I’ve come to the realization that literally none of the people I know who are enlisted sailors can stand my controversial opinion on.. just about everything . Most of them have deleted my ass off their friend’s list to avoid seeing my perceived anti-American status updates ( if you know me, you’ll know that I love America, if only for the shopping and sordid politicking )  or news but mainly because I disagree with everything they are.   To prove my point, the only other person who frequently comment on my page about international or domestic affairs was previously a sailor but got out to be a contractor to the state.But he is the excepti0n to the rule as open-minded and educated as he is. He once confessed that he’s always resented every aspect about the military, the people in it, the personalities it produced, the shitty underway schedules and most of all the mindless indoctrination.

Others will rebuke me for my elitist partiality towards commissioned officers but all that I’ve met, which is equal in numbers to the enlisted sailors I know are charming, sophisticated, educated men and women. The difference is obvious — university education. In college, there is a beautiful exchange of ideas from all facets of life and all perspectives. You come to realize that actually, there are all these people smarter than you and you learn to respect other people’s opinions because everyone is there to learn. Or that, graduating from high school isn’t such a big fucking deal after all. You are humbled by the colossus of knowledge that grows bigger the more you learn. Like a sponge, you read and absorb materials written by brilliant minds through which you form opinions of your own. College itself is also an excellent place for networking.

But enlisted sailors mostly fail to realize the importance of education, instead they arrogantly assume superiority in experience.They are in the bitter opinion that 4 years of college is a breeze compared to working on the ship. They resent commissioned officers who in their opinion, are lesser for not having withstand the rigors of the service as long, for superseding the system with a higher rank than most of them will ever be. For being privileged. But they either fail to or refuse to acknowledge that commissioned officers are a class that is a league of its own. My point is : you sure as hell don’t see officers running amok in the streets of Japan, raping local girls and pillaging their taxi driver fathers. Or worse, embark on a heinous spree of murder.

Someone once asked : you gotta wonder what they were thinking.

To which my swift response was : they weren’t.

Well admittedly, college is overrated. But then again, if it truly was really such a “useless piece of paper” ( as quoted by Patrick when I broached this exact subject ) then why are ROTC and academy grads so prized? I was a bit appalled to learn that my friends at the Naval Academy had Maryland crab cakes everyday for dinner, until the point where they got soo sick of it. Evidently, something does not compute because in a world where the norm is most youths in industrialized countries have either a college degree or higher, to not have one is a severe disadvantage that no amount of complaint can change.

Also you gotta figure that the military is its own microcosm. And in that world there is a generous estimate of 20% who have a college degree and above. Clearly having a degree isn’t the norm there, so cadets who have one are entitled to obscene privileges that enlisted don’t get. Really, they may work for the same command but they are worlds apart.

I’m sure my previous room mates and other enlisted sailors my husband included will fly into a monstrous rage if they saw this post. But I’m not one to waver on my stand, nor get embarrassed easily. Indeed especially not on this because, you and I know that its the truth. No matter how unjustly enlisted men think that commissioned sailors have been promoted just because of a bullshit piece of paper, there isn’t a damn thing they can change except for getting an education.

So put that in your pipe and smoke it, Petty Officer.

note: While, I can’t stand the arrogance and ignorance of many of the enlisted people I kn0w I still acknowledge their significant contribution to the safety of national and international security at large.

yes I am back in Singapore if you haven’t already noticed , you must be daft.

Finite goodbyes are never easy, most of the time you like to assume that sooner or later you’ll get to see that person again. Which is why death is always hard, and a sudden demise even more difficult to grapple with.

It was the perfect ring. Miraculously Whitehall Jewelry had the exact ring I wanted in a size 4, a rarity in itself. Everything about it was sublime, the way it sat glittering on my finger next to my engagement ring and the clarity of it was top dollar. In fact, I got my 0.5 ct 10 stone 14k white gold wedding ring for $500 , and that made it even sweeter. There was nothing more I could ask for.

I’ve always been fastidious with my belongings. But I could only stare helplessly and in total shock when both of my rings slipped off my soapy fingers, falling noisily on the bathtub floor. Before I even knew what the fuck was happening, one of my rings was washed down the drainage system. I actually thought something came off the shower head. My rings do have the tendency to slip off and they have almost falled out a couple of times when my fingers were crooked, holding the shower head. But this, this is devastating.

Even though we’ve ordered a similar ring that costs about 350 bucks more ( meaning not as good a deal and henceforth I am not as happy ) I’m still very much heartbroken.

