I learned some things about myself, too: what I’m good at, what I’m not so good at, how I react under pressure, and how I manage stress. But there are a bunch of other positive habits instilled by general military discipline that we come to take for granted. Here are just a few.
Refractive eye surgery is pretty well advertised on my installation here in Hawaii. Long-term, it makes more sense to permanently correct the vision of eligible servicemembers than supply them with new glasses (and contacts? some fliers get free contacts?) every year. I knew my summer deployment was probably going to be my last one, so I thought I’d ask if I could get my eyes fixed before I separate next year.
The keyword there is “ask.” I’m in a deploying billet and a flight status. I was prepared for a struggle, one I suspected would result in the negative.
Somehow, it actually worked. It was six months of persistence and administration and, frankly, the kindness of my leadership, and even now that it’s all done, it still seems too good to be true. I got PRK surgery in September, and it was one of the greatest gifts I’ve ever received. It changed my life.
Here is the how the whole process went down, from start to finish.
When I lived in Japan, I didn’t own a car. I had a bike, but it got stolen on base (naturally), and with less than a year left before returning to the US, I started walking instead.
A walking commute is really easy in a place like Japan, where public transportation is robust and accessible. I had my walk to work down to a science:
1. Leave the house for a twelve-minute walk to the train station;
2. Five minutes on the train;
3. A ten-minute walk from the train station to the base gate;
4. Ten minutes from the gate to the gym’s locker room, where I stashed my uniforms;
5. A quick costume change, then, depending on where it was parked, a five- or ten-minute walk to the ship.
After a few weeks, I could predict to the minute what time I would cross the brow in the morning, and I was always on time.
The combination of walking to work and running around the ship often resulted in jubilant vibration on my wrist sometime before lunch: “Congrats!” my fitness watch would say. “You met your step goal of 10,000 steps!”
I took for granted how easy it was to be active when it was organically built in to the day. Coming back to the US was a rude awakening.
If you’ve ever played an online multiplayer game, you know the world of gaming can be incredibly off-putting and toxic. It’s hard to go a single day without another player challenging your sexuality, calling you a slur, or just being so obnoxious that the game becomes unplayable. This might be why I’ve gravitated towards games of the offline, single-player variety, mostly roguelikes and platformers and strategy games.
At this point, though, the only thing holding me back from being a truly insufferable video game hipster is that I don’t want to keep them for myself. I want to take you along for the ride.
There are games that are pure art; games that put a smile on my face every time I play them; games that make me grind my teeth and make my hands slick with sweat. A lot of them cost less than a third of what the big-name companies are churning out year after year with very little variation or improvement – yeah, I’m talking to you, Bethesda and Bungie. Unfortunately, the lack of a big name often means lack of big advertising. Indie games rely on positive reviews and word of mouth to generate hype.
So here’s some hype for inexpensive games that are absolutely worth your time and attention.
Days deployed: 58 (thank me for my service)
Hours sat in window: 80
Air medals earned: 0
Times carrying the pisser: 3
Times spilled pisser on self: 0 (an improvement)
Fake fires: innumerable
Emails from Mom: 20
Emails from Dad: 1
Longest uninterrupted study session on single subject because I’m too polite/awkward to say “alright, I get it”: 3 hours
Gym sessions: 45
Deadlift working weight: +50lbs
Body weight: +5 lbs
Times mediated interpersonal drama: 4
Times I thought everyone was trolling me but they weren’t and I got sad for no reason: 3
Books read: 12
Overdue travel videos completed: 2
Seasons of Letterkenny watched: 2
Times said “ferda” or “dirty fucking dangles, boys” or “crush some sandos” or “dust on praccy”: sorry
Celeste C-Sides completed: 5
Times listened to Cuz I Love You by Lizzo: 58 (daily)
Average hours of sleep: 6
Ambien intake: ???
Times sleep interrupted by whoosh of crows alighting from roof: any night not on the Ambo
D&D sessions: 7
Times teased by pilots for playing D&D: every opportunity
Crew diss tracks written by rider: 8
Actual qualifications competed: 0
Meaningful contributions to the mission: 0
Days until command closes for good: 340
Days until I get out of the Navy: 340
Very few of my ideas are original, and my long-weekend plans for Memorial Day were no exception. I read an article from The Atlantic, written in 2014, titled I Sent All My Text Messages in Calligraphy for a Week and thought, huh, that’s interesting.
I made a post on Facebook saying that I was going to be replying to messages in handwriting. I guess I had a secret motive: it had been a weird week in the Navy – we lost some education benefits and advancement results were pretty low – and I thought it might encourage folks to start a conversation. I was surprised by the sorts of people who reached out. I was happy to hear from all of them. Also, I had gotten a really nice fountain pen from my dad for Christmas and I wanted to get more use of it. In retrospect, I’m not sure why I don’t use it more often; I write letters pretty regularly, but for some reason I never reach for the “nice” pen.
It was a long weekend – 96 hours. Here is how it went and what I learned.
According to the Screen Time function on my iPhone, I average about 4.5 hours each day staring into one (1) glowing rectangle.
If you are over age 40, you’re probably thinking: “That’s because your generation is addicted to screens.”
4+ hours does seem like a lot, especially considering I don’t have my phone with me during the workday. For that much daily screen time, I must have my phone in front of my face from the moment I get home until I put my head down to sleep. Do I?
The answer is a little complicated, both yes and no.
