Well, I've been assigned to the Orca, at least for the first week. They might switch people around for the second week so I might end up going to a YAG for the second week of the trip.
I'm pumped, but there's a LOT of stuff to be done, and with only 15 “crew,” we'll probably be busy most of the time, with some nightly watchkeeping to be done. Oh well, it'll be pretty fun to do most of those jobs... and hopefully the boring jobs (like engineering roundsman and supply officer) will be filled by people whose job it is to do these things: engineers and log people.
I don't really know what—or how much—to bring. It's only two weeks, but two weeks can turn into an eternity if you don't pack enough “fun” stuff: computer, books, magazines, that kind of stuff. Also, I need to be sure I bring all the “important” stuff: uniforms (we have a whole bunch of NCDs, the big ugly floater jacket, the “canary suit” or raingear, etc), civvies, some books and other documents we need for the trip (various forms and such we have to get filled, the rules of the road book, etc), and so on. We were told that a good rule of thumb is to bring a kitbag's worth, at the most.
As if packing wasn't enough, I have to review the rules of the road (the COLREGS) a little bit; we were told we'll “discuss” that kind of thing when we're sailing around, and knowing my CTO, who also happens to be the OIC of the Orca, he'll probably quiz whoever happens to be on the bridge about anything he can think of. I also have to study for the final theory test, on Monday. It's all about seamanship evolutions, which I'm not too good with.
The port stops we'll make seem all right, though for the most part all I know about where we'll be stopping is whatever other people told me. I'm just glad the Orca has showers; going into public showers at random harbours would (and maybe will) suck. Having to go do my laundry will suck too, but at least you can go a few days without that.
I can't wait for us to get going. I probably won't post anything until we come back, though I will try to write while we're gone. Hopefully it won't be too boring!
Until then, auf Wiedersehen!
Friday, July 20, 2007
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Of YAGs, Orcas and submarines
Apparently, the organisation for the boats has changed, and we'll be assigned to one vessel for the entire two-week trip. The problem is, there are 60 or so of us, spread out over 3 YAGs (Yard Auxiliary General, the ancient wooden-hulled unarmed mine warfare/training vessels) and 2 Orcas (the newest class of training vessels, which have just started being active for training purposes; their bridge is modeled after the frigates'). While the Orcas are state-of-the-art, the YAGs are starting to go, and are having more and more problems. They're leaky, the black water treatment plant usually “burps” and just generally sucks, and generally they're almost-WW2-era ships, with all that comes with old junk.
It struck me as funny, though, because I was reflecting on that while watching Das Boot, especially during the scene where the Captain reflects that life is good: they have a comfy, well-aired boat, free home cooking, attractive wood panelling, etc. What's funny is that, the YAGs being so tiny and having so many people onboard, the wardroom probably feels as cramped as that of a u-boat.
It got me thinking: I'd really prefer to get on the Orcas because, let's face it, I like comfort. But at the same time, the instructors on the Orcas tend to be more anal about things. On the YAGs, “you get to have more fun,” or so we're told. Also, the Orcas can't dock everywhere; they have to just anchor off the harbour in some places, which means that while the YAG crews will be off in various towns getting wasted, the Orca crews will be standing anchor watches and getting rocked to sleep.
What really has me thinking is that if I'm going to apply for subschool as soon as I make Lieutenant (that's the soonest you can apply; at that point you choose your D-level qual and subs is one of them) I might as well trythe cramped, uncomfortable quarters. Oh, and the whole not-having-a-cellphone-or-email-access, too. We'll be allowed to bring cellphones and the like onboard, but on subs, that's a no-no. Well, it's not so much that you can't, just that it's useless. Cellphones tend not to work too well in the middle of the ocean, under 100 feet of water. And the various comms systems are not exactly broadbend: you get hockey and football scores, a little bit of news, and... yeah, that's about it. No e-mails, no calls, nothing. At least the subs now have big-screen TVs in the wardroom and the various messes, and I think you can bring a laptop onboard, so you can have some entertainment. Of course, those TVs only show whatever the crew brought on DVD or VHS, but still, you can probably go through a short assignment without having to watch the same movie twice.
