It's been a while! I've been meaning to write up a brief summary of my adventures during recruit school, but the further away it gets, the more of a chore it seems to sit down and nut out what actually happened over those magical 10.4 weeks. So I'll put off doing the boot camp chapter until another day.
So, what's been happening since July? I managed to survive basic training, and after a few days' break after graduation, I flew back to Melbourne and hauled a minimal amount of gear to the good ship HMAS Cerberus. The Australian Defence Force School of Catering is located on a Navy base, which isn't actually a ship, although it is still regarded as such. Cerberus is also home to the Navy recruit school, and is also a tri-service training base for a handful of musterings, including Physical Training Instructors, Communications, Medics, and Dental Assistants.
Even though I do come across other RAAFies, it's very much a pusser's world here. The lingo doesn't make much sense to me, seeing as it's slang for 'purser', the person in charge of money/pay on a ship... and 'pusser' is used to refer to all Navy people here. There's talk of cabins, decks and rescrubs, and our duties are divided into watches. The trainee cooks get to work in the galley (it's not a mess any more, that's crazy landlubber talk) one in three weekends. Apparently we get it pretty easy, seeing as we don't have any other duties like shifts at the gangway in the middle of the night. I'm just glad that the duties we have are actually relevant to the work we're learning to do.
The cooks' training itself is quite intense, but so far I've found it manageable. Our course material is supposedly meant to take about 18 months to comfortably cover in the civvie world, but what we do is basically a crash course version of it over 21 weeks. I'm actually glad we're not doing the slow version, even though I can imagine some people struggling to read up on the theory notes and references in their own time, and I'm old enough to almost resent having my hand held with regards to such things. One of the great things about cooking in general is that I can pretty much learn by seeing something done, and then trying it for myself. It's taken me a good few years to realise that although I've winged it for most of my life academically by showing minimal interest and having a good memory, I can really consolidate things if there's some kind of practical element.
Much like my experiences during boot, we're at the tail end of week five and I've found that the difficulty I have with being part of this game isn't really to do with the course work. It's a people thing. I know how they say that if you think the problem is with everyone else, it's more likely to do with you, but I believe I've seen enough of the military training environment to draw some pretty solid conclusions. There's just far too many people that somehow manage to get through the interviews, the enlistment, and even recruit training, that still hang on to attitudes that ultimately bring themselves and the rest of the team down. Rumour has it that our course is one of the most troublesome that has come through in three or so years, in terms of behaviour and group dynamics.
We've been given a few weeks to get through the 'storming' stage, you know how it goes in any pack, where there's a battle for the position of top dog. No one really knows who's on top as yet, but it just seems to be getting cattier and cattier. Or doggier, perhaps? Our chefs and course manager have been waiting for the 'norming' to happen, but I don't think it's going to happen of its own accord. I thought at the beginning that the loudness, the immaturity, the random acts of carelessness and/or selfishness would die down once we all got to know and respect each other a bit more, but to no avail. Not that I went to school with teenage boys, but I am suddenly incredibly grateful that I was sent to a single sex secondary school, if this is any indication of how ridiculous it is to try and learn anything with a bunch of testosterone-fuelled beings.
The theory is that if there are more females in the class, the maturity level will naturally rise to match the average. Unfortunately, I'm the only female in our course, and I must admit that being surrounded by boys for most of my week only turns me into one of them. In fact, I'm almost positive that some of the things I've got away with saying and doing in class have been solely because I'm female. I had the temporary honour of earning enough manliness equivalent to one testicle, but then had to drop in my pants for dry-cleaning, so I lost my manhood when I turned up to morning parade wearing my skirt. D'oh! But in all honesty, I actually feel more comfortable being a woman amongst men, than I ever did in recruit school living amongst a hive of females.
If anything, the thing that most sets me apart in this place is being a RAAFie on a Navy base. Although I'm relatively comfortable with the goings on of my own service, being treated like a recruit (restricted privileges, continued cabin inspections, not knowing yet being expected to know the 'rules') all over again is a bit draining. It's like just when I was fresh from marching out and gaining the rank of Aircraftwoman, it doesn't really count when I have no idea about how the Navy works, and I'm not quite being treated like a person of rank (albeit the lowest).