I’ve been struggling to come up with the least patronizing term to describe Marie Kondo’s process. The sanctimony of “minimalism” makes my skin crawl and, more importantly, misses the point, highlighting the result over the endeavor. Even “tidying up,” a phrase that has become more or less synonymous with the KonMari brand, doesn’t instinctively call to mind the necessity of discarding first. The closest I can think of is “downsizing,” but even that conjures a problematic context: of being unable to afford things, of having to get let go to survive.
I want to talk about applying Marie Kondo’s principles to my life in a way that doesn’t invoke a moral imperative on the part of the reader. The argument for letting go of clutter can be made, sometimes even convincingly, but it’s not my job to make it. The thing about Kondo’s method is that it is so completely relative. It’s not about discarding things based on the criteria of strict, stark utility. An excess of possessions can certainly weigh one down, but deciding what is the “right amount” of things is a deeply personal, individual experience. What works for me might not – probably won’t – work for you.
The core of KonMari could be summarized like this: “Wouldn’t you enjoy your home so much more if you only surrounded yourself with things that make you happy?” It seems so obviously true that it feels insulting. A lot of people, misunderstanding her, have taken a very bizarre sort of offense to her principles, when “[s]he literally just wants to help people declutter so their physical belongings no longer take a mental toll on their well-being.”
I guess I started off as part of the problem, too. Before I read her book, I feared that Marie Kondo and her Shinto-inspired ideas were going to come into my home and throw away anything that didn’t contribute to a sterile, characterless space, only teak and white linens and a single plant for color. But Kondo never specifies what the end product looks like, only offering the occasional suggestion. The process is about finding what makes her clients happy. She is always willing to disregard even her own rules if they bump against someone’s an immovable anxiety. As with most things, it’s about the journey, about the self-understanding that comes from addressing the totality of your belongs and discovering the “right amount,” than it is about the aesthetics (or even functionality) of the result.
So with all that said, for the past few months (yes, months), I’ve been KonMari-ing my home. It was way more work than I was expecting, but all in all it was a positive experience. One, Marie promises, I’ll never have to do again.
Shockingly, this is proving to be true. I took photos for this post when I finished in late March. I am writing this post now at the end of May. I expected my tidiness to have slipped between now and then – things out of place, folding a little less tight, new unnecessary acquisitions. So far, to my surprise, this has not been the case. The lessons that I learned from Marie Kondo seem to have stuck.
I followed Kondo’s plan as prescribed: starting with clothing, piling every article of clothing you own, from every part of the house, into one heap in one place, going through each item, piece by piece, and deciding if it makes you happy or if it’s time to discard it. Do the same with books, papers, miscellaneous items (komono), and sentimental items, in that order. Kondo says this structure allows us to attune ourselves gradually with what truly “sparks joy,” so that by the time we get to our sentimental items, we can make those “keep/discard” choices with confidence.
Was it “life-changing,” as the title of her book suggests? In some ways, yes. It forced me to confront some things about myself that I was not proud of, but going through it made me feel more confident about my decision-making in general. It also brought to light a lot of the positive aspects of who I am that I often take for granted. It has made my daily routine easier and I am much more considerate now of the quantity of things that I acquire.
The biggest change, though, is being able to sit in my apartment and feel so completely at ease, so filled with joy. Sometimes I’ll look up from reading and gaze around adoringly around my space, my little sanctuary. Everything was chosen and placed with love and deliberation; nothing is here “just because.” It is the first place of my own that truly feels like home.
With all that said, here are some general lessons that I learned from the KonMari process, some truths that stuck with me even since the tidying up came to an end.
I mentioned in my year-end post that the dad of one of my childhood friends once told us that your body gets older on the outside but you stay more or less the same on the inside. Eventually you reach a plateau for emotional maturity, the crest of an upward trend that hopefully continues throughout the rest of your life, while your body begins to do the opposite, dropping down the other side of this metaphorical hill.
Years are going by faster and faster. My foot is pressing down harder on the accelerator and I am unable, will never be able, to slow down, not until at last I stop for good. Someday this will worry me. Right now, I watch these years pass with detached, almost clinical, interest.
I’ve struggled with collecting my thoughts, on finding significance, on reaching the big 3-0. It doesn’t feel more meaningful than any other birthday, which for me is actually a huge deal because I love an excuse to celebrate something. So actually I take all of that back. This is a great event, as usual! Tomorrow, on April 1st, it’s all about me, bay-bee!
In lieu of depth and meaning, here are some lists.
Things that keep me young
- Great genes
- Always being a lil bit overweight
- General zest for life
- Having a tumblr account (see image below for reference)
- Hobbies that I’m genuinely very passionate about
- Extremely niche hobbies that I’m wildly, ironically passionate about
- A “yes, and” attitude
- 7.5 hours of sleep
- Minding my own business
- Not smoking (probably)
Things that I wish I had learned sooner
- Always have electrolytes somewhere in the house. It might save you a trip to the ER.
- You can be funny and kind or funny and cruel. The second one is easier, but the first one is worth it.
- There’s a big difference between being nice and being kind.
- Wear sunscreen.
- Recovery isn’t linear.
- thank u, next
- Everyone loves differently.
- Virtues get easier with practice.
- You’re not eating enough protein.
- God doesn’t say no. He says, instead: yes; or, not yet; or, I have something better in mind.
- The more comfortable you are with yourself, the more permission others feel to be comfortable with themselves.
- Sometimes it really do just be like that.
I realized today that I’ve been writing in this blog almost continuously for five years. It is mostly a pain, but it forces me to put something out there into the world/void about a dozen times a year. I just wanted to take a second to say thank you to anyone and everyone who is reading this. Whether you know me personally or you just stumbled here by accident (most likely, you are a soft combination of the two), thank you for giving me a few minutes of your day. Thank you for reading.