Thank You

To, Roadrunner 2 (Germany version). Thanks for being my friend. We'll miss you while you're in the States. Since I am not good at expressing feelings, I'll let Boyz II Men do it for me, circa 1990-something.

Now - we shall never speak of these emotions again.

M!ssundaztood

Most people just don't understand me. Well, expecting someone to UNDERSTAND me may be asking a lot. But can't I expect people to "get me"? By that, I mean that I realize it's very hard to put me in a box, very hard to actually understand how I may act in any given moment, in any given situation. But it seems like people who know me - my friends - would know enough about me not to even TRY to put me in a box.

I had a long conversation about my perceived snobbishness with some women I know. Apparently, my appearance - that I don't dress like a slob and try to keep my hair done - the way I walk (apparently with my nose in the air); the fact that I used to leave church without staying and chatting, and my lack of Amens (I guess) during the sermon, led them to think I was stuck up. Oh, and my facial expressions - my normal expression isn't a smile, and when I think of something, my face often shows it.

I don't know if this type of stereotyping used to bother me or not, but it does now. A lot. It bothers me that people often judge me before even getting the chance to know me. It bothers me that if some people just took the time to have one conversation with me, they'd realize that I'm not only NOT stuck up, I'm a nice person. Is it bad that I like to look nice? Is it OK, that I know when my hair's not done, I look a hot mess, so I pretty much keep it done on the regular? Is it OK, if I speak with proper English or enunciate my words? Is that OK?

Is it wrong to want people to try to get to know me? That way they'll realize that if and when I make a weird face, I'm probably not thinking about anything that's being said. I may be thinking, "Oh, shoot, did I let Taz out?" or "I forgot to transfer the phone," or even, "Is that rain I hear outside?"

Now, I know I have to take the blame for part of this. For one thing, when I first meet a person or group, I tend to keep to myself until I am comfortable. I don't know why people automatically jump to stuck up, but I'm not really comfortable jumping into a new group of people. Here's a secret ... I'm self conscious. And insecure. So, I'm not always comfortable walking up and chatting away with a group of strangers. Which takes me to my second point of why I'm partly to blame - I've developed a "socially acceptable public persona." Before the year I served as president for the sorority during undergrad, I remember my LS saying that some of the sorors thought I was too mean. Then I was mean. No doubt. But it wasn't just that - I'm not a hugger, and some people took that personally.Anyway, I digress. Since undergrad, I've tried to be more outgoing and friendly. Smiling and laughing, doing a lot of that ha ha-ing and whatnot. The problem is that it is a persona - not the everyday me. But the me that I feel like I have to be to make others comfortable. And if it's not the everyday me, then I can't possibly keep it up everyday, 24 hours, ya know?

So, here it is, the real me. I like being alone. Now, this doesn't mean I don't like being married or anything, but I do like to have my space. Which means, if I've out all day, I like coming home and just being ... home. During the deployment - just because Woodstock is not here - doesn't mean that I need to be out of the house all day. It's OK that I'm at home with just Taz all day. I don't mind that.

Next, I don't like calling people. I once worked at Glamour Shots and we had to cold call people and say they "won" a photo shoot, which would eventually make it so they'd have to come in and buy a bunch of pictures. Every phone call I made was hard for me. It was a lot of work, I had to take a deep breath before each call. So, I still don't like making phone calls. Especially not random phone calls to people I don't know. And while we're at it, sometimes I can't keep "it" on long enough to have a conversation where we are just chit chatting, shooting the breeze, talking about nothing. I mean, sometimes I can do it, but I'm just saying please don't take it the wrong way if I don't seem chatty. It's not that I'm in a bad mood, or don't feel like talking, or that I'm mad. I just don't have anything to say at the moment. Is that OK?

I don't know, I could go on and on about this, but I won't. I know how people think of me, I know how people see me. And usually it's OK. But I have feelings too. And just because I don't wear them on my sleeve or cry in public .... I still have feelings. So when you meet someone, and she seems aloof or "stuck up," Talk to her anyway, because maybe she doesn't feel comfortable speaking to you first. And if you make a decision about her before you give her a chance, you may just end up missing out on one of the best friends you'll ever have.

Maneater

So, I must preface this post by saying: Sorry, Woodstock, this is not about you. I must also say that this is not an anti-man post.

That being said: What is up with men? Really, sometimes, what are they thinking?

