Not Wiser, Just Older.

Division Day

Fri, 12 Oct 2007 03:47:33 GMT

God DAMN it's nice having an automobile of my own. I can finally go places and do things on my own time, not subject to other people's schedules.

Having said automobile has helped me make friends off-post; I've finally got people to chill with besides Army people. Don't get me wrong, I like the people I work with, but it's nice to hang out with people who are not around me every second of the day.

Work is going fine, I ran my own road design project a couple weeks ago, it could have gone a whole lot smoother if I had been around for the Trimble/Terramodel training that I missed while I was at NTC. We've also just got AutoCAD 2008 set up on a few of the computers at the office, so now I can finally show off how skilled I am at that.

It's been hard to sleep lately. People from the next barracks over (14th Engineer Battalion) are up all hours of the night drinking, making noise, and generally disturbing the peace. It's annoying, but I can't say I blame them. I'd feel the need to party every night if I was going to Iraq within a month.

Movin' on Up

Thu, 13 Sep 2007 05:51:24 GMT

YEAAAH BUDDY

MAKIN THE BIG BUCKS NOW

Days of Being Dumb

Thu, 06 Sep 2007 01:16:07 GMT

What a load of horseshit. We surveyed, for one day out of 24. The rest was spent doing bullshit that anyone else could have done, like driving in convoys, police-calling the middle of nowhere, and KP. It's insulting, going out of our way to help the 4th on the assumption that our prescence was necessary, only to be given nothing in particular to do for a month.

What little surveying we did wasn't really needed anyway. We staked out a landing strip for UAV (Unmanned Air Vehicles, aka toy planes). A 50 foot wide strip of compacted soil, 650 feet long. No elevations, no cut/fill, just flat, generally straight ground.

YOU DON'T NEED SURVEYORS FOR THAT!

The mission was pointless and we shouldn't have gone; you know, just like the Iraq War.

Rock the (imitation) Casbah

Sat, 18 Aug 2007 04:38:51 GMT

It's my last night in Kuwait. Not the real Kuwait, the simulated Kuwait at the National Training Center at Ft. Irwin. Before being sent out to the field proper, ("The Box," as they call it here) units at the National Training Center spend a few days in "Kuwait" to adjust to the desert climate.

So far, it's been what I feared would happen. A whole lot of nothing. There hasn't been anything for those of us from Ft. Lewis to do that the 4th's people couldn't do themselves. However, things probably will change when we get to The Box tomorrow. Apparently there's no showers out there, so we may be designing/staking out plans for a facility for that. No roads, however, so there's a lot of our equipment that will go unused.

The heat sucks. The dust sucks. The living conditions suck. The bullshit busy work they're making us do sucks. The extraneous uniform regulations suck. But strangely, the food is actually quite good.

Normally I wouldn't have internet accesss out here, but PFC Singleton, one of the people who came from Ft. Lewis with me has one of those Verizon wireless broadband receivers that work anywhere. Hooah to that.

Snakes Crawl

Sun, 12 Aug 2007 02:32:13 GMT

I've gone on temporary duty to Ft. Irwin, assisting people from the 4th Engineer Battalion building some new road out there. At least, I hope we'll be doing our job out there...

It's also a field exercise, so I've had to bring a metric ton of gear along, and I'll be living in a tent in the Mojave Desert during the hottest time of year. And it's off to an awesome start already: we brought a total of 20 pieces of luggage with us, to include all of our survey equipment, survival gear, and weapons. Only thirteen showed up at the airport when we arrived. So, we've got to wait at the USO at Ontario airport until 8:00 pm until our bags arrive. We won't get to Ft. Irwin until around 1:00 am tomorrow, and we still have to go to work (I think at around 5:00-6:00).

Just plain awesome.

I guess things could be worse, I could still be at Ft. Leonard Wood.

Caring is Creepy

Thu, 09 Aug 2007 02:34:12 GMT

heh.

Things of Beauty

Mon, 16 Jul 2007 04:54:06 GMT

A collage made from the interests on my info page follows:

Create your own! By ga_woo using Web Services by Yahoo!

MAD PROPS TO second_banana

Candle in the Wind

Tue, 26 Jun 2007 03:30:24 GMT

This is a repost from a much older blog of mine. About five people actually read that blog, and I'm just now getting around to deleting it. I'm saving some of the posts I still like for posterity.

