"Tragedy"s and Comedies

Webster defines friendship in many ways.  The one that stands out the most to me is one attached to another by affection or esteem.  Over the years, it is crazy to look back at all the friendships I have shared with so many people.  I have shared a friendship with people from so many walks of life: drug abuse, family abuse, religious upbringings, the list goes on and on.  I have been friends with a little bit of everyone and I feel like at the peak of each of those friendships were a happiness and a thought that I would forever be friends with that person.  It is amazing how throughout your life you can have so many meaningful friendships with people that you think will last a lifetime.  You’re lucky in the end to have a friendship that has, even one.

 I wonder if I am the only one who talks about the stories from the different friendships I have shared or if these long-lost friends share the same stories with their friends.  I’d like to think my friendship and the times we shared are as cherished to them as they are to me.  You know the saying about how some friends last a season and some a lifetime…but for every friendship, there seems to be a reason.  When I look back at my friendships, and I believe that saying is true. 

Some of the people I have been friends with in the past may have been judged by others as druggie losers, but I was able to see something different in these people.  Most of these people that were considered losers by authority figures and those with narrow minds, were my friends.  They were friends that would’ve done anything for us and we were like a family.  We were rebellious teens that didn’t know anything and thought we knew everything.  We saw something wrong and always had an opinion on how to fix it.  We questioned authority and we stood up for what we believed in.  Does that make anyone a loser?  You know what I say? No.  The people that I was friends with were not afraid to be who they were or say what they thought.  And, that to me speaks more than the adults we’ve become and the peers we had then.  I look back on who I was and I sometimes wish I were that person – the non-judgmental person who analyzed and questioned everything.  What have I become?  I have become a sheep of routine.  Although, I am quite known for saying what’s on my mind or nastily phrased, diarrhea of the mouth, I am not the fearless, open-minded adolescent I once was…  I guess that is what happens…you get old…you get boring.

A good friend of mine once told me ‘you know you are beautiful, and a lot of people say that gay men don’t like women.’  He said, “The truth is that a gay man can look at a beautiful woman and respect her for that.”

It feels good to hear that you are beautiful, and people will tell you that you know you are.  The truth is as a woman that you don’t know you are.  The truth is you can’t believe it when you yourself don’t believe it.  I look in the mirror and it is an entirely different person than I used to be.  Let me admit at one point in my life I felt like I could look good.  Now it feels like however much makeup I pile on, and all the different colors I dye my hair cannot give me the feeling that I once had.

 

I cannot remember the day that I started feeling like this.  Maybe it was the day that I couldn’t put on the jeans that at one time used to fall off of me.  I cannot feel comfortable leaving the house without make-up.  It is terrible for someone to feel like this. 

 

Sometimes it all boils down to that I am not only unhappy with my physical appearance, but I am unhappy with myself period.  My life consists of nothing I ever wanted it to be.  I used to have dreams of becoming somebody, of leaving this wretched town that tends to magnetize people to its terrible presence.  I did leave, but as you can guess I am back.  It is not that I hate this town so much; it is just that I hate the routine.  I hate that you cannot go anywhere without seeing somebody you know.  I hate not having the opportunity to meet new and exciting people on a daily basis.

 

When I first left the town, it was to join the Navy.  People ask ‘Why did you join the Navy?’  I really don’t know how to answer this question because I myself do not know why I joined the Navy.  I did not feel the need to serve my country.  I did not want to die for my country.  Why did I do it?  I did not want to go to college, and after talking to Chief Gallop it sounded like a wonderful escape.  Whatever a recruiter tells you in no way can prepare you for what you are about to endure.

 

Life in the Navy started out rough.  To make matters worse I had a long-term boyfriend that meant the world to me.  I would have ran away that night on August 7th had he asked me.  Now that I look back I really would have.  Nick never let me know he loved me that much as he did on that night.  He made me feel like I was leaving a part of myself, and when I looked into his eyes that night I knew our relationship would never be the same.

 

They say never to get engaged at the airport when your significant other is on a plane out of there.  Well, you can guess we did.  It wasn’t really real because it was more spur of the moment.  I know though that the way I felt that day could make me want to spend the rest of my life feeling like that.  There were no rings just the simple words ‘Allison Nelson, will you marry me?’  Well, of course I said yes, and I could see the doubt in my father’s eyes when we told him.  

 

After our ‘engagement’, we preceded to go into the airport…my mother, Nick, and me.  My father did not go in the airport.  I have never seen my father cry, but I could tell by the look in his eyes when we hugged goodbye that his baby girl going off into the military saddened him.  My father was also a military man, and knew that I was in for a big surprise.

 

When I got on the plane, I did not realize exactly what was getting ready to happen.  I was about to encounter one of the most difficult things I have ever had to endure.  I was about to experience a transformation.  

