Acta non Verba?

There’s a time when I wonder what has happened here? Now a first classman and a regimental officer I wonder more and more. We drill into these kids’ heads honor, integrity, courage, commitment, and a multitude of other character traits that represent a leader. And then we let one go by. Just one. Only one. But that one has now set the standard that it can be done again. And again. And the standard. That once immovable standard (as standards usually are) has now been moved and lowered to allow for the weakest link to continue on. Oh, what weak and spineless creatures men are.

He’s still here. He’s still here. No one will do it. No one will take the step to kick him out. Disrespect. Disobedience. And now assault. Assault! And all they tell him is, “Shame!” and that he gets a second chance. And ya’ know what? That’s great. I mean it. But what about what he’s done? What do we do about that? Nothing. We do nothing. They do nothing. So, that being the case, a first classman could sleep with a plebe girl and, as long as he promised not to do it again, get off scott-free. During training, they drill into us about holding the line. About setting the standard and not backing down. Well, that was training, and now it’s for real. So where is our standard? What happened to “hold the line?” During Indoc, we give the candidates speeches about a regiment of midshipmen full of honor, integrity, and moral courage. I get sick to my stomach having to memorize and give such a speech. I want to know where this regiment is. Because I have yet to see it. As a good friend put it, we talk one helluva good game, but when called to act we do nothing. And how ironic when our motto is Acta non Verba. Deeds not words. How tragic.

The end is near . . .

Again, another entry from sea. I wrote this on my last ship about a week before I got off. This one is different than the rest and not something I usually write . . .

30 April 2007

It seems that being tired out here comes at you hard and fast . . .and all at once. I’m not tired physically. The work on deck is hard, no doubt very hard, but I enjoy it and look forward to a long day sweating in the sun . . . a reminder that I’m alive. But emotionally, I’m exhausted. I have given every measure of myself. Smiled when I wanted to frown. Said “yes sir” when I wanted to say “f*#k you.” Got out of bed for another day when I just wanted another 10 minutes. . . And it wears on you. I can’t do it anymore. I need a break. I miss home. I miss a life where I can escape. I miss a world that is fixed. I miss brushing my teeth with cold water. I miss taking a shower and not having to hold on to something. I miss friends. I miss Texas; I’ve been to 30 different ports in a dozen countries and Texas is still at the top of my list. I miss my family. . . Family. The more places I go, the more I’m away, the more I realize how precious a thing home is. And how much I look forward to having one of my own one day. I still marvel at the time I looked forward, and longed for, the day where I would leave home and get out on my own. Well, I’m out. And now I long for the day when I can return, if only for a brief time – to rest and lick my wounds as it were. I am glad to be out on my own, it’s that time in my life, and I will not shrink away nor flee – to take on the world as the saying goes. But now, I want to return. Return to chase and wrestle with my younger brothers (midget banshees really). Return to sit quietly next my little sister’s bedside at night talking in whispers about nothing at all (until she shoves me off.) Return to spend an afternoon in the kitchen with Mom and solve the world’s problems (until dinner interrupts our genius.) Return to spend the evening swapping sea stories with Dad and hearing a little more about life (until the evening movie and brownies invade our thoughts.) To sit in the quiet calm and comfort of my home. My home until I have my own. And that won’t be far off, I think. God and I have been talking about that (well I’ve been talking about it). I don’t know when but it will be soon. But soon is relative. I graduate in a year’s time and I’m not even sure what I’ll be doing after that . . . and time is wearing thin for some things. But He knows. He knows. As always, show me contentment, Father.

In His Image

Another bit of rambling from sea . . .

Where’s the camera when you need it? I mean, seriously, the most amazing pictures I’ve seen will only be remembered as snapshots in my mind. And only by me. That’s probably the worst part of it. There’s no one there to share it with. To share the sight of hundreds – hundreds – of dolphins leaping around the ship as a small desert island sits in haze just a few miles off and the sun sets. To give it that personal touch there is always that one dolphin that feels the need to outdo his counterparts and so must thrash about in flight and, as ungracefully as possible, belly-flop back into that deep blue. No one is there. Just me. The ship is all bustle about me but I am alone at the rail; all else is a blur. It’s odd I guess that we want to share it with someone. It’s some sort of innate desire. To share beauty. To feel and experience beauty with someone else. . . . .Ahhhh, I see Lord. That’s why there is us and there is you. That desire is what caused you to create man in the first place. To share your beauty. That desire in us is what drives us to seek friendship and fellowship. I’m sorry. This is new to me.

Here's a small scrapbook from my time in the ME . . .

Looking Forward

This was something I wrote while I was waiting on a ship at the start of my sea time:

Lord,

Prepare me. Prepare me for this life ahead. This life that is about to begin. I’m approaching the end of one adventure and existence and am about to embark on another. This one built on the foundations laid by the first. I look forward to what lies ahead. As a man looks forward to what lies over the horizon, not knowing exactly what is there but knowing that it is there. I look forward to the thought of spending the rest of my days with my best friend, my wife and lover, by my side to live out each day’s adventure anew. . I look forward to the next day, of one more day to breathe deep the adventures that await the persistent man. I look forward to the hard times when I learn of how wondrous you are. I look forward to growing old and tired and looking back at my life and, with a sigh and a smile . . . .well simply sigh and smile at it all. At how wonderfully blessed it has been. These things I look forward to. These things I long for. For these things I can only patiently await the day. But the day was yesterday. But the day is today. But the day is yet to come. . . for it is tomorrow. And I will embrace it with such intense fervor that it can not escape me. I will laugh till I cry at the hard times. I will sing and dance in the storm. For You have given me a gift. And I will not sit idly by and watch it pass. The blessings you have bestowed upon me I do not deserve but I will not, no, can not refuse. Father, I want to live this life the way you created for me to live it. I want to love one. I want to explore all. I want to work. I want to . . . .want to do so much. Ha! And yet there is so little time. Use me, Jesus. Please. Simply use me; make me that sweet earthy clay that can be molded into whatever the Potter sees in it. And I will be content . . . precious contentment . . . Amen.