The best present I received on the evening of my birthday party was a cheap and extremely dodgy Musical Candle. The premise behind Musical Candle is that, when lit by a trained professional, it plays "Happy Birthday To You" continuously until the flame is extinguished by whatever means possible. Musical Candle was given to me a couple of hours before the birthday cake was brought out, but fortunately for the impatient souls such as myself, it was packaged in such a way that by pushing a part of the packaging conveniently marked "PRESS", Musical Candle's heartfelt rendition of the familiar festive tune could be heard without the use of flames of any sort. So, naturally, it was pressed.

It was only after "Happy Birthday To You" had been flawlessly performed by Musical Candle for the fifth consecutive time - from inside its flimsy cardboard packaging, no less - that the assembled party guests began to suspect that something was amiss - something that would later be known as the Musical Candle Conundrum. See, it was clearly stated in Part 1 of the Instructions that Musical Candle would play the song "continuously until flame is extinguished." And thus, the conundrum becomes apparent.

So what were we to do? Open the packaging, light the candle, and extinguish the flame? Surely that would have been cheating, as there must have been a more complicated but honest method of extinguishing the metaphorical flame that had inadvertently been lit through our foolish pressing. Not to mention the fact that nobody could be bothered going inside to get the matches. This left one reasonable solution. But just as I was about to bring my foot down and thoughtlessly stomp Musical Candle to death, it stopped, fearing for its life.

It didn't start again until the birthday cake was served a couple of hours later. Musical Candle was given a special place in the centre of the cake, surrounded by the sixteen candles representing my sixteen years of life (God only knows what Musical Candle was representing that night), and was ceremoniously lit. Unfortunately, despite several claims to the contrary, including the mere fact that it was a candle, Musical Candle was obviously not designed to be anywhere near fire. "Happy Birthday To You" was performed once again, entirely incorrectly and at twice the original volume. Before it had a chance to have another go, it stopped with an audible snap, and began to emit smoke from places that your average, non-musical candle would be much more modest about.

I reacted by doing what any rational, newly-appointed 16 year-old and cake protector would have done in the same situation, and hurled Musical Candle at the nearest wall. Musical Candle responded with one final, ill-advised attempt at "Happy Birthday To You", before it was permanently silenced by several frenzied kicks from yours truly, and a severe battering with a nearby basketball from a helpful party guest.

That story essentially sums up the entire party. A reasonably large group of friends engaging in a series of events that seem dreadfully boring and repetitive when recounted by the soberest person there, but I swear to Jad, at the time, they were the funniest thing ever.

Eyes of a Stranger

Sun, 24 Jun 2007 04:46:27 GMT

Hey, look! I guess I'm famous, now! This is just great; now I have a throng of people who only know me because of one of the more embarassing things that's ever happened to me. So, now the two relevant entries are friends only.

DEAR BLOG-AH READERS: I AM NOT A COMPLETELY TERRIBLE PERSON. ONLY MARGINALLY TERRIBLE.

In other news, a friend/co-worker of mine got married today, and I went to the wedding. It was a very low-key ceremony, and very few people were present. Still, I was witnessing something very special, the happiest moment of two people's lives.

You're a lucky man, Hanf. I can only hope to be as fortunate as you.

Tattoo You

Thu, 21 Jun 2007 01:37:25 GMT

Getting a tattoo doesn't really hurt, at least not on your arms. I've had two done so far, probably more in the future. Actually, make that definitely; once you get one, it's hard to stop.

The first tattoo I got was this:

It's a symbol that stands for Hell. I don't believe in any sort of Hell (or anything, really) I just enjoy satanic imagery, and wanted some subtle rendition of such a thing. I like satanic imagery because it's some of the oldest outsider art that has managed to have been remembered by history. And the symbol is vague enough to have other explanations be believeable, when I'm in a situation where religion is a touchy subject (parents, commanding officers, etc). Also: having this tattoo means that I'm approximately 75% more black metal than anyone reading this.

