Andre - Part One

I promised before that I'd write about Andre. It's a bit of a long story, and there's no definite end other than the fact I haven't seen him since this past summer.

A lot of this is stitched together from fragments of memories and what I recorded in my journals. Some of the timeline is confused. Some details are added in retrospect, some details have been forgotten. This is an exercise I try to perform with myself every year, remembering that summer in all its beauty...


We met in Kingston, ON in July 2009. At that time, I was still "with" JM, a boy I'd met on the bus to university.

Quick summary: About four days before I left for Kingston, JM and I made out in a bathroom, and then decided we liked each other enough to try to keep in touch while I was away for the next four months. We agreed to "keep things open" though, considering how little we knew about each other and how unfair it would be to claim we were "in a relationship". The first weekend into my course, most of our course went out drinking. GK, a man from our course, danced with me, and then started kissing me. I wasn't sure where I wanted to go with that, so I stopped. About a month later, I went drinking with some Reg Force guys. CV, a Reg Force line tech, and I shared a cab back to shacks. He walked me to my room to make sure I'd be allright. And somehow we ended up on the bed and he was licking my nipples. He wasn't doing a good job, so I flipped him over and showed him how it's done. By that point I had sobered up a little, and gently convinced him to leave.

This brings us to mid-late July.

My father had taken ill. Mom called me on the weekend to tell me. My roommate saw me shoving my face into a towel, trying not to let Mom know I was crying. It was bad. Dad had some kind of infection and his body was so deep in shock that he lost his vision. The doctors had given him a "50/50" chance after looking him over. They didn't know what was wrong, they suspected a blood infection.

I went home for a week to visit him.

While I was at home, I took the opportunity to visit JM as well. We were both virgins at penetrative sex. (I had touched a penis (sexually) twice in my life and he had received a blowjob once.) We went to his place and I told him I wanted to have penetrative sex. He asked if I was sure, I confirmed, and he went to fetch a condom. When he returned, he was limp, and despite all efforts, we couldn't get him stiff enough to even get the condom on. We shrugged it off. In retrospect, it was the best thing that could have happened (but more on that later).

My father got slightly better, and I returned to Kingston to complete my course.

While I had been away, another course arrived. And on this course was a man named Andre. He looked to be, at least in his thirties. His smile was young, but the lines, the greying hair, and the sadness you could sometimes see on his face or in his eyes, it all contradicted with his seemingly youthful attitude to life. He struck me as a man who had experienced "the finer things of life" and decided he wanted it simple afterall.

As it happened, I wasn't far off. He was thirty-nine that year (as a Gemini, he'd already had his birthday by then), and used to be a salesman. I wouldn't find out until later, but he had been a very successful salesman and had enjoyed wealth and the experiences it availed; staying in luxury hotels and ordering any dish on the merest whim... But he got sick of the lifestyle, quit his job and joined the Army. I'd also find out, he had three children.

But none of this mattered, partly because I didn't know at the time, and partly because it just didn't matter anyway. Well, to be honest, I was curious about his age, so I stole a glance at his military ID.

He introduced himself to me when I returned to Kingston.

"I don't think we've met."
"I'm Charlie."
"Well Charlie, I'm Andre."
"Hi Andre."

It was bewildering to me at the time why someone would introduce himself that way. I was flattered but confused at the structure and....forwardness.

Thinking back now, I can barely remember how we got to know each other in those early days...

One weekend, we went to see the Kingston Symphony Orchestra perform Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture at Fort Henry (which I thought was extremely poetic).

Andre drove a European SUV: leather upholstery, sunroof, digitally controlled seats you could move by pushing buttons... I'm not a "car-person", but feeling that engine was one of the most exhilarating+luxurious+empowering things I'd ever felt. Plus, he was a decent driver, though he'd be a jerk sometimes and speed up just so someone couldn't pass him.

We took photos around Fort Henry. I enjoyed making canon-penis poses. At one point, I got dizzy looking down a flight of stairs. Andre offered me his hand.

The orchestra played. It was beautiful. And there were cannons and fireworks, and it was brilliant.

Andre loved it so much, he also went the second night. Back at shacks, I didn't know where he'd gone. I think I might have known he was going again and maybe was under the impression he wanted to take me again. Whatever it was, I wanted to get a hold of him, so I wrote him a note and stuck it to his room door. It had my phone number.

My roommate, since she lived nearby, had gone home for the weekend. Later that night, Andre came by my room.

"I knew you'd write me a note. Well, that's not true--I had hoped. I had really, really hoped you would write me a note today." We talked briefly. I don't remember anymore. Somewhere in there, I may have mentioned I like giving and receiving back rubs, but a lot of people seem to think it's strange to do that with a stranger or even acquaintance, so I have nobody to receive from. Andre said he'd be fine with that.

One night, a bunch of us went to a pub to hang out. We talked and talked and talked. We came back to shacks and talked. Finally, we got sleepy and began leaving. Andre said, "Goodnight, sweetheart."

Some nights later, a bunch of us went drinking. It was the night that started everything in motion.

It was a mess trying to find a good place to drink, but we did, and eventually Andre and I cabbed back to shacks. He asked if it was "backrub time", so I obliged and spread a sheet over a spare bed. He lay himself down and I started on his upper back. Somewhere in there, his shirt disappeared and I didn't fight it except to say it would be rough without oil (I didn't have any).

Then he started playing with my feet, giving them a little massage at the same time. Eventually he rolled onto his back and we just started talking, trailing our hands over eachother a little.

He told me he had liked me from the instant he saw me, that it was magnetic, he was drawn to me. I had gained a lot of his respect very quickly, which was very strange because he is often skeptical of people and others often have to do something extraordinary to earn that level of respect from him.

He also wondered why I "chose" him--reminding me of PMK from my BMQ/SQ. What about him made this--snuggling--allowable to me?

Andre said he'd been single for a long time, because he's very picky and doesn't want a girl whom he can just pick up at a bar--he doesn't want sex, and if sex is so easy, there's almost no point. He doesn't think he could sleep with a perfect stranger. I half-agreed, telling him a little about my history...

We continued laying, skimming our hands across eachother and chatting. I mentioned again that in my head is a remnant of the "shy fat girl" personality from earlier years. He then went on to extol my virtues, including that I'm smart and attractive. I laughed only a little. He gave me such praise, it was so painful: "I am so lucky. The luckiest man in the world could not ask for what you are willing to give me",  "You're an angel",  "You're a doll."

I brought up--it was on topic but I can't remember now why--how I thought penises are gross. I lied a little though: my curiosity was beginning to at least equal and perhaps surpass my repulsion, for most things; I exaggerated how much they freaked me out. He posed a question to me: "So if I were to place your hand here on my pants, what would you do?"

Initially, I didn't understand. "I'd probably punch you in the face and throw you out of my room."

He laughed. He meant in a mutually permissive and exploratory way. I told him I didn't want to find out that night. I was thinking about JM.

We snuggled a lot. He took off my bra from under my shirt. I refused at first to let him kiss me, but then allowed him to kiss me so long as he understood I would never kiss him in return. He would try to touch my breasts and I would deny him. "It'd be worth it, breaking my thumbs, for just a touch."

We found a position where we'd support the other's head with the arm closest to the other.

"I'd rather use the strength from lifting my head to instead lift yours."
"I like that," I said.
"Are you comfortable?" he asked. I paused.
"I could become comfortable," I replied.
"You mean it?" He sounded eager.
"Wait, what?" I was confused. "What do you mean?"

Somewhere in that confusion, I explained, "I have someone back home. Now, you and I can either have something entirely physical and that would be the end of it, or continue as close friends." He said he'd much rather take the friends part.

"We're being intimate right now, not necessarily sexual. ... Last night, after I said goodbye, I went back to my room and just lay there, thinking I should go back. But then I thought, if I went back and knocked on your door, you'd ask, 'What do you want?' And I wouldn't know how to reply. 'To spend more time with you'? 'To be in your company'? 'To get to know you better', 'to just hang out with you'? I just didn't have an answer."

We continued until we both drifted off. We slept in the same bed with one sheet and one blanket.

He'd snore, though; and I'd freak out lest someone hear us and suspect a man in my room. I woke a few times: 0600, then 0700, then someone's alarm went off and I started. Around 0730 we both woke up ("I love waking next to you, feeling your warmth, your skin, your muscles") and started touching eachother some more. It got sexual fast, I guess that happens easily in the morning. He made his way to my breasts, my nipples, started sucking on them, using his tongue to circle around them. He tried his teeth a few times, but I'd recoil, and he got the idea. I'd wrapped a leg around him, and he had a thigh between my legs, which I started grinding into. Then he shifted so that he was pressing his crotch into my thigh.

I could feel him getting hard through his pants when he pressed into me. He started moaning, said, "Oh yes" a few times and--I'm not sure if he came. I didn't feel a wet spot, I think, but he was wearing pants... I just remember his hips bucking slightly, his grip tightening, I think I heard him say "Oh god", then he slowed down, then took a few moments to himself and went back to work on my nipples.

