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Tag Archives: USMC

Adapting.

14 Tuesday Mar 2017

Posted by Kristine in Uncategorized

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letter, truth, USMC, Why I Marched, woman

“Dear Commandant Neller,

The United States Marine Corps gave me something very special when I was a teenager. The principles of honor, courage, and commitment. Valor. The fierce mantra of “improvise, adapt, and overcome–” to never let the enemy get the best of you, whatever that enemy might be. These ideals helped me adapt to all the BS, to improve my ways of thinking, as well as helping me become physically fit.

Time passes, and I got a better idea of what serving in the Corps means, and it wasn’t from a commemorative coffee table book or a Hollywood movie. You prepare our Marines to be fighting ready at moment’s notice, with bare hands or with hand me downs. You prepare them mentally and physically to be the devil dogs our country relies on. Civilians take for granted what serving the country and sacrifice really means, just as I did as a teenager. The public rarely sees the negative results that military culture has on men and women, bored men and women who are fighting fit and ready but demoralized daily just because their superiors “can.” You know very well what the battle ready are doing while they’re waiting to fight, and often it comes from a bottle, or worse. Bad behavior is discouraged, Commandant, but these people are primed and ready to behave badly, SAPR be damned. I know you know the statistics. Sexual harassment, intimidation, and assaults are hushed up, the victims are punished, and it’s just another day in the office.  The stain this leaves on an already small branch who are serving honorably is enormous.

Women volunteer to become Marines to serve their country.  Their training standards should be high, and they deserve respect just like their male counterparts. What will the USMC do to put an end to the rape/intimidation culture and earn back a woman’s trust, our country’s trust?  I know one can’t repair the culture overnight, this feast of boredom in a famine of fight, but what will it take to overcome this enemy?  Can you train a Marine to be battle ready in mind and body but still retain their soul? Is this an obstacle no one can overcome?

It’s hard to extinguish the fire that’s burned in my heart for the Corps all these years, but I cannot support or excuse a cause that can’t make sweeping, permanent change for the benefit of all.

Respectfully I Remain,”

###

Dousing a light that’s burned for so long was painful and sad. If I won’t stand for a filthy president, how can I stand for a Corps that refuses to put a stop to assault and harassment, both female and male? No more.  I look forward to hearing they get their shit together.  It’s all hands on deck for these issues and no excuses. Moving on.

Preparing for Matthew, Tentatively

05 Wednesday Oct 2016

Posted by Kristine in Uncategorized

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hurricane, ocean, sleepless, USMC

Restless.  Sleepless.  Blame it on the wind? A restless mind?

It’s four in the morning and I cannot sleep. I drank water.  Took a shower.  Listened to the wind and can’t shake the feeling that something’s coming.  And it is.  It’s a strange place to be in on a Wednesday morning trying to decide what’s the best way to prepare for what has not happened yet, for what may or may not come. We have technology now that tells us what’s brewing and where, and I need all my tools to get focused, not stress out, and be ready. What can I do with the energy that must be flowing this way?

The Atlantic is a monster to the tiny people in its way, a swirling, churning beast. Our Marines are on the way to help those in the Caribbean with disaster relief, and I am proud that we are going to help.  But what about my neighbors, the young couple who don’t have enough money for a hotel room in case we have to evacuate? Take them, their baby, ferret, and cat with me? Oh no, her husband won’t go for that. Pride lives three doors down from me while indecision lives three doors down from them.

The desert island question arises. If I was stranded on a desert island and could only bring three books (or CDs), what would they be? I look at my books sitting quietly on soft mocha shelves and interestingly, surprisingly, they’re the last thing on my mind. Strange feeling, looking at rooms full of special things, knowing I’ll leave them behind in favor of water, food I can eat out of a can, and a hand-crank radio. Where is higher ground, how far will I need to go? Will my “things” be dry when I get home?

But I wanted to stay and “see.”  I wanted to stand on the balcony and hear the roar and see the pine needles get hurled through the air, how far will the water rise up and storm the land?  Will the Atlantic ask for Willoughby Spit back?  No, not this time, I am sure. How much longer will I remain here, preparing (or not) for what is mostly intangible at this moment?  The higher tides and higher wind gusts tell me something’s brewing.  And I can’t sleep.

Perfect Writing Room

22 Monday Feb 2016

Posted by Kristine in Uncategorized

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amwriting, HoW, inspiration, International Authors, USMC

It’s all so complicated, but we make it so.   Perhaps writers and artists, creatives of any kind, will recognize the idea that they can’t (won’t) get started until everything is just right. Just the right tools at hand, the right weather, the right amount of background noise (or none at all.)  We somehow get it in our minds that we can’t create until everything is juuuust right. Thanks a lot, Goldilocks. I blame it squarely on her, Ms. Folktale, taking away our ability to sit in a chair too hard, sleep in a bed too soft, or eat foods that are too cold. Everything has to be just right, we heard in childhood. Seemed to make sense. Life is all about comfort, innit?