My other tattoo is:

двадцать два
несчастья

Which, if you know how to read Russian, says: Twenty Two Misfortunes. Those familiar with the work of Chekhov may remember this as the nickname of Yepikhodov from The Cherry Orchard. The way Yepikhodov just kind of stumbles through life, calmly accepting his dumb luck (both good and bad) struck a chord with me. I don't know of any other character I identify with so well.

Future tattoos may include:
The Corps of Engineers' regimental crest, the Mayan Calendar, the words "ULTIMA RATIO REGUM", an outline of the state of Oregon, the coat-of-arms of the Kingdom of Bohemia, and/or assorted puntuation marks.

Black Blood and Old New-Agers.

Fri, 08 Jun 2007 01:42:12 GMT

I love my parents. They've done, and still do innumerable things for me. Were it not for them I would have never seen as much of the world as I have. I've had quite a privileged upbringing. And with the way things are right now, I know that whenever I come down to Salem for a weekend, there will be a place to sleep and good food waiting for me. If only I could stand being around my parents any more.

My problems with them are threefold:

First, they're neocons of the worst kind. They're still true believers in Darth Bush, still believing that the WMD are out there somewhere. They still think gays are inferiors to straights. And don't get them started on reproductive rights (non-rights if they had it their way). And they are passionate about it, too. They have conservotard radio playing in the house all day, and Rupert Murdoch's propaganda machine all night (Fox News, 24, etc.). It's frustrating how out-of-touch they are with the rest of the world.

Second, they're dullards. They hardly ever do anything. Before I joined the service, the only thing that ever got them off the couch most nights is them driving me downtown. And they used to have healthy social lives, when I was much younger, they used to have thier friends over all the time. All they ever do anymore is sit in front of a screen and vegetate. Last time I came down, I purposely booked my return train in Portland so that they would get out of the house.

Third, they sheltered me, socially and creatively. I wasn't allowed to do much until I was 16, and even then it took me a long time to get over the social retardedness I had (some of which still spills out on occasion). I was so inexperienced, so awkward that it was extremely hard to make new friends. And I also say creatively because I was never encouraged to endeavor anything art-wise; I was always told to do to something that they could be involved in, like sports (i.e. they could watch me do/perform). As for art, in the fourth grade I was actually grounded for drawing comics when I should have been doing (redundant, simplistic) homework. And they simply couldn't understand why I wanted to take art classes in school, they always talked me out of it. And this hurt me in two ways: I was never any good at any sport I tried, and my creative growth was stunted. I don't think I can forgive them for this.

The Man From E.M.O.

Mon, 04 Jun 2007 05:38:50 GMT

Strange thing about me: Everyone who knows me know how quiet I am. Though I do talk with people much more often than I used to, I still generally don't speak unless spoken to. And yet, one of my biggest turn-ons is good, long, engaging, conversation. It's one of the main factors in reltionships I have. I wish I could explain this dichotomy further, but it would probably take a degree in psychology to do so. This is probably why I spent so much time chasing Amy*. No matter how much drama was going on because of her, she was always willing to talk with

So what happens when I have a one-on-one conversation with someone lasting upwards of six hours, with barely any breaks or awkward silence to speak of? Add to that the fact that she's supermodel-gorgeous as well. You've basically got a formula for me being stupid-in-love with someone.

It's just too bad she's a lesbian, and has been out of the closet for a slong as I've known her (about a year-and-a-half). I certainly know how to pick 'em, don't I?

Let me give a little context: I was back in town for Christmas Exodus, a two-week break for soldiers in IET status. The time to leave was coming fast, and nothing really special had happened yet, so I threw a huge party at my parents' house. Ashley had come about a half hour into the party, already piss-drunk. She only lasted for about an hour before passing out. Amanda, Coty and I carried her into a storage room to sleep it off. The party went on without her.

When Ashley finally came to there were only four other people left at the house, and they were all sharing the hide-a-bed. She had no idea where she was, what time it was, or who was around. I filled her in with the details. And then, we kept on talking; about things that I hadn't ever brought up with people ever before. Mostly about our feelings for other people and our pasts, and at one point I even showed her baby pictures of myself. There isn't a single person outside my family that had seen them before.

At scattered points in the conversation, she would ask for something: food, blanket/pillows, water, and the like. I would happily oblige. I should also say that doing little things like that is another turn-on of mine.

