.
The largest reason for keeping DH's enlisting under our hats is, I believe, a noble one: he doesn't want to have any kind of reputation or status hullabaloo over something he hasn't done yet. A minor part of this reasons is not wanting to jinx it or have people paying close attention until it's a sure thing.
Being incapable of finishing boot camp and receiving his Eagle, Globe, and Anchor is not part of DH's vocabulary, but I think it's wise that he doesn't want to tempt fate by saying what he will be. Especially considering how long he's been in the Delayed Entry Process.
I'm fairly confident that waiting for the big reveal until he has something concrete to show would be the case even if backlash for joining the Marines wasn't a concern. I don't mean a kind of backlash that will result in retribution or harm or slander, just one of dramatic hullabaloo that is exhausting to deal with. DH and I experienced some (he more than I) with our sudden marriage at a relatively young age*.
Even among the closer friends who we told late last spring about DH's move towards the military, some initially told him they thought he was making a mistake that could damage his art career. While that argument was rational and well-meaning, other "concerned" friends are expected to have much more visceral reactions.
I'd say that it's merely the fact that a lot of the people he knows through the internet as a result of his art are the sort of left wing pacifists who refuse to understand the honor involved in joining the United States Marines. These are seldom people he devoted time and effort to befriending, but ones who were drawn to his awesomeness like moths to a flame. I'm fairly sure that these aggressive pacifists would also make Iraq and other US military efforts an issue in their reactions to DH's decision, but Iraq and Afghanistan didn't rank among his top 10 reasons for enlisting. As far as people who are simply anti-military... well, I guess they don't grasp the necessity of warriors.
Over the past months I've been complicit in the "need to know" policy of giving out information about DH's pending military status, and it's been easy, as I don't have much contact with the contingent he's waiting to tell. In my own group of people, DH has been fine with me sharing what's been going on in our lives with people who have no reason to pass it on or make a big deal about it. The only aspect of this method if intel control that I've ever worried about is people coming to me when he's out of contact for three months. We talked about it over NYE, and DH actually suggested that I mess with their heads a little bit, pretending not to know what they're talking about. I have to say, if I never get the chance, I might be a tiny bit disappointed.
---
* We met when we were both 21, started dating 1.5 months after meeting, got engaged after 2 months of dating, and married 2 months after that.
31 December 2008
Exhausting day
I have a draft with a couple notes in it, but I want to share somethings from the past few hours.
My sleep schedule is messed up, so after I woke up around 6pm (from four hours of sleep), I knocked around the room, tiding up little things and trying to sort out what goes where. We're living in such a small space right now (too small for the things we had when moving in, way to small for even the small number of items we've gathered in the past year) that any attempt at massive reorganizing feels like a maximum difficulty game of RushHour
Get the red car OUT!
My mom was doing her annual birtday puzzle--
--for the THIRD time when I went downstairs to tell her I was wigging out and ask if she had any advice or ideas for dealing with the task.
We talked about my struggles in getting ready for boot camp, both needing to work around DH and without him as he finishes up freelance work. He can't help me right now, and he can't get out of the way. Frustrating!
Mom and I discussed it a little bit, as well as some of the unspoken expectations I have about living in her house, and not being as amazing a steward of the rooms I'm in as I could be. She offered to pick up some boxes for me, and to come help start the process after DH and I get back from our New Year's adventure.
Somewhere in there the topic of conversation turned to the puzzle and Mom's method and enjoyment of putting them together. She always does the border first. It's a respectable way to go about it, and probably the most popular one. Out of curiosity, I asked if she ever worked from the inside out. She hadn't, but after we finished the third assembly of the image, we broke it down, mixed up the pieces,, and started over. From the inside.
It was an unspoken thing. She didn't ask, "Shall we do it again?" or "Will you stay and help?" We just did it. The (61) border pieces were stacked to one side, and we began the sorting pieces and snapping the matching ones together all over again.
Looking back that was a great metaphor for our discussion, which went on for three hours. For the two of us together, three hours of serious conversation is epic. Normally when we're together alone that for long, we're running errands. The puzzle wasn't the only thing to be broken down, I did, too. My well-forged facade broke to pieces and I came apart at the seams.
The collapse wasn't absolute, nothing like hitting rock bottom or revealing anything devastating, but it was significant to show and tell about the family-related wounds I feel. Oddly enough, some of those wounds relate to the puzzle metaphor as a lack of clear and direct communication ("Shall we do it again?") contributed to those wounds.