Thankfully, home isn't too far away. So for the next handful of months it doesn't really matter how gruelling or draining my week may feel, I actually get a chance to blow off steam and temporarily escape le militoire on the weekends, or any other opportunity I'm given. I have rekindled my love for the ordinary, and somewhat romanticise the idea of civiliandom like it's something I'll never have again. As much as I want to go crazy Broadway style on the weekends, I usually just eat, sleep, and hang out with civvies. Nothing newsworthy, but it means the world to me. Maybe I'm having trouble completely letting go of my former life, and it's something I might need to do in order to adequately embrace this new one, but I'm still not sure that I want to live and breathe the military.
Now that I'm at a base where there's internet access, I'll try my best to keep updating! When I get more of a chance to sit down and write something a little more structured, I'll get stuck into my thoughts on boot camp, and military culture, which is one thing that fascinates me about this place, if only from an anthropological amateur's point of view.
Thursday, October 18
Tuesday, July 3
launch minus ten minutes
Well, this is it. Or so they seem to say in the movies.
I'm about to get on a plane to Adelaide for ten weeks and two days of basic training. The enlistment ceremony was pretty low key, I think I was the only person there that was outwardly stupidly excited to be there. Not sure if this is a good or a bad thing, considering I am already attracting attention to myself by default. I'll find out soon enough!
My bag weighed in at 21.5kg, my heart and soul are sky high. I thought I'd be bawling when I said goodbye to my Dad and friends, but I was grinning like an idiot. I thought I'd be really sad to kiss this civilian life goodbye, leave this town for the longest time I've ever been away from 'home', but it's a gorgeous day out there and even though some scenes of the video we just saw on basic looked pretty hardcore, I'm looking forward to it like nothing else.
I've already spent my $22.65 meal allowance on lunch and a bonus sandwich, even though we're probably going to get a snack on the flight over. Yay for taxpayer funded food! It's the beginning of a beautiful thing. My boarding pass doesn't even call me MS, my title is RECRUIT.
Not for long, hopefully!
I'm about to get on a plane to Adelaide for ten weeks and two days of basic training. The enlistment ceremony was pretty low key, I think I was the only person there that was outwardly stupidly excited to be there. Not sure if this is a good or a bad thing, considering I am already attracting attention to myself by default. I'll find out soon enough!
My bag weighed in at 21.5kg, my heart and soul are sky high. I thought I'd be bawling when I said goodbye to my Dad and friends, but I was grinning like an idiot. I thought I'd be really sad to kiss this civilian life goodbye, leave this town for the longest time I've ever been away from 'home', but it's a gorgeous day out there and even though some scenes of the video we just saw on basic looked pretty hardcore, I'm looking forward to it like nothing else.
I've already spent my $22.65 meal allowance on lunch and a bonus sandwich, even though we're probably going to get a snack on the flight over. Yay for taxpayer funded food! It's the beginning of a beautiful thing. My boarding pass doesn't even call me MS, my title is RECRUIT.
Not for long, hopefully!
Monday, June 11
be sure you're sitting down
It sort of got to the point where three of my friends' parents knew about me getting enlisted before I'd even got around to telling my own, so today was the day to finally get down to business.
I was trying to leave it a little later because I didn't want to bear all the nitty gritty parental stuff for any longer than necessary. How wrong I was to assume there would be a big deal about getting in! I did think that neither of them took my news of training and applying seriously, because they might not have believed I could make it this far, but still... they were both sort of underwhelmed.
I caught up with my dad first, in an attempt to fill in the last details of my security clearance forms over a bowl of pho. He seemed more concerned about whether he had to state his relationship to/with my mum, told me that she would probably know the dates of things better than he did, and could remember about as well as I did about when exactly I went overseas. Not that a five-year-old could possibly come home as any great risk to national security, hey? I'm not sure whether I can get away with telling ASIO that even if my dad wanted to be a terrorist, he didn't have such a good memory for things he'd done a handful of years ago, so where's the threat there exactly?
We chatted briefly about where I was going to do my training, and mentioned how my brother might have applied for ADFA or something similar back in the day. I got the general vibe that dad was more into why my bro wasn't working full time doing something related to his degree, and whether I'd be able to clean and organise the house in time for departure, than the fact I might not be seeing him for a while. Or you know, regardless of my brother's possible attempts at getting into the ADF, I actually made it all the way in (forms pending)!