 

When I got off the plane it was my responsibility to get a group of five from the gate to the USO office inside the airport.  When we walked into the USO, we were told to empty our pockets of all loose articles.  The office was full of new Navy recruits.  They assigned us all to groups.  They would call a group number and you would see that group file out into the hall and then the group would fall out.  

 

Finally, they called my group and I grabbed my backpack that had barely any of my belongings in it.  We were out in the hall and a Petty Officer approached the group, and began spouting rules that we would have to follow on our bus ride to Basic Training.

 

When we got on the bus, we were shown a video.  It was a video of recruits that just made it through basic training, talking about how happy they were.  That video did nothing, but contribute to the lies the recruiter had said.

 

We arrived at the Naval Recruit Training Command in Great Lakes, IL.  We filed off of the bus into a two-story brick building where all of the new recruits stood in a single file line.  We were all told to stand shoulder-to-shoulder holding the bag that contained our belongings in our left hand.  In front of us stood a burly chief dressed in khaki.  He definitely fit the profile for his intimidating role.

 

He yelled at us and explained that basic training designed to make us all into one team.  He said that he was going to yell ‘ship’ and we were to yell ‘mate’ and all drop our bags at the same time.  Of course this was almost impossible to do.  All of us were nervous and scared of what lied ahead.  

 

The first week crept by.  There was not much that the RDC s (Recruit Division Commanders) could do.  Since we had not had our physicals and obtained our shots, we were not yet ‘fit for full duty’.  They were able to make us do humiliating things such as disciplining us by making us hold a pen straight out, or putting our noses against the bed racks.  

During that first week we were kept quite busy with mundane work.  We were busy stenciling our names on everything.  By everything, I mean absolutely everything including, our underwear.  This had to be done to distinguish what belonged to whom when the laundry came back.  The laundry was all sent out except for the under clothes which were done ‘in house’.  Doing this kept us busy, but by no means was the time ‘flying’.

 

The first week also allowed us to get acquainted with one another.  I had a pretty good personality and being the youngest of four, I was blessed with the ability to talk.  Also, the ability to be annoying, but we won’t go into that.  I was able to make friends quickly, although I lost a few by the time I had left due to my inability to follow directions as well as let them down (we will get to this a little later).

 

The next few weeks of training seemed to fly by.  We were always kept busy.  We were going to school, cleaning, studying, and marching…there was always something to do.  Nick tried to write me everyday.  The mail that we received at night could be the perfect ending to a terrible day.  

 

Week 4 arrived, and I was told I needed to go to the doctor.  We all knew that it was the gynecologist.  I had become terrified because I had never had an abnormal pap.  The only person I had been with since my last examination was Nick.  This would mean that he had given me an STD, or I had cervical cancer, which is sometimes classified as an STD.  Come to find out, abnormal paps were not uncommon.  They can occur from tampons, if they were recently used or several other things.  She said that this was nothing to worry about and I should be fine, but to get another exam in about three months.  I left the doctors office with a feeling of relief.  

 

I walked into the barracks and a fellow recruit ran up to me and told me that the United States of America had been bombed.  She said Camp David, the Pentagon, White House, and World Trade Centers had all been subject to bombing and someone saw the White House on fire on a television somewhere.  I was in shock and terrified that our country was under attack! 

 

Our whole division gathered and waited to hear the news from Chief Green.  She came out and said ‘Well, this is the most quiet you assholes have been.’  It added some humor to the stressful situation.  She explained to us that the United States had been attacked.  She said that terrorists hijacked airplanes and crashed them into the World Trade Centers and part of the Pentagon.  Not quite as terrible as we had thought, but terrible enough.

 

The next few weeks were strange and by the time the air ban had let up, you could feel your nerves every time you heard a plane fly over.  It was scary and everyone’s families were scared.

 

Week 5 was service week where we worked in the galley aka lunchroom.  It was terrible.  You were kept busy for approximately 17 hours a day on your feet the entire time.  My feet would ache to the point that there were knots in the bottom of my feet that I would have go the ‘head’ (bathroom) and take off my steel toed boots and rub the knots out.  I felt as if I could not stand flat-footed it was so painful.  

 

After service week, it was time to prepare for battle stations.  What would turn us from recruits into sailors.  Week 6 consisted of the gas chamber, fire-fighting training, and classes upon classes of training.

 

Week 7 marked battle stations.  It was a number of activities that would last from 2100-0800.  It kept you up all night running through numerous tasks that you might encounter when on a ship.  The next morning ended in us receiving our NAVY hats and dispersing of the RECRUIT hats.  It was a very proud and emotional moment.  We all had worked very very hard for what we had just accomplished.