I showed him my preferred technique, which unfortunately ended up burning out my left nipple for a while. We cooled off, laying with eachother, calming down and regaining ourselves.

Then he realised he had to take a leak, but it wouldn't make sense for him to come back to my room after--too risky. We parted ways and he called me Sweetheart again.



JM and I fought over this. I found it stupid, considering we agreed to keep things open. Had I been honest with myself, I would have admitted that I didn't like GK or CV and that's why I didn't continue with them. But I liked Andre. He was a gentleman, he didn't take and he was always..... curious, gauging my responses. He made me feel like he was listening to everything.

At the time I was undecided, but now I just hate the way JM would rush in like he knew everything about how I wanted to be touched all the time. I hated it.

I told JM I didn't want to lose him over Andre, but that I needed companionship out here. It's very hard to not have any friends in a strange city. (I would later realise AB had been a friend to me, and we would become better friends... And then I would become angry at her because of just one little trait that pissed me right the fuck off. And then we'd be good again.)

I don't think I can fully explain what it's like. I'm sure someone would be able to explain it, but I think it's extremely difficult, partly because what happens is...your perceptions change, and you begin to take things for granted, and because of that, you don't think it's worth mentioning those details. I don't think I could catalogue for you all the assumptions and biases and expectations I've developed from being on course.

In any case, I told JM I wasn't about to ditch this amazing relationship with Andre just for him. I agreed not to pursue "intimacy" with Andre again. But that would prove impossible...

Catching up

A lot has happened since my last post. For starters...

• finished my training in Kingston, ON
  
• broke up with JM, got back together, broke up, got back together, and finally in December 2009 broke up for the last time.
  
• met Olek in Calculus, started seeing each other casually, then as we got to know each other through the next few months, fell in love. It's a long and complicated story for me to tell. Maybe in another post. But together we're now the happiest we've ever been.
  
• got a job at a Tim Hortons working overnights, until I can go to Kingston again in July
  
• ...

post from 3 June 2010
Feet

Summer of 2009, I went to Kingston, Ontario for my Apprenticeship training as a Signals Operator. It was four months of good, hard work. Towards the beginning of the last month, we had a short navigation exercise in place of our usual ruck march. I had two teammates, JP from Alberta and PE from PEI (strangely). One person would be the Radio person, carrying the radio, making radio checks, that sort of thing. Another would be the Navigator, leading the rest of us. And the last person was deemed the Safety person, making sure everyone got water/shade.

The Radio person would carry the radio in their rucksack. To make things easier, we swapped rucksacks.

Now, PE is a pretty humble (maybe even simple) but strong/convicted person. If something makes sense to him, it's sort of absolute in his mind. If it doesn't make sense, it doesn't really matter, so long as he knows what to do. I think we decided to put the radio into JP's or my ruck. We had three rucks: Radio, EP's and Spare (either mine or JP's, I can't remember). To switch up the roles, we would just switch rucks.

For one branch, I carried EP's, and it was entirely too heavy. I know mine was just a hair under the requirement of, I think, 11kg. I can't guess how heavy his ruck was, but 11kg was just right for me, being a rather petite Chinese girl. His was too heavy for me, and that should have been the end of discussion right there. I should have demanded we switch the radio, but I didn't. However, partway through the route, I asked to take a break.

I think JP was navigating at the time. He said no, so that we could make good time. I then asked if we could walk slower. Again, he said no. And since I didn't draw the line earlier, I should have drawn it there. But there's something about the military attitude that tells you anything less is weakness and weakness doesn't belong.

I don't know why. Nobody takes me seriously. Maybe I trust too easily.

So we continued, and I fell behind. JP and PE would stop periodically and encourage me to hurry up.

After the navigation exercise was the Battle Fitness Test (13km ruck march in 2hr 26min wearing 24.5kg; then fireman-carry a soldier of similar height/weight for 100m in 60s; then shovel out a box of gravel into another box [roughly 2m by 1m and less than 1m deep] in 6min).

Aside
I just finished reading this blog entry about a navy PO doing a BFT.

"The pain to an extent, the mental discipline of ignoring the pain, the running, the walking, countering the increasing desire to quit, counting breaths, were all variable within my realm of control. Leg spasms and Charlie-horses, however, were outside of that realm of control and threatened to ruin everything."

That's something I can really appreciate. It's not just the physical exertion, but the mental exertion to block out the pain and keep going and refusing to quit. I've done two BFTs in my life so I can't tell you if it gets harder or easier.

And after the BFT was the 2-week field training exercise (FTX).

That was the hardest month of my life, physically. And I wasn't sure how my relationship with JM would survive. (There's another story for another day, the story of Andre, a man I met in Kingston. Thinking about him and how he'd impacted my life helped me through that month.)

I managed to get to the base hospital once after the FTX and spoke with a nurse of sorts. She told me I had a "metatarsal drop". Basically, there's an arch where our toes join our feet, sort of like the undersides of our knuckles on our hands. And that arch is what absorbs impact first when our feet touch the ground. But for my left foot, one of those toe bones had fallen out of the arch, so that now, all that impact would go on that one knuckle-joint. She asked how old I was, and then recommended I get out of the military. I wanted to scream.

Fortunately, she did give me some spongy cushions to put in my shoes. It might help, she said. Maybe.

Thankfully, they worked, though they were so awkward to use, that I only wore them every second day, and that worked out fine in Kingston.

After




post from 7 Feb 2010
Math

I feel like I'm going through a sort of second adolescence.

When I was a teenager growing up, I was trying to figure out who I was. Now, I have a clearer idea of who I am, but I'm not so sure where I will fit into society.

I guess this started a few days ago when I went to talk to a program advisor on campus. I thought I was taking the correct courses, but turns out I'm not. So I'll have to change my program, maybe. If I'm lucky, they'll let me use my current courses.

I talked to a Math Advisor, who happened to be my Multivariable Calc professor! I told him I'm not certain what I like to do with Math or where even I could be employed in the future.

(I must pause for a moment to address this: In my mind, it seems very clear that I'm going to marry Olek, he'll be an Actuary and I'll be--whatever I'll be--so he can ring in all that money and I could potentially be a career housewife. It's an interesting image to have so clear in my mind...)

As I was talking to my prof, I mentioned that I love Math but don't terribly enjoy working with numbers. He remarked that it wasn't so uncommon as those who love literature but dislike spelling. I said I might have been interested in going into either Academia or Pure Math, except that I'd need to be much better at it. And then he said something that sobered me up:

"If you're the kind of person who wakes up with a problem you came up with that night, and decides to spend all day solving it, and enjoy every moment of it, then maybe Academia is for you. But then you're competing with hundreds of people just like that, and you'll have to be the best of those. Then you move onto Graduate Studies, and you'll have to be the best of those. Then you go to find employment and--do you see where I'm going with this?"

I may have the love of math, but I don't have this competitiveness.

I've also had to come to terms with an unusual presupposition I've had. I've had to finally realise that I am, in fact, not a prodigy. I'm not specially gifted at any one thing. Instead, I am somewhat gifted in several areas.


Dad told me a Chinese fable. Here's what I recall from it:

One cannot look at two things and see both clearly.

One cannot listen to two things and hear both clearly.

In the animal kingdom, there is an animal [a lizard, I think] with no talents except one. He cannot run or jump or swim, but he can fly. Yet, in the animal kingdom, there is an animal with five talents. He thinks he is so smart, that when a predator comes, he can do any of these five things to get away. Yet when the predator comes, he cannot decide quickly enough and is eaten anyway. But the other animal, the one that is so dumb that he can only do one thing, when the predator comes for him, he does the one thing he knows how to do and flies away.

I get the point.

I think I'll go into education. It's a humble profession, but I'm not a terribly humble person. I always want to teach everything--I want to tell everyone everything... I always assume everyone wants to know the things I know. But that isn't always so, and I gotta learn that.

Though I might just work consultation... Or any odd-job, really...

"People who are good at math are often good problem-solvers. And some employers just look for that," my prof had said, "not just at the degree."

I wouldn't just be doing math at my job... My prof said that there's a shortage of science teachers... I wonder if I can fill that role...

For Education, I'd need two "teachable" subjects... Math and...?
Comp Sci (I already have some credits...)
Physics (that would be a BITCH to get a degree in...)
Art (if there's no one else)
Music (if there's no one else)
English (a degree I really don't want to have to get)



So, now to think who I'll be to the world...


It's so strange--I mean, I'm so young... And I've found someone whom I want to be in my life--the rest of my life... I want to make him waffles for breakfast, exchange kisses on our way to work, eat last night's leftovers for lunch, come home to each other, make dinner together, exchange stories about how our respective days went, eat together, maybe have a drink and relax and fall asleep together.

...post abandoned

Army Crush and Thoughts

So, Charlie has an "army crush".

He just happens to be two years older than me, too. But I... I don't know what to make of anything, of any of him.

Well I'll start with the superficial first. He's damn hot, and he has an accent, and he's "crazy" (there's some story about how, after having stepped on a nail, he dug it out with a knife rather than go to the hospital) and has at least one eccentric hobby (it involves a wheel).

