Monday, June 25, 2007

No News is Good News

So, looks like Night-Time Bimbo Barbie (my apologies to all actual Barbies, everywhere) is going to get out of the pokey, shortly *yawn*. From the breathless updates and wringing hands from the talking heads, one would think there are few things more important than what the newly religious and dedicated [name removed as to not defile even this humble blog] plans to do with her new found freedom.

I wouldn't even mention the above except for the fact that her situation reminds me of lessons learned from my past.

We had attached to our little FOB (Forward Operating Base) this one Corpsman I'll call Chief. He got word that he had been selected for promotion while we were deployed, so there ya go. As most Navy personnel go, he was kind of an odd duck (Har!). Tall guy, very gangly-looking, and somewhat socially awkward in regular conversations. Once you got past the outer appearance though, he was good to go by my book. He new his stuff like nobodies business, and as it turned out, we actually shared a few interests, somewhat. Lemme 'splain...

Back in school, in a yet another failed mission objective of meeting the chicas, I signed up for a Tai Chi class. To be honest, I was kind of curious in what is pretty much considered the epitome of soft style MAs, but when I saw the nearly 30 to 1 female to male gender ratio, that pretty much sealed the deal for me. Not much can be said about me sealing any other deals, unfortunately.

I actually had a pretty good time, and found that it, like most other things of which I think 'sheeeeit, I could do that', was a lot harder than it looks. Nothing like a little 60 yr old lady throwing a slow motion, head level kick, all the while explaining to the class the theories of her style, to show me that my legs and flexibility were not in as good of shape as I had figured. After finishing one thought, with her foot still in the air, the lady rotated her kick to the side and then to the rear, while somehow not laughing at my feeble attempts to stay balanced (and ogle the lovelies) with my foot only at a mediocre hip-height.

Back to Chief, he was a fanatical Tai Chi practitioner. He did it religiously, and was seen practicing most mornings and occasionally in the evenings. It seemed to me that he did nothing else, at times. I would come back from a long, hot, frustrating patrol, and there he was, doing his forms. I knew that he had plenty of stuff to do, probably finished and re-checked several times over, but I would often grumble to myself about the injustice of it all, me working my ass to the bone while Chief studied the intricacies / subtleties of the flicks-booger-off-of sleeve movement.

Unfortunately, as these things tend to go, due to the increase in operational tempo and the inevitable casualties, the sailors on the FOB were eventually called to the plate, and they were jumping through their asses to get their mission done. They did a fine job, and it drove home the points that; A bored Doc should mean a happy Sergeant. A busy Doc means that I am probably having a Very Bad Day. Exciting can be over-rated and bored is often under-rated.

So, to the constant updates ($1 Million dollars for the first post-jail interview!!! Up next, a changed outlook on life!!!), I remind myself that things can always be worse, be happy with what I have going on right now, it just means that it's another slow news day.

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