Anyway, no matter what class I get to go on, I'll make the most of it. If I get the Orcas, then, great! I'll get better accomodations, more modern equipment, navigation equipment that ressembles that of frigates, and generally a better (technologically) vessel. If I get the YAGs, well, I get to sail on a piece of history and pull into every harbour, and I get to have more fun. And they'll probably pack less of us on YAGs, as they're smaller and the Orcas are just plain made to carry more trainees.
Here's to sea phase!
It struck me as funny, though, because I was reflecting on that while watching Das Boot, especially during the scene where the Captain reflects that life is good: they have a comfy, well-aired boat, free home cooking, attractive wood panelling, etc. What's funny is that, the YAGs being so tiny and having so many people onboard, the wardroom probably feels as cramped as that of a u-boat.
It got me thinking: I'd really prefer to get on the Orcas because, let's face it, I like comfort. But at the same time, the instructors on the Orcas tend to be more anal about things. On the YAGs, “you get to have more fun,” or so we're told. Also, the Orcas can't dock everywhere; they have to just anchor off the harbour in some places, which means that while the YAG crews will be off in various towns getting wasted, the Orca crews will be standing anchor watches and getting rocked to sleep.
What really has me thinking is that if I'm going to apply for subschool as soon as I make Lieutenant (that's the soonest you can apply; at that point you choose your D-level qual and subs is one of them) I might as well trythe cramped, uncomfortable quarters. Oh, and the whole not-having-a-cellphone-or-email-access, too. We'll be allowed to bring cellphones and the like onboard, but on subs, that's a no-no. Well, it's not so much that you can't, just that it's useless. Cellphones tend not to work too well in the middle of the ocean, under 100 feet of water. And the various comms systems are not exactly broadbend: you get hockey and football scores, a little bit of news, and... yeah, that's about it. No e-mails, no calls, nothing. At least the subs now have big-screen TVs in the wardroom and the various messes, and I think you can bring a laptop onboard, so you can have some entertainment. Of course, those TVs only show whatever the crew brought on DVD or VHS, but still, you can probably go through a short assignment without having to watch the same movie twice.
Anyway, no matter what class I get to go on, I'll make the most of it. If I get the Orcas, then, great! I'll get better accomodations, more modern equipment, navigation equipment that ressembles that of frigates, and generally a better (technologically) vessel. If I get the YAGs, well, I get to sail on a piece of history and pull into every harbour, and I get to have more fun. And they'll probably pack less of us on YAGs, as they're smaller and the Orcas are just plain made to carry more trainees.
Here's to sea phase!
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Playing with fire, Part Deux
Well, I intended to write this yesterday, but I was simply too exhausted to write anything coherent and somewhat (maybe) interesting, so it had to wait until I had gotten a whole lot of sleep.
So, we went through live-fire... fire stuff, yesterday. It was fairly straightforward: we got dressed in "standby" mode, which means we wore the bunker gear (the fireman outfit) and had the chemox apparatus strapped on, with the mask around our neck and our helmet in our hands.
For those who don't know, Navy firefighters (at least in Canada) look like this: (sorry for the crappy picture, I don't have the pictures some people took during fire phase...)
(For those keeping track, this picture was taken on the Fredericton, back in September.)
The big black thing on the chest is the chemox apparatus.
The problem with chemox is that, while being a fully closed system that is very effective, it is also incredibly fragile and prone to malfunctions--caused by human error. The lungs are extremely easy to collapse, and it is nearly impossible to restart the unit without breaking the seal.
So, the day began with some horizontal attacks on small fires. An horizontal attack means you're moving across a deck and opening doors, while carrying the 1 1/2 inch firehose, and fighting the fire. For our training, we had to cross two doors to get to the fire. The first was "cold," which means it is relatively safe, and the next one was "hot," which means there is potentially a fire right behind it, and it's the dangerous part of fighting fires. Anyway, in my case, I ran into a bit of a problem: for some reason, we had too much hose (we had brought too much in the room) and when I turned to attack the fire properly (by placing my body perpendicular to it and spraying back and forth) I collapsed a lung. I got backup somewhat quickly, but finding yourself breathing vacuum tends to make time seem incredibly slow in passing.
