Secrets

I came across an interesting blog site the other day in my "blogging" travels. Apparently, this little "gem" of a blog site had somehow stayed quietly beneath my radar, ergo had remained completely undiscovered until recently.

The name of the blog is called PostSecret. I am not going to get into the details of the blog itself and will allow you the freedom to discover the many nuances and reasons behind the success of this award winning and often eye-opening Blog.

The subject of this particular diatribe scratches the surface of the PostSecret blog - secrets. C'mon, you know you've got a few secrets slinking, lurking and mulling around back there somewhere in the dark, moist, dank recesses of your memories! You'll find them usually locked solid and shut tight beneath some very well guarded and fortified doors. I am not in the habit of looking for secrets. I am far too trusting I guess. The eternal optimist within me would like to come to rely upon everything that is right and good about a person or acquaintance and not have to delve stealthfully into the art of deception and the realm of misconception in order to unearth a hidden or undisclosed fact of the person or persons in my midst.

The thing about secrets is that they are very much akin to lies. How is this so? A logical argument would state that a kept secret, denied repetitively is the deliberate proliferation of an act that further leads the person or party into a downward spiral of pain, contempt and further secrets. The act of keeping a secret works itself against the party - increasing and producing more and more secrets, lies and alibis. These additional burdens begin to tax the system and begin to produce toxins like a virus or bacteria, thus spreading infection and making the host feel sick or unwell. It is a vicious circle where lies beget more lies, and eventually the host becomes withdrawn, emotionally detached or in worse cases becomes lost altogether.

There is a sad statistical fact that some people never survive the burden of a secret that was allowed to hide, fester, infect and eventually disease the host to a point where death was a welcome alternative. Truth is a remedy, yes. But it seems that the truth itself can cause just as much pain and sometimes even more when revealed to an unsuspecting party. (Hello?!?!? Anyone out there seen seen that little unknown film called "Brokeback Mountian?")

Everything could seem to be going along so well and then "boom" the world as you know it goes to "hell-in-a-handbasket" in one swift verbal flow of secret information! It could happen to you - anytime and anywhere - for instance...

Maybe it was a spouse or loved one who admitted that he was cheating on you with your best friend...

Perhaps it was a friend who admitted to stealing a piece of jewelry or money from you car ashtray to pay for drugs...

It even could have been the neighbor next door who admitted that they were the person molesting your child...

The world is not a very nice place sometimes. And some problems are difficult to deal with at the moment so they are whisked away to another place in an attempt to forget about them altogether. The mind and spirit of the average human is resilient, but there is no armor coating around it that will provide any protection from those who willfully or even unwillingly hurt us. Damage is damage is damage - once the spirit has been dinged, scratched or dented, there is little you can do to repair it. The body learns to cope, but the mind never forgets...

Secrets, it can be concluded, are a poison to all of us who function in normal society. From the "closet alcoholic" to the anonymous child molester, the secrets kept that we believe could never ever hurt anyone are doing just that. Secrets are the acids that break down the lines of communication and the mortar and brick that goes into making further barriers. They have the power to destroy but also bring a power to build - both in the positive and negative sense.

We have ALL had to live with some sort of secret in our past and there are none that walk this planet that have not been affected or will be affected by a secret. Secrets are sometimes silly and lighthearted; some secrets brew and steep and seem to enrich themselves over time until they can be held no longer; some secrets reveal a longing or hidden side of us that has stayed silent for a long time; some secrets are startling or surprising; some other secrets are dark, foreboding and unrelenting.

On a lighter note, there is such an animal that is known as a "good secret" and its called a "welcome surprise" They take the form of anonymous acts of kindness, spontaneous bursts of goodwill and torrents of outward affection. Frankly, it's the shocking and silly secrets that seem to tickle me the right way. The world is such a rotten place sometimes that a little levity can ease the burden of having to deal with some very real and often heavy atrocities.

So, what is my secret?

Well, I'll tell you - I don't like wearing underwear - and often, I don't!

(My apologies to my mother, Hanes, Fruit of the Loom, Jockey and the casual reader who happened upon this blog and somehow just got a mental picture of this deed!)

(Originally published 31 March 2006 on the blog "The Curbside Philosopher")

The Pride of Lions

She calls me her "Lion"...

And she is my "Lioness" of course! Why is that? Because we are both products of divine, loyal and regal Leo design. Together in our quest since September 2004 and married just this past New Years Day, the transitional runway toward "coupledom" has had its fair share of bumps, adjustments and filled-over potholes! Adding to the overall excitement of this fledgling marriage was the ominous and lurking fact that in a mere 2 months after saying "I do" that I would soon be saying "Oorah" as the lead medical liaison fora group of Marines here in Djibouti, Horn of Africa.

Mind you, this is supposed to be our "honeymoon"...

Allow me to furnish some details here and not leave you completely in the "dark" - Our wedding was one that dreams are made of - a yacht on New Years day going through Newport Harbor - friends and family in attendance, they watched us both take that "plunge" into married existence with open eyes, minds and hearts! The wet day turned into a wet night as well and we ended up partying at the "House of Soleimani" with many of the wedding party and guests still in attendance well into the wee-hours of the morning before retiring to our private little "den" at the Marriott Hotel - 15th floor - just she and I...