Suffice to say that, yes, my mom does love me and wants to be supportive of me and my decisions and is happy that I'm going to Tennessee while DH is in boot camp. (And while she is concerned about my financial future, she is happy that I am an artist, too.)
Now it's past midnight, meaning today is December 31 and only 13 days remain until DH departs.
More importantly, today is December 31 and exactly 3 years ago DH and I had our first personal encounter. The last thing my best friend told be before I left was "Don't kiss him!" I didn't that time, but DH will be away for the anniversary of our first kiss, so I'm going to celebrate this one with all my might.
I love you, DH, and these words never do enough to express it. I'm looking forward to another fantastic year with you. I think it'll be the best yet.
My sleep schedule is messed up, so after I woke up around 6pm (from four hours of sleep), I knocked around the room, tiding up little things and trying to sort out what goes where. We're living in such a small space right now (too small for the things we had when moving in, way to small for even the small number of items we've gathered in the past year) that any attempt at massive reorganizing feels like a maximum difficulty game of RushHour
Get the red car OUT!
My mom was doing her annual birtday puzzle--
--for the THIRD time when I went downstairs to tell her I was wigging out and ask if she had any advice or ideas for dealing with the task.
We talked about my struggles in getting ready for boot camp, both needing to work around DH and without him as he finishes up freelance work. He can't help me right now, and he can't get out of the way. Frustrating!
Mom and I discussed it a little bit, as well as some of the unspoken expectations I have about living in her house, and not being as amazing a steward of the rooms I'm in as I could be. She offered to pick up some boxes for me, and to come help start the process after DH and I get back from our New Year's adventure.
Somewhere in there the topic of conversation turned to the puzzle and Mom's method and enjoyment of putting them together. She always does the border first. It's a respectable way to go about it, and probably the most popular one. Out of curiosity, I asked if she ever worked from the inside out. She hadn't, but after we finished the third assembly of the image, we broke it down, mixed up the pieces,, and started over. From the inside.
It was an unspoken thing. She didn't ask, "Shall we do it again?" or "Will you stay and help?" We just did it. The (61) border pieces were stacked to one side, and we began the sorting pieces and snapping the matching ones together all over again.
Looking back that was a great metaphor for our discussion, which went on for three hours. For the two of us together, three hours of serious conversation is epic. Normally when we're together alone that for long, we're running errands. The puzzle wasn't the only thing to be broken down, I did, too. My well-forged facade broke to pieces and I came apart at the seams.
The collapse wasn't absolute, nothing like hitting rock bottom or revealing anything devastating, but it was significant to show and tell about the family-related wounds I feel. Oddly enough, some of those wounds relate to the puzzle metaphor as a lack of clear and direct communication ("Shall we do it again?") contributed to those wounds.
Suffice to say that, yes, my mom does love me and wants to be supportive of me and my decisions and is happy that I'm going to Tennessee while DH is in boot camp. (And while she is concerned about my financial future, she is happy that I am an artist, too.)
Now it's past midnight, meaning today is December 31 and only 13 days remain until DH departs.
More importantly, today is December 31 and exactly 3 years ago DH and I had our first personal encounter. The last thing my best friend told be before I left was "Don't kiss him!" I didn't that time, but DH will be away for the anniversary of our first kiss, so I'm going to celebrate this one with all my might.
I love you, DH, and these words never do enough to express it. I'm looking forward to another fantastic year with you. I think it'll be the best yet.
30 December 2008
Folding Laundry
After today, I might only fold DH's laundry one more time before he leaves for boot camp. That's a bit of a quieting thought.
As I pulled each item of clothing out of the basket I considered it more closely than I usually would. I notice how threadbare some of my socks are. I notice which pairs of pants are losing their creases. I notice all the stray lint and fibers clinging to every black piece of clothing. I notice how tank tops are stretched and dingy from being washed normally with everything else, instead of by hand.
Also, I mentally catalog each item and where it will be three weeks from now. Where am I going to put DH's clothes? What am I going to pack into my luggage? What am I going to ship to my temporary home? What will go into U-Haul storage with the rest of our belongings that have been stashed away since we moved back from the east coast.
My wardrobe's in pretty shabby shape, but for the most part it doesn't bother me. I'm a low maintenance girl (it's hard for me to call myself a woman) who usually prefers function over aesthetics, and with limited space and very limited money I don't try to change that.
One camisole did get tossed, mostly because it's no longer close to white or to being "presentable", but also partially because it reminds me of an ex. Getting rid of such a thing is long overdue.
