My dizziness is really bad today. I can’t go on sick call because there is no sick call on the weekends. I’ll go Monday if it’s not better. This is so hard. I just have to go through. There’s nothing else to do – I can’t quit or drop out. I will get through this. I may be miserable, but I’ll get through. I really can’t walk straight. It’s not good. It’s noticeable to other girls in my platoon. I know it’s because I’m so tired. I’ve been up since 0300 hrs because of fireguard. I wish I could just sleep for 12 hours straight. Continue reading “Flashback Fridays: Army Basic Training, Part 3”
Each day here feels like a year, and I can’t remember anything from yesterday. It’s an amazing feeling to be done with breakfast before the sun even considers coming up. I look at my watch at 1000 hrs and am shocked that it’s not 1600 hrs. We’re done with dinner at 1700 hrs. There are girls practicing about face, left face, column right, etc. right now. I should be too, but I’m feeling lazy. Yesterday we stood a lot. I was in misery. I’ll be in constant pain for the next 2 ½ months, that’s a given. It’s so hard for me to stand in line for hours. Sometimes we’re waiting 2 to 3 hours for chow. After breakfast chow yesterday, we got a TB test. Continue reading “Flashback Fridays: Army Basic Training, Part 2”
I know quite a few of my friends and family have read my basic training journal before, but for those of you who haven’t, I thought it would be fun to post a flashback entry every Friday.
26 September 2000 0830 hrs
Well, I’ve survived my first day, not that there was much to it. Sgt. B*** picked me up at my apartment at 0445 hrs. He dropped me off at the Baltimore MEPS, and I went inside and sat in the cafeteria for a long time. All the potential recruits who were there to take tests were called, and then the person in charge asked if any Army people were shipping out that day. Four of us said we were, and we were sent to the front desk. Continue reading “Flashback Fridays: Army Basic Training, Part 1”
In February of 1994 when I was 20 years old, my college roommate Jennifer and I decided to adopt a cat. At the shelter, we were drawn to a 6-month-old black tabby. We took him home and named him Sebastian, and I was lucky enough to draw the long straw and keep him with me when Jennifer and I went our separate ways the following year. Sebastian has lived in many homes with me (and without me) and had many adventures over the years. One summer, he stayed with my grandparents and got to be an outdoor cat for a few months. Another summer, one of my student’s families was nice enough to take him in. I was always looking for help in the summers because of my stints at the Aspen Music Festival. He ran away from my brother’s house in 1999 while I was in India, and didn’t come back for over a week, none the worse for wear. Continue reading “When Your Cat Gets Old…”