What's under that? I have no clue. There's something.....strange, or different at least. He did a tour and came back. That in itself is gold. He told me once that he had hoped it would change him, that he would win huge medals or awards or make the news or at least come home in a box. But, no, nothing has changed, except maybe he's a little disappointed now.


We talked a little tonight. He makes idle conversation, and he seems to be aware of chivalry (let the girl win the first game when you're playing pool; open doors for others; let others through first in a narrowing, things like that).

Then he told me something strange: He likes to "mindfuck" with people--to tell them insane batshit crazy stories, because they'll believe them. Like, when he was overseas, all he did was eat Pop Tarts, but people don't want that, they want to hear outrageous war stories, so he'll make them up for them.

He also said I need to drink--at very least, have a drink in my hand to show "support" for those who do drink, or show that I'm one of them, something like that. He said to get a beer next time.

"I don't drink beer, I drink hard--I don't drink, but when I do, I drink whiskey, vodka... Beer is too light, I flare up--I'm Asian..." (I ramble.)

Somewhere in there, he said, "I like to live dangerously," in his thick accent--it gave me shivers. I wanted to seize the moment and say something uninspired and crazy and spontaneously and profoundly... Silence. Too long a silence--too thoughtful or appreciative to be honest. So I put on my "army accent" and asked, "What sort of crazy shit do you do?"

A pause. A hesitation, sizing me up. "Ehhh, that's a not so good question to ask me." There was a suggestion that I ask something different. He went on.

He'd had two beer, and perhaps it was showing. It's hard to say--but social drunkenness and my empathy is another topic for another day.

Twice, he made comments I couldn't hear, and then explained they were jokes, then quickly added that they weren't very good ones so it was okay. Before I left, I told one of my favourites:

"Infinitely many mathematicians walk into a bar. The first orders a beer. The next, a half beer; the next, a quarter; an eighth. Before the next can speak, the bartender says, 'You're all idiots!' and pours two beer."

He laughed--he got it and found if tunny, I was impressed! He'd said he'd taken Calc (and Stats I, Physics, Chem, Linear Algebra, and maybe Comp Sci, because he knew a bit about Java or C and object orientation and functions...).


There's something in me right now that seems to crave companionship. I'm alienating myself and convincing myself there is no one for me and that I should get used to this fact. But instead of motivating me toward independence, it depresses me and right now I just want to scream. Or jack off--but the basement is bug-infested, and jacking off won't solve anything. Does screaming solve anything? Crying?

My own caring undoes me, it seems. If I could either overcome my problems, or not care for them so much, I think I might be happier.

Well, I'm going to get a snack.
--Charlie

Story from Summer of 2008

I feel like writing about this past summer, 2008. I think enough time has passed that:
a) I have a clearer, more "objective" idea of what happened;
b) anyone who cared at one point has stopped caring by now;

This story contains explicit scenes of (hetero) sexuality.

This story takes place at the beginning of my SQ--the end of July or the beginning of August 2008. The fifty-odd of us had just spent a month together as a course, living in the luxury of separate rooms with television sets and lock-able doors.

About a week prior was the BMQ grad party. A bunch of us went to a bar and danced and drank and some guys went to the conveniently-close hotel to stay the night. I had drank a few and was slipping past "tipsy" and into "drunk", and I was dancing very closely with PMK. Annnd he slid his arm around my waist.

Aside: I'd never, NEVER in any of my, well, three relationships, been treated "like a lady". My friends and (past) lovers have always treated me as a respected person, and not like a sexy feminine figure. They might have thought of me sexually, but I wasn't treated this way, which is not a bad thing! All I'm saying is that this feeling was ENTIRELY NEW and felt....well, new and good!

When 0200 rolled around, and the bar closed, we were so close to getting a room together. The only thing that stopped us? No rooms were "available". Whatever.

The story takes place about a week after that party.

We got some time off. I went to see strippers with some guys (and gals). PMK showed up sometime. Then we all went back to the shacks. I'd had a few drinks and was tipsy--not drunk, just tipsy. I and another girl, KH, crashed on PMK's bed. Eventually, KH got up and left, and some guys came around, making some fuss about how I was passed out in his room. Someone said something about waking me up, and when I hear my name and "wake up" in the same sentence, I do. So I got up, made a drowsy exit, all the time asking, "What the hell are you talking about?" and followed the crowd.

Somewhere in there, IM pulled me aside and said that PMK was calling for me, that he wanted me, and that I should go see him. I didn't believe him (he was probably just trying to see what would happen), but somehow he convinced me to go.

The way the rooms are set up, the door opens inward and the first thing you see walking in is a desk-table-thing. To your immediate left (or right, depending) is a sort of door-less closet, and past that, hidden by its walls, is the bed.

I tapped lightly on PMK's door. He stuck his hand off the side of his bed, palm up, and waved me in with a simple bend of the fingers. So I shuffled in shyly and crouched at his bedside. We made idle chatter.

In retrospect, I think he was just chatting to get me into bed--not a bad thing, but at the time, thought he was only talking to make me more at ease, since he was already comfortable and confident about everything.

"There's no way you're comfortable sitting down there," he said.

He has a fascinating voice. He'll sing sometimes, just for the hell of it--he'll take his words and give them notes, any notes, or he'll make sing-songs when addressing others in front of others. He sometimes throws in a chuckle, a rueful or disappointed chuckle. But sometimes his voice takes on a highly sensual quality--it makes me very aware of his body, his physical feelings, and my own.

This time, his voice had a chuckle, not rueful but playful and inviting. It made me nervous and shy.

"I'm quite comfortable here, actually; actually, I can be comfortable almost anywhere--" I started abstracting, I probably started going on about how I could sleep anywhere at any time, but I could wake up at the sound of--

I stopped. I realized my chattering and accepted his invitation.

We chatted some more, idle chatter, time-filling, oppressive chatter, made to imitate closeness, to justify this indulgence.

Silence.

"I'm going to take my shoes off." Off they went, paired neatly together, just out of the way, beside the desk. Good job. I slid back into the bed. He had laid out his arm, and I fitted the bend of my neck into his thick arm. I looked over at my shoes. How orderly, how tidy and neat and--

"I'm going to take my glasses off." I folded them away and tucked them into one of the shoes. Back to his arm. He rolled to his side, drew his other arm around me, drew me close to him, gently pulling my body in.

"I want you to know," he began, "that I'll only go as far as you want to, only as far as you're comfortable with."

Something sparked and stirred in me. Excitement, gratitude, desire? Relief, anticipation, comfort...

We chatted more--or, he talked, and I drank his words.

"I'm a sensitive guy," he said, "not 'sensitive' in--I mean, my nerve-endings are closer to my skin, so I feel more, that's why I'm so touchy-feely." And, "I don't know if it's a matter of pride, but I like to make the girl come, too. I guess it's pride. If I don't, I feel like I failed somehow."

"This is crazy," I remember saying.

"What is?"

"This, all of it--being on base, on course, the whole frat policy..."

He chuckled. "There are worse things to get in trouble for."

We snuggled. He touched my nipples through my shirt. I drew breath, he paused. There was noise outside, and we realised how early it was. We agreed to continue in an hour.

An hour later, I poked my head outside my door and then tiptoed back into his room. He slept with his fire blanket, crazy guy. I slipped into his extended arm and he drew me in, touched my face, my arms, kissed my mouth.

There's something about mouth-kissing someone I don't know very well, it feels strange. I mean, mouths are for communicating--among another things. And mouth-kisses are two "communicating" -type body parts, interacting in very close proximity... They should be communicating! So, I dunno, these kisses make me nervous.

His skin was rough, I think I like it rough; textured, work-worn. He was--not quite "aggressive", but assertive and willing to go after whatever he wanted. He'd grab my ass--repeatedly--tighten his grip around a cheek either just to feel how it felt in his hand, or to turn me on. It gave me such a hard-on.

And he'd switch up our positions, too: he'd take top, he'd concede; take, concede, take, concede... And sometimes I took, and sometimes I would concede.

He lay me on my back and set his mouth to my naked torso; manipulated my nipples between his lips and teeth; and I thrust my hips up into his legs, down into the sheets, up again and grinding my clothed crotch into his clothed member. At some time, I managed to pull him off. "If you keep playing with my nipple, I'll scream from sheer pleasure." He chuckled, but backed off.

I lay him on his back--somewhere in there, his shirt disappeared or rolled up to his neck and shoulders and I pushed his elbows back down beside his head and pinned them there with my arms--and played my mouth on his chest, took his right nipple between my lips. He'd draw breath, move, and moan, and talk a little dirty. I moved to his left, and his hands took me by the shoulders and hefted me up to his face so he could tell me between breaths: bite me, use your teeth, harder. I took my teeth to the blunt of his nipple and he started grinding his hips into mine. Did I mention that he talks dirty? I think I like it.

"Fuck yes."

Eventually he said, "I can't stand it anymore. Take my cock in your hands," and he reached into his army-issue boxers and pulled it out.