Later on in the afternoon I swung by mum's place, to see if my bro could get a bike light working, and in search of slightly more dramatic effect than I'd experienced so far. After getting the usual long time no see tirade, I was asked why I didn't come by for Mother's Day. Apart from being a terrible daughter for such an atrocity, I explained that I'd been fired from my penultimate job because they found out I was getting enlisted and wanted to replace me anyway. So I had to find another job quickly, and jumped right into it as soon as I could, which happened to be two days after I'd applied for it. What was the job? Working at a Spanish donuts joint for a few weeks, no big deal, just some cash to pull me through.
Mum pointed out that my stomach was sticking out of my clothes a little, wasn't I cold? I brought up the fact that my top was long enough, it's my favourite jeans getting saggy and baggy that result in accidental fleshage... yes, I knew that it would only take a minor alteration to make them fit correctly again, but I was going to throw them out before enlistment anyway. She asked why I had anything to do with donuts, pointed out that if I didn't get back into computers, I wouldn't have enough experience to get 'another computer job'. I repeated that I only needed a job for a short time, not a foot in the door for another failed IT career. I really have no idea whether she understands that I'm not just having an extended break from my degree or my office peon days, I am actually not going back there at all.
I played with the kittens for a few minutes, listened to mum report on which ones were getting fattest, and tried to find out where my bro was at. Couldn't get a hold of him, so I said I had somewhere else to be, and had to ride off. Ride off, did I say? Well, I was there trying to get a bike light happening. I ride bikes? Well, I'm trying to, but using a friend's bike in the meantime. I haven't ridden bikes in ages, and I'm attempting a ride at night? Yes, mum. Was she really that concerned about me getting smacked off a bike because I'm riding without a front light, as opposed to joining the Air Force? Apparently so, but I think that regardless of the statistics comparing bicycle deaths and injuries to RAAF casualties, the one person I expected a complete bombshell effect on had very little to give.
I'm glad that I'm old enough to not worry about getting parental approval to do the things I really want to do.
I was trying to leave it a little later because I didn't want to bear all the nitty gritty parental stuff for any longer than necessary. How wrong I was to assume there would be a big deal about getting in! I did think that neither of them took my news of training and applying seriously, because they might not have believed I could make it this far, but still... they were both sort of underwhelmed.
I caught up with my dad first, in an attempt to fill in the last details of my security clearance forms over a bowl of pho. He seemed more concerned about whether he had to state his relationship to/with my mum, told me that she would probably know the dates of things better than he did, and could remember about as well as I did about when exactly I went overseas. Not that a five-year-old could possibly come home as any great risk to national security, hey? I'm not sure whether I can get away with telling ASIO that even if my dad wanted to be a terrorist, he didn't have such a good memory for things he'd done a handful of years ago, so where's the threat there exactly?
We chatted briefly about where I was going to do my training, and mentioned how my brother might have applied for ADFA or something similar back in the day. I got the general vibe that dad was more into why my bro wasn't working full time doing something related to his degree, and whether I'd be able to clean and organise the house in time for departure, than the fact I might not be seeing him for a while. Or you know, regardless of my brother's possible attempts at getting into the ADF, I actually made it all the way in (forms pending)!
Later on in the afternoon I swung by mum's place, to see if my bro could get a bike light working, and in search of slightly more dramatic effect than I'd experienced so far. After getting the usual long time no see tirade, I was asked why I didn't come by for Mother's Day. Apart from being a terrible daughter for such an atrocity, I explained that I'd been fired from my penultimate job because they found out I was getting enlisted and wanted to replace me anyway. So I had to find another job quickly, and jumped right into it as soon as I could, which happened to be two days after I'd applied for it. What was the job? Working at a Spanish donuts joint for a few weeks, no big deal, just some cash to pull me through.
Mum pointed out that my stomach was sticking out of my clothes a little, wasn't I cold? I brought up the fact that my top was long enough, it's my favourite jeans getting saggy and baggy that result in accidental fleshage... yes, I knew that it would only take a minor alteration to make them fit correctly again, but I was going to throw them out before enlistment anyway. She asked why I had anything to do with donuts, pointed out that if I didn't get back into computers, I wouldn't have enough experience to get 'another computer job'. I repeated that I only needed a job for a short time, not a foot in the door for another failed IT career. I really have no idea whether she understands that I'm not just having an extended break from my degree or my office peon days, I am actually not going back there at all.