In the afternoon, we had to go down a hatch and attack a fire in the engine room. The engine room, as I had been told, was a raging inferno. Basically, it is a rather large room with walkways all around it, and fire pretty much all over, except immediately below the ladder. So, we went down and I started getting out of breath, because of the exertion and the limited amount of air you have in the chemox lungs. I got the hose back from the backup (procedure point.. the nozzleman is the last person to go down) and we started moving across the room to fight the fire. It was hot and looked pretty much like hell. It's pitch-black except for the fires raging all over, and you basically can't see anything except those fires. Anyway, as we turned again, I must have brushed up too close to the railing, and again (you guessed it) collapsed a lung. It wasn't so bad when the exit was just a few meters away and on the same deck, but this time, I was across a firey room, down a ladder, and a few meters from the "safe" zone.
I had to get backup--in itself not too time-consuming--then walk over to the ladder, climb, call for backup, and stumble over to where it was safe, all without breathing. While it doesn't seem to be too long, it turns into an eternity when you were out of breath before you even stopped breathing, and then you have to carry yourself and your equipment up a deck and across all that space.
I wanted to go back, I really did, but I was in no condition to do that. Between the lack of oxygen, the dehydration (despite my best efforts and my drinking of all the water I could get my hands on, I still sweat faster than I could drink) and the exhaustion, I was in no condition to do that. I almost had to go anyway, but one of the actual firemen talked with the chief instructor and I got to go away. In a way it pisses me off because I really wanted to do it, if only to prove to myself I'm not a complete dweeb who's unable to do anything, and also because as scared as I was going down that hatch into the raging inferno, I knew I could go through with it.
Anyway, I liked it, even though it was kind of freaky to lose my air in the middle of a fire and all that. I liked the flood training better, though.
With my luck this week, tomorrow's trip to the gas hut will end up with my gas mask malfunctionning and me getting a great big breath of CS gas. Yippee!
So, we went through live-fire... fire stuff, yesterday. It was fairly straightforward: we got dressed in "standby" mode, which means we wore the bunker gear (the fireman outfit) and had the chemox apparatus strapped on, with the mask around our neck and our helmet in our hands.
For those who don't know, Navy firefighters (at least in Canada) look like this: (sorry for the crappy picture, I don't have the pictures some people took during fire phase...)
(For those keeping track, this picture was taken on the Fredericton, back in September.)
The big black thing on the chest is the chemox apparatus.
The problem with chemox is that, while being a fully closed system that is very effective, it is also incredibly fragile and prone to malfunctions--caused by human error. The lungs are extremely easy to collapse, and it is nearly impossible to restart the unit without breaking the seal.
So, the day began with some horizontal attacks on small fires. An horizontal attack means you're moving across a deck and opening doors, while carrying the 1 1/2 inch firehose, and fighting the fire. For our training, we had to cross two doors to get to the fire. The first was "cold," which means it is relatively safe, and the next one was "hot," which means there is potentially a fire right behind it, and it's the dangerous part of fighting fires. Anyway, in my case, I ran into a bit of a problem: for some reason, we had too much hose (we had brought too much in the room) and when I turned to attack the fire properly (by placing my body perpendicular to it and spraying back and forth) I collapsed a lung. I got backup somewhat quickly, but finding yourself breathing vacuum tends to make time seem incredibly slow in passing.
In the afternoon, we had to go down a hatch and attack a fire in the engine room. The engine room, as I had been told, was a raging inferno. Basically, it is a rather large room with walkways all around it, and fire pretty much all over, except immediately below the ladder. So, we went down and I started getting out of breath, because of the exertion and the limited amount of air you have in the chemox lungs. I got the hose back from the backup (procedure point.. the nozzleman is the last person to go down) and we started moving across the room to fight the fire. It was hot and looked pretty much like hell. It's pitch-black except for the fires raging all over, and you basically can't see anything except those fires. Anyway, as we turned again, I must have brushed up too close to the railing, and again (you guessed it) collapsed a lung. It wasn't so bad when the exit was just a few meters away and on the same deck, but this time, I was across a firey room, down a ladder, and a few meters from the "safe" zone.
I had to get backup--in itself not too time-consuming--then walk over to the ladder, climb, call for backup, and stumble over to where it was safe, all without breathing. While it doesn't seem to be too long, it turns into an eternity when you were out of breath before you even stopped breathing, and then you have to carry yourself and your equipment up a deck and across all that space.