The guy who lives upstairs in our apartment building thing - I'll call him upstairs guy, same as I do here - has been a slight sense of contention with me almost since he moved in. But it really started to bother me after the deployment started. No one told me when the trash was to be picked up in our town. No one told me the difference between the plain black trash can and the one with the green letters on it that reads "bio-tonne." But I figured it out. Pretty easily too. Wait for the Germans to do something, then do the same thing. As for the bio-tonne, there were pictures on it, for goodness sake. So, weeks go by and upstairs guy is filling up the trash can with his trash, but for some reason, I'm the one dragging the trash can to the curb every Tuesday night. So, I do what you would expect. I talk to him about it.Tell him the schedule. Say we can alternate week to week, because, HELLO, it's his trash too. So, I guess the week we talk is my week. Then two weeks later, it still seems to be my week. Then a month later, OK, maybe he went to the field or something.

Sure, the trash isn't a big deal, but it started to get on my nerves more and more. First of all, wtf? Isn't that man's work? Second, this dude puts all kinds of plastic into the trash, I'm talking milk cartons, juice bottles, the whole nine. If we recycle, 3 trash bags can fit into our little trash can, which brings me to the third of all: he stacks the bags on top of each other, kinda standing up, making it possible for only 2 bags to fit. Everyone knows you have to turn the middle one to the side, punk! And I'm not even gonna start on when I went to the states and when I got back the trash cans were in my parking spot like he doesn't know where they go, and that same week he obviously threw away all the trash he had laying by his front door and filled up the can so I had to take my trash on post. Oh, um, well I guess I did get started.

Now, I must say here that I did think for a mere moment that perhaps my control freak nature took the trash out BEFORE he could get the chance to and he was merely waiting for the opportunity. SO ... I gave him the chance and didn't take the trash out at my usual 8 p.m. or so on Tuesday. And ... yes, you guessed it. Trash didn't get picked up that week.

Despite the twice a month annoyance I get from this, I'm pretty used to the trash thing by now. But the final straw was this week. I get home one night and the light bulb in the entryway is out. I'm thinking this dude has got to notice this. I mean, I walk straight to my door, but he has to go up some winding stairs to get to his door. So I wait it out. Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday; yeah .. still nothing. This MF got the nerve to go in and out of the house all those days - days, 2 of which I left home at 8 and got back at 9 or 10 that night - and couldn't change the freaking light bulb. So I did what any other woman would do. At 1030 at night, I noisily changed the lightbulb.

So my question is: whats up with this guy? Is it because he's young ( I assume he's early 20s)? Unmarried? An A-hole? What?

Because so far, all he does is make a lot of noise when he leaves for and comes back from PT in the morning.

Georgia

After weeks of going between anxiety, nervousness and excitement, on Feb. 1, I headed home to visit my mom, and from there, to meet Woodstock for R&R. For the most part, we didn’t have any specific plans, but to spend time and enjoy each other and his family. To say I enjoyed myself is an understatement. It was great, and I had a lot of fun getting to see a side of Atlanta that I’d been unable to before. So, finally, recap of my trip for those who care to know ☺



The COMEDY SHOW
When Woodstock was still in Kuwait, he found out about this event called Passion and Poetry going on in Atlanta. It seemed to be a night of Poetry from professionals and amateurs and live music. It seemed like a perfect start to a Valentine’s Day week. Clearly, it seemed that way to a lot of other people too, because it was sold out. So I scrambled to find something else we could do on Saturday night. After scouring Access Atlanta, I finally found something – A comedy show at Uptown Comedy Club. Then I went back and forth trying to decide whether we should wait until midweek and see DC Curry or go on Saturday and see Pierre Edwards, AKA the light skinned guy from How to Be a Player and BAPS. I settle on Pierre. But when I first told Woodstock, he raised an eyebrow. “WHO?” he asked. Regardless, we went, getting there early just in case. We needn’t have worried – since I’d printed out our tickets and got us VIP seats (which, if you get there early, are no better than the regular seats) we got to skip the line. That also gave us time to hit up the new martini and tapas bar down the street (more on that later). Pierre didn’t open the show of course, there was an MC and another guy who went on before him. They were all hilarious. And I found out afterward, Woodstock had never been to a comedy show. All, in all, it was a good night. And if you go, remember, parking is for both the comedy club AND the strip club next door. And keep your ticket from the show – the strip club offers a discount ;)


The ANNIVERSARY

Ah, so we’ve finally made it. Two years of marriage. For our anniversary this year, we were together – which, if you’re in the military, you know is not always possible. I’m pretty sure Woodstock was in the field for our anniversary last year. We are in Atlanta staying at Woodstock’s mom’s new house, but from the 12th (our anniversary) to the 14th, we spent the time alone in a small town outside of Atlanta.

