Wearing a shirt, clinging to my soldier.

Archive for August, 2010

From One MWIT to Another

(A Letter to Shiloh)


I hope you’re settling into this life. Feel free to look around here, I have nothing to hide. So you’re Rob’s new chica, eh? Sweetness. There’s a lot to gain in that boy/man/child.

None the less, I want no disillusion about this life for you. So here’s what you need to know. Expect people when you tell them what your boyfriend does to treat you differently according to their stance on the war. DO NOT GIVE OUT INFORMATION! (Stated by the big rule OPSEC [Operational Security] and that could cost rank, and lives. Lose lips sink ships.) Give vague information. Example:

“Oh he’s a soldier? When does he return?”

“I have no idea, the military changes day by day.”

“What base? What time?”

“I will be alerted when and if he comes home.”

Its that simple sort of blase that may seem like you don’t care, but it’s really that you’re protecting him, and his entire battalion.

Don’t expect to come in front of the military either. Think of it as his real wife, and you are the mistress in the office on the side. That contract date is the deadline for the divorce to be finalized. I can’t see Rob going to ANG (Army National Guard. Trust me, you get sick of typing long phrases out. Learn the lingo!) to be a lifer.

Make sure, if you live together around drill, his bags are packed and ready the day before.

Learn MT (military time) because its a life saver.

Don’t expect everything to always be tip top, or to take to it like a fish in water. More like a fish on desert sand. You’re gonna feel awkward, out of place and you’ll miss him. But there are resources.

Wait at least 6 months to a year before saying hello or staying late enough to run into a battle buddy. This will give you strong enough courage to look him in the eye and give proper respect.

The days of white gloves and tea between wives on base is not so far off. The military will always hail back to the 1930’s and 40’s when enlistment was high. These standards have withstood the test of time. Luckily for you, you may never have to step on base and deal with post housing. If so, my dear you have taken bigger steps than I will.

Learn fast. Soak up everything Rob tells you. Memorize him. Everything. Expect change. And do your own research. The first research I did was soldier suicide. The second, death and PTSD from Afghanistan. Learn to love coffee. Keep your phone permanently charged.

Accept they are “minutemen” for  reason. Live day by day. In fact, live each like he deploys tomorrow.

Face mission mode with a grain of salt. You’ll understand what I mean when you see Robert in it. Its truly terrifying yet at the same moment you feel proud. This handsome man, this soldier is yours and whether its under his simple t-shirt or buried within his ACUs, the man you love remains and although he won’t openly admit it, he is fighting to keep you and the children you will create safe.

From one MWIT (military wife in training) to another, I wish you the best of luck.


I still haven’t gotten back my strainer from dinner before drill. Expect that too.


Breanna Lee (Scott)

“Just don’t call me Mrs. Gold Bond,” Mandy said after introducing herself. Mandy’s husband used so much of the foot powder in his boots he had taken on the nickname.

“That’s a deal,” Rita said. “As long as you don’t call me Mrs. Scrotum.”

-“Army Wives” by Tanya Biank on Army nicknames and wives identities

Contents of My Purse!!!!

Contents of my purse from left to right, top to bottom:

1 Kodak Easy Share CD82 12 MP Camera in blue

1 set of keys on an Indiana Wesleyan University lanyard

  • Key and clicker for Saturn SL1
  • 1 silver keychain with my name and clear CZ
  • 1 Lipzipz Surf balm
  • 1 house key
  • 1 key chain reading “Waiting for the right boy. Meanwhile having a good time with the wrong ones.”

1 package Bic mechanical pencils

1 pack of Chex Sweet and Salty

1 Apple Cinnamon Rice Krispie bar

1 “Army Wives” by Tanya Biank

1 set of broken $5 glasses

1 Sceintific Calculator by Casio

1 pack of Spearmint Stride

1 pack of Ortho Tri Cylen

1 “I ❤ Boys” Wallet

1 RCA Opal 8GB in Red

1 LA Colors Black Kohl liner

1 Lash Maxx mascara by Rimmel London

1 Covergirl Lash Exact

1 $5 Walmart purse covered in pins from all over.