Now, I should probably mention, up until that point, I had never seen a penis--I mean, up close and personally, where I could touch it and see it respond. There was this one time, a boyfriend sat in a chair and I undid his jeans and groped around for a while, but that was under silk Sponge-Bob boxers, denim and a sweater, and I didn't have to see it.

When PMK "whipped it out", there was a moment where I seriously thought it was some ridiculous, over-sized silicone imitation--why one earth would it lay so huge and limp on his gut? I think I laughed.

Giggling, I took it in my hand. What do I do with this? I tittered, apologised. "I've never done this before."

"Well, it's always good to try new things."

"How... How do you do it?"

He showed me. He closed his hand around it and moved slowly, pulling up gently, down gently; up slightly tighter, down gently... His fingers guided my timid hand and placed my digits around the limb. I remember my thumb just barely reaching my fingertips on the other side. Up gently, down gently, up tighter, down gently... Now you try. His hand closed around my own, moved us both, then let me continue.

I remember vividly the feeling of loose skin, like an over-sized wrapping for sausage--is that where sausage came from--and it moved with my hand as though gliding along some hidden shaft beneath. But I suppose that makes sense... Why didn't I know more about penises? It bothered me somehow, that this was so alien to me--yet it bothered me equally to take this alien organ and manipulate it in my hands... So much loose skin!

I got into the rhythm, got a feel for the pressure; started trying variations. It was enormously gratifying to feel him harden in my hand, and to have my hand pulled along, closer to him in a growing erection. I pulled down on the skin just by his head, exposing so suddenly a pink tip, and I twisted it in the palm of my hand. He grunted. "Fuck yes. Oh, babe--oh baby..."

At one point he said, "Slow down," and it caught me off guard. I slowed. We snuggled; kissed mouths, petted. He was all breath and sweat.

"This is so unfair," he said.

"Unfair?"

He went on to explain that he likes to give as well as get--so that "the girl" gets some attention, too.

"The reason I asked you to slow down was because I was about to come, and--and I didn't want to 'surprise' you." He kissed my neck. "Do you want..." I was so hot for him. "Do you want me to make you come?"

Some part of me was begging for release, I wanted him so bad, I was so insanely crazy for him, I might have done anything, I might have gone through with anything.

"I'm," I tried to put words together. "Hell no. I scream and I'm huge mess when I come."

He laughed, half with mirth, half with unbelief, as though he couldn't believe his good luck--as though he wanted to ascertain his good luck. What a tease--though he probably thought the same of me. We kissed. There was a suggestion of a chuckle.

"Why do you have to be so damned loud..."

From there, we began to settle down, drift into a calm. We chatted idly--and I was forever wanting to hold onto him past this month, past this course.


And that was my first, and at this date, my only one night stand. We didn't really have "sex" (in my opinion, we had sex), and it wasn't just the one night (it was two, but only one should be remembered), but a one night stand anyhow.

There's something very reassuring about entering that kind of (largely unspoken) agreement: You are you, I am I; you want, I want; we're just going to give into our bodies for this one time, no complications, no strings attached, you and me, fulfilling our bodies, together for this stretch of time.

Anyhow, there's my little story. More to follow, perhaps, some other time.
--Charlie

Me, myself and hypothetical situations

Me

Today, I slept in, then I procrastinated, was late for first class, then I procrastinated, then skipped Discrete Math, procrastinated more, was late for my Comp Sci lab, murdered time, went to the gym for a little bit, then got started on my homework, took a nap, got a coffee and went to work again.

And I realized something.

I am still myself!

This comforts me SO much. I was afraid I was losing myself again: to the military, to socialising, to my physical drives... But when I sat down and powered through as much of my assignment as I could, it felt.... great! I found myself again!

What does this mean?

That I am most myself when solving problems? That I am most myself when...
...not thinking about myself?
...immersed in something different?

This makes sense. If I'm too busy being myself, then I'm not. If I'm not trying to be myself, then I can (be myself).


Earlier today

Earlier today, I waited for the bus (a later bus, because I slept in and procrastinated with making today's lunch/dinner).

As the bus pulled up, I heard running and shouting coming from the end of the block. There were about five teenagers running for the bus. I already had out my bus pass and was ready to board. They obviously wanted to catch the darn bus, and I was in a position where I could delay the bus long enough for them to get on. At the same time, if this bus were early or fast, I'd make an earlier transfer--earlier by about ten minutes!

I put one foot on the bus, looked up at the driver, looked toward the running teens, and the bus crept forward, bumping me.

"Are you on or not?" he demanded. "The bus is for everyone, not one or two people!"

I got on.

This delayed the bus enough that the driver couldn't ignore the running teens and was obliged to stop for them.

But I wondered why I had paused.

Was it just for the teens? Did I really want to delay the bus for them? Or was I just uncertain what to do? I think that would be the harder to face--that I was just hesitating and froze up.

Or, did I actually realize I had the power to delay the bus for a few seconds? If so, why did I hop on immediately when the driver spoke and nudged the bus forward?

I want to know what happened there.

I thought about this the entire ride to campus...

What if that were a helicopter transport? What if those were my troops--my buddies I shared trenches with? Or if they were under my supervision? If the transport had to leave--if the mission and circumstance made its withdrawal necessarily immediate.... what would I have done?

Would I have stepped off? Hopped on? Demanded they wait?

The most logical might be to get on the darned thing--mission before self...

But if those were my buddies, and I were insignificant, might I have stayed? Whom would that benefit? What if they were hopeless--if staying meant certain death? Would I have done that for them? Doubtful... But if staying weren't hopeless, would I have? Would I have stayed to aid them? ... Is it vanity to think I could make a difference--that my refusal to leave would actually sway Death and save lives?

What if they were two seconds away? Would I demand the transport wait? What about five seconds? Six? Seven? In a firefight, every second counts, I understand that abstractly... And situation will always dictate action... A difference of five seconds might mean a precision artillery strike or a well-aimed snipe at the pilot. Waiting for them might even mean watching them die; might mean I get dumbstruck and freeze and another troop has to haul my dumb ass onto the helicopter.

The worst part? Until I can make these analyses faster, the best plan is to follow the plan: get on the transport, don't wait, don't delay. It's the safest action more frequently than others.

...Wow.

--Charlie

Excited for Summer!!

People and Me

I have a bit of a confession to make.

I have a very bad memory for people. This is not a secret. My confession is this: I keep records of people so that I can remember them.

Yes, it's kinda creepy, but this is how I don't forget that they have a dying grandmother. It's not that I don't care about their dying grandmother, I just... I don't automatically store that away for easy access.

When I had a crush on AHR, I would write down every little interesting thing that happened. "He gelled his hair today" is one of my favourite sketches of him.


Summer!

This summer, if all goes well, I'll be in CFB Kingston doing four months of training! Woots! Let's take a look at the money for a moment... Just doing quick calculations, not using actual numbers (also estimating on the lower bound just in caswe):

120 days * $90 per day = $10800 in four months
120 days * $17 per day not sleeping on own bed = $2040 in four months

$10800 + $2040 = $12,840 made over four months


Estimated breakdown:

$12,840
- 2,000 [student debt]
- 3,000 [one year's tuition]
- 0,800 [one year's textbooks]
- 1,200 [laser eye surgery?]
- 3,000 [save!!]
- 0,540 [misc purchases while on course]
- 0,100 [gym membership and locker]

= 2,200

That's going to be a good $2200...
Just doing the Tuesday nights, I'll make 3 * $45 = $135 a month, which should be good for food. That with the occasional weekend of 2 * (90 + 17) = $214 per weekend.

What would I like...?

• winter boots ($70)
  
• work boots (150)
  
• "walking shoes" (60)
  
• change lighting in my room (80)
  
• change the layout of my room [mirror; new drawers; redo closet; shelving] (200)
  
• fix my room [windows, wall, door] (100)
  

Also:
http://www.whitehouse.gov/agenda/civil_rights/


--Charlie!

Today

Ugh

So, first off, I'm going for my military driver license. This means I'm on course again, yay!

There's this guy from our unit, whom I'd never seen until the start of Driver. Turns out, he farts a lot, and they stink, seriously stink. Seriously. But, whatever, we all have our quirks and I'm sure he's got virtues, too somewhere.

But something weird's happened.

We're now on the second day of Driver. Today was a lot of standing in front of LSVWs, and this guy, we'll call him Fred, kept touching me. I mean things like using my shoulder as an arm rest, nudging me; and he kept staring at me! It was... unnerving (his eyes are too close together and it makes him look a bit cross eyed).

And, we had a break, and I went to the washroom and when I came back, some guys were in one truck and Fred was in the other. I went to talk to the other guys, and they mentioned with an expectant smirk how "lonely" Fred was "all by himself" in the other LS and that maybe I should go keep him company. "I think I'm gonna...not do that," I said and walked away.

Then, after dismissal today, he just strolled up to my locker, which is at the end of our hall and really, there's nothing else important there so he was definitely coming over to see me. He said Hi or something and I returned it with a very confused tone. I dont' think he said anything else, or else it was unmemorable, but he stared and seemed like he was getting ready to say something, but then he just turned around and left. What the hell?!