As time went on I was asking myself: "What the hell am I thinking? Have I really fallen for this girl? It's well established that she's a lesbian. So why do I want to pursue something so hopeless?" I ask myself these things every time I'm around her anymore. I know that no romantic relationship can ever happen, I'm content simply being a good friend of hers. But I have a one-track mind when it comes to attraction, once I'm attracted to someone, it's very hard for me to notice anyone else, again an explanation for the time I wasted on Amy. This one-track mindedness has screwed me out of many potential relationships.

Should I just give up on love?

*I'd like to take this time to say that Kevin Smith movies are retarded.

Amy: Revisited

Sat, 02 Jun 2007 07:52:27 GMT

A couple weekends ago, an old friend of mine, Airman First Class Gomez, drove me down to Salem. I took this as an opportunity to catch up with a lot of the nerds I hung around with freshman and sophmore years. As we were driving down, Gomez and I were discussing who we could remember, and what they're doing now. It was during this discussion that an old scar burst open again, when Gomez asked, "Do you remember Amy? Amy G.?"

Oh yes, I most explicitly remember her. First loves are hard to forget.

She was the one who, when Susan asked me to prom, left me waiting by the phone for a call that never came. I was left by my lonesome self, and Susan went stag (I still regard this incident as one of the worst mistakes of my life).

She was the one who decided to tell me that she loved me not even six hours after beginning my relationship with Heather.

She was the one who never let me make eye contact with for more than two seconds with out asking "Why are you staring at me?"

She was the one who, when I finally did take her to prom, told me the night of the dance that she was uncomfortable around me and never really ever was.

God damn. Being in love with her was such a chore.

But, back in August of last year, I get a Myspace message from her, apologizing for her behavior, saying that she was a different person now. At first I thought, "What audacity! I wasted years my life chasing her around and she thinks that this lame apology will make everything right?!" But then I thought for a while longer, and decided that as much as she deserves pain inflicted upon her, I just can't be the one to do it, I'm not a sadist by any means. So I told her that I accepted her apology. I didn't intend to do much more, but we sent a few more messages back and forth. And then I shipped for Basic Training the next month, and I hadn't even told her I'd even signed up, and never did. We basically disappeared from each other's lives.

And that's why I told Gomez: "Yeah, I remember her. We kind of almost had a thing going on."

"You want to see her again?" Gomez replied

"I don't see why not."

Gomez then dialed the number for Wunderland, where she worked. She was closing that night. He offered to drop me off there while he and Lina went shopping for a wedding present for his friend in The Corps. When he dropped me off there. I took one step in and remembered why exactly Jane hated that place. The lights, sounds, smells, all of them tailor-made to be as annoying as possible. I took a step out, wondering what kind of adult would subject themselves to working here of all places. I went back in, braving the unwashed nerd hordes. Out of the corner of my eye I saw someone whose hair kind of resembled hers, but was too short and pudgy to be her. And it occurred to me: "What if she had gotten fat? That would be hilarious!"

And then there she was, standing a few yards away from me, looking quite the same as the last time i'd seen her.

Her facial expressions seemded to say, "No way, is it really you?" I gave her a gesture that said, "Yes, it really is me." And so, we talked. Just like old times. Apparently she lives in Eugene, studying at some bible college and commutes to Salem to work at Wunderland. "Why Wunderland?" I asked her. She felt that this was the place where she belonged, or something to that effect. I decided not to question it. She asked me if I believed in God yet, I told her no, but I did dabble in Buddhism. She told me that wasn't right, that I sholdn't waffle on anything, that I should always be sure of myself. The conversation was cut abruptly short when she decided that she didn't have then time for me. After all, Wunerland is serious business!

It dawned on me that this "new Amy" she had spoken of in her message was a flat-out lie. She is still the same callous, self-centered, self-righteous bitch she always was. And I'm glad I'm mature enough to see that now. Another thing I noticed just how aggravatingly modest she is. I can't believe I used to think she was the most beautiful person in the world (it would be three more years before I met the most beautiful person in the world). I left the arcade as quickly as she left the conversation, and waited for Lina and Gomez to pick me up.