Our "honeymoon" was brief albeit, but a very nice one. Several days of rest and relaxation in Santa Barbara right on the beach - a beautiful view of the ocean and just relaxing the entire time - taking in the many sights, sounds, smells and flavors of the moments that followed over those 4 days. On the final day we drove to Solvang and indulged in one of our more favorite pastimes: wine sampling. Two bottles purchased, we headed home and back to me getting ready to leave and report to Camp Pendleton.

We are fast approaching our second month anniversary and the days are beginning to pick-up speed in their coming and going and I am not complaining in the least.

So, how did a dyed-in-the-wool military guy like me get to know an Assyrian/Armenian gal from Encino? Sheer luck if you must know! Some would call it fate. Others would call it Karma. I prefer luck. Why? Because being with her makes me thankful to have been so lucky to add her to my life!

I will try to keep this brief because I could go on and on and on about our courtship and how I feel about her. Really, there is no need to expound the many highs and details of our courtship - to do so would make me sound arrogant, boastful and almostloathsomee! Yes, even a Lions pride must be grounded from time to time and allowed to settle within the realm of "normalcy." The sun will rise and a sunset will follow accordingly. All you really need to know is exactly what she has known all along - I love her and I am a far better Lion for having found this Lioness roaming the savannahs of this jungle-like mystery we call "life"!

From halfway around the world - another day, on another continent and in another timezone - with all my heart and love; please, allow me this momentary loss of military bearing and a slip into the other side of giddiness just to say...

Happy Anniversary, babe!











Cheers!

Originally published 30 March 2006 on the blog "Totum dependeat (Let it all hang out!)"

Worry

Lately, I have found myself troubled and worried about a great many things. Most of these things are mainly out of my immediate control, but still things that I have been worrying about none the less. I personally don't like to worry, but it seems to be something I find harder and harder to avoid as the bar of responsibility and accountability inches further up the "pressure meter." I have been complemented on my youthful look and the fact that my face and body do not show the age of a 40 year old man - I have been flatteringly described as someone in his early 30's and when asked about my secret to looking and feeling young I usually tell the questioning party that I've lead a fairly stress-free life up to this point - which is not entirely far from the truth!

I used to think that worry was just a waste of energy and that nothing fruitful ever came out of a night of staying up and reasoning things out. Anxiety has never really gotten the better of me or left me with an inability to sleep because of the pressure added to the decision at hand, but lately there have been things that have been put into motion that have my spirit thinking that maybe an ounce of worry is worth it and that conscious thought will render a proper outcome!

Since coming back to the Armed Services, I have never been pressured to do much of anything other than to provide support for my children and provide guidance for the soldiers and sailors in my respective sections. When I felt pressured to sit down and discuss tactics or my line of reason was categorically questioned, the pang of the ego being pricked along with my tyrannical disdain for criticism usually had the other parties headed for the hills. In many instances, the "Rex" was more "wrecks" and there were disasters that were seen through to fruition by narrow vision or poor planning. Thinking that an answer will just mystically present itself is not always the best way to do things - waiting for things to happen will only find you further behind as each day passes. As you can see, failure to act is a recipe for disaster almost every single time - the watch and wait theory rarely renders positive or desired results.

Having been a personal onsite witness to the many "train wrecks" and "disaster areas" left in my wake, I have come to find that over time I have found my once impulsive leap of faith (Pounce of Pride) has been replaced by an almost cautionary step like a cat pawing for footing upon an early winter ice sheet.

I have found a way to learn how to worry...

Since meeting my wife almost 2 years ago, I have found out that worry is something I have always kept right there by my side, but boastful Leo ego kept it solidly "in check." I know what I am and what I am not. But, there are times when I am around my wife that I begin to question whether or not I am who I think I am. It isn't so much a lack of confidence because she gives me so much - she is my number one fan! She has grounded me and that is not a bad thing. Having dreams is not a crime - allowing your dreams to lead you through life is not a crime - keeping your head in the clouds and missing the dreams altogether? That is the crime! And she pushes me to strive and reach after those dreams because if they are important to me, they are important to her.

Worry has been walking right here beside me all along. Call it an "evolution of the species" because I am beginning to live more for "us" and not just "me." It has not been an easy transition - and my wife will tell you that I have not been the most accommodating of students at times - bucking and fighting the process thinking that the plan was doomed to failure or that my cursed past would come back to haunt us both.

She is still there - and we are still together....

There is something about my wife that inspires me to want to be a better man. She lives and gives much like I used to give, and she has gotten me to lower my battle hardened banners, cast-off the armor and arbitrate in a more civilized and mannered tone. Respect, honesty and loyalty are the true colors of her standards. I have seen them raised upon my fields more than once, and have given into them without so much as a whimper of protest. Her argument is a fresh breath of logical sense in an almost chaotic world that is my own. I've recoiled on several occasions having been bitten by the bitter sting of failure and the loss of love. I have been reminded that once again, failure is a definite possibility and that my poor ego would rather avoid the pain rather than face it again!