For our anniversary dinner, we went to a fondue restaurant called The Melting Pot. If you’ve never been there, you’ve GOT to try it. We started out with a cheese fondue that the server put together at the table. We had bread cubes, granny smith apples and some veggies for dippers. After the cheese course, we both had Caeser salads. They might have possibly been the best Ceaser salads I’ve ever tasted. They were topped with pine nuts and some kind of honey roasted nut.

Then came the main course. You choose your broth (we chose mojo, which was supposed to be a kind of spicy Caribbean style) and then a selection of meats. The trick is that you cook the meat yourself by putting it on the fork and sticking it in the broth for a few minutes. We chose a selection of lobster tail, shrimp, chicken, filet mignon, some kind of spicy beef and veggies. It took us a while to get everything cooked, but I think that was part of the pleasure of the meal. It wasn’t the type of meal you just rush through, it gave us time to talk and have fun. Of course, there had to be some type of libation, so we shared a huge margarita.

There was a Melting Pot in Tallahassee where we lived before coming to Germany. But being broke college students, we were never able to try it. I’m thankful that we are able to do something like that now, and I’m thankful that we were able to share such a nice night together.

Now, I think we’re both looking forward to many more.

Lonely World

Disclaimer: I realize that the next few posts won't be in chronological order. But I started writing a couple detailing our trip, but I want to get the stuff that's on my mind out of the way first. Thanks.

Despite the good time I had on R&R in Atlanta, I kind of missed being in Germany. I mean, I missed my house, I missed Taz and I felt like I was missing out on a lot of the business I usually tend to. But leaving Woodstock this time was different. The night before, we were in bed talking and I could sense that we were both thinking about how much fun we'd had and how our time together was coming to a close. When we hugged goodbye at the terminal for me to catch my flight, it was almost overwhelming for me. I'm glad I got on the plane first. To wait with him at the gate, the loved ones of other soldiers saying goodbye, I think would have been too much for me. Once I got on the plane, I couldn't think about him, I had to think about other things. What was going on in the new Cosmo, what I had to do in Germany, whatever.

When I got to Baltimore, the waiting for my space A flight began. A little of my anxiety subsided when I realized another person from Schweinfurt that I know was on the flight. So, I had a ride home. Woodstock and I got a chance to chat online before his flight boarded and it felt like old times, like normal, like we weren't even apart. Talking to the other Schweinfurt resident and the lesbian who had a crush on her (sorry, thats for another post) passed the time quickly. The flight started boarding at 915 and for technical reasons we didn't take off until after midnight. I fell asleep waiting, and by the time we left, I was ready to be home. But on the ride home from Ramstein, I felt like, what am I rushing home TO. I went by RR#2 house to get Taz so I wouldn't be home alone, but even so, it's like this loneliness enveloped me when I walked into the house. The crazy part is I LIKE being by myself. Or else I think I do. Maybe I've just grown accustomed to it, and have mistaken that for liking it. Whatever the case, I didn't like it. So I started calling people. Of course, no one was home. I chatted online with Cindy ( I haven't come up with a psuedonym for her yet) and then fell asleep.

So you know what happened next, right? Woodstock called. Before I left, I'd set the answering machine to pick up at 2 rings instead of 6, so I awoke to hear him on the machine. He said he'd call the cell. So, when the cell phone rang, I ran to it, picked it up, and .... nothing. I know we just left each other, but for some reason, just to hear his voice on the machine made me feel better though, I wish, and am still wishing and waiting at 1 a.m., that he will get a chance to call back. That he gets the chance to know that I miss him already and although we were in this house (apt?) only a month before he had to leave, it just doesn't feel the same without him. I know that in a few days I'll be back to what I now consider normal life. I'll be busy, I'll have things to do, and I will be begging for days when I can just come home and hope that I can watch TV in peace or go 2 hours without getting a telephone call or having something to do. But right now, all I can do is watch TV and think how funny Woodstock would find this Lt. Dangle and Deputy Junior interview on this late night TV show. All I can think of is, how very alone I feel in this house.

And I want him to know that no matter my moods or my silent periods or the times I don't really want to hear another person talk, I wish he was here.

When I think of Home

You know how sometimes you like something, I don’t know what, just anything. And it’s like the best thing you’ve ever had, because you have nothing else. You have nothing to compare it to. But then you try something else and then it makes you question the thing you had before; makes you wonder if it was as great as you thought it was.