I played with the kittens for a few minutes, listened to mum report on which ones were getting fattest, and tried to find out where my bro was at. Couldn't get a hold of him, so I said I had somewhere else to be, and had to ride off. Ride off, did I say? Well, I was there trying to get a bike light happening. I ride bikes? Well, I'm trying to, but using a friend's bike in the meantime. I haven't ridden bikes in ages, and I'm attempting a ride at night? Yes, mum. Was she really that concerned about me getting smacked off a bike because I'm riding without a front light, as opposed to joining the Air Force? Apparently so, but I think that regardless of the statistics comparing bicycle deaths and injuries to RAAF casualties, the one person I expected a complete bombshell effect on had very little to give.
I'm glad that I'm old enough to not worry about getting parental approval to do the things I really want to do.
Friday, June 8
longest june ever
It's been a strange couple of weeks. I caught up with my enlistment coordinator while I was in the 'hood, thinking that if I asked her a few questions in person, I could get the answers I needed without having to play phone tag. Fortunately, she seemed in the right mood for a little bit of a diversion from other work, so we had a bit of a chat. Unfortunately, the 24-page security clearance forms that I thought were sent to me by mistake, still have to be filled in by me. I was told to be thankful that I'm only getting Confidential and not Top Secret clearance, but I am still wondering how many forms it would really take to convince anyone that one is not a terrorist or another variety of threat to national security.
I've learnt to stop thinking or saying that after a certain amount of paperwork is out of the way, I'm properly in. It seriously doesn't seem to end, and I know now that even after enlistment, there's still going to be more. I used to be one of those freaks that dig filling in forms, but I'm coming round now...
People have commented on how soon I'm leaving, which made me get off my butt to look at a calendar, now that I'm within counting-down-of-days range of my target. I don't know whether this was a particularly good idea or not, because it's only 24 to go. I keep trying to talk myself out of my tree by repeating that I don't have many things to buy, or that much to clean, or many affairs to sort out, and I'll be back in the state in ten weeks anyway. I have a feeling that other people are getting more excited and wound up on my behalf, which is a contrast to me just trying to stick my head down and live the rest of my civilian days well, as much like a civilian as possible.
I'm trying my best to stay low key at work, because I don't really want to bond too well with these guys before I leave them in a smattering of days, and I was totally burnt at my last job because I said I was getting enlisted soon. I don't even remember mentioning my enlistment date to the last employer, but I got the idea that they pretty much got rid of me before I could get rid of them, it was just a matter of time. I know that I'm easily replaceable at the current job, and they seem to be good guys of the sort I wouldn't normally intend to screw over by buggering off at short notice, but I really need money until I get whisked away. That's all there is to it.
It's been weird thinking about time in terms of 'in a few weeks'. I've looked at the diary that I've halfheartedly scrawled random appointments and happenings into so far this year, and it's like the next few months are going to either stay blank because I'll be busy training with guns and/or knives, or be blocked out with definite engagements such as catching up with homies or you know... graduation! The past few times I've seen friends, there's all sorts of things going on in their lives what with jobs, travel, houses and love, and in this moment I feel quite static.
I know it's odd to look at my peers and almost envy their flexibility and freedom to have such dynamic, unstructured lives, when there have been times in my own life where I've had the same opportunity and felt either lost or snowed under with mere possibilities. Even though all it takes is a breath and a moment to realise that my life isn't set in stone yet, it just feels like that in comparison to me faffing about for the last five years or so, I can't help but feel a little lame thinking about what books to take along with me to boot camp. Or what stationery I should buy to write letters back home on. Or whether I should shave my head or practice doing my hair in a military-compliant style.
I'm tricking myself into believing that it's going to be more boring than I think it will be, in case I get all hyped up for something that won't meet let alone exceed my expectations. I have a terrible habit for psyching myself into and out of things as I'm anticipating them. I'll usually throw myself headfirst into whatever in order to avoid the anticipation phase, and that actually works better for me most of the time. If I could figure out how to only talk things up when I'm nervous, that'd be pretty sweet.
I've learnt to stop thinking or saying that after a certain amount of paperwork is out of the way, I'm properly in. It seriously doesn't seem to end, and I know now that even after enlistment, there's still going to be more. I used to be one of those freaks that dig filling in forms, but I'm coming round now...
People have commented on how soon I'm leaving, which made me get off my butt to look at a calendar, now that I'm within counting-down-of-days range of my target. I don't know whether this was a particularly good idea or not, because it's only 24 to go. I keep trying to talk myself out of my tree by repeating that I don't have many things to buy, or that much to clean, or many affairs to sort out, and I'll be back in the state in ten weeks anyway. I have a feeling that other people are getting more excited and wound up on my behalf, which is a contrast to me just trying to stick my head down and live the rest of my civilian days well, as much like a civilian as possible.