1 Apple iPhone in a Griffin case

Hospital Rooms

I tried to call Soldier at 2045 and instead Tabby picked up the phone. Her mom and her were taking Soldier to the hospital. He’s been sick for a while but… I’m scared. And she swears she’d keep my updated and he barely responded to me and I… I’m scared…

He was admitted at 9, and went back to the room a few minutes ago. I’ll keep you updated when I am…

Dear Soldier,

Dear Soldier,

Not just my own, but every. I see you standing there, shaved head and ACU’s hung. Perhaps on your skin, they feel warm on a cool day, or they have been hanging there for weeks, waiting for use. Thank you.

From a girl who lays in bed with him at night, in candle light, watching him sleep and struggle. Thank you, for giving me the freedom and opportunity to love him. Thank you for defending this country so that I may kiss those lips and cry silently because one day he will take a husbands place, and send a father home. He will grasp the weapon and fight like many have before.

I am only a military girlfriend. I am a military wife in training. Already I see you, and my heart beats in my chest. I’m glad you are stateside for the moment and when you return back to those gritty sands of combat, I will be standing awaiting each arrival.

I find myself wondering who you’ve lost. What you’ve saw. Its a sadistic human habit. I wonder who is waiting for you, when your boots hit the threshold of your door, and who waved you goodbye on the tarmac. I wonder if the girl you love, have you married her? Had children? What are your plans for her? I hope every wish you harbor in your heart comes true.

You, dear soldier, are of the most loved. And you, marine, airman, coastie… Loved also are you.

From the girl who kisses dog tags… Holds to her heart whatever equipment she finds… Blesses her own soldier with her heart and mind… I wish you everything in this world, but especially love.

Breanna Abraham*

*subject to change

Miss Nothing

10:30 am

“One over three to the seventh… All four of those! What page was that on?”

I suck at algebra, for real. Maybe because it bores me or forces me to think in cold cruel numbers (do numbers carry emotion? Not unless stoic boredom is an valid emotion!). But here I am, staring at a dusty blackboard, front row, five star five subject notebook and planner on desk. I’m completely lost. I’m surrounded by whiz kids and slackers. The clock slowly ticks seconds by.

Geometry, I loved. I loved the predictability, the stability of finding a shape and its size. Honestly, I really did love geometry. Bordered on crazy passion that I used to have. Basic algebra, sure I can use it every once and a while. But properties of an exponent? Ain’t happin’ bucko.

English teachers love me. I’m creative, hard-working, inquisitive. I’m a blend of grammar Nazi and comedian that results in a long winded discussion over Bronte that is worthy of a tea parlor, English biscuits and Earl Grey. Like I stated, English teachers love me.

Science? Same thing. The practical math in sciences like physics and earth/space intrigues me. The hands on and theory, even better. Can you imagine the fear when a ten pound bowling ball comes flying towards your face and the string pulls it back right before it smashes your face into the wall? Or standing on a two by four held up only by the friction between two address books?

Barely ten minutes has passed now.

Brittany sometimes joked that I wake up in the morning and have one of two routines.


A.) I woke up and had a crack muffin to make me hyper and happy. Possibly ingested a small child also.


B.) I didn’t sleep all night, holed up in my room in my insomnia daze with black coffee, unfiltered cigarettes, and Edgar Allen Poe.

Today is my black coffee/cigarette/Poe day. I’m a starving artist with a pocket full of money. I’m the dreamless dreamer who floats through the psych ward hallways, tripping on Ambien. I am the poet who pens sonnets in her sleep to squirrel it all away in a cabinet behind a Chinese lead based glass like Emily once did. I am the mute radio DJ.

And as poetic and as creative as that is, and no matter how much time passes, my voice remains the same. Deeply cynical yet clinically optimistic by force. The kind of voice for the Prozac addicts, the Valium whores and lithium withdrawl. The wit and skill overplaying the rest of reality, trans mutating it from corn silk to the most precious gold. Some have even said that my art is like taking LSD and whiskey. You can always do without the LSD by the whiskey is a neccessity.

(SIDE COMMENT: I am starving. I really want apple pie right now. One of the ones from work. And I think I might drop by Hardees post school for a *drool* cheese quesadilla.)