So, not writing is so much easier when I have Goldilocks to blame for my problems. Or the fact that my office is too cold, or there’s too many people in the house, or I haven’t had enough beer yet to be in that comfort zone, that sweet spot that opens and words pour through.

So, to quote a friend, “Bullshit.”  The sweet spot don’t exist, it’s a myth. Successful people, not just writers, but creatives, executives, cubicle creatures, scientists, students, it all applies to them:  They succeed because they worked for it instead of standing around waiting for their coffee to be the perfect temperature, their mood just right, the stars aligned, who the hell knows what the sign is that tells them it’s time to begin.  Successful people just keep at it. They want to, have to, and the truly lucky ones are doing it because they are in love with it. Perhaps a degree is helpful, but how much does it mean if you never use your gift (after polishing the hell out of it since forever.)

I read an article online recently that darkened a shadow that’s lurked behind me for some time.  I allowed the idea to take roost in my head that the best way for my work to be taken seriously when submitting to a poetry contest is to have MFA nestled somewhere in the bio. I looked back at previous winners and felt my sweet spot go right sour. Oh god, there’s no hope for me–or any fledgling writer–how can there be, when the “literary elites” are the ones who dictate what’s great–and publishable.  I shared my ongoing fear with authors and editors whom I respect, trust, and look up to.  The responses were passionate, as expected. One was particularly thrilling for the beautiful language he chose to assuage my concern.  Their responses shared the same message:  Don’t worry about “literary elites.” Just keep working.  Great writing will always find its way to the top, no degree required.  I do believe they blew my MFA shadow away into grains of sand in the wind.

But. There’s always a but. All this writing talk leads me to yet another article found on Literary Hub, shared here for your perusal.  The perfect room. Another myth. What kind of moment it was when I discovered the perfect room to write in is the one I am in right now. Last week it was the library. Two days ago it was in a spiral notebook with my feet in the cold sand, sun warm on my arms, waves wandering in, not especially concerned with fledgling words. The perfect manuscript does not exist. There will always be room for one more nip, one more tuck. Sure, a really great cup ‘o joe and the worlds most comfortable pen (or laptop with silent keys) can make the writing experience easier, more pleasurable. But none of it matters if there’s no thinking, dreaming, or writing going on.  I’m not known for being disciplined. I don’t think Goldilocks was, either, but one of us is going to sit in chair too hard, burn her mouth on something spicy, and put some words together that someday, somebody will really want to read.  I am the perfect room.

Oorah!

Heading, Captain?

31 Monday Aug 2015

Posted by Kristine in Uncategorized

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destiny, evolving, USMC

Had the opportunity and pleasure of attending the New York Airshow at Stewart International Airport yesterday, family in tow.  We had a great afternoon, and let’s face it, folks. An airshow isn’t an airshow unless you’ve been out in the sun for four hours. There is little shade on an airport runway unless you are one of the lucky folks who’s family member is a serviceman and can sit beneath the wing of a C-17.  If you forgot your sunscreen and plenty of water, then you’ve forgotten what it means to spend a long time outdoors. But I digress…

Being in the company of those Marines and Airmen brought so many things back to me, the foremost was deep thanks for what they do, day in and day out, unseen, unknown, and forgotten when our government runs out of cash. The little wanna-be Marine in me wanted to thank each and every one of them personally for their service.  My grateful words will be largely unseen here, but it’s all I have at the moment.

Something else it brought back to me was what would my life look like today if I joined the Corps back when I was young, unmarried and pre-child?  Would I have lived a life fulfilled? The life I dreamt of the first time I saw a squad of Warthogs fly overhead, then dreamed about marching in formation beneath their screaming engines?  Would I have been happy becoming the lean, mean, killing machine I wanted to be, back in those days?  Would I have kept on writing? Would my creativity have survived and still meant something to me after my tour was done?  There is no way for me to know what would have been, and that goes for every aspect of my life, which I’m not going to examine in detail here. That’s not what this place is for.  All I know is what is “now.”  Here and now. What I choose to create or what I choose to procrastinate and run away from every day.  The choice is mine, each and every hour, all those hours between daily life, chores, the mundane, the “day job”, the mid-life.  What will I choose to create, and what will I choose to throw away, forsake, ignore, run away from?

If the answer does not manifest more writing (and not the blog stuff and the email stuff, I mean actual conjuring of a story or poem that wasn’t there a minute ago), then I either have to change the answer or live with the consequence. And no whining!  There’s no place for whiners in the Corps, or in the world of art.

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