But I'm keeping every eight year old sock that is so worn out that I can see through it. It brings back memories of high school. Shabby shape, like I said.
During the process of folding clothes and considering the future, I decided that whatever money I make in Tennessee while DH is in boot camp, I'm going to spend a significant percentage of it on clothes. Probably socks. This is very unlike me; I'm normally very frugal. But it will be a motivational tool, and a nice way to treat myself.
As I pulled each item of clothing out of the basket I considered it more closely than I usually would. I notice how threadbare some of my socks are. I notice which pairs of pants are losing their creases. I notice all the stray lint and fibers clinging to every black piece of clothing. I notice how tank tops are stretched and dingy from being washed normally with everything else, instead of by hand.
Also, I mentally catalog each item and where it will be three weeks from now. Where am I going to put DH's clothes? What am I going to pack into my luggage? What am I going to ship to my temporary home? What will go into U-Haul storage with the rest of our belongings that have been stashed away since we moved back from the east coast.
My wardrobe's in pretty shabby shape, but for the most part it doesn't bother me. I'm a low maintenance girl (it's hard for me to call myself a woman) who usually prefers function over aesthetics, and with limited space and very limited money I don't try to change that.
One camisole did get tossed, mostly because it's no longer close to white or to being "presentable", but also partially because it reminds me of an ex. Getting rid of such a thing is long overdue.
But I'm keeping every eight year old sock that is so worn out that I can see through it. It brings back memories of high school. Shabby shape, like I said.
During the process of folding clothes and considering the future, I decided that whatever money I make in Tennessee while DH is in boot camp, I'm going to spend a significant percentage of it on clothes. Probably socks. This is very unlike me; I'm normally very frugal. But it will be a motivational tool, and a nice way to treat myself.
29 December 2008
The Plan
The same day DH is driven down to San Diego by his recruiter, I'll be driven to the airport by my parents. I won't come back until shortly before he does.
The Plan (tm) is to stay with a couple DH and I know who live in Tennessee. They guy is ex-Navy, and, like Reagan, isn't someone you would expect to enlist for military service. His wife is the creative sort, too, being in a band and a part of the zine community. She also is part of a non-profit that helps local kids form bands and make their own art and stuff like that.
I click well with both of them and feel so incredibly lucky that they offered me use of their spare room in exchange for me playing cook-and-dishwasher for them.
If things go well, I might go back after DH's graduation and stay while he's in MOS school as well.
It might be a sad commentary on my life that I would rather cross the country and stay with friends instead of staying here where my family is. This house, my "stucco tower", is "home" in the sense that I grew up here, my parents live here, and it's been my address for over a year, but in other ways it's not half the home our apartment on the east coast was.
While I dread waking up in familiar rooms without the familiar and wonderful presence of my husband, more than that I want to avoid slipping into "daughter" mode without the counterbalance of "wife" mode. When DH is deployed in the future, I'll surely be alone in familiar rooms, but those will be our rooms, where no one else has a claim on them.
So, yes. Other side of the country, different people. I plan to spend that time helping out the non-profit, work on my webcomic, do lots of amazing cooking, and (if I can find work that doesn't require having my own car) make some money.
The Plan (tm) is to stay with a couple DH and I know who live in Tennessee. They guy is ex-Navy, and, like Reagan, isn't someone you would expect to enlist for military service. His wife is the creative sort, too, being in a band and a part of the zine community. She also is part of a non-profit that helps local kids form bands and make their own art and stuff like that.
I click well with both of them and feel so incredibly lucky that they offered me use of their spare room in exchange for me playing cook-and-dishwasher for them.
If things go well, I might go back after DH's graduation and stay while he's in MOS school as well.
It might be a sad commentary on my life that I would rather cross the country and stay with friends instead of staying here where my family is. This house, my "stucco tower", is "home" in the sense that I grew up here, my parents live here, and it's been my address for over a year, but in other ways it's not half the home our apartment on the east coast was.
While I dread waking up in familiar rooms without the familiar and wonderful presence of my husband, more than that I want to avoid slipping into "daughter" mode without the counterbalance of "wife" mode. When DH is deployed in the future, I'll surely be alone in familiar rooms, but those will be our rooms, where no one else has a claim on them.
So, yes. Other side of the country, different people. I plan to spend that time helping out the non-profit, work on my webcomic, do lots of amazing cooking, and (if I can find work that doesn't require having my own car) make some money.