Oh well, I should count my blessings, afterall it could’ve been my $5000 platinum engagement solitaire ring instead.

I am constantly repelled by the hypocrisy of our society. And today, no less was a classic example of this. An ex classmate who has NEVER commented on any of my previous wall posts, or pictures, or even acknowledged my presence on facebook after adding me decided that my diatribe of a wall status about a stupid baby next door is “uncharitable.”

WTF?

Before people start complaining that I am a baby hater, I’d like them to please consider the fact that I’ve been woken up by this squawking infant every single night since we got here 2 weeks ago. In an effort to combat jetlag, I went to bed at 9pm and was usually awoken at 4.30am by that child upon which I will not be able to fall asleep in spite of my exhaustion. Last week, my sleep patterns got better but that thing won’t stop crying during the fucking day and night, so that I couldn’t get even a single moment of peace neither awake nor asleep.

Today I saw the little devil himself, with his Japanese mother and grandmother. The mother smiled anxiously but I gave her the coldest sneer while the infant she sired stared at me, forlorn and guilty I’d like to think. On a totally irrelevant note, the little man is rather adorable but that’s besides the point.

Yes yes yes, I know. Parents can’t control their screaming kids but hey guess what?

I NEED MY SLEEP. AND THIS IS YOUR KID, NOT MINE SO WHY THE FUCK SHOULD I SUFFER THE CONSEQUENCES AND BE SLEEP DEPRIVED???

And when I’m a cantankerous, tired person all the time don’t expect me to hide my ire, and be all smiles to the family of sleep criminals.

I am slowly losing my mind.

In the ten days that we have been here, not one day goes by without the hustle and bustle of living. Whether it is the eternal trail of red-tape bureaucracy or the frenetic paper chase (for housing, travel claims, medical enrollment among many other things ) , we are rarely bored. With the hubby being gone most of last week signing in with the 7th fleet, I was left to my own devices. Sitting still was never really me so I stepped into my bright orange birkenstocks, the only footwear I deem comfortable enough for hours of roaming the prefecture of kanagawa. From the hysteria of Tokyo traffic to the sea of humanity in Yokohama, I quickly became acquainted with their train system. With what little Japanese I knew coupled with frenzied gesturing and jabbing at an elusive little spot on the convoluted subway map, I actually made it to Ginza. A sense of self deprecatory humor is advised when interacting with Japanese people. They stare, aghast at your dirty toes and shake their heads bewildered by the deluge of english pouring out your mouth. Older people with their faces gnarled in disapproval that I, an Asian could not speak their language. In the suffocating silence of my train rides, I sit back and contemplate how silly everyone looked hopelessly lost in translation.

Such are my first two weeks, ingratiating myself to the Japanese society at large.

Like children, there is a compulsory attendance rule for this week’s orientation. Without sounding too arrogant, I must say that after being all over the base and the fucking prefecture orientation has been rendered useless. Instead, I go if only to sit by Patrick. The alternative of sitting in the lodge, griping about how this country is bloody infested by mosquitoes just doesn’t sound as appealing. Mosquitoes, they make me wonder why in a country that invents dancing robots and warming toilet seats can’t do something useful for once and invent a machine that will get rid of these repulsive creatures in a creative, high-tech fashion. Instead of wasting time and precious resources on ugly robots who can only dance to 3 tunes.

Regardless, my diatribe about this place has to end.I have a feeling my dissatisfaction with this place will be lowered significantly once I am placated with a job. Whenever that may be, given the shambles of the economy and the language barrier. Somehow, working always numbs you it is as if you’re too tired for anything else let alone to bitch about life.

On a happier note, I caught the free bus on base twice. On time! It wasn’t easy, walking briskly to Saiyaka for half priced sushi before they closed in half an hour and then almost breaking out  into a run when I saw the bus approaching the main gate. Laundry was done so I tossed the clothes into the dryer before eating dinner with the husband. It has become a game for me, to save money. Whether it is to not take a taxi and instead seize alternatives like walking ( an hour in the swelter, sometimes ) or the shuttle bus. People on base have been exceedingly generous with their hospitality; I’ve gotten 2 random car rides since I got here by complete strangers who thought I looked distressed and dirty in the heat. I suppose its never fair to compare people here with pompous marylanders because the sense of communality is strengthened in a foreign land. I’m not entirely certain, but one thing is for sure people ( AMERICANS ON BASE ) are a pleasant lot.

There’s my something-positive bit about Japan for today.