I'm trying my best to stay low key at work, because I don't really want to bond too well with these guys before I leave them in a smattering of days, and I was totally burnt at my last job because I said I was getting enlisted soon. I don't even remember mentioning my enlistment date to the last employer, but I got the idea that they pretty much got rid of me before I could get rid of them, it was just a matter of time. I know that I'm easily replaceable at the current job, and they seem to be good guys of the sort I wouldn't normally intend to screw over by buggering off at short notice, but I really need money until I get whisked away. That's all there is to it.
It's been weird thinking about time in terms of 'in a few weeks'. I've looked at the diary that I've halfheartedly scrawled random appointments and happenings into so far this year, and it's like the next few months are going to either stay blank because I'll be busy training with guns and/or knives, or be blocked out with definite engagements such as catching up with homies or you know... graduation! The past few times I've seen friends, there's all sorts of things going on in their lives what with jobs, travel, houses and love, and in this moment I feel quite static.
I know it's odd to look at my peers and almost envy their flexibility and freedom to have such dynamic, unstructured lives, when there have been times in my own life where I've had the same opportunity and felt either lost or snowed under with mere possibilities. Even though all it takes is a breath and a moment to realise that my life isn't set in stone yet, it just feels like that in comparison to me faffing about for the last five years or so, I can't help but feel a little lame thinking about what books to take along with me to boot camp. Or what stationery I should buy to write letters back home on. Or whether I should shave my head or practice doing my hair in a military-compliant style.
I'm tricking myself into believing that it's going to be more boring than I think it will be, in case I get all hyped up for something that won't meet let alone exceed my expectations. I have a terrible habit for psyching myself into and out of things as I'm anticipating them. I'll usually throw myself headfirst into whatever in order to avoid the anticipation phase, and that actually works better for me most of the time. If I could figure out how to only talk things up when I'm nervous, that'd be pretty sweet.
Friday, May 25
the darkest hour is just before dawn
I didn't think I'd make it.
I had a friend's engagement party to go to the night before, which I was running particularly late to. I considered having a nap after work so I could be rested enough to party, then maybe go clubbing for a few hours, and potter on down to the Shrine for the Dawn Service. I even told someone earlier in the week that I was going to try my best to get there, because I thought that it could be my last chance to do anything for ANZAC Day as a true civilian. I still didn't think my chances of keeping it together or getting it together before dawn were fantastic, though.
After partying without a nap and stopping for a couple of hours' sleep, I stepped back into my engagement/clubbing outfit of t-shirt, skirt, leather jacket and boots, and into the crisp hour of four o'clock. I put off getting out of bed for a few too many minutes, but figured I didn't have to battle traffic jams or anything, thinking that the only people around at that hour would be going to the Dawn anyway. It was strange cruising through the city at such a time of transition... there were still people in the street that were winding down from wherever they'd been dancing all night, as well as people just beginning their day by scurrying towards the Shrine, and then there was me (somewhere in between).
I'd lost all sense of what time it was by the time I'd parked and joined the throng that was progressing down St Kilda Road. I felt somewhat conspicuous tromping along in the dress boots I was wearing, as if I was just part of the clubbing crowd that had gone astray, rather than a conscious member of the Dawn audience. I was surprised at how many young people there seemed to be, and although there were people that weren't in obvious groups, I still had an inkling that people were looking at me as if I was in the wrong place. It was probably just sleep-deprivation induced paranoia, as it was pretty dark, but around me were couples, families, older groups, associations like Scouts, uniformed Cadets, and they all seemed to be Caucasian. I was not only alone amongst a mass of tens of thousands of people, I felt that even though I was an Australian, and about to join the Defence Force, I was Asian-looking and therefore just didn't belong.
I kept on closing and opening my eyes to see if the day was actually becoming lighter, or if it was just my brain tricking me. I tried not to keep looking around me to see how the other people around me were reacting. I did my best to not be distracted by the movements of latecomers, wondering why it seemed like people were only continuing to move around to try and get a 'better' spot. I listened to secondary school students talk about their sponsored and/or subsidised visits to various military memorials and sites of historical significance around the world, and realised that maybe I am getting cynical in my old age if I believe that they're actually too young and innocent to truly understand what a messed up thing war is.