I wanted to go back, I really did, but I was in no condition to do that. Between the lack of oxygen, the dehydration (despite my best efforts and my drinking of all the water I could get my hands on, I still sweat faster than I could drink) and the exhaustion, I was in no condition to do that. I almost had to go anyway, but one of the actual firemen talked with the chief instructor and I got to go away. In a way it pisses me off because I really wanted to do it, if only to prove to myself I'm not a complete dweeb who's unable to do anything, and also because as scared as I was going down that hatch into the raging inferno, I knew I could go through with it.
Anyway, I liked it, even though it was kind of freaky to lose my air in the middle of a fire and all that. I liked the flood training better, though.
With my luck this week, tomorrow's trip to the gas hut will end up with my gas mask malfunctionning and me getting a great big breath of CS gas. Yippee!
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Playing with fire, Part One
Well, my life is a step further to being complete. I can almost cross off “be a fireman” off... kinda. Although the spirit of the item isn't to just play firefighter for a few days, I'm still doing firefighter-ey things and wearing a firefighter suit. The only difference between what we're wearing in training and what real civvie-side firefighters wear is that theirs is much, much, much easier to work with. You see, the Navy has a different way of providing air to its firefighters. Instead of having a big, fat bottle of air on your back with a hose that connects to your mask, we have a big, fat, heavy, cumbersome, fragile apparatus on our chest. Now, the basics of the apparatus (Chemox A4) are pretty solid and basic, although big, cumbersome, and rather heavy. The problem lies with two “lungs” which basically contain the air the firefighter breathes. Those lungs are some kind of fire-resistant rubberish material and they're very, very pliable. What that means is, while you're going around, if you do any kind of normal human movement or your lungs (the rubber thingies) touch up against anxthing, well, tough luck, you're breathing vacuum. Also, as the Chemox is a closed-circuit apparatus, there is only a limited quantity of air, and if you try to introduce more (if you break the seal on your mask, breath in, and exhale into the mask), well, the air just escapes. That's not a big problem when you're just standing around. It does become a problem when you're going around doing manual labour. Just climbing a ladder, which isn't at all challenging, raises my breath just enough that it starts being a problem. The solution is to slow down your breath and, as you're breathing air that has a high ratio of oxygen, it's not too big a problem and you get your breath back pretty quickly. However, the first time it happens to you (especially if you happen to crush a lung at the same time), it's quite frightening, as you just try to breath in and all that happens is that your mask crunches up on your face. In the dark, with smoke all over, and people yelling stuff (commands, reports, etc), it's freaky.
The bunker gear (the yellow suit you all know from TV) is heavy and hot. It's a lot like wearing a heavy winter suit and a rain suit on top of it. It simply does not breathe—which is a good thing in a fire. After a morning of going around wearing chemox and then doing hose handling with the mask on but no canister plugged in (which means the lungs aren't used), most people were drenched in sweat. It might not have helped that the hose handling was done outside, almost at noon, and the temperature reached 30C today.
It's a lot of fun, though. The only problem is getting dehydrated and losing too many electrolytes. Both are not only dangerous, they're annoying as hell. I like the whole deal a lot, and I really hope the live-fire exercise will be as cool as I expect it to be. After all, what can be cooler than going around in firefighting gear and fighting real fires? (Ok, “meeting” the Olsen twins would be a close second)
All I need to do now is get my Navy behind on a calendar, and my life will truly be complete. (Not really.)
I'll try and finally post a few things on flood training and all that, but I'm tired right now.
The bunker gear (the yellow suit you all know from TV) is heavy and hot. It's a lot like wearing a heavy winter suit and a rain suit on top of it. It simply does not breathe—which is a good thing in a fire. After a morning of going around wearing chemox and then doing hose handling with the mask on but no canister plugged in (which means the lungs aren't used), most people were drenched in sweat. It might not have helped that the hose handling was done outside, almost at noon, and the temperature reached 30C today.