T Minus 14 Days
I was typing up another post, but shelved it. There is no way to justify going any farther before introducing myself, my husband, and our situation.
Me - I've recently taking to calling myself a creative dilettante, both as an honest compliment and dry insult to myself. Although I'm 24, I haven't finished college yet, nor had a regular job in 18 months.
I'm a writer, but my credits only include self-published hobby books and one newspaper article. I am constantly scribbling down ideas in notebooks and on sticky notes, and occasionally fleshing things out, but haven't tried to sell any short fiction or finish any long fiction. Recently I've started writing poetry semi-seriously and plan to spend more time on it next year. While my natural response to life is to write, I have been spending more time and effort on drawing.
I don't call myself an artist yet. I've been filling sketchbooks with my practice drawings for three years, and hope to be attending art school once DH and I settle down next year. Ideally I want to bring my art skills up to match my writing skills and do things like Mouse Guard or Promethea (an all-time favorite).
Not having a job is both a blessing and a curse. I appreciate DH supporting my creativity and my goals more than I can express. He saw how much it sucked the life and energy out of me to work the kinds of crappy jobs I could get hired for. He willingly was the one to go out and get a crappy job this year when we were in limbo and only had one car. I love him for supporting me so gladly, but often got frustrated when I felt like I wasn't contributing enough.
DH (my Dear Husband) I'll do this best I can without gushing.
For 18 months before we met, I was a fan of DH's artwork, having found it online through a mutual friend. I think it's a key point to understanding this blog to realize that from when I discovered DH, through our whole friendship, courtship and newlywed years, up until he started talking about joining the USMC Reserves, I never saw him as someone with the personality and interest set to enlist.
He enjoys a military aesthetic, he draws stories about wars (although in a fantasy setting), he is one of the most knowledgeable people I know when it comes to world affairs, he has strong values and believes in honor. He has many qualities that, on paper, aren't at odds with military service. I can understand why people might be confused when I say I'm apprehensive about his joining the Marines.
"But.. but... but... he's an artist!!" I protest. Don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled and proud that he wants to serve, and think he will do well. Despite being an individual, I believe he will excel at "playing the game" when it comes to conforming and doing what is expected and demanded of him. I just spend every day seeing a man who gets cranky when he doesn't get to draw in his sketchbook, who is so often lost in epic tales unspooling in his mind, who doesn't look like he has a violent bone in his body.
I know there are other men in the service like him, and I know we'll do fine making friends with people who aren't like us. I just feel that the path we're on is not the one usually traveled by Marines and their families.
The Limbo
April 2006, I was accepted to an art college on the east coast.
May 2006, we were pushed out of the house we were subletting when the real owner returned. Have to move with my parents until...
October 2006, we have our wedding celebration and
November 2006, move to the east coast.
For the next year, DH is run in circles by the admissions department, I delay entry to wait for his acceptance to the art college. He does freelance art, I work retail.
August 2007, DH starts looking for a full-time studio art job, we give up on the east coast art school.
November 2007, our lease is up and we have no reason to remain where there are no art jobs. Come back to stay with my parents so DH can finish a big, important project.
January 2008, DH completes big project, starts looking for a studio job. I start a webcomic.
March 2008, nobody is hiring, DH mentions USMC Reserve duty, I say "Why not active?" and it's all downhill from there.
DH insists on having a particular job field (Visual Information) on his contract (recruiter's worst nightmare) meant that his projected date for entering boot camp was August, then October, then December.
Only a week or so ago did his recruiter finalize things. Then say something very crude about how DH better do a good job in boot camp because it was very very difficult to get that MOS.
So for the past 13 months DH and I have been depending on the boundless hospitality of my parents. In some ways I've been in limbo for over two years, since being accepted to that art school back east. I still have 6 or 7 months to go before the Marines tell us where we're going to live, but at last I see a light in this long, long tunnel.
I think I can stand it.
Me - I've recently taking to calling myself a creative dilettante, both as an honest compliment and dry insult to myself. Although I'm 24, I haven't finished college yet, nor had a regular job in 18 months.
I'm a writer, but my credits only include self-published hobby books and one newspaper article. I am constantly scribbling down ideas in notebooks and on sticky notes, and occasionally fleshing things out, but haven't tried to sell any short fiction or finish any long fiction. Recently I've started writing poetry semi-seriously and plan to spend more time on it next year. While my natural response to life is to write, I have been spending more time and effort on drawing.