When they did show up, Gomez I guess thought that Amy and I were having some kind of heartfelt reunion, because he had a heated discussion about cars with a friend he had run into, leaving Lina and I to our own devices for a little while. We played a couple games at the arcade for old times sake, and then reminisced about those very same old times. We laughed at how crappy Wunderland was and still is, and how embarrassing our lives used to be. Every now and again I would catch a glimpse of Amy, who was trying very hard to not acknowledge my existence. And I smirked thinking about how much better a person I am now that she is out of my life.

Fri, 01 Jun 2007 22:21:37 GMT

Staff duty. Sitting at a desk answering phones calls. For 24 hours straight (minus meal breaks). A perfect time for introspection.

So why in the hell did I join anyway? Was it because of patriotism, some sense of duty? No, most definitely not. I'm largely the same person I was before I joined. Although, I have heard that full soldierization takes at least a year to happen, and I haven't even been deployed yet, so the biggest changes are yet to come, more than likely.

One answer I give to this question sometimes is, "because I was suicidal". Now, while I was feeling rather depressed when my recruiter first talked to me, I was hardly in any mood to kill myself, otherwise I probably would have joined the infantry. But, I ended up with a damn decent job. I'm a Technical Engineering Specialist; yes, the job title sounds like it's full of vague fluff, but it covers so many specialties that there is hardly a better term. I design contruction site plans in AutoCAD, survey, and test soil. Any one of those jobs will net a decent sized paycheck on the outside. So it seems that I've committed the exact opposite of suicide; I've made long-term plans for myself (however vague they may be). Also, I've been assigned to a brigade headquarters, the connections I make here will be invaluable should I decide to stay in the military (fat chance).

I spoke earlier of changes in my life, and another reason I joined was precisely that, to make a few changes in my life. The most glaringly obvious one is the change of scenery. I'm living on my own (I don't even have a roommate anymore) on a military base in Washington; which is worlds apart from living at home. The second most obvious change is physical. When I was inprocessing at Fort Leonard Wood, one of the sergeants on CQ made us do ten pushups for some reason, I can't remember why. Anyway, afterwards, I was thinking, "I just got the shit smoked out of me!" Now, on my last PT test I did 50 pushups in two minutes, not exactlya world record, but it's damn impressive given my history as far as that goes. Another, more subtle change is a change of attitude. I wanted to be more organized. I wanted to be motivated. I wanted confidence. So far, this hasn't exactly happened, but I'm fresh out of Initial Entry Training, something designed to break people; not exactly confidence-building.

After I signed up, but before I shipped out, Jesse (of Madworld fame) told me about how all kinds of people from all walks of life join the military. Truer words are rarely spoken. I've met some amazing people here. Like one of the best unsigned musicians in Michigan (James Faccio of A Beautiful Silence), or the former drug kingpin of Joliet, Illinois (name withheld for obvious reasons). I met a Sudanese immigrant from Portland, who ran from his home in Sudan, across Ethiopia, all the way to Somalia, just so he could get on a plane to America. These are just a few of the more remarkable examples, but my life is enriched by know these people, along with so many others, and hearing their stories.

I also joined because I wasn't going anywhere at Chemeketa, and I didn't have a good enough plan to do anything else. I didn't want to go to college anymore. But now that college is free, thanks to the G.I. Bill, why not get a degree?

But would I recommend this to anyone else I know? Not really. It takes a certain kind of person to go through with this, and I'm not even sure if I'm one of them. Fujii was talking about enlisting, he's the only other person I know might be able to pull it off.

One other thing

Fri, 01 Jun 2007 03:24:42 GMT

For those of you who haven't heard about it yet: I joined the Army. Yes you read that right, I, Chris Pavelek, am currently a member of the United States Army. The first thing everyone always asks is: why? And that question shall be answered in a later entry. RIght now, I'm getting rid of some of my stupider entries.

Baron von Bullshit rides again

Fri, 01 Jun 2007 02:33:30 GMT

I don't know if anybody reading this has noticed, but I haven't made any new entires in about two years. But now that things have changed ever so much in my life, it's about time to hop back on the Livejournal horse. I think I finally lead an interesting enough life to warrant having a web log (a "blog," so to speak). Hopefully, this run will be better than the previous ones, I'm going to be getting rid of older entries that I don't like anymore.

On an unrelated note; does anyone know any good vegan recipes?