Worry has been nipping at my heels the entire time we have been together. I have had my chances to "bolt" and have done things to hurt her unintentionally only to find that the pain I caused, hurt me just as much - if not more so! Clarity has been achieved and there is a voice within my heart that keeps telling me that I'd be labeled the fool of all fools to allow her to enter my life and realm and simply fade away like the early morning fog in Autumn. There has been a marriage. There have been evenings of wine and candles. There have been nights of burning passion and romantic heights scaled and seen that even I thought could ever be achieved!

I am learning to embrace the lesson of worrying only because the teacher is "smoking hot" and the plain and simple fact that I would do most anything for her happiness. This is a life lesson and responsibility that I am happy to face because I know that she is my "better half" and that I will not have to face the decisions or the worry "alone"

And that at least makes the burden of having to worry a little less heavy and our future life together just that much easier...

(Originally published on 29 March 2006 the blog "The Curbside Philosopher")

Rapelling Into The Past

27 March 2006, Camp Lemonier, Horn of Africa

It's how funny fate can twist and weave itself into a ball only to be tossed back into the empty and darkened recesses of our forever-long memories. There are instances of sheer nirvana - where being and nothingness collide like star-crossed lovers gazing from opposite sides of a busy avenue, wanting and longing for a chance to meet.

Such is the animal called "coincidence" - I had to come half-way around the Earth to come back into contact with several "brothers-in-arms" whom I've not heard from in awhile. Sheer coincidence or planned fate? I could not even begin to fathom the length, width and height of that philosophical mountain - to do so would be an act of sheer and blinding masochism! The pain of the climb would be delightful, but the heights would be too great to even bear! Rapelling into the past? Now that is something quite different altogether...

There is something special about finding solace in the recesses of our past memories. They are welcomed spirits and shadows from days long gone that still have a firm grasp upon the pulse and glow of our character and being. There are moments of great strength and powerful weakness - times of compassion and moments of despair. There are many moments etched into the granite exterior that has become "me" - I look back from time to time and catch a glimpse of ghost-like memories and frozen moments stuck within an "Ice Age" that has been growing within my being. The many behemoths stuck frozen in time - eyes shining, but coats dull and solid frozen - they are moments where sense took a back seat and impulse forged onward in some strange egomanical, Quixote-esque charge into eternity and glory!

Anyhow, waxing upon the poetic would do the memories no justice what so ever! So, I guess I'll skip the long, wind-aided diatribe and get right to the matter at hand - a meeting with friends past!

I had chance to stumble upon an article which discussed the growing popularity of "blogging" in a News Max magazine from June 2005, and much to my wondering eyes, what do I see? I see a familiar person smiling back at me. The caption below the photo reading, "Sean Dustman, Marine Corps medic..."kind of thrust that little dagger of fate a we bit further into my brain!

I located his online blog, dropped him an email, and just like that - 10 years of non-contact eradicated in an electronic nanosecond! God bless the electronic age!

To discuss Sean is something altogether different - for he is such a genuine character! This is the very same "kid" who enticed this "old man" to try rappelling for the first time off the top of the 6 story Marine Corps barracks building in Iwakuni, Japan...

The very same Sean that got me to try Rollerhockey and later "extreme rollerblading" down some very steep and winding hills on the Kadena Air Force Base...

Some of our infamous moments frozen within the sepia-toned photo album of my minds-eye include:

The Viking Club in Guam and the "open-air" accommodations the Air Force afforded us for the evening with the "Condemned" signs still attached to the bulkheads...

The first day in Iwakuni - out seeing the town while everyone else slept...

The days we'd knock-off work in Darwin at 1430, be at the pool by 1500 and at the first open bar with a frosty Victoria Bitter by 1700!...

The "Jumping Croc" tour and the infamous Caribou flight over Three Falls in Kakadu National Park where I puked on the plane ride about 10 times!...

The Beach volleyball tornament in Darwin and how the Aussies hated that the "yanks" had won the trophy...

"Danger - Saltwater Crocodiles - Swim At Your Own Risk"

The time we walked to work from the barracks in a thundering downpour and laughed the entire time...

Our first "typhoon party" and the hangover afterward...(ugh!)

The many weekends spent ordering pizza and watching, "So, I Married An Axe Murderer" with Gunny Singer until we knew every word of that blasated movie despite the large amounts of beer ingested...

The infamous Island Snorkeling/Diving trips with the MWR bus...

The day the Marines "took the beach" and raised hell at the beach club in Okinawa - cutting loose the pontoon platform and using it for a personal "surfboard" for 10 Marines - finally getting kicked-out of the club for having a stolen salt-shaker!

That summer of 1994 spent with the likes of Chief Delizo, Doc Tarantino and the fine Marines of VMFA-242 was our "Endless Summer" brother! It was a summer of great heights, and one that I have never forgotten.

