Travel

Toes. Without them, your legs would not have the ability to walk. Without toes, your body would lose its ability to wander. You would lose your path of escape. Ok, so maybe, its not your toes necessarily, but your legs that allow you the capability to go places. Many are blessed in life with the opportunity to travel the world. As much as the navy is filled with constant bullshit and daily frustrations, my friends and I are blessed with the opportunity to travel. We see things. We go places. Our days are filled with questions of why the Japanese culture and people do the things they do. We do not have cars, although sometimes we do take taxi cabs. Golf carts don't exist and sadly, there aren't any elevators on the ship that will take us up and down the ladder wells (legally). My new years resolution this year was to take the stairs at fleet rec, as long as I wasn't with Derek. With him, elevators hold a special place in my heart. Anyways, its January 10th. We are ten days into the new year! I have yet to even think about taking the stairs.

 What is your primary mode of transportation? I, myself, travel essentially by foot here in Japan. When I was at Western, walking was also my primary mode of transportation. I loved walking alone slowly, with headphones in, and nowhere to be. I remember walking back from class going to the Phi Mu house, excited to listen to all of my new music. Or excited to play that song I'd fallen in love with over and over again, until I wound up half sick of it. In the fall the leaves, trees and mountains were breathtaking. I wish I hadn't been so busy, it would have been nice to breathe it all in.

Cars don't give you the opportunity to see nature in its glory. Driving on the blue ridge parkway is great, don't get me wrong, but to really see it, a walk in the woods is key. So many sailors don't take advantage of traveling and seeing Japan. Similar to how so many college students, missed out on the beauty of the western Carolina mountains. It literally blows my mind that some people would rather sit on a computer all day and play video games rather than getting outside being surrounded by real things. Real trees, real nature, real friends. You can't get that sitting in a chair on the computer. You can't smell the air, or feel the chilling wind on your face. There are no birds chirping or songs melting into the atmosphere.

I believe that some songs were written for campfires being blared from a truck stereo. I believe that some were made for laying in the sun to fall asleep to. I believe that songs should be delved upon and focused on. Sometimes to focus, it takes getting away to understand; truly understand, the importance of the lyrics.

Short and sweet. Sorry guys!
DG

Four Hours

PROMPT: You relax into your seat, book in hand, as your plane takes off. The stranger sitting next to you fidgets - he has seemed unusually nervous. A few moments later, you feel his hand on your arm. You turn to see his eyes pleading with you.
"I'm not supposed to speak to anyone," he begins, "But I have to clear my conscience."

I roll my eyes as I hear his words. "I'm not suppose to speak to anyone...but I have to clear my conscience." I just got on a connecting flight from Dallas to San Diego. I've got one more flight until I'll be home in my bed after being overseas for a month. Of course it would be my luck to get stuck sitting next to a lunatic. I lower the headphones from my eyes miserably. "Call me Maybe" just shuffled on my ipod and the character in my book is about to commit suicide, but I guess this crazy guy next to me has a more dire situation than myself.

"What's up?" I reply. His body is shaking. I can see his lips parting to tell me something but only raspy sounds escape. He turns his head towards the window in defeat, unable to forms words from his current anxiety. He is dressed in a brown fedora with holes that look like they have been there since the 1940's. Small wispy brown curls escape from the fedora positioned to the right side of his face. I can only see a portion of one of his eyes. His right eye looks puffy, like tears may have just escaped. A man with dried tears on his face is disheartening. Have you ever seen a man cry? The wrinkle lines near his eyes are deepened and weary. I cannot read the concern in his eyes. But something about them is odd. I want to know more. I need to know what is weighing so heavy on his heart.  Curiosity has taken me with fascination into trying to figure this man out. I set my ipod and book aside.

His facial hair is unruly and ungroomed. His lips look as though they have been chapped for days. Many miles, must have carried him into this seat beside me. For miles, fear has followed him but as I watch him squirm in his chair beside the window, his anxiety has subsided momentarily.

"What's up?" I say again. This time I press my hand onto his forearm and he quivers with the touch. "I can't. I can't say." He loses himself again in the window. "I need to tell someone. This needs to get out but it can't go anywhere. It will bring ruin to someone if it gets out. Can you keep a secret I can't hold this in my heart any longer?" He pleads. I look into his eyes and see a simple desperation from this man. "I promise," I tell him. "I promise."

