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 . . . .
