Eval time.

I hate this point in my life. Evaluations on what I do for my job. Provided I feel like a major threat in my old office. My new office and the people I work with now have a better appriciation to me because I've worked with them hand on hand. Otherwise a lot of other maintenance administrators don't usually get the "respect" I feel I've earned. Maybe it's because I can relate easier. Maybe because I "know" what work is... Which is hard for me to even say because it's hard to not say I didn't do any work when I've not even done anything on a jet.

Needless to say, here we go on evaluation time and I have to write what I did from point A. to now. To me it sucks big ones because I have to sit their and say, I held my own as a sysmtems administrator, supervisor and a team player for flight operations. Which sucks! Yet there I go, I just told you what I accomplished. However, that's not really what they, the bosses boss, want to hear. So I had to come up with clever shit to throw in. 

My favorite is troubleshooting Server Message Blocking Protocol. What the hell is this you say? Or better yet, Wow sounds like a really cool job. To be honest it's kicking people out of a server who's log in is disallowing others from working. So the literal option is to "Kill" people. How politically incorrect it may be  doesn't matter to me. 

Naughty Angels are Sluts in training.

I'll go on record to say it takes a lot of balls to say the Boys Scouts of America (BSA) can suck the big one. The reason why is because the institution on the BSA has, is and always be fucked up because of the Christian "Values" they pride themselves on. Which gets flown out the window as soon as Halloween rolls around for ONE day. 

Needless to say, a couple of years back I attended the Halloween party for my nephew, J.J.'s Cub Scout/ Boy Scout thing. Some kind of "pack party." To be honest, all he sales pitched me on was the fact it was a Halloween party. Anyway, I clearly did not want to be apart of the whole thing and being dragged to would have been one of those therapy moments where going back to a familiar situation would cause a positive flash back. Instead, it turned into a horrible experience and affirmed as an adult how stupid the institution is. Well, I was told to dress up in a Halloween costume. After a long thaought out discussion in my head about the cheapest way to go about a Halloween costume without breaking the bank. I went with my usual, being a Zombie. 

The whole night took place in a school gym. The set up was a bunch of stationed games. Mine was to lay down on a blue tarp. Your partner had a stick with a line tied with a marshmallow on the end. Name of the game was to try and get the mallow into the kids mouth who was laying on the tarp. Then both kids switched. It seemed to be a hit for the whole night. Some kids particularly loved my Zombie costume. Some of them were a little freaked out. However, let's be fair. As compared to my normal look. I though I downplayed my costume. I even had two moms in the neighborhood comment on what I should do to be kid friendly. So nothing was exaggerated or so over done in gore I would have caused nightmares. This was not my goal. My whole existance for the convention was to be there for my nephew. 

Well, as usual, someone had to say something. A rather tall lady, maybe in her 30's walked up to me. Her costume in particular was an Angel. We're talking white gown, white wings, a halo and then to complete this... A pair of devil horns and a pitch fork.

She walks up to me and says, "Don't you think a Zombie is a little too scary for these kids."

In return I said, "Right and a Naughty Angel isn't dressing like a slut by any means." That's right I implied if you dress up as a Naughty Angel you might as well have dressed up as a slut. I mean, what will a Naughty Angel NOT do??

Needless to say I went from adult time with adults and children to high school in bitch-10 seconds. I felt it was worth it. I mean worth it enough the Naughty Angel caught my drift and never spoke to me the rest of the evening. Furthermore I was also asked by the Pack Leader to never come again. Let's recap, dressing like a Zombie, being told I maybe too scary for the kids and in return calling the Naughty Angel a slut kicked me out of more potential Boy Scout meetings. Yeah, if this isn't fucking Déjà Vu, I don't know what is.

Back when I was a kid I got kicked out because I may have told the kids at camp the bible maybe scientifically incorrect because it states in Genisis there's two great lights the sun and the moon. Obviously the moon is just reflecting sunlight. This and a food fight/ really fist fight with Vincent Mayes over the same subject caused me to never go to Boy Scouts.

Needless to say, I didn't get the memo when I was a kid maybe Boy Scouts are for people who need structure. Even as an adult I can still be told to never come back. Go figure. 

Womp womp

I'm no super spy. Nor have I ever met a spy at any moment in time. However, if I had I'm sure I unknowingly told them about the rational to my phobia of horses. The reason why a fish nearly destroyed my childhood and finally. And why Zoe has an immaculate reason for saying the wrong things at the wrong time.