Bon Voyage . . .

I didn’t realize it until it was too late. And then it all fell into place. I was not looking forward to leaving . . . my friends. That last final. That dreaded last final was always just one more day away. It kept all of us here. One more day for all of us to hang out, shoot the breeze, make fun of each other, pull one more prank. That final was the anchor that held everyone here. And now, now it’s all over. There is nothing to keep us from leaving. Don’t get me wrong. I can not wait to get out to sea again. I love it out there. Foreign ports. Storms. Weird crews. Mean officers. I love it, honest. It’s a challenge and an adventure.

They say

They say, "Dude, you don't know what you're missing!"
And you know what? They're right. I don't.
But, I do know what I'm waiting for and that's good enough.

"I've never heard . . . ."

“Wow – I have never heard a guy say that before.”
I swear I almost cried then and there. See, I was talking with a good friend of mine, obviously a girl, on IM. We were talking about why I didn’t like the jokes that referred to girls in inappropriate ways. That’s when she hit me with that answer. I just sat there in my chair in a daze. “I have never heard a guy say that before.” I want to cry now just thinking about it. What do you mean? How is that possible? What has happened? Where have they gone too? Girls have come to believe that every guy thinks that those jokes are funny and acceptable. And so the girl must accept them and laugh too. That every guy is a pervert with one thing on his mind. And so the girl must accommodate. What makes it worse is that women believe it (wait I already said that – oh well, I’ll say it again). They’ve bought into this lie and they live their lives thinking that it’s ok. That’s why a wife takes her husband to Hooters for his birthday or their wedding anniversary. That’s why the husband has his collection of Play Boys sitting on the night stand. It is depressing. It is . . . .I can’t even put words to it. I don’t get it. They say, it’s guys like me that were born to late. I’m old fashioned and that’s a bad thing some how. Go figure. She mentioned later in our conversation that she has a promise/purity ring; a promise to remain a virgin until marriage. I have one also, and wear it every day. She told me that while she has it, and sees it every day, she doesn’t wear it. She explained that it’s because some guys see it as an “advertisement.” It took me a bit to understand what she was saying, then I got it. Dynamite. Daze. Again. Are you serious? An advertisement? Come and get me! I . . . .I . . .why? I do not get it. I don’t know what to say. Really. Words are so weak and pointless right now. This is a terrible blog as far as being pleasant to read and well written but that’s not what I’m going for. Oh, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

Of friends

Looks like I’m playing catch up here since my computer crashed and I lost so many entries. I’m writing something new everyday almost. Dang . . . .just as I begin, all of that nostalgia goes right out the window and I’m up against a wall. I hate this. . .
I just had a small party with some friends. It was for my 22nd birthday. Gee, that sounds so weird. I’m 22? What happened? Did I miss something? Anyways, it was a great time. I have some amazing friends. I guess a lot of people say that but few people have gone through what we have here at this school. Most of us have been in the same classes since our plebe year. I know these guys (and girls). I really know them. And they really know me. We look out for each other. Make fun of each other. Study with each other. Wake up way too early and go work out with each other. Argue with each other. And it’s great. I love it. I come from a big family, so it reminds me of home. I think I have two families, now.
I can not believe we’re about to be seniors. Seriously, I can not describe the utter speechlessness (not sure if that’s a word but Spellcheck approved so . . .) I feel when I look back on these past 2.5 years. We showed up at this place in the middle of the summer, 2004. We went through plebe year, then our first sea year, and now the second one will be upon us within the week. When we return it will be our turn to be first classmen. And then what? What happens after this place? Do we all go our separate ways? I’ve thought about that since I got here. I’m sure some of us will not keep in touch but there are a few I know of that will. We will be calling each other up on the phone to pick up where we left off at school . . . 50 years from now. I can’t wait . . .

Here we go . . . .again

I feel like writing. It’s been a while since I felt that. The problem is, I have no clue what to write about. It’s driving me nuts. A few years ago I read a book called Wild At Heart. Incredible book. I tried to start it again about a year ago but didn’t get too far. I’m at it again right now and I’ll finish it this time. It’s about how men in this world have forgotten who they really are. That the things they like, such as aggressive sports, hunting, adventures and anything else with a lot of danger or excitement (resucing that damsel in distress) they like for a reason. It’s in our blood. We are supposed to be like that. More than that though, I think it’s a testament to how far we have fallen from our true purpose in life. Men and women alike have missed the mark. Why is it, all of a sudden, wrong for a man to be a man? Why is it, all of a sudden, wrong for a woman to be a woman? We are so consumed with something we don’t even understand. We seek recognition and approval from people that change their minds each day. Shouldn’t a sheep seek acceptance from the shepherd rather than the herd? What good will the herd do for him? . . . .I just thought of something. I want to write. (I've made that clear) But, at the same time, I don’t know what to write – I’m beginning to think it has to do more with shame. Life has not been friendly lately; or maybe it's me. I have not lived what I have, for so long, preached. And I’m ashamed of it. I feel like a hypocrite. But it’s time to move on. I still feel sick to my stomach but it will pass. I know that for sure. That nauseating feeling is already less. It’s a humbling experience coming back from out of the mire for all to see the “dirt.” Well, it’s time to get clean . . . .