"Ok, a few years back I was on my honeymoon with my wife. She looked beautiful, riding shotgun next to me in a pair of cut off shorts, barefoot with a ratty Beatles tee hanging loosely on her frame. We had been married for one full day and I couldn't be any happier. She was fidgeting with the radio station as I veered off the interstate on the exit ramp to pick up some McDonald's. In McDonald's, she told me she was going to use the restroom and to order her a double cheeseburger. A man named Harry, a man I recognized from my past, shook my hand with too firm of a grip, and whispered into my ear, "I will never forgive you."

"She never returned from the bathroom," he explained. He grabbed my arm, not violently, but I could tell he was worried. He needed something to hold on to as he swallowed back the tears that were choking his voice. He continued, "And Harry, I knew him as a kid. We went to the same school together. He was always dirty. He never came to school with lunch or a different pair of clothes. He carried his books in a wal-mart bag. I was different then. My wife doesn't know about how I was. She can't know. On a Tuesday afternoon when we were both in fifth grade, I convinced Harry's two friends to pin him down and hold open his eyes. I spit in them and laughed. Class resumed, after recces ended, and the day continued. He sat on the opposite side of the class as me and I would scowl at him, to make sure he was scared and wouldn't tell anyone about our little secret."

"I looked for her. And I looked for Harry. In the bathroom, all I found was a note that said, "I never forgot, and now you won't either. 22 Two Field Acre Rd San Diego, Ca 92107 tomorrow, two o clock."

He reached into his front right shirt pocket and pulled out a torn McDonald's receipt that said just that. His fingers traced the words. And his head fell into his hands as he went over the words he had just told me.

"I don't know what to do. I think he's watching me."

I Think I'll be a Feather

Yesterday, I had the opportunity to bring the new year in with my boyfriend, Derek. We didn't go out and celebrate. We didn't see fireworks. We weren't surrounded by a bunch of people and we didn't see the ball drop. Instead we choose to spend it with each other. Honestly, I would have been ok with falling asleep at ten pm, but I wouldn't have had the satisfaction of having the first kiss of the year with my boyfriend. He replied with, "Even if you fall asleep now and we don't kiss at midnight, I'll still be your first kiss of the year." Was it worth staying up for? A ten second kiss shared at spectrum with weird people surrounding us? I wouldn't have had it any other way.

So I realize that I haven't been the best at keeping my blog up to date. After being underway and having that huge break with absolutely zero creative writing exercises in my days, it has just gotten hard. Even writing in my journal underway was bland.  Every day was the same and the only excitement was getting cereal in the morning for breakfast before others swarmed in like birds and took it. Today is the first of the year. Today marks the day where everyone comes up with resolutions they'll keep for a month and eventually fail. So here is my vow to be better at writing daily. Who knows if I'll be unsuccessful in this endeavor, but here's hoping!

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Who actually knows what they want to do when they grow up? My dad majored in accounting or something, worked with the bank for years, dabbled in real estate and now plays music and manages tours, driving a trolley daily. Similarliy, my mom doesn't work in th field she has a college degree in. I have a degree in nutrition and dietetics. A degree! What have I done? Did I waste my entire college career on something I have no interest in? And how does that happen? I love food, but the thought of restricting others from the foods I love? What am I the calorie police?

 I tell my friends all the time that I want to be a feather and just float through life. I'd never worry about the future and what I was going to be when I grew up. I'd be a feather and wherever  the wind took me, that's where I'd land and that's what I'd do. It would be a sign that I was where I was suppose to be. I believe in that. And whenever life was too hard to bear and my feather was trampled upon, I would know it was time to pick myself up and fly again and trust the wind to carry me to greater heights.

So maybe my college days meant something. Maybe I'll never be a dietition but that major was a neccessary camel hump for me to climb over. All of this feather nonsense makes me think of Forrest Gump and how his life panned out. Give yourself a moment to ponder his life.



"I don't know if we each have a destiny, or if we're all just floatin' around accidental-like on a breeze. But I, I think that maybe it's both." -Forrest Gump

Do you remember the very beginning of the movie? During the opening credits, a white feather floats in the breeze as Forrest sits on that infamous park bench. He picks it up and tucks it inside the book sitting on his lap. He then tells his life choices to individuals that sit down next to him and how they have had an effect on his life today. At the closing credits, the movie shoots the last scene of the feather floating up into the wind and flying away from the park bench.