It's a lot of fun, though. The only problem is getting dehydrated and losing too many electrolytes. Both are not only dangerous, they're annoying as hell. I like the whole deal a lot, and I really hope the live-fire exercise will be as cool as I expect it to be. After all, what can be cooler than going around in firefighting gear and fighting real fires? (Ok, “meeting” the Olsen twins would be a close second)
All I need to do now is get my Navy behind on a calendar, and my life will truly be complete. (Not really.)
I'll try and finally post a few things on flood training and all that, but I'm tired right now.
Sunday, July 8, 2007
Libre ? Ha oui ???
Sérieux, je vous remercies grandement pour les bons mots sur mon dernier post.
Y'a matière à réflexion.....Karla a soulevé un très bon point : kessé que j'AIME et de kessé que je veux faire......
J'me suis déjà posé la question, et c'est con, mais c'est incroyable comment je peux être «cartésienne» et «artiste» en même temps. C'est d'autant plus fou que j'ai les capacités pour exceller et être heureuse dans les deux.
Mon premier choix serait, prenant en considération mes années de lectures, d'introspection et de participation à une certain Courrier, d'avoir mon show de Radio.....Bon, est-ce que «ma station» a besoin de ce genre de show ? Je crois que oui, pour autant que je ne dis pas à l'auditoire que je suis «là» pour les entendre pleurnicher....Un «Courrier du coeur» n'a pas sa place dans une station dont 95% de l'auditoire est masculin ;-). Je vais devoir trouver une façon de les amenner à la confidence sans qu'ils le sachent ;-))
Mais encore, je suis persuadée que ces hommes vivent ou ont vécu des passes assez Rock & roll et n'ont pas pour autant les ressources nécessaires pour dealer avec.
Alors, mon côté mère Téresa serait comblé .....ainsi que mon rêve de faire de la radio à temps plein ! Non seulement faire de la Radio et faire quelque chose en quoi j'excelle ( communiquer ) mais mettre à profit mon vécu, mes lectures et mes énergies.....mettre aux profits des autres.
Mais puis-je gagner ma vie de cela ? À court terme....hum ? J'en doute !
L'autre option alors ?
Devenir «apprenti» dans une institution financière différente qui prône le service à la clientèle avec un grand "S". Là encore, je sais que je deviendrais assez rapidement un atout pour la compagnie par mon expérience et ma très grande capacité de résolution de problème.
Cette compagnie m'intéresse car elle est en plein développement. De plus j'ai rencontré une des têtes dirigeantes par hasard ( le hasard existe-t-il vraiment ? ) la semaine dernière et elle me voyait très bien comme Directrice de succursale ! Elle m'a même dit de ne pas hésiter pour la citer en référence !
Tk ! Je me donne jusqu'à la fin de juillet pour prendre une décision.....je ne veux pas «tirer» sur tous les fronts simultanément, car je sais pertinemment que les deux options seront réalisables en même temps.....et je ne veux pas être «confronter» à ce dilemme !
**
Pis vous autres ? Comment ça va ?
Sérieux, je vous remercies grandement pour les bons mots sur mon dernier post.
Y'a matière à réflexion.....Karla a soulevé un très bon point : kessé que j'AIME et de kessé que je veux faire......
J'me suis déjà posé la question, et c'est con, mais c'est incroyable comment je peux être «cartésienne» et «artiste» en même temps. C'est d'autant plus fou que j'ai les capacités pour exceller et être heureuse dans les deux.
Mon premier choix serait, prenant en considération mes années de lectures, d'introspection et de participation à une certain Courrier, d'avoir mon show de Radio.....Bon, est-ce que «ma station» a besoin de ce genre de show ? Je crois que oui, pour autant que je ne dis pas à l'auditoire que je suis «là» pour les entendre pleurnicher....Un «Courrier du coeur» n'a pas sa place dans une station dont 95% de l'auditoire est masculin ;-). Je vais devoir trouver une façon de les amenner à la confidence sans qu'ils le sachent ;-))
Mais encore, je suis persuadée que ces hommes vivent ou ont vécu des passes assez Rock & roll et n'ont pas pour autant les ressources nécessaires pour dealer avec.
Alors, mon côté mère Téresa serait comblé .....ainsi que mon rêve de faire de la radio à temps plein ! Non seulement faire de la Radio et faire quelque chose en quoi j'excelle ( communiquer ) mais mettre à profit mon vécu, mes lectures et mes énergies.....mettre aux profits des autres.