“I’ve been on a calender but never on time” – Marilyn Monroe

“I’m a misunderstood genius. Whats misunderstood about me is that no one believes I am a genius.” – Calvin and Hobbes

“The prettiest dresses are worn to be taken off.” -Jean Cocteau

“When you make music, or write, or create, its really your job to have irresponsible, mindblowing, condomless sex with whatever idea you’re having at the time.” – Lady Gaga

11:49 am

Shortly now I must leave to stand in a painstakingly long line. Unfortunetly, there is no food today that I would like so it appears my choice will be a cereal bar or, like, three, and a water. If I have the money for it. I have no clue.  No, I won’t. So I’ll need to give up a tenner. Great. Might as well whip that out. I’m going to get so sick of cereal bars.

Been crocheting recently. Made Soldier a camouflaged “doll”. Still needs button eyes and a crude mouth. Hell, I might add ears and a tail if it suits me.

12:43 pm


Her beauty undefined in moon light

Muscles tense as she draws the bow

Lips tight in concentration

Eyes focused on her prey.




Flowing through her veins.

The huntress kills tonight.

O’er her shoulder, she carts her dead

Blood stained fingertips of pride

Mouth agape in silent, primal scream

As the huntress brings the hunt home.

Would I be lying if I said I honestly missed him? Hell no. Picture this, two young adults in a messy apartment on a couch. One in a pair of baby blue jeans and a navy blue “Doe Creek” sweatshirt, thumb holes and neckline ripped open. Her hair, a reddish black tied in a ponytail with slightly smudged kohl around her hypnotic blue grey eyes. She’s curled into and around the side of a slightly trimmer man. His skin is a dark tan, almost comparable to caramel and just as sweet, is a vivid contrast to her pale white. His black hair is soft and shortly kept. He folds her against his white t-shirted chest and green shorts, and kisses her forehead with warm, pink lips. The scents mix in the air; Old Spice and Dial with purple Curve and pina colada. Sounds rising with the sun, satisfaction on her breath. In this moment, every need and every want is fulfilled.  He’s so warm and she’s so cold. He’s like a rock and he clings to her, trying to keep her there with his eyes, even though she must leave. She smiles and chuckles when he kisses her hand. He loves her, and its very obvious.

Transfer now this girl to a cold, hard desk in a science classroom. Outside the window, railroad tracks. Rocks pass in front of her and she classifies, while her body pulses with desire. Desire to be in his apartment, in his arms, smiling and laughing at Tom and Jerry on television, instead of staring blankly, trying to make it to radio.

I’m miss autonomy, miss nowhere
I’m at the bottom of me
Miss androgyny, miss don’t care
What I’ve done to me

I am misused, I don’t wanna do
Be not your slave
Misguided, I mind it, I’m missin the train.

And I don’t know where I’ve been
And I don’t know what I’m into
And I don’t know what I’ve done to me

And as I watch you disappear into the ground
My one mistake was that I never let you down
So I’ll waste my time, and I’ll burn my mind
On miss nothing, miss everything

I’m miss fortune miss so soon
I’m like a bottle of pain
Miss matter you had her
now she’s goin’ away

I’m misused, misconstrued
I don’t need to be saved
Miss slighted, I mind it
I’m stuck in the rain

And I don’t know where I am
And I don’t know what I’m into
And I don’t know what I’ve done to me

And as I watch you disappear into the ground
My one mistake was that I never let you down
So I’ll waste my time, and I’ll burn my mind
On miss nothing, miss everything
Miss stealing, Miss everything

And as I watch you disappear into my head
Well, there’s a man who’s telling me I might be dead
So I’ll waste my time, and I’ll burn my mind
So I’ll waste my time, and I’ll burn my mind
On Miss Nothing, Miss Everything!

“Miss Nothing” – The Pretty Reckless

Pet peeve? When people ask how Chris and I are doing. Newsflash. We broke up. He lied. He cheated. He abused. And I’m done with that part of my life. You bringing it up constantly doesn’t help me heal

Secret. Secret.(Not any more)

I admit to the following:

I lie to get my own way when I think it’ll benefit me.

I miss him in a sick little way that I can’t understand.

I wish I could tell you everything.

My mother, who is my best friend, doesn’t know how much I’ve really done.

I feel ashamed of who I was.