So, are we just accidentally floating through life like the white feather in Forrest Gump? Or does the feather provide our lives with fate and destiny to believe in. Does the feather know where its going to land before it lands? Forrest believes it's a little of both. If destiny does exist where does free will come into play? If our lives are controlled supremely by destiny and fate, are all of my life events predetermined? If destiny is true, are we just puppets on this earth being controlled by some grand scheme? I get it, this is crazy. I am spending entirely way to much time reflecting on a movie that maybe isn't suppose to be studied on a deeper level, but I cannot get over this white feather, "floatin' all accidental like."

Forrest was a very naive man. All throughout his life, he was nothing but honest, respectful and kind hearted to everyone. He’s proof that good-natured innocence can survive. Nice guys finish first, not last. The feather, in the beginning, represents the raw honesty that Forrest gives to everyone he encounters. It's a symbol of hope. Hope from his mom that he'll be able to walk. Hope that he'll survive the war and hope that he'll one day see his love, Jenny again. Forrest would probably be made fun of if he lived in 2012, but I admire the honesty in him. I admire the way he says exactly what he feels. There's a simplicity in his nature that is easy to read. I wish more people were like him. No games. No lies. Just the truth.

So the feather must be both- destiny and unintentional events left up to chance. Half of his life, (if he were a feather) was led by purely dumb luck. That feather was not his destiny. Who knew he was going to take off running for three years, just because. That feather must have led him to just keep going because he wasn't done yet. And coming up with the saying, "Shit Happens." That just happened. There was no fate behind it.

Even if there is fate behind my feather, I can't control it. I don't know it. Like he said, "Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you're gonna get." So for 2013, I'll put faith in my feather. I'll provide kindness to others. I'll evoke niave, honest emotions and aspire to be like Forrest Gump. Maybe he wasn't filled with intelligence. He didn't have many friends. He never knew where his life was going to take him, but he lived.

DG

A Tragic Annoyance

To formulate a truly successful blog, I like to put on headphones and focus on a prompt that I am interested in. Anything imaginative, non-fiction related, close to my heart or even my thoughts on Thanksgiving would have been great for today. Instead, it is imperative to delve into my current debacle.

First of all, I am at Spectrum and realized I forgot my headphones at the BOQ. Life might as well be over. Disasters come and go but I think life could be a bit easier on me sometimes. Realizing that I forgot my headphones, and eager to write a creative blog, I marched myself up to the NEX on the second floor to buy a cheap new pair. You can never have too many, right?

I sat down at the computer excited to listen to some of the new songs I've downloaded the past couple days. I dig my nail in between the two layers of plastic to try and pry it open. Complete fail. I then, asked the annoying guy that works here for a pair of scissors, but to no avail. He says the scissors are locked in the office. I grabbed a pen from the desk and carried it back to my seat. You can get more leverage with a pen instead of a finger nail. I tried to force open the clamshell package with the pen. My pen broke. It was one of those clippy pens. The silver part that holds the ink broke from the pen and flew across the room. I glanced about nervously. No one saw (that I know of). Now the ink is stuck in the package. I pull the ink cylinder out but now the spring is stuck inside of the package. I sigh and curse how retarded it is to waste that much money to package the product when the plastic is just going to be thrown away. So I pull the spring out slowly. The pen is now in shambles. Utterly useless. Well, if spectrum would have had scissors, I wouldn't have had to break their pen.

All I wanted to do is type my dumb blog with headphones and music, so I don't have to hear this Bane guy, from Batman, talk anymore. In the midst of this full blown fight I was currently having with an inanimate object, I realized that I had a pair of fingernail clippers in my purse. Perfect;  like the gold at the end of a rainbow.

I slowly started clipping each side but the fingernail clippers were too small. I tried using my teeth to open it. However, the plastic was too thick. And the situation just ended with my teeth hurting.

So today, I lost a fight with my headphones, that I hadn't even physically touched because of the packaging. Whats the point of the plastic being so thick and sealed on all sides. If I wanted to steal the expensive piece of merchandise at the store, it wouldn't do my any good anyways. I clearly wouldn't be able to get into it.

Here's an idea, give us a tab like toothbrush companies. Because that just makes sense, right? So, yay! Here's my blog about something I never intended to waste time with, that I wrote WITHOUT headphones or music. Happy Friday. I intend to never again fight with oyster shell packaging. Here's crossing my fingers anyways.

