So maybe it is a book club. A little.

Proof that not only can I get the book from the library but I can also hold it in front of me.  

     So I thought I might mention where the name for my blog came from. When Craig knew for sure he was leaving I went through many thoughts and fears. Not the least of which was the fear that we'd have nothing in common for a year. So the name for this blog came from an idea I had to help Craig an I in our separation. We knew that our lives were going to be very different for about a year. Well his life was going to be different, mine was going to be very much the same as always. Knowing that, we realized that we might have a difficult time finding things to email about. Ways to relate to each other beyond, "this is what my day was like." Especially since his would be edited to protect my fearful heart and mine would be edited to shield him against homesickness. So we decided, well I decided, that we would starting reading the same book at the same time so we'd at least have that way of relating.

It hasn't been going well, for a number of reasons. 

1. Craig will read any book you put in front of him and I have trouble focusing on books that don't truly interest me. 

1a. He will burn through books with some speed and I, when given something I enjoy, like to savor it. 

1b. We don't always have the same taste in books 

2. My schedule is very much the same day after day, week after week. Craig's schedule is sporadic. He could be slogging for days at seemingly endless tasks and then have absolutely nothing to do for days. In slow times he can read, lets say, one-million books. At busy times, nothing. So while I'll be reading the same book for a month he'll have read it, forgotten it, moved on to a new book, forgotten that one and so on and so forth. When I'm done with a book he can't remember what I'm talking about. 

3. Our access is...different. When he was in possession of a KINDLE I could read a book and he could download it to read but now that said KINDLE has been stolen I have to wait until he's read something and I can get it from the library. Boo.

All that said we are making an attempt at it. He has read recently "Fool" by Christopher Moore and I am making an attempt to power through it before he's forgotten it or I've become distracted by something shiny. I got it a few days ago and I'm about 2/3rds of the way through. When I'm finished I will enthrall you with transcripts of the emails that gush forth from our "something normal" to talk about. Stay tuned.

"More things I just shouldn't watch."

My heart goes out to this mans family. I'm feeling just plain nut-bags for even watching this stuff.  Craig has the same job as this man.

Staff Sgt. Derek Farley Dies Disarming IED.

   The first time I watched this I got about 10 seconds in before I just couldn't stand the stupid look on the newscaster's smug face.  The second time I watched it was even shorter.  I finally got through the whole thing today.  It made me so angry.  Maybe I'm just an angry person in general.

   It's interesting to me that there was once a time I could think objectively about these kinds of news stories.  I could watch them and think how sad it is for the man's parents, family, girlfriend.  How strong they are all being.  But it wouldn't register for me.  I was completely disconnected from it, as are so many Americans.  I feel like stories like this are evidence of that disconnection.  There they are, the grieving parents, stoic as statues.  Playing the part that they think their son would play.  Acting the way they think he would behave.  And they're probably right.  Soldiers are some phlegmatic motherfuckers.  It serves a purpose in there lives.  Emotion is messy.  When your life depends on focus that mess is a luxury.

     Why do we do this sort of thing?  It seems like torture to put these people's very real grief on display like it's inspirational or entertainment.  Forcing these poor people to recount the last memories and present the last mementos of their son for a viewing audience.  The segment is far too short to really honor the pain.  I guess we really don't want to do it justice, it would make us all feel far too guilty.  I think that is why I hate this story.  It makes those people who have lost a love one relive their sorrow, those like me, who have someone still in danger sick with fear and leaves those without direct connection relatively unmoved.  It's a lose, lose, lose situation.   I don't know what the answer is but with a 24 hours of news a day I know we have the time and resources to do better.

GOOD THINGS

Lately I've been finding myself dwelling on what sucks about this. What I don't have and what I wish I had. Lately the only time I've felt good about Craig being gone is when I don't think about it. But the truth is that it isn't all bad. If it was I wouldn't be writing a blog. I'd be dating some some British Bass player. But I'm not because this person, with all his faults, makes me hope for the best and makes "wait and see" seem reasonable. So, for this blog, I thought I'd take a little time to point out the good stuff. If only to pull myself out of the dumps, which are lame and also for suckers.

Good thing number one. There is something very Edwardian about being in love with a man in far off places. It has been long know about me that I am ever so slightly obsessed with the British Naval Tradition. It has most recently been illustrated in my reading of eight or so Patrick O'Brien books and watching Master and Commander like...I don't know...I'm guessing, approximately...one-million times. It's fascinating!! And anyone who doesn't think so is probably sane and not a dork like me. Anyway, the couples that lived within this world were separated for long periods of time. The distance creates a resonance between them. The way a violin string can be stretched and stretched and as it gets pulled it becomes sweeter and at times, sadder. Sometimes making an aching sound full longing and sometimes one of joy.

Good thing number two. When communication is very limited that limitation makes it valuable. When facebook can tell me what half my friends are eating for lunch a real email from someone who has half and hour of internet access at a time is special. In an age when communication is so instant I still get to have moments of anticipation. Having to wait can be very romantic. And there is nothing quite like a love letter. Now it's not like we're using carrier pigeons or, god forbid, snail mail but even the little bit of waiting is excruciatingly wonderful. And I get gems like this;

"i hope writing helps you as much as it does me. i'm becoming slightly more self aware. i now have surpassed the self-awareness of a sea sponge! look at me, I'm evolving!"

and

" i just have to cowboy the fuck up and sort out my own shit." (PS I have no idea where he got this phrase. He grew up in LA. The closest he's ever been to "cowboy-ing the fuck up" is a horseback ride through Griffith Park.)

Good thing number three. My life is all my own. No answering to nobody. (Except my mother.) It's like I don't have to be lonely a'cause I have a boyfriend and we've got that achy voiliny thing going on. But I also have total autonomy. It's like the best of both worlds. (and also the shit parts of both worlds but we're not talking about that right now.)

Good thing number four. My patriotic duty is totally done. My apathy-guilt factor is knocked down like 25%.

Plus, I'm here, not there. I get to wake up everyday in my own bed and live my boring, but safe, life. I get to sit and traffic in my good-old car and reach over to my passenger seat and remember holding his hand in that self-same car. I get to watch my brother get married and see my family. I get go to bed every night knowing I'm in no danger.

In the end I do get to be in love with a wonderful person who happens to be on the other side of the planet. My life is pretty great.

SOLDIERS SURPRISE or FUCKING FACEBOOK or THINGS I JUST SHOULDN'T WATCH.

There are good days and there are bad days. It's life right? Some days I don't even think about it and some days I burst into tears driving in my car. What sucks is that you can never really predict what a will trigger either and that makes everyday a dice-roll. My alarm went off early this morning and dragged me out of a beautiful dream. I can't remember what happened. All I remember was that Craig was there and we were together. Like in the same country. In the dream I felt great but waking up was a little heartbreak. I got over it with a little help from my morning coffee and jumped on facebook and someone posted this.

(The music is ridiculous but I spent 10 minutes weeping nonetheless.)

I also watched "The Messenger". I know. I'm a moron.

I seems so crazy that anyone can make this sort of thing work. It's so painful, how do you get to the other end. Everyday your thoughts about the whole thing change. Two weeks ago I was fine. Focusing on my life and just getting things done. Today, I don't feel like getting out of bed.

The thing that is getting to me today is the total lack of assurance. There are no guarantees here. There is nothing saying that he'll come back the same as when he left. Or that he'll come back at all. Or that I'll be the same or feel the same. All I can do is get up and hope for the best. Today that feels like an exercise in futility, but it's not like I have any other options.

I don't know how I'm going to do this.