Your son Colin is 12 (I think) and his pictures are unfamiliar to me. The last time I saw the little "bug-a-boo" as you called him, was 11 years ago! I don't remember ever saying good-bye to you on the day I decided to leave the Navy and move on to civilian pursuits back in November of 1995. I remember Senior Chief Rhine and HM1 Hernandez trying to convince me that the military was my "calling" and against my better judgment, without a job lined-up and in the throes of a fledgling marriage, I spurned military life and a life less ordinary for the grueling "rat race" that is everyday existence.

4 years later, I realized that someone had moved my cheese.

Looking back a few years ago, I might have thought that it was a mistake to get away from my first mistress - The Navy - for she had always been good to me. She kept me focused on the six-inches in front of my face. She was always a warm, happy, and healthy mate to have around. My pockets were hardly worse for the wear. My stomach was never empty. I could come and go from post as I pleased and the distractions around the bases were often good ones such as taking college classes, seeing a movie around town, eating out, or taking in a sporting event with the crew! Her intuition was that of a long-time lover. She knew when to stroke my ego, when to correct a course of non-action and was always armed with the keen sense of knowing when to add the spice of travel and budding adventure!

I remember Sean mentioning that he too had gotten a bit side-tracked with his career in the services - admitting to having a three year break in service - pretty similar to mine. We may be two very different people, but we both share a common instance and space in the voluminous archives known as "time."

Well bro, it looks like we are back on the same track again - me, here in Djibouti and you soon to be out and about at the Airbase at Al-Asad and the wide-open "beaches" of Iraq! I wish you safe passage, God-speed and smooth sailing all the days of your short excursion. When you get back to San Diego, we'll have to play "catch-up" while watching "So, I Married An Axe Murderer" with a vegetarian pizza and a cold "VB"

Cheers, mate and good-on-ya!

Originally published 27 March 2006 on the blog "Totum dependeat (Let it all hang out!)"

Advice For Humanity

Advice, like drugs, alcohol and children, should be dispensed responsibly and taken in moderation. I often find myself deluded with an overabundance of advice ranging from the sane to the insane and downright preposterous. I can sit and waste time trying to come up with a logical explanation for the illogical thoughts of my advisors, but I will just say in their defense that everyone is different and opposing points or methods of thought process are about as random and abundant as the many stars within the night time sky.

When you were young, your system of values and attitudes were shaped and influenced by your friends, family and acquaintances. Your putty-like mind and consciousness were molded and shaped by the many, many instances of trial and error performed time and time again by your often-wandering-but-never-too-far-from-the-mark mind! By any reasonable standard, it should be easy for ANYONE to learn right from wrong, correct? Enhance and define good behavior with reward, praise and self-esteem building - inhibit bad behavior with reduced privilege, scolding and ego-busting. If this were indeed the process, we would live in an elegant, thriving Utopian society where peace, prosperity and freedom are an everyday right. There would be no crime. There would be no want. There would be no wrong doing. Lovely dream...

Human nature is fickle at best. Scientists have been studying the human mind in all of its complex glory for sometime now and have devised and revised theory after theory. Whether it is nature or nurture, human behavior cannot be pinned down by one simple waypoint or defined by any one event - the mind, psyche and the behavior that comes from with us all is a diverse mix of many events over a course of a lifetime which makes us all truly individual and unique. Free will and choice, like lightning and earthquakes, cannot always be predicted.

I have given advice to many people - in some instances, the best advice was no advice at all. Arriving at a conclusion is far fetched - sort of like reaching into one side of a burlap bag and searching that side for one particular potato amongst the many within the sack. Coming up with the an answer that will provide insight and meaning is more chance than fact. Because of the differences in our make-up, our systems of delivery and dispensing of advice has been molded by our values and attitudes. If there is a problem to be solved and you assign 10 people to remedy it, you may get the same results and the same answers from 8 of them, but the divination used to arrive at the conclusion will be different for every single one of them. Think about it for a second. Realize that the logic used to figure out a problem is a random one - every situation is different and not everyone will react the same way each time. There are variables to instances which are as variable as the thoughts within our minds. The conclusions can be derived in a similar fashion, but everyone arrives by taking a very different pathway.

To further compound the issue, you must look at the differences between the male and female thought processes. Oh! Now there's the "Mount Everest" of all topics, there! I am just going to touch the tip of the iceberg and say that science has proven that the differences between men and women are not only in our physical make-up, but there are differences in our neuro-chemical stimulus pathways, chromosomal differences and the physical differences in our very brains. Men and womens thought process can be best compared to two rivers which run into the very same sea that is humanity; they both have twists, turns and rapids to shoot, but they both empty into the same ocean...eventually!

