Going, Going Back, Back to Cali, Cali!

This post marks the halfway point of my goal for the year. Number twenty-six of fifty-two posts I planned for this year! This may seem like a small feat to you but to me its monumental. This time last year I could barely eek out a single page, double spaced, with sixteen-point font!! I was…

Don’t Know Body Want Cho Ass!

I didn’t know how to date. Honestly, I am not that good at it even now. I just wanted to meet the ONE and be together. #Neo on a side tangent. It’s silly but every time I hear the phrase “the one” I think of Neo from the matrix! Back to my point though, I didn’t want the process of dating this guy or the next guy. Didn’t want to spend time trying to figure out who they were and getting past their representative.

The drinks were many and good decisions were few.

I never thought I would be the drill team type. That sounded like extra work and it would take away from my weekends and so I was not really interested. The tour was just a formality, something that was standard stop on the base tour. Once we reached the home of the Crackerjacks (they were named after the traditional navy uniform) I was a tad intrigued. I was told that while being on the team did require some of your personal time, there were major perks. All students in A school had to meet up early in the morning and march in large groups to school, team members did not. All students had to have monthly uniform and room inspections team members did not. I was sold!!

Swiper No Swiping!!!

We went to Grandpa Pigeons, it was Walmart before I knew what Walmart was. My aunt and cousin went around the store stuffing items into their coat like gang busters! I was just wandering around looking at random junk when my aunt approached me and asked if I would put a pink One Hundred and One Dalmatians sweater in my purse for her daughter…

Bitch Jump!

For the first time during boot camp the training looked real segregated. I know I am gonna sound like an ass here, but it is what it is. We were split into two groups; swimmers and non-swimmers. And yup the non-swimming category was mostly composed of black folk with a few whites and people of other races sprinkled in. Sadly, I was one of the brown faces in the non-swimmer’s category.

The Good Kind of Crazy

I was ready! I had watched Full Metal Jacket like a hundred times, had worked out every day, and packed everything on the pre-boot camp check list in a backpack. At zero dark thirty on October 30, 1995, I left the MEPS office and hopped on the Metro link train headed to the airport. I…

Coldblooded!! (David Chappelle voice)

I had a few months before I left for the Navy, so I figured I would hang around all my friends and family before I left. I had saved up a nice lil stash of money and planned to sponsor multiple rounds of shenanigans before I hit the road.  Since my birthday was in September,…

Victimology

Victim is an interesting word. in the late 15th century it meant to sacrifice a person or animal as part of a religious rite. In the mid-1600s its meaning shifted to denote someone being “hurt tortured or killed” by someone. In the early 1700s, there was more evolution regarding what types of things one could…

A Thousand Navy Dicks

Sharing the same space with someone can be a real eye opener. The myth of the magical fantasy had worn off shortly after I moved in with Mike. What’s crazy is that I have no idea how it happened, I don’t recall the words he used, I can’t recall when or even where it took place, NOTHING about it at all but at some point, Mike and I got engaged. I remember the ring, a one carat marquise cut, it was exactly what I wanted.

Playing at Love

Love is another one of the words that I have struggled to truly understand. I grew up in an environment where I didn’t feel loved in the way stories, movies, and TV shows described it. I knew my parents cared about me, but I honestly didn’t feel loved and therefore had no real-life reference for what love actually felt like or really was. I had only the perfect stories from sources not based in reality. The sad part is while I longed for that perfect love, deep down I didn’t feel that I deserved it or would ever actually have it.