Happy Moments

OK, so after two long weeks of preparation, INSURV is finally over. We passed.  Thank God. I think working 0600-2000 everyday is pure ridiculous. I'm sorry I don't have anything interesting to post today. Lately, all my life has been is work...so I'll just post things that make me happy.

“A happy life is just a string of happy moments. But most people don’t allow the happy moments, because they’re so busy trying to get a happy life.”
~ Abraham-Hicks

1.) Eating a Hershey's chocolate bar square by square ever so slowly because you know it can't last forever. When you eat the very last square and wash it down with coffee before throwing the wrapper away, you discover one more piece. That last piece of chocolate is heaven!

2.) When driving or walking somewhere, I love when the crosswalk turns green or the light turns green right as the car pulls up. I believe there's a sort of magic in a moment like that.

3.) There's nothing better after a long day than taking off your pants (or bra).

4.) Freshly shaved legs.

5.) The feeling of buying a Christmas present for someone you love months in advance and having to keep the secret until the Holidays. Part two of this moment is the retarded happiness that is showed when the person is opening the present and you can't even sit still you are so excited to see how much they love it.

6.) The joy of my dogs greeting me when I get home. I can't even put my stuff down they are so excited to see me. I don't think there is a greater or more loyal love. I wish more people had the personalities of dogs.

7.) My music. When I want it. How I want it. Every single night and day. I love the powerful feeling of shuffle and skip.

8.) An extra half hour of sleep really makes all the difference.

9.) That moment in a kiss where you can feel everything. Fear runs away. Your mind sits on the back burner and allows your heart to lead the way. The moment ends as the kiss does, but your heart gives your head a second or two to find itself afterwards.

10.) An ice cream cone dripping in the summertime.

Dani

Things I've Missed Along the Way

Today was LONG! I cannot wait for insurv to be over already. Working 11-12 hour days is crazy. We might as well be out to sea again if you ask me. Anyways, this morning I was exhausted when I woke up and irritated. Most days I am constantly chipper and content with the shitty food and hot conditions of the ship. this morning it would have been nice shoulder checking every single person I passed.

I got over myself as soon as I had coffee/espresso. Somehow no matter what, my relationship with coffee will remain ever constant and loyal in my life, no matter what.

Being out here away from home, I've created a family for myself among friends. Now, I know its not home because home is where my mom is but, I've managed to make Japan feel as close to home as possible. Everyone knows I miss family and friends but I'd like to share some of the smaller, more obscure things I miss as well.

1.) Kissing my dog, Smokey, on the top of her nose. In that moment, I hold my lips on her snout and wait for her tongue to curl up and kiss back. Her tail wags and I smile and there is nothing in that moment that isn't defined by ever enduring love for one another.

2.) I miss sitting on the pier of the Chowan River with a cup of coffee in my hand, resting against my chest around 8 in the morning. I love not having to get dressed and just rolling out of bed to greet the sun. It shines right on the water and everything is still as glass. My feet just skim the top as the breeze hits my face and I can feel the lingering sun setting in for a tan or burn by later afternoon.

3.) I miss my shoes. My heels, boots, even flip flops. They are crying without me right now.

4.) I miss late night movie nights with my brother. I miss buying alcohol at Harris Teeter and going through all of the red box movie selections before settling on two scary ones. I miss picking out all the red and blue sour gummy worms in the dark without him noticing because the blanket is up by my eyes as I cringe with terror.

5.) I miss driving the back roads with cotton on my left side and soy beans on the right. I miss the emptiness of the roads and seeing more deer than cars on late night drives back to the river from Tastee Freeze.

6.) Banana sandwiches, bar-b-que, collard greens, beef stew, and pork chops

7.) Bottomless cups of coffee

8.) I miss hearing my dad sing and play tequila sunrise, Charley Pride and Buck Owens on the guitar.

9.) Definitely miss having a tan

10.) I miss wing night at O malley's and texas margaritas at El Pac.

Dani

If Couches Could Talk

I have many memories from my childhood house on Rainbow Forrest Drive but, some of the memories often overlooked are those I've had on that old green couch. It was once a pretty couch but now, its quite worn in. The fabric is stained. The pink flowers are not nearly as bright as they once were. The cushions are lumpy. The arm rests are hard and the arm covers are constantly and irritatingly (is that a word?) always falling off. All this aside, I love that couch. I love some of the feelings and moments this couch has given to me throughout my life.

