Twice a day is better...

So I've made two visits today...what of it??
I think I've been away from the keyboard so long that its like when you start smoking again - you thought you were done but all it took was one cigarette and its all over, you know you can't go back.
I've missed words.
The way they flow without thought or meditation. How they are so honest but I don't even realize it until I return to read them later.

I watch the people around me here, and no one lives honestly. Everything is a lie or an attempt to impress. They walk around being confused, wondering why things don't make sense to them but in facts it their own fault - you tell enough lies and you won't be able to see up from down. I'm not saying I don't try to impress people - I strive to be the best here and make sure my instructors know I'm the best. Even if I'm not. But its different...and the girls are mostly whores. Except Goldie and I...Goldie rocks.
It was odd, but people notice I'm not like the other girls. Like a guy today was talking to me about life and asked if I was married.
I said yes.
Then no.
Then almost.
He asked if I was getting a divorce.
I said no, I'm engaged.
Why did I say yes?? Not sure.
But he commented that I wasn't like the other girls - lack of throwing myself at every male who passed by and whatnot. Odd that they notice.

Sometimes people ask what my day is like.
I laugh at them.
And tell it to them sort of like so:

I woke up just like any other day. To the sound of my roommates alarm clack screaming like a banshee at 0500. She got up after a few years later...and pushed snooze.
"BROOKE."
"*muffled*What?"
"Did you push snooze?"
"Yeahh...I'll get up in a little bit."
"TURN IT OFF OR GET UP NOW. IF IT GOES OFF AGAIN..."
"@$$&$$^&! Fine! I'm getting up now. %$^ch..."
*falls back asleep*
Almost an hour later I was in PT gear, water bottle and swim roll in hand, running to the chow hall to eat my usual breakfast of a banana and a cup of yogurt. I eat the same friggin thing every morning - mostly cause I don't have to stand in line to get to it. That and I can eat in under five minuets, and the possibility of regurgitating bacon and eggs during PT is much less appealing than that of heaving up a banana and yogurt - that's pretty much like barfing up a shake, no big deal.
I eat, I toss my tray, and I walk slowly the one block to the barracks to get in formation for PT.

When I arrived at the PT formation, it was already a huge gagglefudge of idiots all talking about how they got laid the night before and spitting out the last of their tobacco remains onto the sidewalk - which I often step into and track back into my room.
Lovely.
The corpsman (nurse? I think so. I want to call him a nurse sometimes just to see his face turn red as he tried to stop the explosion in his brain from going straight to his overweight heart and killing him. Not that I'd mind whatsoever if it got to his heart. Pretty sure I'd poke him to make sure he was dead before I called 911. This is how awesome this guy is) comes out and screams some nasty words.
He doesn't like people talking.
When he asks you a question you answer "Yes" or "No".
Plain and simple.
Its completely outrageous. He screwed over my life last week so we aren't getting along so well. Actually I want to continually come to him with female problems. Like really gruesome ones. I'll think of something...ideas? STDs are a no-go but just about anything else...too bad I'm not a whore like everyone else or we could go somewhere with that...
Anyway.
Evil little man comes out and screams, inserts the word "Shall" into his sentences a lot and drops more f bombs than points we lost in the stock market last month.
After the screaming, Mr. Walter comes out.
This man is one of my hero's. He is sweeto. He oversees all of us kids waiting to start class and makes sure all is well. He is the closest thing to a Dad any of us have here.
He goes through around 200 names every morning, making sure we are all there. People don't pay any attention, just keep talking about blood being in weird places and spitting on the sidewalk. By my shoe. One of these days they are gonna miss and I'm going to back-kick a shipmate to the face.
It'll happen...I'm sure of it...

After muster is taken (its the Navy. We have the most retarded names for stuff. Seriously), Mr. Ruber arrives.
This man is about 5"6' (66 inches, just to help out your math Sixth), probly 138 pounds, and tan, with almost white hair, and has an almost Asian-like ageless quality. And he's buff. Like if you took 138 pounds and made it into pure lean muscle, this would be Mr. Ruber.
We call our PT sessions, Mr. Ruber PT.
If you have a six pack, you have Mr. Ruber abs.
If you go on a 12 mile run, you went on a Mr. Ruber run.
Chuck Norris checks under his bed for Mr. Ruber before he goes to bed.
If Mr. Ruber were immortal...we can't prove he isn't.
He could run a mile and a half in 7:30 at the age of 18. He runs it in about 8:00 now. Added on a whole 30 seconds in 30 years...that's a whole second a year.
He does one armed push ups while we do two armed. He does one armed pull ups while someone has to help me over the pull up bar.
He is in constant pain because of some sort of knee injury, but he still runs. Sometimes when he's on his meds though, he laughs out loud at us.
He is pretty much the craziest man you've ever met. Everyone loves him.
Then there is Mr. Evans, the swim instructor for kids who can't swim (like myself). He leads the league of Iron Ducks. We sink. Or at least think we're going to. Some of us used to wear floaties when we went to the deep end.
Yeah.
I was one of the handicapped kids.
Mr. Evans is the most perverted old man you've ever met. He once admitted to checking out my butt when I left the pool to use the bathroom.
But somehow its alright.
Don't ask me why. I'm pretty sure he's the only person in the world who can say the things he does without me turning around and elbowing him in the face. None of us can say why its ok when he says it, but it is.
Weird.
Don't ever try to get me to explain because I can't.
So there we all stand, all 200 of us, awaiting our instruction from our respective instructors.
"AIRCREW, ARE YOU FIT TO TRAIN?"
"HOOYAH!"
And off we march to the PT field where we proceed to have our butts handed to us for a couple of hours.
We march back.
We eat.
We repeat the exact same thing we were doing at 0620 and return an hour and a half later.
We shower.
We iron.
We muster again.
Why?
I don't know.
We eat.
We play.
We sleep.
And we wake up the next morning to repeat exactly what happened the day before.

Anyway.
Thats my day.
I've lost my storytelling ability.
Its freaking me out so I have to leave.
I used to be able to make all that into a glorious tale and I can't anymore.
Help.
Sixth - HAH! I MENTIONED YOU! WHAT NOW?!?!
Just kidding...well...not kidding...but you know what I mean...Anyway. Your "encouragement" was very encouraging...*cough cough* *laughing* Actually it was a twisted way of looking at things. So twisted it made me smile.
Carol - I found something that will make you happy in the back of my forms notebook...

TEN DAYS PEOPLE AND I'LL BE HOME FOR CHRISTMAS!!
LA DEE FREAKING DA!!!
-Shell
p.s. Now I'm off to re-injure my knee so the doctor will admit something is truly wrong with it instead of looking at me and telling me to stretch and ice it.
Carter and I wanted to kick each other in the shins until we couldn't walk anymore so we can get a discharge.
My sisters thinks they would catch on.
She hasn't met "them".
Idiots.
Complete idiots.