On a ship the berthing is a high traffic area of sailors whom are getting up for work. And sailors who are about to turn in for the night in their racks. Obviously it's a dick move to try and get anything I may have forgotten without letting some outside light getting into the berthing. So like normal people I tried to sneak into my own berthing. Get to my rack and acquire my nit bag of dirty cloths to wash.

In the meantime I'm trying to be quiet, causious and determined to get this all done within an hours time. So I open the door which creeks to the slightest motion of the door knob and hinges.

Then trying to just open and close quick enough the immediate shipmates nearest to the door don't hear me is strategic move. 

When I get to my rack and the locker which is right next to everyone else's rack I can't help but be a little loud because again the idea of using WD-40 wasn't on my list of thugs to do. Using an aerosol in a confind space isn't a smart move. For example an Aviaonic technician legitimately though Lysol was an aerosol for the air. Lysol isn't for those reasons dum-dum.

Anyway, no matter the sneaky or spy like ways I feel I've innately accuired from James Bond. Yaknow the sterio typical scenes were a spy song is heard when a spy is spying. I have these moments in my head. I literally hum "Mission Impossible" or "James Bond Theme" to myself when I'm being sneaky. Contrary to popular belief when I'm really trying. I think about those song just in my head. As if my whole mind is just engulfed in THAT song alone. 

This time around, in my one cargo pocket in my flight deck pants my cell phone was actually playing the "James Bond Theme." As I'm trying to spy for my own shit in my rack. 

These are my first world problems. But the real ones are when I'm trying to turn off the music from my iPhone and the damn touch screen won't respond!!!

My Fish Story

My life happens to be random and strategic awkward moments. Many of them just happen to be far and few between and many of them happen because I think I can relate with other people and I later find out two things. 

1. I told everyone something which further pushes the fact I'm a fucking freak. And...

2. I had NOTHING to actually relate with.

Point and case, though I swear Diddly can account for more. It was an early breakfast and I heard three co-workers talking about things they did as kids. I also heard a couple of things their own kids are up to. 

This is when I had the bright idea to tell everyone about when I went fishing with my Dad. I thought because I caught the fish I would be able to keep it as a pet. The equivalent of Sea World in my own back yard.

Well, my Dad was tired from the fishing trip and left the fish in the ice box. I decided to dig a hole in the ground. Then I got MY fish and put it in the little pond I created. Feeling satisfied with giving my fish a new home. I began to go play other games. A few moments later and I check on my new fish pet. Instead of a happy fish in a mini pond. I found a fish near to death and flopping around.

I panicked and began to think I had to sadly end his life. So, I went into the kitchen and grabbed the first knif I could find. Then I went to the fish and began to muster the courage to end it's life. A couple of stabs with the knife later and the fish was still alive, I took the fish inside the house to go get my Dads help.

Now imagine waking up to a six year old with a knife, a fish, and covered in blood. 

Now imagine being 26 years old and telling other grown ass men the same story and hoping they could relate. 

Another weird dream

A huge monster with arms tied by black ropes covered in blood. It's eyes were blood shot. Humanoid in form but no real distinction of form. It's hair was thin, course, long and black. Being able to only see half it's body because te rest of it was in a pool of blood. It was thin, sickly as if it was a malnourished individual. It's skin was translucent enought to see vains and major arteries. Most obscure and threatening we're the claw shaped hands with blood dripping from it's talon nails. Furthermore in it's mouth were two men whom looked as though they had been chewed upon for some time. The first was Brutus and the other was Judas Iscariot.

Behind me were monsters whom chased after me. Like a form of cancer with legs and arms they moved in anyway they could. They defied gravity, time and space. They're attracted to light and scream like a banshee when provoked. Worst yet, any progression to any form of a truth I found about myself I realized they too changed in shape in what scared me the most. They hunt me down in my dreams wanting more. More truth. 

When I met Bill Cosby

I am sure I may or may not of had mentioned this back in October when I met Lor's family. But on a particular stop between Virginia and Michigan we had a stopin LaGuardia, New York. This particular stop we had an hour to kill between flights so what dose Lor and I want to do? Smoke.

Which means we have to go through TSA. Never a fun experience because I always feel like I'm going to be the random search. "Random" being the operative word we'll use.

Anyway, after a quick cigarette break, Lor and I went back through TSA and while we're both in separate lines I turned to her and said, "Hunny, you're the bomb."

Lor's reaction was priceless as she turns into the random search. So after I walk through the metal ditector, I turn to find Lor and her curly red hair is being picked through by TSA.