Advice, it can be concluded, is as random as the wind and as abundant as the grains of sand on the beaches of the Earth. You can ask the same question to hundreds of people and get different answers every time. The fact that we are as diverse as we seem to be, makes the planet a little more larger in the realm of individuality. I will be the first person to states for the record that I have always embraced the diversity of this planet - both for its good and bad and regardless of the circumstances. There is something more that is unseen that binds us all - each and everyone of us. It's a mish-mash of the many forces in nature, and a trail mix of emotions, behaviors and instincts. It is something more than mere hope and it is larger than both faith and love put together. It spans the Earth from shore to shore and permeates the existences of everyone on the planet - what is this force you may ask? The answer I have come to embrace is the one that makes us all united in our race for existence - It is called "being human"

My advice is to embrace it - live it - learn from it - love it! Then humanity will truly endure...

(Originally published 27 March 2006 on the blog "The Curbside Philosopher")

What Would Socrates Do? (WWSD?)

Socrates was misunderstood - a man who was fallen by the jealousy of others who failed to see the virtues of his teachings and saw them as corrupt political misconduct.

There are many arguments one can sustain about morality, culture, virtue and ethics in our modern day society. Edie Brickell and The New Bohemians even boasted that "philosophy is the talk on a cereal box" which leaves to question if that reference is more about the ingredients that went into making of the cereal or is the cereal a product born more out of our demand rather than our necessity?

I am more akin to think that cereal is all good, but there are far too many unknown ingredients that go into its making therefore making the cereal more of a gamble and risk than a known.

Socrates could argue that cereal is a necessary part of a balanced breakfast. The ingredients that go into its making are grown by people with skill and the sale of the product helps to produce economy and diversity for the society on the whole. The weight of the cereal is many fold - it produced from grown products, sold in market and served in households everywhere.

Philosophy is no more an art than cereal is part of a balanced and wholesome breakfast. To be quite honest, I avoid cereal altogether! Have you seen some of the chemicals they put in that stuff?

Anyhow, philosophy can be tedious and downright intimidating when looked at from an old-school point of view. To bring things up to speed, modern day philosophy is more akin to opinion than anything else and leaves little to be desired. I guess the electronic age has dulled the senses enough to where "free thinking" and the ability to think freely has been retarded by our "I'll-have-it now-and-if-I-can't-I'll-get-a-replacement-for-half-price" society.

If faced with the same pangs of need and greed that society impels upon us with wanting to look better, feel better and do better, what would Socrates do?

He'd probably ingest even MORE hemlock...

(Originally published 25 March 2006 on the blog "The Curbside Pilosopher")

Nobody Likes A Hypocrite

I am always "tickled pink" when I hear someone spout off, ”The war in Iraq is all about oil!”

I'm the first to shoot back, “So what if it is?” Do you really care what the war is all about? Do you really want to know? Or are you on the political idealist bandwagon showing how cool it is to have an opinion and be a self-righteous, neer-do-well, hip-to-be-peaceful dissenter?"

There are two sides to everything - a Yin and a Yang - a dark and light - the buttered side and the side that fell into the dirt! When it comes right down to it, you're going to have to take a good hard look at yourself and realize that you are a product of the two sides, and that your opinion, although logical in some respect, may have no basis what so ever in the line of popular argument. As you have probably come to realize, there are some people out there that will NEVER get what you are trying to say.

My rebuttal to all of the peace loving folks out in the United States who critique mercilessly and raise the bar of dissent a little more each day is this: you offer nothing to the solution and are more a part of the problem than you believe yourself to be!

When you walk away from your $60,000 a year job and begin to volunteer your time...

When you donate that $30,000 sports car and walk or ride a bike EVERYDAY to that volunteer assignment...

When you give-up your $350,000 house or recycle it altogether...

When your reliance upon petroleum products is reduced to nothing, you live in a tee-pee, hunt and gather your food, make your own clothes and barter or trade services and deeds for products, then (and only then) can you label society on the whole.

So, if you want to label someone as a fascist; a tyrant; a dictator; a right-wing nut-job or a liberal douche-bag take a good, hard, long look in the mirror and see the plain truth before your eyes. Do not judge unless you are ready to be judged yourself.

It's just plain fact...NOBODY likes a hypocrite! Except the press! Hypocrites make for great media and newspaper stories.

Have you taken a look in the mirror lately? What did you see?

(Is that a network news crew out in the driveway?...)

(Originally published 25 march 2006 on the blog "The Curbside Philosopher")

If It's Monday, It Must Be 80's New Wave Remix Day

20 March 2006, Camp Lemonier, Djibouti - Horn of Africa

I had no trouble finding my rack last night...(snore!)

Yesterday had been another, in a string of many long days spent changing the bandages of the Marines that had received their smallpox immunizations a few short weeks ago and asking them to clean up their messes in and around the tents.

The routine; the common and the mundane - It seems to be the same thing day in and day out around here - out on the Horn of Africa...

Most everyday you will find me in one of several places - the Aid Station; the Emergency Medical facility; the MWR tent; the Exchange; the Base Gymnasium or back in my "9x9 cell" which is the very space I will call "home" for the next few months.

You can set your watch by me! Once the usual morning routines have been completed...

Shower...check.

Shave...check.

Get dressed...check.

Get chow...check.