That kinda reminds me, though...


Dream

I had a dream this morning. I was a male gymnast and on television, I think. Except, it was live. I did some fancy moves and made commentary on them.

Then I explained stretches and ways to relax to the viewers. I did an impressive handstand and then came down and explained how I usually needed to unwind after handstands. Then, my wife or ex-wife or long-time girlfriend appeared and began to stroke my shoulders and arms, and I just melted. It felt amazing, my body just began to shut down and drift.

"Mm," I said to my audience, "but this works, too."

I sat back upright and did a few more impressive moves, and when I finished them, again, she would stroke my shoulders, back, arms; and again I would instantly relax. I began to lay on the ground--and now it was the carpet in the living room--and she ran her hands down the front of my sculpted chest and back up my shoulders.

"Okay, and that's enough for today, good bye, folks!"

And the show ended, and I kissed and stroked her. She had freckles on her arms that seemed to glitter, like they were flakes of crystalline amber or something! Unreal, but pleasant in my dream. Everything just felt so...right, so good, so destined maybe.

I ended up laying in her lap and she just ran her hands lightly over my upper body. It was amazing.


Then I woke up to my angry clock alarm. Boo.

--Charlie!

BMQ/SQ Completed

I'm now a qualified Soldier in the Canadian Forces. Details later when I have time, just highlights for now.

Highlights from BMQ

• garrison life is amazing; laundry is fun
  
• 2 Section mates, wonderful sectionmates
  
• CS gas. Wow.
  
• got 25/25 on PWT1 (C7 live range, 100m, daylight)
  
• Pte S--- is such a trooper. Poor guy.
  
• spent $9.00 at BMQ grad, including entrance fee; still got drunk (somewhat)
  

Highlights from SQ

• fooling around two nights while on course--THAT did WONDERS for my self confidence
  
• fire team Foxtrot... Oh dear
  
• living in field for ten days
  
• firing C9 light machine gun
  
• firing C6 general purpose machine gun
  
• throwing two C13 frag grenades... BOOM!
  
• learning how to search POWs
  
• discovering that pressure points don't really work on me!
  
• discovering I can dig trenches fairly well!
  
• night recce, we did a Snatch, amazing times!
  
• ambushing a convoy
  
• NOT getting an ND!
  
• hearing the Warrant sing
  
• (being allowed to) drink on duty--I NEVER want to do that again!
  
• grad parade went well!
  

...more later
--Charlie

Exercise, Women and Army

Exercise

Went for a jog/walk with Mark last night / this morning. Nine kilometres. It took roughly two hours or just under--hard to tell, since we didn't actually time it, and had to drive to/from the run.

Besides complaining and profaning, believing I couldn't continue, walking when I was supposed to be jogging and even more profaning, I think I did pretty okay! I mean, it was my first run since, what, grade ten, and it was nine friggin' kilometres. I used to think the 1600 metre run was rough!

We stopped at a park so I could do chin-up negatives (hold the chin-up position as long as possible, letting my body ease down as slowly as possible; break; repeat) and monkey-bar ab crunches.

Last night at Army, I read through the Army Fitness Manual. Man, that's useful stuff!

There were only a few nit-picky things that I didn't like, or found interesting:

• It speaks about females in......an interesting way:

  Specific Guidance for Training Female Soldiers
  
  Land Force Command recognizes that some female soldiers may have specific concerns about training and preparation for the AFS. It is well known that, generally, women do not have the same aerobic capacity as men, nor are they as strong, especially in the upper body. These differences in physical performance are due in large part to differences in body size and composition.
  
  However, women’s bodies respond to aerobic and strength training programmes in similar ways to men’s. Thus, the Army Fitness Programme is designed to accommodate and prepare all soldiers for the AFS. To help with this, three load options are provided in the Bench Press and Squat items in the Fitness Check and a special upper-body strength and aerobics circuit is provided for Day 6 (Optional). Here is a little more information and advice:
  
  Aerobic capacity • The lower aerobic capacity of women (compared to men) is due to a smaller muscle mass, a smaller volume of blood, and lower hemoglobin concentrations in the blood. In spite of this, the AFS is as attainable for women as it is for men. The Special Upper-Body Strength and Aerobics Circuit will help you improve both of these fitness components at the same time.
  
  Strength improvement • Female soldiers may be concerned that they are not as strong as their male colleagues, yet they must be able to lift the same loads. Women are generally about two-thirds as strong as men, but relative to their size women can gain as much or more strength than men following similar training programmes. The good news is… the Army Fitness Programme will lead to significant improvement in muscular strength and endurance and help you achieve the level you need to perform to the AFS. You can use the appropriate loads in the Fitness Check Bench Press and Squat items and, of course, the training routines are individualized and progressive for best results.
  
  Pregnancy • Pregnancy causes changes in physical abilities. Therefore, pregnant soldiers will consult with their Base/Unit MO ensuring no duties are undertaken in accordance with DAOD 5003-5, “Pregnancy Administration” that may pose a threat to the health of the member or the fetus. Unless specified by an MO, pregnancy does not preclude physical training. Physical fitness activities will be directed by PSP staff in accordance with the Guide to Fitness During and After Pregnancy in the CF.
  
  

  from: page 5, Army Fitness Manual: http://www.army.dnd.ca/2field_engineers/images/B-GL-382-003-PT-001.pdf

  
  
• The perspective in the drawings are horrible
  
• The drawings show exercises being performed poorly (eg: one arm higher than the other when lifting weights).
  

Women, Army

I dunno. I still wonder about this. I'm better understanding why women aren't allowed in certain groups (eg: Special Forces). I hate "affirmative action" or "employment equity", but while I understand most women are weaker than men, there must be even just a few who could make it; and I believe those few should have the chance.

I'm sort of glad we're doing the BFT now, and not the CF Express Test, because there are no exceptions, really. "If you can't do it, you can't do it" and there's nonoe of that "You're a woman, so 75% is okay." It's great:

Building on the Basics

This programme builds on the CF EXPRES Programme and takes you to a higher level of fitness than that required in the Canadian Forces Minimum Physical Fitness Standard (CFMPFS). The CFMPFS uses a predictive test model-—including the 20-metre shuttle run, hand-grip, push-up and sit-up—-to determine the fitness levels required, by age and gender, to meet the five tasks common to all soldiers of the Canadian Forces. Since the normal physical abilities of young, middle-age, and older individuals can vary—and that of men and women varies, too—the fitness standards in the CFMPFS also vary.

The AFS is different. It uses the task performance model to determine the fitness level of each soldier. Every soldier—-young or old, male or female, small or large—-must be able to meet the standards to be fit to fight. This means that to meet the AFS, all soldiers have to develop their endurance, strength, power, and flexibility to the appropriate level as shown in the Fitness Check table in Chapter 4.

The ASF difference...

Every soldier—young or old, male or
female, small or large—must be able to
meet the AFS to be fit to fight.

from: page 4, Army Fitness Manual

I like that very much.

--Charlie!

Stfu Stuff

Artwork

Woots! Bobfest V is up!

You can also check out what the wall of Boobfest looks like now.

There's also this painting.

This was something I thought up while putting together my army kit. It didn't turn out exactly as I wanted, but pretty close. I think I'll do more of this style in the future; I like it a lot.


Relationships

I think I finally got it through my thick skull that Kevin and I wouldn't work out in a romantic relationship. I'm much too needy--I'm glad that finally got through to me.

It's kinda interesting right now. Maybe I'm just making up meanings, but the fact is that I've sent him about five e-mails recently, two of which asked if he would like to do something this week, and the rest were "just business". He's responded to the "just business ones" only--even the "just business" e-mail that was sent after the "let's hang out" e-mails.

So, I dunno. Maybe he thinks I'm going after him--which I sort of was. I'd love for us to be close friends the way Eric and I are friends, or, at least, the way Eric and I can communicate and know but be pleasantly surprised by one another.

It's... irritating. I wonder how much of it is me and how much of it is.. not me, and what constitutes "not me".

Anyway.


Army

Got my Civi kit inspection today. Probably will get yelled at for not having the "Recommended" items (only the "Mandatory" ones; but you know what, I don't have a ride and I'm not hauling stupid amounts of kit around on a bus.


Me

I've been so angry lately. I want to punch things. I had a dream where I was doing one-handed knuckle push-ups, and it fucking hurt, but I kept going and going until I was absolutely spent.

I don't know what to do--never been... "chronically angry" before.

Exercise, I think.


--Charlie

FUCK

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK

I am so fucking pissed off right now. So fucking angry. SO FUCKING ANGRY.

Went in for my kit inspection tonight, and found out I'm not actually leaving this month. I'm not leaving until the end of fucking June. THE END OF FUCKING JUNE.

Two fucking months. This means, not only do I have to suck through GD for two months, it also means I'll be later registering for University courses and maybe I won't even be going back to school this year. FUCKING NOT GOING BACK TO FUCKING SCHOOL FUCKING YET. That's FUCKING INTOLERABLE--one year without school was enough. TWO FUCKING years is too much.