Thu, 11 Aug 2005 03:52:16 GMT

I ended up staying at the paint factory, because it paid better. Then I caused a hazmat spill. Now I work at Subway.

decisions, decisions...

Fri, 22 Jul 2005 07:20:54 GMT

Paint Factory, or The Beanery?

Hmm....

Sat, 09 Jul 2005 08:25:44 GMT

leave a comment if you want any sort of explanation for any of the pictures. i'll answer as non-incriminatingly as possible.

Thu, 07 Jul 2005 06:47:45 GMT

Thu, 07 Jul 2005 06:12:56 GMT

A while ago I posted this on my MySpace profile. It might be a little late, but now that I think of it, that's just to inflammatory to post without an explanation; I mean, the reasons might be obvious to me, but not to everyone it's directed toward.

Now, I'm not usually one complain about underappreciation, but frankly, nobody has more reasons to do that than I do. This year's drama awards was the straw that broke this camel's back. I'm pretty used to having all of my tech work sidelined in favor of more popular people, but getting snubbed for best actor was just plain insulting. I'm really fucking sick of having all of my talent get ignored; I had talked about coming back during fall because I don't go to school until winter, but right now, the Rose can fucking ROT for all I care.

teacher kegger

Wed, 11 May 2005 08:44:49 GMT

This is all based on a dream I just had. Some things have been embellished, because I have creative liscence over my own dreams. In any case, this is still the most disturbing dream I have ever had.

----------

Mr. Hanus fumbled around, searching for the lamp switch in the dark. He knew that the bed he had awaken in was not his own, and that the woman lying next to him was not his wife. The hangover was a dead giveaway. Suddenly, the bedroom door swung open. Mr DuFault stood in the doorway, pants unzipped, and barked at Hanus, "Get the hell out, it's my turn." With the light of the open door, Hanus found the light switch, and turned it on. He needed to get a look at the person he did not remember sleeping with. He turned her over, and a look of horror came across his face, as if he had seen someone rape and murder his children while screaming, "I HATE PHYSICS!" The woman, as it turns out, was Ms. Saxe.

Hanus stumbled out of bed and out of the bedroom, and left DuFault to his work. He remembered that he was not wearing a shirt, so he picked up one off the floor; he had no idea whose it was, and it fit him like a tunic. He walked slowly down the hall. In the living room he heard music that vaguely resembled a song by Dire Straits. He peered into the living room. Mr. Day, with a lampshade on his head, was strumming away on his guitar. Mr. Woods and Kimi Carroll were awkwardly trying to dance to the discordant rhythms. He stepped over Mr. Thayer, Passed out face-up in a pool of his own vomit, a beer-bong lying next to him, and went out the door to his car. As Hanus stepped out, he heard Thayer spew forth. "Turn that bastard over," Woods said, "that's how Hendrix died."

Hanus swerved down the road. Keeping a straight line meant little to him, it was the wee hours, and he just wanted to get home. He made it home without incident. The first thing he did when he got home was wash his face, as there was visible drool still in his beard. As he looked in the mirror, he said to himself, "Never again...never again..." It wouldn't matter how well or often he cleaned himself off, the shame of this night would haunt him forever.

He then tried creeping silently into his bedroom, but to no avail. His wife was sitting up in bed, lights on, with an irate look on her face. "Just where have you been?" she asked. He responded with only two words: "Long meeting."

Tue, 26 Apr 2005 05:21:08 GMT

Something that strikes me as funny: whenever my mom see a picture of me as a small child and I'm in the general vicinity, she always remarks: "You were so much happier then."

Tue, 26 Apr 2005 03:34:16 GMT

Woke up with a fever Friday that lasted until I woke up Sunday (Not even a cowbell could cure it.). Still felt totally enervated (Vocab word. HA.) until Tech today. When I picked up a drill, it was like that scene in Lord of the Rings where Gandalf gives Theoden his sword; I was renewed. Positively fucking biblical.

Wed, 20 Apr 2005 03:02:57 GMT

Had some dental work done today. A tooth that basically caved in on itself during the summer had a filling that was never entirely filled. So today my dentist finished the job that should have been done months ago. I had some novocaine shots, so my mouth is all like: "BUH BUH BUH DUUUUUUUUUUUUUUH".