Mais puis-je gagner ma vie de cela ? À court terme....hum ? J'en doute !
L'autre option alors ?
Devenir «apprenti» dans une institution financière différente qui prône le service à la clientèle avec un grand "S". Là encore, je sais que je deviendrais assez rapidement un atout pour la compagnie par mon expérience et ma très grande capacité de résolution de problème.
Cette compagnie m'intéresse car elle est en plein développement. De plus j'ai rencontré une des têtes dirigeantes par hasard ( le hasard existe-t-il vraiment ? ) la semaine dernière et elle me voyait très bien comme Directrice de succursale ! Elle m'a même dit de ne pas hésiter pour la citer en référence !
Tk ! Je me donne jusqu'à la fin de juillet pour prendre une décision.....je ne veux pas «tirer» sur tous les fronts simultanément, car je sais pertinemment que les deux options seront réalisables en même temps.....et je ne veux pas être «confronter» à ce dilemme !
**
Pis vous autres ? Comment ça va ?
Saturday, July 7, 2007
Matthew Good is retarded
I'm not going to go in any detail because I hate to waste my energy on retarded wannabe revolutionaries.
Anyway, it seems this idiot has forgotten what our flag looks like, and has decided to ignore all the rules regarding the flag. This shows how truly backwards the leftist cause really is. Between the lefties and the propaganda the Taliban and AQ put out... it's pretty pathetic.
I encourage everyone to not listen to Matthew Good's crappy music and, if you want to waste energy, send him letters to denounce his irresponsible, disrespectful, and unacceptable behaviour.
Anyway, it seems this idiot has forgotten what our flag looks like, and has decided to ignore all the rules regarding the flag. This shows how truly backwards the leftist cause really is. Between the lefties and the propaganda the Taliban and AQ put out... it's pretty pathetic.
I encourage everyone to not listen to Matthew Good's crappy music and, if you want to waste energy, send him letters to denounce his irresponsible, disrespectful, and unacceptable behaviour.
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
I, for one, welcome our alien overlords
First off, I apologize for the lack of posts. It's not that I've been extremely busy or anything like that; I just have a mixed case of writer's block and thissucksitis*. Anyway, I figured I'd give you guys a glimpse into what's going on right now.
As far as NETPO goes, we had the Sig Sauer P225 range day last week, and it went pretty well. It's a nice pistol. More on that later... maybe. Right now we're in Damage Control school. We have three days of flood control, then we'll move on to firefighting, and finish off with CBRN. (Chemical, Biological, Radiological, Nuclear... basically how to wear gasmasks. Lovely.)
Live Free or Die Hard is in my top 5 movies of all time. If only they'd shown the daughter more... or had typical women-villain outfits for the asian chick. Ah well, still an extremely kick-ass movie.
Other than that, I've finally started actually following the training plan I have for the Marine Corps Marathon, and I'm starting to get as motivated for my runs as I used to be for going to the gym. It's weird and crazy. I'm about as far from an endurance athlete as one can be. Heh, maybe I'll get all lean and mean and sexy and I'll have a six-pack and all the women (and the gay men—they're much more discriminating than the women, it seems) will adore me and magazines will ask me to do covers for them and I'll be like the next Pat Tillman, only not quite as heroic. Ok, so I'm pushing it, but I hope to drop a lot of this weight—there's really no point in me weighing 225lbs anymore. A more adequate weight would be 185lbs or so. I'd be pretty much as lean as I can get, at that point.
I've been trying to cut back on junk food even more. I've cut my consumption of chips and chocolate pretty much to zero, desserts have become an exception rather than a rule, and almost all the pop I drink now (I don't do drugs, smoke, I barely drink, seldom gamble, and I don't delve into debauchery... I need to have at least one vice!) is diet—not quite as good as water, but better than regular pop. I still eat bad foods more than I should, but I figure that just the cutback on calories from junk food is already a giant step forward.