Only a few upsides to this:

• I can say my goodbyes to everyone I hoped to say goodbye to, for real this time;
  
• I can (hopefully) go to the bikeathon again this year;
  
• I can spend more time with Kevin (though I've got it better in my head what I want / what will happen with "us", but that's another topic);
  
• I have more time to sort myself out;
  
• I can get my army kit sorted out; and
  
• I have more time to get in better shape.

Downsides:

• I took an LOA from work;
  
• I took an LOA from teaching;
  
• I told all my friends and acquaintances that I'm leaving at the end of April;
  
• I have to fucking do General Duties (GD) for another two fucking months;
  
• I am so fucking angry right now; and
  
• I have less time to register / think about University courses.

I should also add that on Saturday--the day when I normally teach--I have to choose between getting paid for teaching (and possibly also teaching) or fucking playing with FIRE on base. I'll probably go with FUCKING PLAYING WITH FIRE, HELLS YEAH, just because.

--Charlie

Dreams and Leaving

Dreams

I had a very strange dream about Kevin today/last night. I'll try to summarize it.

We were going for a walk at night, kinda romantic and stuff. I'd been thinking about other people and how he'd never been with anyone else before. So I stopped suddenly and asked him, "How would you describe our relationship?"

I think he paused and eventually said something to the effect of "friendly with a possible romantic interest?"

I laughed, punched him in the arm (in playfulness!) and agreed. We talked about our "relationship", and I eventually said, "Let's have an open relationship" or something.

Later, we met these two or three girls; I think it was on the bus. One of them was based on a co-worker, and another was some pretty girl. The pretty girl was sitting across from us. For some reason, it was made known to everyone that she was interested in dating Kevin. I said, "Well, she's pretty," and she got upset. "Oh, sure, I'm 'pretty', that's all I am, isn't it? Well what do you know!" sort of thing.

The other girl, let's call her Cat, was in front of us, and she kept making eyes at Kevin. I thought it might be interesting to watch, so I scooted over a seat and let her sit beside him.

She's one of those attention-grabbers. She loves attention. She'll speak esoterically and I think the only reason she's interested in some things is for bragging or the sake of being "interesting".

I remember getting sick of her very quickly. But, of course, Kevin liked having this kind of attention paid to him, and found the girl interesting enough, and I was the one who suggested we "open things up a bit", so I held.

It got irritating pretty fast!

I'm not sure exactly how, but I think we all camped or somehow stayed at some house for the night. We took turns "sharing" Kevin. I taught him how to cook and we went for a walk (or something); and she put on a movie and taught him how to cuddle and make out. I was furious.

Actually, I was jealous. I was very vividly jealous. I'd never been jealous like that before--either in real life or dreams.

I'm not sure that it ever ended up getting resolved; I don't remember. But I remember that jealousy cutting into me, like a red-hot fire poker. So I guess the moral of the story is: If I want to have an open relationship with Kevin, I should prepare to be jealous.

Hah!


BMQ/SQ

I've never been away from home and family for two months before. I think the longest was one month, but even then, I was with my eldest brother in Germany.

In less than two weeks, I'll be away for my BMQ/SQ, with no family there. Just me. Me and my thoughts; me and my habits and idiosyncrasies and quirks. And those will slow me down, until I drop them and grow into a soldier--until they remake me in their image.

But, I'm also learning very useful skills--I'll even get my First Aid qualification, which is always great on a resume--and getting paid to learn.

I'm saying "bye" to a lot of friends before leaving. It feels weird. It's only two months. I've gone longer without seeing them, before. Do I want to feel special this time? Maybe. I think I want to be comforted. Strange.


--Charlie!

(abandoned) Kevin, Columns and Sex

So, wow. My mom likes Kevin.

It's kinda weird; she barely even knows him but from what I tell her, she loves him! All she really knows is that he's in school, he studies hard (has little spare time to spend with me), and is applying for what she assumes to be a good, high-paying job. Woots.


Army

So, Comms went under Land Forces as of 1-April-08 (or, yesterday). What does this mean? Most importantly, for me, it means that our fitness standards have changed. Oh fug.

I did a Google search for "Battle fitness test" and these came up:
(in Shilo, Manitoba)
http://www.army.forces.gc.ca/lfwa/feature_bft.htm
(forum; how to prepare for the 13k ruck march?)
http://www.militaryphotos.net/forums/archive/index.php/t-119443.html


Reading stuff

http://www.fredoneverything.net/WomenInCombat.shtml
http://www.fredoneverything.net/MilMed.shtml
http://www.fredoneverything.net/MilWomenII.shtml


I'm reading a bunch of these "Fred" articles about women. Maybe I don't count, because I'm Canadian and not American, but if he can put his opinion out there, so can I.

I am a woman. I want to be a woman. I also want the option of being a man sometimes. I like to compete with men; but I do not expect to beat the best of them. I can accept that the best of women could probably not, physically, win in a competition with the best of men. I'm okay with being the same level as an average man; I'd be happy with being better than the average man--which I think is totally feasible.

I don't agree with setting up this war between women and men in an abstract sense--I don't think all women should be against all men. I can't stand affirmative action. But I also think women should be allowed in the military. If an individual fails, then she fails and there should be consequences. I think lowering standards is acceptable at first; but there should also be the expectation to improve. I know that's how I got in; but I also know I'm in poor shape.

I hear women make better helicopter pilots, because our centre of gravity is lower; which means we can balance better (personally), and have a better feel for when something is off balance. Just sayin'.

I'm one of those women who would like to be treated like a man (moreso in the future than now), and am willing to work up to being a good man.


Kevin, again

I think Kevin is one of the few guys who will "get" me--understand me, and even maybe appreciate and like me.

I'm talking with a friend right now, and for some reason we always end up talking about sex if the conversation lasts long enough.

We have generally very different ideas of what "sex" is.

For him, a straight male, the word "sex" immediately calls to mind "coitus" or, as he put it, "the junk in the junk."

For me, "sex" means something more like "sexy things". Included are: dry humping, heavy petting, mutual masturbation, and any other similar physical stimulation. Also, penises are weird, and although I'm slightly fascinated by them, the idea of coitus is generally a turn-off for me.

This in mind, I think there are few men who would understand my preferences. Somehow, I think Kevin could. I dunno, he just seems much more "open"; he'll, at least, talk about anything, and rather comfortably, too.

[post abandoned]

Horrible, horrible day

Army

Well, today went hideously.

First, I found out that my period had started, about two hours before I had to leave for work. NOT FUN. Standing for hours, and lots of stair-climbing do not a happy uterus make!

Second! I had started carrying my ID in my jacket pocket, with my bus pass, making it easier to grab than from my leg pocket. Today was the ONLY day I had forgotten to take my ID from my jacket and keep it on my person. TODAY. THE ONLY DAY. And, of course, it just so happened that there was a check to see who had their ID with them.

So my boss's boss had some words with me. This will never happen again. I will never forget to have my ID on me (in uniform) ever again. My ID and my dogtags (when I get them) must be on me whenever I am on duty. I WILL NEVER FORGET TO DO THIS. EVER.

Third! My boss called me aside after dismissal to give me some more words about forgetting my ID. This made me late for my bus.

To catch my usual bus, I head North, because this bus stop is only eight minutes away. However, there is another bus I could take that would get me downtown, but it's an 13 minute walk South. Since I missed my usual bus, and I didn't want to stand around, for the next one, I walked 21 minutes South to the other bus stop, just to see the bus speed away with a block left to go.

I called my brother and asked if he could pick me up from downtown. But because we live so far South, this is even difficult. So he asked me to take this bus that comes every 15 minutes even at night.

I think I was outside for over an hour, total, just walking and waiting for buses. It was absolutely horrible.


Me

I think I need to set aside more "me-time". Less video-games, less watching TV. Just "me", thinking about stuff.

Man, I haven't done that in months, maybe even a year. I think I just need to relax and be totally okay with being myself--set aside an hour or half an hour every day to be okay with being myself. Be happy with being myself. Think about what I would like to do tomorrow. Think about what I would like to do in the (somewhat near) future.


Neek

I'm having lunch with my friend Neek tomorrow. It'll be interesting. He thinks my friend ----- is emotionally abusive and a negative influence on my life. He's also paying for my lunch. I think Neek is good for me--in some ways. He's a total jerk, with very little sense of boundaries (in terms of what is appropriate to say/ask). And he loves to annoy stupid people, take advantage of stupid people. He plays online poker for a job. He also teaches chess.

He used to be a great chess player--maybe he still is, but he hasn't truly practiced in a long time. So he teaches kids chess, and they pay top dollar for it.


Me again

I think I've missed this.

I keep forgetting that there are people who are like me, or who are good for me. I've been so pessimistic and defensive and awkward and noncommittal and "shy" these past months.


Dream

This terrible day is suddenly bringing back this dream I had last night/this morning.