For the first time I heard these stark words of John McCrae:
I stood there in the darkness, blanketed by the ubiquitous sound of The Last Post, which seemed to come from all the trees around me. I'm not sure where else I've heard The Last Post before, considering I'm not a big fan of war movies, and have never been to ANZAC services before, but there's no mistaking it when you hear it. Somehow, whether it was the bugle or the blackness, or the sheer emotional turbulence of the situation, I marvelled at how something so simple (in C Major, no less) could completely shatter me. Each note resonated deep within me, echoing with the memory of so many that had fallen. Lest we forget? It threw me that I couldn't actually forget anything or anyone I didn't know in the first place. I felt haunted by ghosts of ghosts.
It bothered me somewhat, how easily people bandied about the phrase 'ANZAC Spirit' without really giving it a comprehensive definition. If that was really what all the fallen had fought for, surely it could be summed up in a couple of paragraphs? For the most part, the ANZACs would have been fighting just to stay alive, let alone to keep their families, neighbourhoods, extended communities and the country at large intact. I like to think that those soldiers didn't really know what the war was about (does anyone, really?), but they knew what they stood for. Our country. Our people. Our values. Our freedoms. So when push came to shove, and when it seemed that the core of 'Australia' could be damaged, lost or changed forever, they fought and died to protect it.
Not that I feel particularly patriotic, and I even worried at certain points of enlistment that I'd have to jump through sufficient hoops to prove that I do dig this country enough to defend it. However, when people have said things like, 'The Air Force? Aren't you worried about going to war?' or 'Oh, I could never do that, I'm such a pacifist.' or 'Do you think you could fight in a war that you didn't believe was right?' I have a relatively basic answer. For me, joining the Defence Force is not because I am pro-war or even believe that violence is a suitable way to solve problems. Unfortunately, other countries are inclined to believe otherwise, and that's why we need defence in the first place. I used to think I was quite a pacifist myself, but you know what? It's not really about that, it's moreso that if the shit really hits the fan, I believe Australia is a pretty amazing place to call home, and I would take pride in protecting it from being taken over by anyone or anything that would threaten to change the way I like it.
Before I knew it, the Dawn Service was over. As I tried getting closer to the centre of the Shrine, I passed a work colleague and said hello briefly, moving on because I was going against the current of the crowd, and I had nothing much else to say to him anyway. I was meant to try and meet up with a friend for breakfast afterwards, but I felt too raw and fragile to cope with even an ordinary conversation. I guess in a way, I was still too busy taking everything in. I didn't know it at the time, but I had been accepted into the RAAF, so it really was my first and last Dawn as a civilian. As I strolled back to my car, I wondered how many people felt obliged to take part in ANZAC Day for whatever reason, and how many simply respected the often anonymous and unknowing sacrifices that had been made for them.
I did think about my own name banged out of metal, or whittled into stone some day. It might not be at some war memorial, but even if I made it to a wall somewhere, there's something quite awesome about the idea of being honoured by people I don't even know. I don't intend to save the world, or defend the country from anything more spectacular than food poisoning, but I certainly don't want to leave it without making some kind of mark.
I had a friend's engagement party to go to the night before, which I was running particularly late to. I considered having a nap after work so I could be rested enough to party, then maybe go clubbing for a few hours, and potter on down to the Shrine for the Dawn Service. I even told someone earlier in the week that I was going to try my best to get there, because I thought that it could be my last chance to do anything for ANZAC Day as a true civilian. I still didn't think my chances of keeping it together or getting it together before dawn were fantastic, though.
After partying without a nap and stopping for a couple of hours' sleep, I stepped back into my engagement/clubbing outfit of t-shirt, skirt, leather jacket and boots, and into the crisp hour of four o'clock. I put off getting out of bed for a few too many minutes, but figured I didn't have to battle traffic jams or anything, thinking that the only people around at that hour would be going to the Dawn anyway. It was strange cruising through the city at such a time of transition... there were still people in the street that were winding down from wherever they'd been dancing all night, as well as people just beginning their day by scurrying towards the Shrine, and then there was me (somewhere in between).