A short jaunt to the gates of the security compound and into the Aid Station - there is where you'll find me firmly planted in my favorite chair by 0700, logging-in to the computer in order to fetch my emails, compose a few quick and snappy answers (along with the usual love letter or two) and settle into the sidetracks of walking to and from the restroom, getting water to drink and telling the Marines keep their areas clean - especially after meals! The paternal instinct embedded within me wants to immediately right the wrong (that and a touch of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder might be the real answer!) In a place such as this, cleanliness is next to Godliness and besides, you can never be too careful with security! One of the thousand hungry crows looking for a "beak-up" in the compound may be a recent Al-Qaeda convert and spy.

After all, crows are crafty birds...

Oh! Please allow me this moment to digress a bit and shift away from the skillful guile of my feathered friends and gear toward another recurring problem here in the campsite - getting to sleep!

With 15 other tent mates working all hours of the day having to live in the very same residential and spartan living quarters, the interruptions due to obscenely loud movement, stumblings, bumbings, fumblings, lights being turned on and general loud stupidity are many. I dare not sleep with headphones on because if a fire broke out in the tent, I'd be a "crispy critter" still asleep in his rack, but trapped in an eternal sleep with headphones still solidly in place! (What a picture that would make, eh?)

Somehow last night I finally managed to get to sleep! Only to wake up to another cloudy, warm, humid, mundane and almost sure-to-be boring Monday morning.

Thinking to myself that this was going to be just another ordinary, manic and slow Monday, I decided to shake-up the routine and add a little nostalgia into the recipe. Old habits die hard (or so they say - cough! cough!), so I took a page from the old "Break-the-Boredom-Routine-at-Work" playbook and decided to hook-up my computer along with all of the music I have stored neatly away on my external hard drive and get into some music in order to better choreograph the next 24 hours of my shift.

If it's Monday, it must be "80's New Wave Remix Day"!

Tuesday is all 70's Music...

Wednesday, mostly classics and opera...

Thursday is for Jazz & Blues and Friday is reserved for whatever I happen to be in the mood for!

Monday! Monday! Monday! A day filled with the likes of Ah-Ha, The Stray Cats, A Flock of Seagulls, Duran Duran, Pet Shop Boys, Depeche Mode, Madness and many, many, many others.

Monday! A day spent embraced by the sweet and often silly memories of my reckless High School adventures - their pathways laid clearly before me as each of the songs seem to have a particularly special place in my life - the very "fingers and tendrills" of the chords and melodies are wrapped firmly in nostalgia and around my coursing veins which are in tune with the steady and rhythmic pumping of that flesh covered metronome within me that continues to pump ever onward!

For today, I have approximately 12 hours worth of 80's music to enjoy...

As of right now - at this very moment - my day is filled with music and my mind faintly occupied in diligently trying to complete this muddled and befuddled BLOG entry. The Smith's "How Soon Is Now" is playing in the background and I am left to wonder and contemplate the insanity of that question as the white-hot sun begins its slow and simmering climb toward the "meridian hour" and the many babbling voices in the background begin to fade...

I escape into the safety and memory of song...It sure beats being hot, sweaty and bored all day long!

Originally published 20 March 2006 on the blog "Totum dependeat (Let it all hang out!)"

Sunday Steak and Lobster

19 March 2006, Camp Lemonier, Djibouti - Horn of Africa

Sunday morning started out with a rush of air into my lungs and a burst of adrenaline knowing full well that I had over slept. Looking at a clock that read, "6:55" (not remembering it runs 10 minutes fast) and realizing that I had to be at work by 7:00, I jumped out of the bed and into my uniform in such a short time that even a Broadway costume handler would have been proud.

It's probably the fastest I've moved since arriving here at the Horn of Africa. Come to think of it, not much of anything moves particularly fast here except the rise in the thermometer mercury come noon time.

Okay, so you're probably wondering why I would have to be at work at 7:00 on a day when the base runs on a half-day schedule and usually does not begin to function until well after 1 PM? Well, such is the pitfall of my position and the position of my fellow Marines. When entrusted with the job we have been tasked with, like Las Vegas and rust, we never sleep.

I made it to work on time, by the way...

With a definite lag in the amount of bodies being seen for sick call, the abundance of my day was spent reading, studying and catching up with my web email. Nothing of consequence other than a few choice emails from my wife, parents, and friends.

A particularly interesting email excerpt was forwarded to me from one of my Naval Reserve colleagues, who cut and pasted an part of a web posting from one of my "juniors" who was called to active duty and sent into the "jaws of the beast" in Iraq with 1st MARDIV. The email itself was rather scary in one respect and perfectly normal in another. I remember telling him all about Iraq when he was "gun-ho to-go" not more than 8 months ago - showing him the pictures I had - trying to explain what facing death meant. From the look of his writing, I'd say he now knows EXACTLY what I was talking about...

Sunday night here at the encampment and that means Steak and Lobster. No, seriously - steak and lobster, folks! Real Dreyers ice cream. Chow hall open 24/7. Gym open 24/7. First-run movies at the Morale, Welfare and Recreation tent, telephone access, Internet access, laundry services - all that and loaded weapons that really work!