I dreamt I got thrown in prison--except, that it was a crazy prison that was trying to educate us into refined people, and also there were kids from my highschool there, too. Most notably, Diane and Homer. Diane was one of my closest friends in high school. We've drifted apart since grade 11 or 12 though. She's now a journalist in Alberta. Homer was this disgusting hippopotamus of a kid who used to tease me and others for various things, especially in grade school.

I was marched down a very long hallway to the prison, but I was wearing my CF uniform for some reason! All the staff were in grey or grey-brown or even some sandy colours. But they were warm colours, too.

As I walked into the prison, other prisoners would look at my green uniform and go "Wow", they gawked and some of them smiled, I guess, because the green made them happy? I dunno.

I was brought to a station where I could undress and put on the grey-brown prison outfit. Afterward, I was introduced to my prison-mates.

I can't figure out why Diane and Homer were there. There were also some other kids who, like Homer, picked on us. But, seriously, Homer wasn't that bad. He was nothing compared to the girls who'd jab their noses in the air every time they saw us, or say brainless things about us or our families or our whatever. But anyway...

Diane seemed so broken-spirited. She'd cry or sob at things (the others were mean to her, too), and seemed just... I dunno. Despairing.

She brightened up when she saw me. It was weird. I wanted to protect her. (In real life, she's much more independent than she seemed in the dream.)

In the prison, the guards/etc were weird. They were trying to teach us things like poetry and correct order of cutlery for fancy dinners. It was like being in the military! Also, once, I forgot my towel or something, and I got a stern yelling-at. Something about how towels could save your life? I'm not sure! There was this blonde girl who just lent me a towel. It was blue.

I got back to "class" and everyone was sitting with their heads bowed and writing stuff on papers at their desks. The "teacher" was writing stuff on a chart on the board. It was either a spelling test, or a poetry test.

Anyway, I woke up suddenly so I don't know how it ended. But strange how foreboding it was, in retrospect!

--Charissa

047:

I went to Perkins with Mark again, and used the ladies' room while I was waiting. A girl came in. She looked at me, exited, and came back a few seconds later. That was hilarious.
Legfest?

So, by now, everyone knows I have Boobfest, which is a collection of drawings of the naked female figure, more specifically, the upper body.

I also want to study legs and hips, because I've never been able to represent poses properly--they always seem off, somehow. So I decided I'd study legs next.


Highschool Art

Back in highschool, we studied the human figure, too. More specifically, hands and feet. Here are a few of my studies:

Army

I've been calling in sick for Army, so there's not much else to cover; except that my BMQ/SQ will be from the end of April to the end of June. Woo.


Teaching

I got to fill in for the Calc teacher on 02-Feb and 09-Feb. I guess I forgot to write about it.

02 Feb
This was a disaster. Alan didn't leave any materials and didn't even e-mail me the topics he wanted covered! I was a nervous wreck. And, of course, the principal came in and started correcting my technique and--horrible mess!

09 Feb
This was much better. I realized that even though it's a terribly small class (ten or eleven), the kids don't talk to eachother, they don't know eachother. I opened with a silly ice-breaker game involving throwing things.

Walked them through a related rates problem.

Then I ranted about Math, which I'm good at doing!

Talked about proofs and what they are; did a very quick walk through Relativity (assume that the speed of light is always constant; can mathematically prove time/space distortion near the speed of light!); One Million Beans problem and proof; introduced the (extended) Monty Hall Problem... Just a nice glance at how awesome Math is--although I probably should have included Maxwell's Equations in there... Dang it!

I mean--how awesome is that! This guy just played around with equations, realized he needed two constants so used Epsilon-nought and Mu-nought; and when finally needed to figure out their values so he could find the speed of electric waves and magnetic waves--he gets the friggin' SPEED OF LIGHT. (Further reading)


Sleeeeepy time.
--Charissa

Quick update

Army

My "boss" called my house the other day, and it was the scariest thing ever. I'm so scared of getting calls from the Military--for every/any -thing, like, "HEY, WHY AREN'T YOU AWAKE?" or "WTF ARE YOU WEARING?!" or silly things like that.

She called for me to work on Wed and Fri, but I had plans Wed... I actually have a doctor's appointment on Friday, but it'd look bad if I didn't work; and I'm learning that being in the Army, image is very important. Sigh. At least, I'm fairly good at bluffing.


Teaching

I'll be in charge of the kids on Saturday! Hoorays! Unfortunately, they just wrote an exam, and it does NOT look encouraging... I wanted to jump into awesome stuff, but looks like I'll have to go over the exams... Sigh.


Plan for Saturday, maybe?

1. Hand back exams
2. Tell: If you have a question about how I've marked your paper, please wait until I've finished going over the solutions.
3. Tell: If you have any questions about what I'm doing, or why, or anything like that, put your hand up; or if I don't see you, just ask me to pause.
4. Go over solutions.
5. Answer questions about papers.

6. Recess should be about now...

7. Tell: I have some handouts that might be useful for studying! If you don't want them, leave them at the front before you're dismissed. I'm also going to show you how to tell what type of Conic Section you have, which I didn't print out.
8. Distribute Handouts: "Why Conic Sections are so cool!", "How to convert to Standard Form", "How to Sketch Conic Sections".
9. Draw: "How to tell what kind of Conic Section you have" flow-chart.
10. Questions?

11. Tell: I'm going to give you some study tips that I've picked up through high school and university.

12. Condensed notes / "Formula sheets" / Study sheets

have the Trig IDs on it

have the Standard Forms on it.

Tell: Every new topic or every month, try to condense as much information as you can onto one sheet of paper. I used to make condensed notes for every unit in Physics, and they saved my arse! Make sure you label everything so that you can tell just by looking what and where everything is. If you're doing one sheet per unit, put a title on that sheet! Use this sheet when you get your review exercise at the end of a unit; use it for assignments. Always improve your condensed notes while you're learning the material--that way, you'll know exactly where to look when you're studying for the final exam.

13. Start: ________ (new topic: graphing polynomials, or logs)

14. Optional: Hand out treats!
15. Dismissal!




Leaving for work now...
--Charissa

Quick Army update

Army Christmas Dinner
(Charissa gushes about a Corporal she just met!)

We had our Christmas dinner tonight, and I sat beside a corporal I'd never met before, and I'm going to call him Cpl Kars. Cpl Kars is amazing. He has this....etiquette, this amazing etiquette. Throughout the entire night, he called me "ma'am", a title reserved for female officers, MWOs, CWOs and Base CWOs.

Sometime during dinner, he and a MCpl got into some sort of argument, where the MCpl said something like, "Come on, I dare ya, I DARE ya!" So Cpl Kars stood up and began walking around the long table to the MCpl's side. At this point, another soldier was standing by the MCpl, so the MCpl said, "I order you to stand still, right there, and--FACE THAT WAY, THAT WAY" to try to keep that soldier between himself and Cpl Kars. Hehe! Cpl Kars ended up jokingly punching the MCpl and retaining his honour. Heeeee...

During dinner, we could pass requests to the head table. Requests were mostly for who would sing what Christmas carol. I gesticulated to Cpl Kars asking if he had a pen; he discretely borrowed one from the MCpl for me, and I wrote a request for anyone who hadn't yet sung to sing. Then I passed the pen back to Cpl Kars, who took it very discretely. A few minutes later, I passed along the note paper, and he took it with such...discrete-ness! A casual observer (from his front) would not have suspected anything! It was amazing! ..I wonder if he's trained in counter-interrogation or something...

He pronounces "Corporal" as "Corp'rral" with the emphasis on the "al", and the "rr" rolled. I think it's a Czech accent.

After dinner, he, Pte Williams and I were chatting. Apparently they took BMQ together. After a while, he excused himself as another Corporal came by our table. Cpl Kars said, "Excuse me. I will accompany the Corp'rral now."

He stands perfectly at attention. "In fine military fashion" comes to mind.

... When I sat down with him and Pte Williams, he seemed kinda shocked or pleasantly surprised that I would come sit with them! Oh, he's wonderful! I like him!

Also, he rolls his "R"s in words like "party".

I will be sad and miss him if he goes touring in Afghanistan. I'm so scared he'll get blown to bits and I'll never hear from him again. Ahhh....


Also

Apparently I'm mature! Whee! (It's too bad I can't tell this story even here, for confidentiality, though. Just, that someone pulled me aside and charged me to be responsible for something, and he chose me because I seem the most wise or mature or "able to tell when something [IS A CERTAIN WAY] and can/will do something about it".)


In other news

I looked at an old photo of James ("old" being almost exactly one year old), and it was so strange--I felt all those feelings come back to me, and they were...different. Wiser? More mature? I don't know. I would still love him--romantically, I mean--if I clapped eyes on him again. I'm a bit nervous for his house-warming party next week.

I went back through my old journal entries from when James and I first started going together... Wow. I mean, I was so articulate and...profound. I bled poetry--it was so easy to write beatifically about his dimples or eyelashes or skinniness or the way he folds his hands.

He is a beautiful human being. I miss him terribly, and in too many ways.