Being in the states, being around family has made me do that. I wondered aloud on many occasions why people would return to the states jus because of a deployment. The duty station was their new home now, the home they shared with their husband and kids, if they have any. Don’t get me wrong, I do have friends in Germany. I have plans, I have things to do. But being here, it makes me wonder what’s the point? The majority of my friends in Germany, I will never talk to again. Being there sometimes is like being in a play. Except the stage is my life. And I have to be this person, and do these things, because it’s what’s expected. But is that really me? It’s very easy to blur the lines between doing what I like, doing what’s right, and just doing what’s expected of me.

Being here also reminds of what it’s like to have a family. I haven’t lived in the same vicinity as my family for many, many years. And even though they get on my nerves, I like it. I like having people around me that I know have my back no matter what, no matter what stupid thing I may say or do. I can just be myself, whether that be good or bad. Whether I’m feeling charitable or bitchy, they will ignore me, or possibly get mad, but regardless, they will love me after I’m out of my funk. Here, there’s always something. There’s always some kind of drama or a situation that needs smoothing over or someone’s hurt feelings or ego that needs to be stroked. And I’m tired. I’m tired of having to be so strong all the time, I’m tired of not being able to let my guard down, and of having to tread softly, always holding back a piece of myself in order not to offend someone.

I just want to go back to a time where I was free to just be myself, free to be sad sometimes. Free to want to be by myself sometimes, free to do things I want to do and when there is something I don’t want to do but have to, free to say that. I’m hoping that when I get back to the states for good, it will be a place of freedom for me. The freedom that I now long for.

I just hope I’m not disappointed.

Coming Home

This week, I've come to the states for a vacation after a year of being gone. The main reason for the trip is because Woodstock wanted to go to Atlanta for his R&R. So I decided to get here a little early and visit my fam in Mississippi. As I cleaned, packed and otherwise got ready for my trip, I had mixed feelings. I was excited about seeing Jamil and getting a break from all of my, um, volunteering, but at the same time it didn't feel like I was going home, it felt like I was leaving home. Since I've been on my own, I've never been away from my new home more than 2 weeks. And that 2 weeks only happened last year for Christmas. I was leaving my new "family" behind, my friends, my "work", my commitments, and Taz (I couldnt' bring him on a space A flight).
But since I’ve been here, it’s like everything I’ve missed in the past year has been experienced in the past 4 days. So what have I learned?

1) How to have a dad: I flew into Baltimore and to make sure I didn’t miss my flight, I scheduled my connection for the following day. RR #2 arranged for me to be able to stay with her parents for a couple of nights. For a day and a half, it was like having a “real’ family, one with a mom and a dad. We talked; about the weather, crime in the city, just normal stuff. Her dad dropped me off at the mall. We watched “judge” shows together – you know, Judge Mathis, Judge Joe Brown, People’s Court – and laughed at how stupid people could be and what we thought the verdicts would be. I asked for a slice of cake, and like dads do, he offered extras; ice cream, strawberries and chocolate syrup. When it was time for my early morning flight, her dad gave me a ride to the airport. But what he also gave me was some adult memories of a father.

2) How to be a big sister: I haven’t really lived in the house with my little sister since she’s been old enough to understand who was who. When I went to undergrad, she was only 5 years old. So, to get here and find a teenager on the verge of adulthood blew my mind. We went shopping together (she helped me pick out Woodstock’s anniversary gift) and we cooked together. We made Super Bowl snacks and mocktails, and I even taught her how to make shrimp curry. Though I doubt she will remember how to make any of it, I hope she will remember the fun we had doing it.

3) How to have a family: Since Woodstock has been gone, I’ve gone back to my old ways. I am used to be alone. I’m used to following my own schedule, and doing things when I want to. I prefer to have a couple of hours of silence after I wake up. I like to read books and newspapers and surf the ‘net without being disturbed. I like to watch TV in silence. Since I’ve been here, none of that has happened. I wake up at 6 a.m. because that’s what time the rest of the house wakes up. I go pick up my grandma when she needs a ride when I borrow mom’s car. I am constantly interrupted while doing things that I’d rather do silently. I cook and wash dishes without complaining. I laugh at grandma’s jokes, and hold back my laughter when she says something I find hilarious. And even though some things may get on my nerves, I’ve had a good time here, and I feel like part of a family again.

I’ll be leaving Gulfport Friday morning to meet up with Woodstock to start his 2 weeks of R&R. So my last lesson to remember will be how to be a good wife. Wish me luck.