After my TSA shenanigans, Lor and I began to walk back to the gate which would have taken us to Michigan. On our way we found Bill Cosby!

Like normal I did a double take and realized who it was. And to explain Bill Cosby is realizing first he looks like everyone else. Nothing too special, he wore normal travel cloths. And he didn't have an entourage with him. Not a body guard was near him.

So we walked up and decided to introduce ourselves to him. Best part for me was being able to relate with him because I too went to Corpman school. I mentioned to him how the school is moving to San Antonio, TX. And it's a base with Airforce, Army and Marine Corps. I'll assume he thought it was a cool fact. Provided he too use to be a corpsman. Made it to second class petty officer and then got out.

Now don't get me wrong but Bill Cosby is a cool mother fucker to meet at any time or place and I would (under normal circumstances) have been more apt to spending the optimum time I could with him. However, Bill Cosby is the kind of guy where once he starts talking, everyone has to listen. There's no stopping Bill Cosby because he has something to say and he'll say it. Meanwhile, normal people who just happen to run into him have places to go, especially when it's the airport. However Bill Cosby was done with his traveling and I was just in the middle of where I was trying to go. So, in the most cuthful way I could muster. I said to Bill Cosby it was great to meet you but I have to catch my flight. I shook his hand and left for my flight. 

Karma got my ass later with delaying my flight on the Tarmac for two hours and not launching at all. Then a couple of hours later Lor and I found a flight which was an honest whim to get us out of LaGuardia, New York. 

Irrational fears.

Does anyone remember when Al Roker said he shat himself in the White House and how imbatased he felt about the whole thing? Punctuated by the epiphany of realizing he was then a fat ass and decided to go on a diet for once. 

Probably the worst way to ever start a post. However their is some (no pun intended) weight behind the whole thing.

Everyone in elementary has an understanding to go to the potty when they have to go. Me, I felt an irrational fear to use the schools potty. The irrational fear started one day when I heard screaming and yelling coming out of the boys restroom. I recall for some reason now, a fear of a green alien monster which traveled through toilets and would kidnap little kids. To any rational child with an imagination like this would rather just hold it in till they got home. I kept myself on a rather good schedule of using the potty too till one day I really needed to use the restroom. But because of this fear in first grade I never went to the restroom till about fifth grade.

Another irrational fear was when my Uncle Dean told me alligators lived under the boat shed. Fair enough, for a young child it made sense. So every evening while Zack and our cousins would play tag. Or have fun out in the aker of land our grandparents owned. Uncle Dean would call us kids in because the sun was setting. Allegedly alligators roam the backyard only at night.

One night I told my uncle who just called us kids in for the night to go out and shoot an alligator. We he walks out to the yard with his hand gun and fires to the ground. I'm freaking out. It was the first time ever hearing a gun shot. And he told me he would make gator skin for me. I thought it would be cool to have something to hang on the wall. What kid could say, "I have alligator skin on my wall" in the third grade?

Years later, some common sense which wasn't common to me then set in. Alligators don't live in Washington state. Go figure, but at the time it was a normal irrational fear. 

Choice

Making life choices sucks! But it's what every adult has to do. We're pretty good at making the obvious choices. Like what to wear, making it to work on time. And even making the right judgement on friends. But what about those other choices. The ones we want to avoid.

The hardest choices is what to do when a chapter of life is about to close. About, being the operative word because it's not like it has to end. Sometimes we run into moments in our life where the chapter is just about to continue. I believe these are truly the hardest for normal people. It's the possibility of uncertainty from all angles of life. Will I provide for my family? Will I have a job? Will I succeed in my next job? Will I be fired or let go? These are all things which zephyr through the mind in milliseconds. Though it's easier to formulate the questions it's not as easy to answer them. Which probably sucks the most from the whole thing.

So, what is the answer? Do we continue on or let go and begin a new adventure?

I love....

I love the way her green eyes look at me and I can tell she's in love with me.

I love when her nose wrinkles up when she's being mischievous.

I love her curly red hair. 

I love it when we watch movies and she cries at the tear jerker moments. Just so I can wipe them away for her. 

I love when she sings at karaoke and takes everyone's breath away. 

I love her taste in art, music, culture and sense of adventure.

I love it when she relies on me to be her strength. 

I love her infectious laugh. 

I love her soft hand thoching mine at any time of the day. 

I love her choice in pets! 

I love her patience with me. I know I can be stubbern.

I love supporting her dreams. 

I love how she keeps me warm and I'm the chill one in bed.

I love Lauren.