--Charissa

Conics and my state of mind

Every two months or so, I go kinda crazy--just a little, though. For about five days, I am restless, pouty, petty, dramatic, anxious, confused--all sorts of nasty things. An additional side-effect is that I can believe anything. I won't know waking reality from dreams; I won't know waking reality from things I read; I won't know waking reality from what I want to believe. Added to this, I have a mild fever that's been off and on for about a week.

For anyone who has an idea the state my mind's normally in, you may have an extra appreciation of the mess this stirs up.


Teaching

We've just "finished" teaching Conic Sections to the kids. I'm not sure what he taught, I was marking their papers so they'd know how they're doing before the exam comes.

In S4 Pre-Calculus, we made a flow chart for identifying types of conic sections. I want the students to have it, but I'm not sure what the teacher has in mind.

That being said...

Because Saturday, December 01 is my fitness test with the Army, I might miss part of Math school that day. That's a review class, and I'd be sorry to miss it. One student is even writing the exam that day because he won't be there next week.

Upcoming Saturdays:
December 01

09:00 - Army fitness test at base. Eep.

14:00 - Review class before exam. One student writing exam early.

December 08

14:00 - Exam on Trig and Conic Sections.

December 15

14:00 - Teacher is away and has not given me any specifics on what to do that day, so I have full control of what we do that day! I want to actually enrich* the students' understanding of Mathematics--because we're supposed to be an "enrichment program".

17:30 - Math School Christmas Dinner. Woots.

* Here is what I want to talk about on December 15...

Conic Sections

History

Way, way back, circa 200 BC, there was a Greek named Apollonius, and he wrote a book called On Conics. This earned him the title, "The Great Geometer". The study of conics has been around for a long time! (Will add more later.)

What are they?

Imagine two hollow cones placed together at their points, sort-of like an hour-glass. By cutting different 2D sections of this, you get "Conic Sections".

Taking a slice of a cone, parallel to an edge gives a parabola.
Taking a slice of a cone at an angle such that you slice through both halves, gives a hyperbola.
Taking a horizontal slice gives either a circle or a single point (if you cut at the joining point).
Tilting that circular slice gives an ellipse.

Definitions

A circle is the set of all points** equidistant from a single point. To draw one, wrap a loop of string around a pin and a pencil and draw as far from the pin as possible without tilting the pencil.


An ellipse is the set of all points** whose distance from both foci is constant (ie: the distance from one point to the first focus plus the distance from the same point to the other focus always adds up to the same number). To draw one, wrap a loop of string around two pins and a pencil and draw as far from the pins as possible.

A parabola is defined as the set of all points** equidistant from a line and a point F (the focus) not on the line (see the right-hand side of this image).

A hyperbola is the set of all points whose distance from one focus, minus the distance to the other focus, is constant.

**(in a plane).


Gravity

The path of a projectile thrown (ie: with another, smaller force in a perpendicular direction) near the surface of the Earth is a parabola.

The path the Earth travels around the Sun is an ellipse.

The path of an object (such as a rocket or comet) on an escape trajectory from a fixed mass (such as the Sun) is a hyperbola.


Reflection

The parabola, ellipse and hyperbola each have "focus points" or "foci". If you've ever seen a satellite dish, you have an idea what this means.

For parabolas, an incoming ray that is parallel to the axis of symmetry is reflected toward the focus.

For ellipses, any ray originating at one focus will reflect toward the other focus (this is still true for the special case of the circle, where the "other" focus is the same focus).

Hyperbolas are a bit more complicated. A ray originating from one focus will be reflected and look as though it originated from the other focus (see this image). (There are a few other cases that work out nicely, that I just can't remember right now.)


Light Cone
...Actually, maybe they won't be ready for this yet. But I'll mention it--briefly.


...I should take that book out of the library again...
--Charissa


Further reading:
http://fti.neep.wisc.edu/~jfs/neep602.lecture8.trajectories.97/neep602.lecture8.trajectories.97.html

"Spacecraft Trajectories"

http://mathworld.wolfram.com/Parabola.html

Mathworld: Parabola

http://mathworld.wolfram.com/Ellipse.html

Mathworld: Ellipse

http://mathworld.wolfram.com/Hyperbola.html

Mathworld: Hyperbola

http://www.practicalphysics.org/go/Experiment_386.html;jsessionid=alZLdQlAHb1

"Drawing" a parabola; teaching aid

Quick Update

Origami

For my birthday, I received an Origam gift box and extra book from Mark! OMG! The gift box has printed paper (strange and elegant designs that remind me of wallpaper), gold and silver foil paper, a protractor, two 'bone' crease tools (one for making sharp creases, the other for "drawing" the crease patterns), a square board with grid and markings on it, and an origami instruction book. I'm only a little irritated that both books contain mostly diagrams that are reliant on cutting paper.

This is mostly an announcement that, as soon as I get my camera, I'll be posting picture of both the modular origami polyhedra and the new models--animals and flat geometric patterns. Man, I can't wait to get that camera!!


Teaching Math

I've been in correspondence with one of the students who had questions about exponents/roots, and after the two weeks between classes when I was helping her with that, she wrote back to say I'm a good explainer! That totally made my day!

We started conic sections on Saturday with the Circle and Ellipse. At the end of class, the teacher wrote this on the board:

"Next week: line, parabola and hyperbola."

The students had mostly never heard of hyperbola, and some never heard of parabola. The teacher said to look it up on the Internet, and I wanted to jump up and say, "MATHWORLD DOT WOLFRAM!!" but of course, that would have been inappropriate, so I didn't. Sigh.


Film Festival

One of my friends has a film in a Canadian film festival, and his film made it as far as a public showing! I'm so excited! I'm going to the showing, hopefully with a friend who is/was a major artistic-film-maker-type-person. In truth, I wonder if she'll like my friend's film, but I invited her mostly for the other films. Heh.


Army

My unit did a field exercise this past weekend. They slept outside with little form of heating for two nights. Yowza! I went on the last day to help with breakfast and tear-down. Man, I suck at moving things. I definitely need to work out. But with the army, I get a personal trainer and access to the gyms, so I'll have to make use of that. Sheesh, though, I wish I had more free time...


Art

I'm donating Boobfest III to the queer student group at the university I used to go to. At least, I'm donating a print--and I think I'll take it back at the end of the school year.

Also, that student group is planning on booking a small art gallery in one of the centres at the university--there's this glass room beside a major traffic junction and across from a Tim Horton's / food court, I think, which is totally a great place to put an art gallery.

If we end up booking it, I'll totally submit: my nude pieces; the Origami I'm proud of (goldfish in the bowl!!), including an enclosed chain of connected coloured boxes that are ordered to make a rainbow (sort of; I'm missing a real *purple* but I have this dull mauve thing); and any other artwork I deem public-worthy--which is not much, so I'll have to get busy making more, dammit! Mmm, I'm excited!


...Will update this entry with links and text formatting later.
--Charissa

Art and Stuff

I realized, the other day, that I'm not making as much art as I would like. And since Autumn passed me by uncaptured (by camera and canvass), I decided the next piece I do will be "epic" and about Autumn! Here's a "sketch" I've made of it in Flash MX.

(I still can't believe Adobe bought Flash... The version I use still says "Macromedia Flash MX" on it.)


New Loading Screen on Intro to Epsilons and Deltas

Also shown here.

Epsilons and Deltas is a little animation that I've been working on for about a year. It's a short story about Math and Love. Awwww. It also features two girls, a strip from xkcd, and La Campanella by Franz Liszt.

The old loading screen didn't have red-bowtie-girl running along the loading bar; she just stationary-ran beside the percent-loaded display, and it looked a little tacky. This one has a nicer "floaty" and "Ooh, numbers!" feel to it, which I don't mind at all! But, we'll see if I can even still improve it...


Other Stuff

My eldest brother went back to school in January, and has asked me to help him out with derivatives! I think I'll do another of those Flash tutorials like in the previous post.

He's also sending over a box of goodies from Germany! There'll be Lebkuchen, my favourite kind, with the candied orange peel inside and wafer on the bottom and either dusted lightly with powdered sugar or coated in chocolate! Mmmm! Also, a digital camera and computer gear!


Events

Nov 01

I'm Employee of the Month! Hoorays, I guess!

Nov 05 (today!)

Grocery shopping. Hells yeah.

Work at the Reserves tonight. Hells yeah...

Should call the bakery to pre-order special bagels.

Should drop by the library to return Dragons in the Water by Madeline l'Engle; and take out another Origami book and Math book.

Nov 06

Meet up with the teacher to lend him the entire S4 Pre-Calculus curriculum... I'm wary of lending that to anyone, and of all people, him...

Should swing by the bakery for more bagels... Mmm, pumpernickel bagels...

Also hoping to spend some good time with my best friend Eric!

Should also swing by the Rainbow Pride group at the university. I haven't been there in ages--mostly because I'm trying to avoid someone.

Nov 09

Kevin's birthday party, at last!

Nov 10

Homo Hop, a queer-oriented social. I'm not sure if I'll go... We'll see.

That's all for now. I should get some work done today.
--Charissa