"The mark of an immature man is that he would die knobly for a cause. The mark of a mature man is that he would live humbly for one" - Catcher in the Rye -WARNING WRITER SPELLING CHALLENGED! But Sometimes you have to say "what the fuck!"

Thursday, February 17, 2005

So I called up the Captain Please bring me my wine He said We haven't had that spirit here since 1969

O CAPTAIN! MY CAPTAIN!
Walt Whitman
O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up--for you the flag is flung--for you the bugle trills;
For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths--for you the shores a-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head;
It is some dream that on the deck,
You've fallen cold and dead.
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won;
Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.


Captains Log… 2005
Living with a captain isn’t easy. I think the military brainwashes them into a certain way of thinking, and treating, and relating to other people. This is especially hard in the few weeks before the Captain, or any soldier deploys for war. You know its getting close when the black boots disappear, and the tan boots replace them at the doorway. Anxieties start getting high, the countdown, the pressure is on.

There she stood in the doorway
I heard the mission bell
And I was thinking to myself
This could be Heaven or this could be Hell


Iraqee Fevah
I knew it would be a challenge living with my brother, especially right before he leaves for Iraq. His mind is a flutter with things he needs to do, responsibilities to undertake, and other leaving “rituals”. Me being the closest person to him, becomes an obvious punching bag, or release of all the anxieties. Things have been more complicated since he fell in “love” a few months ago. Now he has to worry about his girlfriend’s heart, her emotions and her loyalty. I guess I would much rather him take it out on me than her, but it still sucks, and its still hard as hell. I try to be supportive and out of the way, but nothing I do seems to be good enough. He treats me like an unwanted pimple upon beautiful flesh. He never turns off his captain behavior, and I’m constantly berated “military style”.

Mirrors on the ceiling
Pink champaign on ice
And she said
We are all just prisoners here
Of our own device
And in the master's chambers
They gathered for the feast
They stab it with their steely knives
But they just can't kill the beast
Mirrors on the ceiling
Pink champaign on ice
And she said
We are all just prisoners here
Of our own device
And in the master's chambers
They gathered for the feast
They stab it with their steely knives
But they just can't kill the beast


Battling the Beast
I may be one of the sharpest tools in the tool-shed, but I definitely ain’t one of the strongest. This move has been hell on my heart, mind and soul. I can go from happy to homesick and heartbroken in seconds. I miss my son, my former life, my friends, the Firtrees. I escape in white wine and xanax, and young soldier eye candy, but there really is no escape to my demons. Yesterday I slipped into the black abyss, like an ice-scater, skating on a thin sheet of ice only to fall beneath the icy water…. The Omen style. Luckily, I pulled myself back, and my Hemingway moment lasted a few hours.

I Need a Soldjah… Beonce Style
My brother has started breaking down the law, which is hard because I’m used to living by myself, and being my own boss. Now I live under “Captains Law” and must obey his heavy commands. My brother insists that I cant date any soldiers. He says that no soldier is good enough for me, and that they are NEVER allowed in his house. He goes to the lengths to lecture me about soldiers like I’m a 16-year-old girl. “Ya know Miriam, we are trained killers, and those of us who have seen combat can be abusive” and “I don’t want any holes punched in the walls of my house from some soldier who was really wanting to punch you”. He even does things like finds his own black shoe polish on the kitchen floor and then accuses me of having GI’s over. Shit maybe I shouldn’t have teased him about the soldier hot tub fantasy party. Smack it, Flip it, Rub it down…. OH NO!!!!!! His lectures fucking drive me crazy. For one, he is a hypocrite…. HE IS A SOLDIER! For two, I was married to a navy guy, I know all too well the military mentality, and no thank you very much. I just have a sexual fetish for those damn soldier uniforms. Even my brother looks hot in his… (EWWWW GROSS!) My brother knows about my soldier boy in Iraq, TC. Im trying hard to wait for him, and be supportive and send care packages. Its hard though, because a year is a long time to wait for good sex…. Or is it?

Her mind is Tiffany twisted
She's got the Mercedes Benz
She's got a lot of pretty, pretty boys
She calls friends
How they dance in the courtyard
Sweet summer sweat
Some dance to remember
Some dance to forget


Mo Money Mo Problems
Then I start getting yelled at and lectured over my money spending. I made the mistake of telling my brother about my income tax return, and he DEMANDED that I invest it. Shit… I’m a girl, I have to spend compulsively sometimes. So, I went and got my hair done, bought some new Dr. Martins and Vans, and took a trip. I also bought some MAC makeup and Victoria Secret bras and panties. I had to spoil myself a little, with my birthday coming up and all. Well, the shit hit the fan then. I’m still in big trouble for that. He took me to some military financial planner and is demanding I put money into a forced savings account. He is also pissed because my cats chewed up a part of his blinds. Now he is all freaking out about the damage my cats and my contraband soldier toyz will do to HIS house. This tension and drama is driving me insane… Cypress Hill style.

Calgon Take Me Away!
I would never thought I would wish someone to leave for Iraq already, but the constant berating and lecturing is making me wish he would go. I suppose this kind of behavior is normal for a soldier about to deploy, but MY GAWD its hard to live with. I’m still wondering if I made the right decision moving down here and all. I want to run back home so badly. But I’m kinda trapped for a bit. I definitely plan on returning by next September, especially so I can welcum home my Stryker soldier. But for now…. Calgon take me away!

Ra Bla Bla Apologies… Apologies
Sorry I haven’t been blogging, I have been working temp jobs, and I don’t have computer access. When I get home im tired and burned out, plus im getting lectured half the night away from “El Captain”. Thank Gawd for xanax and celexa. Anyway, thanks for reading. Mad LOVE to you all.

PS I will be starting my sex blog soon. I’m sure you will know its me. I just want to start it under a new name, so that people who know Vadergrrrl is me, wont know all my sexual exploits. A grrrls gotta have some secrets. Though the bruises on my body are always quite telling. Xxoooo

Last thing I remember
I was running for the door
I had to find the passage back
To the place I was before
Relax said the nightman
We are programmed to receive
You can check out any time you like
But you can never leave


Hotel California
PPS For those still reading this long winey post, I have been having these reoccurring dreams I wonder about. Its always the same theme. I have this apartment in Oakland California that I have forgotten about. I go back to it, and its waiting for me. Sometimes I have left cats behind, other times its just an empty apartment, that is still mine. I have these dreams about this apartment weekly, its always the same building, and always in Oakland. I don’t know what it means… hence the song “Welcome to the Hotel California”…. “You can NEVER leave!”

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