OK, so you may think this is totally dumb. I'm sharing romantic feelings with an inanimate object, but if you had this couch growing up you'd probably fall head over heels for it, too. I've been thinking about this couch a lot lately because my brother will be using it in his first apartment. Its been in storage since my first apartment. Let me begin by giving you a personal history of this couch and I.

I remember sharing many Disney movies with friends on this couch as a little girl. I'd always bring my hairbrush down and brush my hair during Aladdin. It made me feel like Princess Jasmine and clearly I couldn't bring a tiger down. The couch was there for me when I wanted to watch Winnie the Pooh. There was something about Winnie the Pooh, that always knocked my dad into a deep sleep. Is that why adults put Pooh on TV? So their kids will fall asleep?

The couch was in the living room for Christmas present time. It was there for me to throw my book bag on it as a kid. Some of my favorite moments with this couch were snow days or even 'sick' days. I'm sure the couch knew that I wasn't really 'sick,' but it remained loyal and we cuddled all day. Many episodes of Dawson's Creek, I spent snuggled under the mustang blanket while my brother droned on and on about the show being stupid. My brother and I watched all the old Nickelodeon cartoons: Hey Arnold, Rugrats, Doug, etc, etc. (If you are a 90's kid reading this, I shouldn't have to list them out). My brother and I fought over the couch daily but when we were too tired to argue or Daddy wasn't looking, we'd just share it. I'd throw my feet up on the top part with my head on the opposite side as Jon's and he'd lay with his head on the other side.
This couch has seen so many bowls of popcorn with my Dad. But I will tell you, my Dad didn't love the couch as much as Jonathan and I did. He often sat in the blue leather reclining chair. You know how men are with their reclining chairs! My dad got remarried when I was in my teens and the couch got packed up. We traded it in for a nice brown leather couch. All things aside, it was a nice couch. A really nice couch but, it just wasn't the same as the old green one.

Years later, I went off to college. I lived in the dorms for a couple years and finally my junior year of college, my big sister, Katie (sorority sister) and I moved in to a small two bedroom apartment. The first night we stayed there we made spaghetti and ate on the kitchen floor because we didn't have any furniture. We had a TV and sleeping bags, though. The act of moving out and being on my own aroused feelings inside me I'd never felt before. I was so happy. I was paying for my rent, cooking my meals, driving my own car and technically I was kind of broke.

My Dad brought the couch and some other furniture for Katie and I. Our living room was tiny, but just big enough to fit this green couch and a small coffee table. From that day on, we rarely used our kitchen table. I rarely studied at my desk. And we both spent hours and hours sitting together gossiping like young women do, on that couch. Many cups of coffee have been drank (and spilt) on that couch. Many episodes of CMT's country music countdown have been watched. Tears have been spilt, beers have been drank, papers have been written and relationships have strengthened.

Visitors were always welcome. We didn't have much but we did have extra blankets, a pillow and that couch. It sleeps pretty good for a couch. Whenever my dad came to visit, I'd give my bed to him and sleep on the couch. I remember channel surfing late into the night on that couch. If you lay just right, you can spoon with a significant other. And just like my brother and I did growing up, Katie and I often laid on opposite ends  together.

So think about it. If couches could talk what kind of stories could this one tell us about me? What would it say about my brother? Or the relationships I've had in college-boyfriends, Katie and Caro. It has surely seen memories being made and feelings unfold. If it could talk, I bet it would be able to help define some of my feelings for friends and family. Could it put into words what I can't put into words? Like, how do you explain the relationship you have with a sibling? I don't think any amount of words could truly make you understand how much love I have for my brother. I bet this couch has shaped me into the woman I am today. It may be a stretch, believe what you want, but I believe in things like that. I've had so many moments on that couch, its hard for me to overlook.

So the next chapter of this couch's life is my brother. My dad is bringing the couch to him this August. He is so excited to be on his own and have his own place. He doesn't even have any roommates. We'll see what this couch brings for Jon, or should I say, what kind of memories Jon will bring to this couch. I wish I had a picture of it for you all to see, but maybe imagination is better in your head. I know its better in mine.

I've posted a Brad Paisley video. The song is called, "Wrapped Around." I've been listening to him all day. I'm sure at one point or another, the couch has seen it too. :) You probably think I'm absurd. I probably am. Good, I'm glad we got that settled. Enjoy!

Dani