I got to hand it to KBR and the DOD - this is probably the best food, services and facilities I've ever had access to or experienced in a so-called "Maximum Security" facility...

Originally published 19 March 2006 on the blog "Totum dependeat (Let it all hang out!)"

Like Herpes, Malaria Is Also "Forever"

16 March 2006, Camp Lemonier, Djibouti – Horn of Africa

Contemplating the many “forever’s” in my life seems to be an everyday occurrence here in Djibouti. This is not your normal “port of call” by any means unless your port is full of raw sewage, rusting or sunken ships and an original look and smell all of its own that stings senses like a slap to the face with acetone-laden 80 grit sandpaper!

This is the Horn of Africa, baby!…

It seems to me that everyday is a carbon copy of the next. The only exception to the rule is the change in the weather; movie at the base theater and the chow in the mess hall – other than that, the song remains the same.

A break from the mundane routine often leads to raised eyebrows and a flurry of suspicious and cautious looks from the Marines. With tails tucked and ears pinned to their heads like a pack of confused coyotes, they tend to avoid a smiling Corpsman because they have an ingrained response to happy “docs” – a smiling Doc is one that is probably all too happy to be “bearing gifts” to spread amongst them either in the form of an immunization or medication – either way, it spells certain pain and doom for the ever wary Marines and an unexpected gift for the always sadistic Corpsman.

Today was one of those “out of the ordinary” days – today was “Malaria Pill” day!

I know. I know. What you are thinking about now is that anyone sick enough to come to this country would have the basic human common sense to take a pill that would potentially prevent or deter the occupant from receiving a very life-changing disease. Much like Herpes, Malaria is also a “forever” disease. Once inside of you, it never really goes away. Thus making you even more susceptible to catching it or any other Anopheles vector disease such as West Nile virus.

Having dealt with Marines for a number of years, I have come to find that in order to discourage suspicious behavior you must entice the Marines in some way, shape or form by either appealing to their curiosity or politely and insistently tapping upon their often sick and slightly askew view of the world and things in general. Climbing upon the pulpit and performing a stirring and rousing “wrath of God” like sermon of the dangers of not taking a pill or getting an injection would be just as fruitful as trying to teach Quantum Theory to yard slugs! It just doesn’t make any sense.

No, you have to be a little bit more creative, demented and devious to seduce a candidate willingly.

Since the appeal here is “sick and twisted” that is just how you have to merchandise the product! In this case, Mefloquine or Lariam; our “drug of choice” for Malaria chemoprophylaxsis (a big word for medically induced prevention) during our brief stay here in the Horn of Africa.

Having read the drug information sheet, I had noticed that the “side-effects” of the drug were many: Dizziness, headache, sleep disorders, nightmares, nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, seizures, abnormal coordination, confusion, hallucinations, forgetfulness, emotional problems including anxiety, aggression, agitation, depression, mood changes, panic attacks, psychotic or paranoid reactions, restlessness, and suicidal ideation.

But, two of the symptoms stand-out “head-and-shoulder” above all the others; those two symptoms would become the cornerstones of my marketing strategy and morph into the main “selling” points I would use when pandering the drug off on the hapless Marines. A sample conversation would often sound like this:

“Hey Doc, what is this crap?”

“It’s Mefloquine; it will help prevent you from getting Malaria when we get into Africa”

“Cool – does it work on snake bites also?”

“No. Just mosquito bites”

“So, what will happen if I don’t take it?”

“You’ll be at an increased risk of getting Malaria. Lot’s of mosquito’s over in Africa and plenty of crazy diseases”

“What are the side effects?”

“Hallucinations and nightmares”

“Cool!…Can I have two of them?”

“Not today – maybe when you’re feeling better you can have a couple.”

“Thanks, Doc!”

The sell is an easy one – appeal to the “sick and twisted” and you’ll get a guaranteed purchase every time! I guess having been with the FMF for 8 of my 10 years in the Navy, knowing how and when to make the sell sort of makes me a bit sick and twisted as well.

Guilty as charged (and happily so!).

Originally published 16 March 2006 on the blog "Totum dependeat (Let it all hang out!)"

"Veni, Vidi, Dormivi" (I came, I saw, I slept)

12 March 2006 @ 0301, Camp Lemonier, Djibouti - Horn of Africa

A full bladder has found me and jarred me from a solid sleep inside my stuffy medical tent within the QRF compound. I make the walk outside and into the partly cloudy muggy morning in search of an outlet in which to relieve this ever stretching irritation.

It's the same walk - a mere 50 feet from the tent to the trailer that houses the toilet facility. A walk I have made an average of 10 times a day while I have been here in this moonscape of a land.

Over the small rocks - up the stairs - past the weapons bench - past the ever present snapping of the "bug zapper" to the ill-smelling and refrigerator-like trailer that houses instant relief for my overflowing bladder.

I see my many Marines there - all day and at any time - the conversations are pretty much all the same...

"How you doing today, Doc?"