I don't call myself an artist yet. I've been filling sketchbooks with my practice drawings for three years, and hope to be attending art school once DH and I settle down next year. Ideally I want to bring my art skills up to match my writing skills and do things like Mouse Guard or Promethea (an all-time favorite).
Not having a job is both a blessing and a curse. I appreciate DH supporting my creativity and my goals more than I can express. He saw how much it sucked the life and energy out of me to work the kinds of crappy jobs I could get hired for. He willingly was the one to go out and get a crappy job this year when we were in limbo and only had one car. I love him for supporting me so gladly, but often got frustrated when I felt like I wasn't contributing enough.
DH (my Dear Husband) I'll do this best I can without gushing.
For 18 months before we met, I was a fan of DH's artwork, having found it online through a mutual friend. I think it's a key point to understanding this blog to realize that from when I discovered DH, through our whole friendship, courtship and newlywed years, up until he started talking about joining the USMC Reserves, I never saw him as someone with the personality and interest set to enlist.
He enjoys a military aesthetic, he draws stories about wars (although in a fantasy setting), he is one of the most knowledgeable people I know when it comes to world affairs, he has strong values and believes in honor. He has many qualities that, on paper, aren't at odds with military service. I can understand why people might be confused when I say I'm apprehensive about his joining the Marines.
"But.. but... but... he's an artist!!" I protest. Don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled and proud that he wants to serve, and think he will do well. Despite being an individual, I believe he will excel at "playing the game" when it comes to conforming and doing what is expected and demanded of him. I just spend every day seeing a man who gets cranky when he doesn't get to draw in his sketchbook, who is so often lost in epic tales unspooling in his mind, who doesn't look like he has a violent bone in his body.
I know there are other men in the service like him, and I know we'll do fine making friends with people who aren't like us. I just feel that the path we're on is not the one usually traveled by Marines and their families.
The Limbo
April 2006, I was accepted to an art college on the east coast.
May 2006, we were pushed out of the house we were subletting when the real owner returned. Have to move with my parents until...
October 2006, we have our wedding celebration and
November 2006, move to the east coast.
For the next year, DH is run in circles by the admissions department, I delay entry to wait for his acceptance to the art college. He does freelance art, I work retail.
August 2007, DH starts looking for a full-time studio art job, we give up on the east coast art school.
November 2007, our lease is up and we have no reason to remain where there are no art jobs. Come back to stay with my parents so DH can finish a big, important project.
January 2008, DH completes big project, starts looking for a studio job. I start a webcomic.
March 2008, nobody is hiring, DH mentions USMC Reserve duty, I say "Why not active?" and it's all downhill from there.
DH insists on having a particular job field (Visual Information) on his contract (recruiter's worst nightmare) meant that his projected date for entering boot camp was August, then October, then December.
Only a week or so ago did his recruiter finalize things. Then say something very crude about how DH better do a good job in boot camp because it was very very difficult to get that MOS.
So for the past 13 months DH and I have been depending on the boundless hospitality of my parents. In some ways I've been in limbo for over two years, since being accepted to that art school back east. I still have 6 or 7 months to go before the Marines tell us where we're going to live, but at last I see a light in this long, long tunnel.
I think I can stand it.
28 December 2008
T Minus 15 Days
I often refer to our current living situation as my "stucco tower". Frugality, the busyness of wrapping things up, and a lack of local friends all contribute to DH and I seldom leaving the house. Personal weirdness means I don't leave our room much, either. (But I will leave the convoluted and not-quite-noble tale of our situation for another day.)
These hermit tendencies are exacerbated by an irregular sleep schedule: my days are often 26 or 28 hours long, putting me at odds with the outside world. That's not so bad. The real trouble comes when my odd patterns put me at odd with DH's schedule.
He's not a 9-to-5 person either (often staying up till dawn and sleeping past noon), but there pressure to get his freelance illustration work wrapped up as soon as possible. That pressure, plus the fact that his working space is the same as his living/playing space all conspire to be stressful. I let him manage his own time, though.
These factors, and a few others that I can't distill into words, conspire to keep us from spending a lot of quality time together. Sure, there's five minutes here and there when we snuggle and exchange recaps of the past few hours, so I'm not completely deprived, and if I asked he'd probably put things aside to hang out. There is merely a dearth of spontaneous walks and meals without the accompaniment of TV or computers. It seems odd to bring this up so soon after we spent Christmas Eve and Day out of the house and with each other, but now I'm watching a countdown: 15 together, 84 apart, 10 together, 100 (or more) apart.