It just feels weird, because one generally assumes that eating better also means eating less, but my tray is usually fuller now than it was when I only ate junk food. I have my main dish—meat and some veggies, sometimes some rice—then I have a place for veggies, cottage cheese, and sometimes some pasta salad, then some fruit, cheese, milk, and, (too) often, Diet Coke. Still, all of that packs less of a punch, fat-wise, than my tray with only some Coke, jalapeno poppers, fries, and dessert.
What's the weirdest is that I don't really crave bad foods anymore. I actually eat them absent-mindedly, because it's still a habbit. I stop by the desserts not because I want one, but just because they're there and I used to get dessert all the time. Same when I drink pop at the movies; I'm just used to getting myself a “jacuzzi” of Coke when I go watch a movie. Sure, I enjoy it, but it's not the same visceral sensation of utter satisfaction. It's more the guilty pleasure of doing something you're not supposed to... and it's hollow. I actually got to that point—and beyond—last time I started eating well, but it seems this time I not only feel some revulsion at bad foods (though I still, at the same time, feel some urge to eat them) but I actually enjoy eating “good” foods. My eating habits aren't perfect by any means, but compared to just six months ago, I'm a nutrition saint.
On the intellectual front, some more news. I've been buying books lately, and I'm starting to really enjoy delving in that again. I bought a book called The Triumph of Narrative, by Robert Fulford, and I'm more than halfway though. (It's a short book.) I also bought a book composed of essays on Proust's In Search for Lost Time (À la recherche du temps perdu). More importantly, I finally managed to acquire a copy—in a pocket book edition—of the famous Story of Art by Sir E.H. Gombrich. It's 500 pages of text, and almost as many of full-colour illustrations, and it kicks some serious booty. No wonder it's hailed as the single best volume on art history. It was originally written for teenagers and young adults, “the harshest of critics,” and it avoids most of the fakeness and pomposity (pompness? pompousness? pompousity?) of other art volumes. I bought it yesterday afternoon and I'm already on page 50—and I read the Foreword and all that other junk. As unmanly as it might seem, I really enjoy art history and, obviously, art in general, but I'm also a near-complete twit in that area, so Gombrich is just about perfect for me.
I also found out, in Fulford's book, that George Orwell had, at least in his youth, a kind of self-narrative going on in his inner voice; his mind described what was going on around him: “an almost precise description of what he was actually doing and the things he was seeing.” It seems strange that I sometimes do that, usually when I'm bored. However, unlike Orwell's decidedly classically literal (for lack of a better term) descriptions, mine tend to be a more barren and matter-of-fact type; Ellisian, really. I guess it must be post-modernism. Or is that post-post-modernism? Either way, I'm glad to see I'm not totally insane; if someone as great as Orwell did it, it can't be wrong!
Anyway, I'm just blabbering on, now. I'll try and come back with some artistic writing sometime... or at least with something of little more value than this post.
So I want to wish, a bit late, a happy 4th of July to all my American readers and their familes, friends, colleagues, and acquaintances. Glad to see the stuff that was described in that awesome documentary, Live Free or Die Hard, didn't actually happen.
And to celebrate the upcoming Simpsons movie (and the transformation of 7-11s into Kwik-E-Marts):
Thank you, come again!
*People suffering from thissucksitis believe—correctly or not—that all that they write is crappy and that they ought to work harder on it so it's not as bad. This causes them not to update their blog or send out e-mails, even when they said they would.
Note on the title: it was as random as I could think of on the spot.
As far as NETPO goes, we had the Sig Sauer P225 range day last week, and it went pretty well. It's a nice pistol. More on that later... maybe. Right now we're in Damage Control school. We have three days of flood control, then we'll move on to firefighting, and finish off with CBRN. (Chemical, Biological, Radiological, Nuclear... basically how to wear gasmasks. Lovely.)
Live Free or Die Hard is in my top 5 movies of all time. If only they'd shown the daughter more... or had typical women-villain outfits for the asian chick. Ah well, still an extremely kick-ass movie.
Other than that, I've finally started actually following the training plan I have for the Marine Corps Marathon, and I'm starting to get as motivated for my runs as I used to be for going to the gym. It's weird and crazy. I'm about as far from an endurance athlete as one can be. Heh, maybe I'll get all lean and mean and sexy and I'll have a six-pack and all the women (and the gay men—they're much more discriminating than the women, it seems) will adore me and magazines will ask me to do covers for them and I'll be like the next Pat Tillman, only not quite as heroic. Ok, so I'm pushing it, but I hope to drop a lot of this weight—there's really no point in me weighing 225lbs anymore. A more adequate weight would be 185lbs or so. I'd be pretty much as lean as I can get, at that point.