Which usually leads to some banter about the current happenings and often ends with, "Hey, I've got this bump here on my neck" or "I keep coughing up phlegm from a cold that has not gone away in about 2 weeks" or "My smallpox bandage needs to be changed - when can I come and get it looked at?" My advice is often dispensed like a 24 hour pharmacy, in clear and precise tones with a minimum of inflection, but usually with enough enthusiasm to let the Marines know that even after 4 straight days of being locked-up here in the Quick Reaction Force (QRF) compound that the "Doc" has still managed to keep his humor, maintain his spirits and remain "at the ready" for their constant questions and maladies.

Nobody likes a complacent Corpsman...

My hands washed and another conversation ended, I walk back out into the suffocating humidity of an early Sunday morning. How was I to know that a filth ridden and foul smelling refrigerator-like trailer would become a social gathering spot in the middle of this poverty-filled lunar landscape? The toilet facility has become our morning water cooler much like the local fire hydrant is for urban canines.

The waxing half moon peeks through a shroud of clouds like a curious toddler enraptured with precious new curtains. There is a scattering of a few faint stars which glint in the velvet of the early morning sky. The only sounds I can differentiate at this time from a still foggy mind is the ever present drone of the compound air conditioning units, the sound of my feet moving over the small rocks in the area and the snap, snap, snap of the many insects committing ritual seppuku against the violet backdrop of the always busy bug zapper.

Morning has begun yet again...

Originally published 12 March 2006 on the blog "Totum dependeat (Let it all hang out!)"

Morning In Djibouti

Sunrise over the encampment, March 2006

11 March 2006, Camp Lemonier, Djibouti - Horn of Africa

I have awakened after 5 hours of uneasy sleep to the sound of leaves falling upon the tent, the familiar cawing of the local crows, a full bladder and the strange whine of a struggling mosquito trying to get in one last "meal" before the sun rises above this vast lunar landscape of a country...

Good morning, Djibouti...

It has been another night of nothingness, which suits me just fine. I have found 5 hours of uninterrupted sleep to be most appealing to me and my body - the short period of recovery is just enough to keep me and my brain going the rest of the day.

It is strange how the body remembers and how it can fall back into a cycle of "work/rest" - very much the same way it did in Iraq where many of my waking hours were spent teaching and roaming the vast world of the internet while spreading my ongoing diatribes and gospels accordingly.

The clouds block the moon this early morning, and a warm breeze is blowing through the camp from the Northeast. There is still a faint stench of burnt trash residue wafting from the trash dump just outside the perimeter, which is an all too common smell in this part of the world. It seems to go hand-in-hand with all the trash, broken equipment and abject poverty within the borders of this tiny country.I am hopeful though - hopeful that this second Saturday spent in Djibouti will be a quiet and uneventful one. Granted it will be far from cool. The heat and humidity have managed to increase over the last few days which resulted in our first “black flag” days - an ominous sign that the encroaching summer months will be very uncomfortable ones.

The camp is beginning to stir to life as the pulse of the camp begins to quicken on this early desert morning. The minions wake to the very same partly cloudy sky that I have described in my previous paragraphs and like hapless zombies stuffed into air conditioned coffins, they too raise and stumble into this morning to shuttle themselves off to various work spots on the camp or trot off to an early morning breakfast gleefully served to the famished crowds by pleasant and smiling food workers.

Scary sometimes because it makes you often wonder why the food workers are always smiling...

Do they know something that we don't?

Originally published 11 March 2006 on the blog "Totum dependeat (Let it all hang out!)"

Gutierrez Arrives In Djibouti

Camp Lemonier, Horn of Africa – After 24 plus hours of plane fights and delays, HM2 Gutierrez finally arrived at Camp Lemonier, Djibouti, Horn of Africa on Saturday, March 4th marking the beginning of planned six month rotational deployment with a Marine Security Company out of Camp Pendleton, California.

This journey to Africa marks a first for Petty Officer Gutierrez as it is his initial visit to this continent.

The legs of the journey, which lead him here, are few. There was a brief stay for fuel in Bangor, Maine. Despite being unable to take in the cool and snowy Thursday evening, there was much fun and relaxation to be had. Many of the Marines spent their time buying miscellaneous gifts, sundries and comfort items from the airport gift shop, taking in a quick snack at the lounge or settling down to email and internet connections while waiting for the plane to resume its journey.

Once airborne again, the flight commenced to Frankfurt, Germany. There the band encountered less than favorable weather conditions that forced the delay of their arrival in Djibouti. Despite the airport staffs best efforts to de-ice the aircraft and get it airborne once again, Mother Nature and her continued dusting of snow was victorious in grounding all flight traffic to a halt.

After an 8-hour delay, the group was airborne once again. Traveling all night long, the weary band of brothers arrived on Djiboutian soil on the mid-morning of 04 March 2006.

The group was greeted by the advance party and quickly shuttled off to base where they received a rousing welcome of thanks from the current post security company to which they will be relieving shortly.


Originally published 08 March 2006 on the blog "Totum dependeat (Let it all hang out!)"