I still want to kill myself.

I tried to burn myself today.

I don’t think I’m beautiful all the time.

When I lose a friend, it kills me.

Hearing you say I was crazy and that you didn’t want me, when all I had wanted to do was be yours, that hurt me.

I can’t breathe.

I starve myself off and on still to show I still have a semblance of control.

I turned down a drink today to celebrate you not going to prison.

I fear when you come home from war, you will be so changed that you can’t love me anymore.

I can’t stand to lose you.

I’m jealous.

Why is it her who stole your heart to begin with?

I wish I’d known you sooner.

I have no clue if I’ll let you see this.

I try so hard to be someone you’ll be proud of.

I hate my father somedays, and yet as much as I know I should despise him, I still end up daddy’s little girl and it makes me sick inside.

When my grandparents die, I will regret every moment I haven’t spent with them.

I want you to be happy because of what she stole from you.

I still wonder why I want to be someone’s everything.

I want marriage because its stability, and because a divorce is harder to do than just walking away.

I still don’t know if you’ll be a good father, and that scares me.

Seeing you with your little cousin at her birthday party warmed my heart and made it possible for me to spend another, and final summer with you.

I want to scream so much because this is killing me inside.

I’m terrified when I drive because I don’t want to have an accident.

I didn’t fall asleep Sunday morning because I was too busy thinking of you, even though you were right there.

I hope one day I can really tell you every damn fear and you won’t fall asleep.

I’m not army strong, and I don’t feel like an army girlfriend somedays. I think that I should be more independent and it scares me that someday you’ll realize that and walk away.

I’m terrified to communicate.

I’m in radio because it was the one thing he never supported.

I bury myself in work and responsibility because I want people to notice me.

I hate food because of the noises people make while eating it.

I keep my eyes open to remind myself its you.

Whenever I smell certain colognes, I freak out because it throws me back into pain.

I’d stay awake for weeks waiting for you.

I want to go see you on the weekends but can’t find the gas money.

I want to hit her sometimes.

Losing her as a best friend wasn’t what hurt the most. It was the fact that even after everything she has done, you still love her.

When you said you heard me on the radio, my face turned red. Because the only time you heard me, I went without a script and stuttered.

I wish Edward Rochester would’ve loved Jane Eyre earlier.

I wish a superhero could’ve swept into the lunch room that day and stopped him.

I wish when it was forced upon me, I fought back, instead of sitting there like a scared little sheep.

Watching you pick her over me, and then this year long silence from you… Proves you never cared to begin with.

When you showed up in my lobby, when he was at AT, I almost threw up all over the ABS. Why then?

I am honest on everything I say to you, because I love you that much. The only thing I ever lied to you about was that I was ok. And you caught me red handed.

What bugged me the day I was spaced out and crying was that I realized I gave my virginity for comfort like a peace offering to a man who only wanted to hurt me, and because of that I felt tainted and like you could never love me.

Whenever you say her name or hang out with her, part of me freaks out because I know how much you used to love her and part of me is afraid you’ll be unfaithful. Even though I know damn well you love me.

I’m afraid to meet your battle buddies.

I’d rather not think of when you’ll wear your gear in the sand.

I catch myself wondering where your tags will end up.

Or even worse… how will I know if something happens to you overseas?

You’ve changed me for the better.

All those times I laid in my dirty clothes on your bed, watching you play EVE, you only turned to look and see me if I was crying.

You never kissed me when we had sex.

You used me, and now you won’t even talk to me long enough to find out we’ve been over for months.

I see the pain in your eyes, in that fragment of a smile. You can’t hide it from me. I know these things because I really did love you.

Everytime I see her face, I want to kill her.

I dyed my hair black because you wanted this sexy fuck the world chick, and I was trying desperately to keep you. Now whenever I look in the mirror, I wish the red was back.

You ruined all my favorite songs.

I drive with my music loud because seeing the weird looks entertains me.

I feel like I freak you out a little bit.

I rarely write over 1,000 words because I don’t want to waste time editing.

Birthday Wishes

I always kinda wanted to spend a night at a boyfriends house. What would happen, what would go on? I get my chance tonight. When the clock strikes 000, I will be in Soldier’s apartment, wide awake, or half asleep And receive a kiss. I now know that my parents love Soldier more than they loved Chris. Or maybe its that they trust me more. Or a combination of both.

