007

Its 1149, do you know where your children are?
Here's the story of my life: I stay up until 0300 partying, come home and, quiet as a cute little churchmouse, I crawl into bed and go to sleep. Two-and-a-half hours later, my roomate wakes to a cacaphony of annoying sounds. Which, of course, wakes me up. And this isn't the kind of waking up where you just get pissed off and fall right back to sleep. Oh heavens no. This is the kind of waking up where you can't fall back to sleep. I woke up at 0515 today to his alarm clock (which, coming out of my sleep state, I assumed must be hearalding the end of the world or some such catastrophe). I thought to myself "I have an inspection at 1100, which means that I need to wake up at 0945 at the latest to clean. Okay, great. That gives me four and a half hours to sleep! Sweet." I slept one hour. If that. I was so jostled that I was, you know, awake. That was it. My body was done sleeping because my senses had been so jarred by this damn noise. And the light. It is impossible to get to sleep with daylight coming in your window. Downright impossible. And, of course, I have to be out of my room from 1100 to, at the earliest, 1300 today because of these damn room inspections. These room inspections are out of control. They will come through and find the minutest specks of dust or dirt and give you a hit. You can take three hits before you fail the inspection. Let's say, then, that you have one dust bunny on the carpet, a little ice build-up in the freezer, and the top of your fan has dust on it. That's the whole shooting-match. Then you have to stand a reinspection on friday, which sucks. The first day we got our security badges they told us "Don't take them out of your pockets outside because someone could take a sattelite photo and reproduce it and use that reproduction to gain access to this building." WHAT? Eight months ago I was giving Coach Howell excuses why I didn't have my Dante's Inferno paper done. Now I'm entering a completely closed-in building surrounded by an electified barb-wire fence on a nightly basis. And they're telling me shit like "Well, someone could take a sattelite photo..." I sometimes think about that and just wonder at the stange turn of events that led me here. This base is pretty fun, though. Its just like a campus except for the schoolhouse, which looks like a maximum-security prison. Pensacola is a nice enough place. Beats the hell out of Illinois. Although Chicago was a wonderful city. Is, I guess. But its cold. Very fucking cold. I can't really get over how cold it was there. Its, like, seventy degrees outside today. This is great. The best part of being in the Navy, though, is the uniform: that shit hooks it up. Its great. And the best thing about being here is that I can't take any study materials out of the school house (because everything I'd be studying is all top secret or higher). That means that I can just go out on town without stressing out and thinking "Oh, I really need to study." Its great. Not that I do study. It pisses my instructor off but I never take any notes and I'm either first or second in the class. I have to find out what's the deal with that. I'll be done with school on May 20th, after which I'll be driving up to the ATL (where the players play) for a couple of weeks before heading out to probably either Spain, Japan, Washington, or Hawaii. Those would all be swell places to go. My instructor told us that Japan is a really popular place. Perhaps I'll spend a year or two over there. That'd be sweet.

Peace out my civilian silver honkies.
SR Anderson, Pelham H. (it just feels weird to write my name any way other than that now)

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