 

Week 8, one week before graduation.  I did something very stupid.  The girls were all going to the Navy Exchange to get some things in preparation for graduation.  Everyone wanted candy.  I decided I would go ahead and get a candy bar because I had never even snuck anything from the Galley into the barracks.  Well, needless to say they got caught.  There were several girls that made requests, but only the suspects told on a few of those.  Of course, I was one that was narced on.  Chief Green had us all stand in front of our racks and she had anyone who did it to step out.  I was the only one to step out.  I could not believe it.  I was furious.  No one else would admit to doing it.  

 

Punishment was rough.  Luckily, we did not get held back in training.  Instead, we had to go through two days of Intense Training.  And we lost half a day with our family graduation weekend.  I had a few girls mad at me because I told of their participation in the act.  I was not going to take the fall for one mistake when these girls had been sneaking candy for weeks.  I regret ever participating in it.  I am not even a junk food junkie.  We all got through it but girls that I was close to would not forgive me.

 

Graduation finally arrived.  I felt I had accomplished something huge.  I had done things I never thought I could do, and I did them well.  I felt better and looked better than I had in a long time.  I could not wait to see my family and for my family to see me.  After the graduation ceremony, I finally saw Nick.  It seemed like forever since that night in the hotel where we talked about running away.  Nick, Mom, Grandma Carter, Matt, and Jessika all attended.  All I was selfishly concerned about was seeing Nick.  When I finally got to leave base, we went to the hotel.  My grandma and Matt wanted to go sightseeing and all I wanted to do was sit in a hotel and be lazy with my boyfriend.  Was that so bad?  I had worked my ass off for 10 weeks, and I wanted to utilize those 2 days to do nothing…except for Nick of course.

 

The sex we had was absolutely amazing.  It was better than ever before.  I don’t know if it was my toned body, or the fact that we had been apart and were more in love then, than we ever had been, and ever would be.  He proposed again in that hotel room.  There was a ring this time.  It was one of those rings you buy out of a stand in the middle of a mall.  That didn’t matter; it felt so special and so perfect.  I didn’t want this to end, and would’ve given anything to keep it forever.  Ironically, I am the one who destroyed it.  The three days of ‘liberty’ passed quickly, and before I knew it, I was back at basic waiting to be shipped to school.

 

School would be quite a different experience.  I arrived at the school on October 18, 2001.  This was the 4-year anniversary of my brother Chris’s death.  I was extremely quiet and reserved.  I couldn’t believe the difference between basic training and school.  I missed home, and mostly I missed Nick.

 

Arrival at school was kind of scary.  I had a strange guy that was on the same flight with me.  We had to ride a cab together to our barracks.  The school was called the Defense Information School of Technology (DINFOS).  It was located at Ft. Meade, MD.  It is approximately 30 minutes north of Washington DC and 30 minutes south of Baltimore.  

 

The barracks was small because we were on an Army post.  There were only about 150 of us in the barracks.  They tried to make it close to ship life by having guards on post.  The first person I met was Wilson.  She was quite the joker and she reminded me of my friend Leah from home.  Ironically, her name was Leah too.  She helped show me to my room.  

 

It was so weird coming to this place where people were running around and saying and doing what they wanted.  It was quite a change from not thinking for yourself and doing only what you were told.

 

School was the start of a wonderful friendship, many wonderful friendships.  The most treasured friendship was with Knittel.  Shaun Knittel aka Knittie.  He would become someone that I would confide in and find a part of myself in.  The first thing I remember about Shaun is we would have to check in every night with the officer on duty.  They would call us out by our last names because that is how we were addressed.  They called out Knittel and someone in the back said ‘nipple’ ha-ha-ha.  Shaun whipped around and addressed the person right there in front of the chief.  He did not care that we were in regs.  The chief did not say a word.  I thought this whole thing was hilarious, but I liked this guy.

 

Our friendship started the way a lot of mine have in the past – by talking about drugs.  After that, we were best friends.  We would disappear every weekend to DC to hang out with our civilian friends and do drugs, what we loved.

 

 

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Spoiler Alert: 40 Year Allison Did NOT

I heard a speaker today online that was referred to me by a friend.  The speaker’s name is Malcom Gladwell, the author of the popular book ‘Blink’.  He made a comment that stood out to me within the 30 minute speech as he spoke about a man.  It is not a unique quote, nor one that has never been said before.  However, I found it quite profound and thought provoking – “People don’t know what they want.”  Think about it.  How many people truly know what they want?  I honestly envy those that do.  I have no hobbies, no true interests.  How many people graduated high school knowing what they wanted to do on that day of high school graduation, transitioned to college, didn’t change their major, and actually pursued that dream?  I can possibly name a handful from my graduation class of 200+.  I didn’t know what I wanted to do at age 18; I still don’t at age 27.  I fear that when I am 40 I will feel the same and that terrifies me.  There is a saying – “Find what you love to do for a career and you will never work a day in your life.”