I haven’t talked to Jace much recently, and it’s kinda… sad. I mean, we used to talk so much but now with school and work and all of that, conversations at a dead halt. The last I heard a truthful statement about his distress… Well, it was earlier this week. And I hate how I don’t have time anymore. I’d make time if I could. I wonder, is he even talking to Britt on a daily basis? Are they having serious or joking conversations. I want him to be happy and I want her to be happy because I love them both. And I keep thinking that neither can give all. Jace can’t give all because the trust and the will isn’t there after being hurt so many times. Britt can’t because her heart has been consumed by the Phantom for so long because of human rejection that for it to open up and learn to be with company in moderation would be quite a feat. I doubt neither of their souls that if or when they do what is required, breaking down walls that eventually they could fall in love and possibly have a future. So I’m going to watch. (And because I know YOU TWO READ THIS, Text me if you have any problems. I will mitigate the situation.)

Things I took pictures of and want for my birthday:

Bouncy Balls

Alice in Wonderland game for the DS

Pokemon Platinum for DS

BYP Go-Go Netbook sleeve in purple

Snadisk 2GB SD Card

Rayovac Rechargeable Batteries

Purple Silly String

Anakin Skywalker Lightsaber (with light and sound)

Anakin Skywalker “Dual Action” Lightsaber (light and sound, detachable second saber)


New tires

Stuff to wash my car (Like mitts and undercarriage brushes)

Mikes Car Wash

Window Markers ($3.26)

Steering wheel cover (Grey, has to be semi squishy)

Vent mount phone holder (For iPhone)

Febreze Auto

Pink/Purple alarm clock

Purple rug


Miley Cyrus (SHUT UP!) Zebra print high  tops

IU Slip on shoes

Any ARMY or NATIONAL GUARD Shirt or item

New 16 G Belly rings

18 G Nose rings (Bone, L bend, Cork or ring)

Amazing Spiderman ANYTHING


Purple zebra print purse

Time with friends


or Easy A….

or Vampires Suck.

For The Record

For the record,
The snow didn’t coat the earth last night.
Another promise washed away by cruel silence.
The moon sighed,
and hid behind the trees.
Maybe, finally, she’s disappointed in me.
“What happened to hope,
Silly girl, what happened to hope?”
I could wail at her,
“I don’t know!”
Or blame her for my anger,
“You did this! You always steal it away!”
But like the introvert I’ve become,
I burrowed inside my soul like a hurricane.
For the record,
This never existed

Sinking Down

So this is my crash. This is my burn. This is how I slam into pavement and rise, bloodied and broken to track down the heart that fled. This is how I snarl with a mouth full of crimson. This is how despite the pain in every movement, I keep moving.

Maybe I can reach safe harbor; a sunset off in the distance with open arms. Maybe I can draw from some old well, long forgotten and covered in ivy in the woods, some random semblance of strength.

If I bite hard enough.
If I scratch deep enough.
If my soul burns enough.

Can I erase this past that wakes me in the night to hurl into a porcelain goddess? Can I wipe away mascara tracks forever and smile like I mean it?

Oh please, tell me I can be whole again. Please tell me I have hope. Wrap me in your arms and whisper those words please.

I’m slipping under this storm because in those perfect hazel eyes I want to stay a beautiful secret.

Dominant Thrusts, Submissive Moans



No, sir. Try again.

What this is going towards is a pretty awesome day, minus the fact that I faced abuse again today. maybe thats why my brain has vacated my skull. I joke that there are three sides of me and if you’re lucky, you’ll see all three. There is just plain, good old me, there’s me on stage which is a total hardass and a workaholic. And theres this primal side. This side takes over a lot when I am around my soldier. It happens in many ways, not just “RAWRFUCKME!” but also in the need for attention and connection on so many levels it truely is UNREAL.

But on a serious note, I’ve been having these bouts where I almost relapse into “abused girl” mode. And its terrifying me that I have no control right now. But inhale/exhale. I’ll be fine.

And as for things best left unsaid? Its better to get it off your chest than deal alone.