I've been trying to cut back on junk food even more. I've cut my consumption of chips and chocolate pretty much to zero, desserts have become an exception rather than a rule, and almost all the pop I drink now (I don't do drugs, smoke, I barely drink, seldom gamble, and I don't delve into debauchery... I need to have at least one vice!) is diet—not quite as good as water, but better than regular pop. I still eat bad foods more than I should, but I figure that just the cutback on calories from junk food is already a giant step forward.
It just feels weird, because one generally assumes that eating better also means eating less, but my tray is usually fuller now than it was when I only ate junk food. I have my main dish—meat and some veggies, sometimes some rice—then I have a place for veggies, cottage cheese, and sometimes some pasta salad, then some fruit, cheese, milk, and, (too) often, Diet Coke. Still, all of that packs less of a punch, fat-wise, than my tray with only some Coke, jalapeno poppers, fries, and dessert.
What's the weirdest is that I don't really crave bad foods anymore. I actually eat them absent-mindedly, because it's still a habbit. I stop by the desserts not because I want one, but just because they're there and I used to get dessert all the time. Same when I drink pop at the movies; I'm just used to getting myself a “jacuzzi” of Coke when I go watch a movie. Sure, I enjoy it, but it's not the same visceral sensation of utter satisfaction. It's more the guilty pleasure of doing something you're not supposed to... and it's hollow. I actually got to that point—and beyond—last time I started eating well, but it seems this time I not only feel some revulsion at bad foods (though I still, at the same time, feel some urge to eat them) but I actually enjoy eating “good” foods. My eating habits aren't perfect by any means, but compared to just six months ago, I'm a nutrition saint.
On the intellectual front, some more news. I've been buying books lately, and I'm starting to really enjoy delving in that again. I bought a book called The Triumph of Narrative, by Robert Fulford, and I'm more than halfway though. (It's a short book.) I also bought a book composed of essays on Proust's In Search for Lost Time (À la recherche du temps perdu). More importantly, I finally managed to acquire a copy—in a pocket book edition—of the famous Story of Art by Sir E.H. Gombrich. It's 500 pages of text, and almost as many of full-colour illustrations, and it kicks some serious booty. No wonder it's hailed as the single best volume on art history. It was originally written for teenagers and young adults, “the harshest of critics,” and it avoids most of the fakeness and pomposity (pompness? pompousness? pompousity?) of other art volumes. I bought it yesterday afternoon and I'm already on page 50—and I read the Foreword and all that other junk. As unmanly as it might seem, I really enjoy art history and, obviously, art in general, but I'm also a near-complete twit in that area, so Gombrich is just about perfect for me.
I also found out, in Fulford's book, that George Orwell had, at least in his youth, a kind of self-narrative going on in his inner voice; his mind described what was going on around him: “an almost precise description of what he was actually doing and the things he was seeing.” It seems strange that I sometimes do that, usually when I'm bored. However, unlike Orwell's decidedly classically literal (for lack of a better term) descriptions, mine tend to be a more barren and matter-of-fact type; Ellisian, really. I guess it must be post-modernism. Or is that post-post-modernism? Either way, I'm glad to see I'm not totally insane; if someone as great as Orwell did it, it can't be wrong!
Anyway, I'm just blabbering on, now. I'll try and come back with some artistic writing sometime... or at least with something of little more value than this post.
So I want to wish, a bit late, a happy 4th of July to all my American readers and their familes, friends, colleagues, and acquaintances. Glad to see the stuff that was described in that awesome documentary, Live Free or Die Hard, didn't actually happen.
And to celebrate the upcoming Simpsons movie (and the transformation of 7-11s into Kwik-E-Marts):
Thank you, come again!
*People suffering from thissucksitis believe—correctly or not—that all that they write is crappy and that they ought to work harder on it so it's not as bad. This causes them not to update their blog or send out e-mails, even when they said they would.
Note on the title: it was as random as I could think of on the spot.
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