But how does one measure the stores of warm-fuzzies that I'm trying to save up for those separations? How does one plan natural, memory-making quality time? Any time I collect "romantic" elements and construct an hour or two for us to spend alone, it can feel awkward and scripted, as though there are hidden expectations that I need the experience to live up to. Turning on a camcorder and saying "be memorable" is just as ridiculous as telling someone to "act natural".
In my mind it's a proven fact that things that happen organically make for better memories than things that are set up with memory-making in mind. For example, when thinking about our wedding, a walk we took a week or so before the ceremony to talk about our pending nuptials stands out better than the event itself. Similarly, when we made plans to take pictures (film and digital) on my father-in-law's land, we had a good time, but I was still overly conscious of the reason the moment was set up, instead of letting myself be in the moment.
All of it it so messed up and convoluted. Making plans, not making plans, making not-plans... and wondering if we'll find time to get out from under this cloud of obligations in the next fifteen days.
I do have this good news: I purchased plane tickets today. It's not a sure thing until I'm on that plane, but I now have both a place to go while DH is in boot camp, and a way to get there.
These hermit tendencies are exacerbated by an irregular sleep schedule: my days are often 26 or 28 hours long, putting me at odds with the outside world. That's not so bad. The real trouble comes when my odd patterns put me at odd with DH's schedule.
He's not a 9-to-5 person either (often staying up till dawn and sleeping past noon), but there pressure to get his freelance illustration work wrapped up as soon as possible. That pressure, plus the fact that his working space is the same as his living/playing space all conspire to be stressful. I let him manage his own time, though.
These factors, and a few others that I can't distill into words, conspire to keep us from spending a lot of quality time together. Sure, there's five minutes here and there when we snuggle and exchange recaps of the past few hours, so I'm not completely deprived, and if I asked he'd probably put things aside to hang out. There is merely a dearth of spontaneous walks and meals without the accompaniment of TV or computers. It seems odd to bring this up so soon after we spent Christmas Eve and Day out of the house and with each other, but now I'm watching a countdown: 15 together, 84 apart, 10 together, 100 (or more) apart.
But how does one measure the stores of warm-fuzzies that I'm trying to save up for those separations? How does one plan natural, memory-making quality time? Any time I collect "romantic" elements and construct an hour or two for us to spend alone, it can feel awkward and scripted, as though there are hidden expectations that I need the experience to live up to. Turning on a camcorder and saying "be memorable" is just as ridiculous as telling someone to "act natural".
In my mind it's a proven fact that things that happen organically make for better memories than things that are set up with memory-making in mind. For example, when thinking about our wedding, a walk we took a week or so before the ceremony to talk about our pending nuptials stands out better than the event itself. Similarly, when we made plans to take pictures (film and digital) on my father-in-law's land, we had a good time, but I was still overly conscious of the reason the moment was set up, instead of letting myself be in the moment.
All of it it so messed up and convoluted. Making plans, not making plans, making not-plans... and wondering if we'll find time to get out from under this cloud of obligations in the next fifteen days.
I do have this good news: I purchased plane tickets today. It's not a sure thing until I'm on that plane, but I now have both a place to go while DH is in boot camp, and a way to get there.
27 December 2008
T Minus 16 days
It hurts to write that number.
My husband is leaving for USMC boot camp in 16 days.
This is the first time I've put it in those terms.
We have known (and told people) the date he leaves for more than a week, but I hadn't looked at a calendar and done the math until right now. Making a count down like this is helpful for knowing how little time I have for the things to do before he goes, but it also turns up the pressure, reminding me how much quality time I need to cram in the coming weeks.
Here's a partial list of preparations to be made (and a glimpse at what the near future of this blog):
Buy plane ticket
Take more pictures
Organize Our Stuff (tm)
Prepare files for storage
Pack life into luggage
Record Husband Sounds (tm)
My husband is leaving for USMC boot camp in 16 days.
This is the first time I've put it in those terms.
We have known (and told people) the date he leaves for more than a week, but I hadn't looked at a calendar and done the math until right now. Making a count down like this is helpful for knowing how little time I have for the things to do before he goes, but it also turns up the pressure, reminding me how much quality time I need to cram in the coming weeks.
Here's a partial list of preparations to be made (and a glimpse at what the near future of this blog):
Buy plane ticket
Take more pictures
Organize Our Stuff (tm)
Prepare files for storage
Pack life into luggage
Record Husband Sounds (tm)
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