I'd lost all sense of what time it was by the time I'd parked and joined the throng that was progressing down St Kilda Road. I felt somewhat conspicuous tromping along in the dress boots I was wearing, as if I was just part of the clubbing crowd that had gone astray, rather than a conscious member of the Dawn audience. I was surprised at how many young people there seemed to be, and although there were people that weren't in obvious groups, I still had an inkling that people were looking at me as if I was in the wrong place. It was probably just sleep-deprivation induced paranoia, as it was pretty dark, but around me were couples, families, older groups, associations like Scouts, uniformed Cadets, and they all seemed to be Caucasian. I was not only alone amongst a mass of tens of thousands of people, I felt that even though I was an Australian, and about to join the Defence Force, I was Asian-looking and therefore just didn't belong.
I kept on closing and opening my eyes to see if the day was actually becoming lighter, or if it was just my brain tricking me. I tried not to keep looking around me to see how the other people around me were reacting. I did my best to not be distracted by the movements of latecomers, wondering why it seemed like people were only continuing to move around to try and get a 'better' spot. I listened to secondary school students talk about their sponsored and/or subsidised visits to various military memorials and sites of historical significance around the world, and realised that maybe I am getting cynical in my old age if I believe that they're actually too young and innocent to truly understand what a messed up thing war is.
For the first time I heard these stark words of John McCrae:
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
I stood there in the darkness, blanketed by the ubiquitous sound of The Last Post, which seemed to come from all the trees around me. I'm not sure where else I've heard The Last Post before, considering I'm not a big fan of war movies, and have never been to ANZAC services before, but there's no mistaking it when you hear it. Somehow, whether it was the bugle or the blackness, or the sheer emotional turbulence of the situation, I marvelled at how something so simple (in C Major, no less) could completely shatter me. Each note resonated deep within me, echoing with the memory of so many that had fallen. Lest we forget? It threw me that I couldn't actually forget anything or anyone I didn't know in the first place. I felt haunted by ghosts of ghosts.
It bothered me somewhat, how easily people bandied about the phrase 'ANZAC Spirit' without really giving it a comprehensive definition. If that was really what all the fallen had fought for, surely it could be summed up in a couple of paragraphs? For the most part, the ANZACs would have been fighting just to stay alive, let alone to keep their families, neighbourhoods, extended communities and the country at large intact. I like to think that those soldiers didn't really know what the war was about (does anyone, really?), but they knew what they stood for. Our country. Our people. Our values. Our freedoms. So when push came to shove, and when it seemed that the core of 'Australia' could be damaged, lost or changed forever, they fought and died to protect it.
Not that I feel particularly patriotic, and I even worried at certain points of enlistment that I'd have to jump through sufficient hoops to prove that I do dig this country enough to defend it. However, when people have said things like, 'The Air Force? Aren't you worried about going to war?' or 'Oh, I could never do that, I'm such a pacifist.' or 'Do you think you could fight in a war that you didn't believe was right?' I have a relatively basic answer. For me, joining the Defence Force is not because I am pro-war or even believe that violence is a suitable way to solve problems. Unfortunately, other countries are inclined to believe otherwise, and that's why we need defence in the first place. I used to think I was quite a pacifist myself, but you know what? It's not really about that, it's moreso that if the shit really hits the fan, I believe Australia is a pretty amazing place to call home, and I would take pride in protecting it from being taken over by anyone or anything that would threaten to change the way I like it.
Before I knew it, the Dawn Service was over. As I tried getting closer to the centre of the Shrine, I passed a work colleague and said hello briefly, moving on because I was going against the current of the crowd, and I had nothing much else to say to him anyway. I was meant to try and meet up with a friend for breakfast afterwards, but I felt too raw and fragile to cope with even an ordinary conversation. I guess in a way, I was still too busy taking everything in. I didn't know it at the time, but I had been accepted into the RAAF, so it really was my first and last Dawn as a civilian. As I strolled back to my car, I wondered how many people felt obliged to take part in ANZAC Day for whatever reason, and how many simply respected the often anonymous and unknowing sacrifices that had been made for them.
I did think about my own name banged out of metal, or whittled into stone some day. It might not be at some war memorial, but even if I made it to a wall somewhere, there's something quite awesome about the idea of being honoured by people I don't even know. I don't intend to save the world, or defend the country from anything more spectacular than food poisoning, but I certainly don't want to leave it without making some kind of mark.
Tuesday, May 8
two months to love
Well, this is it. Or at least, as close to it as I can be until I'm actually in.
My blood's been taken for HIV/Hepatitis screening. My first attempt at the Pre-Enlistment Fitness Assessment was successful. Just have to repeat it within four weeks of enlistment. My initial Police Check form had expired, so I sent another one in yesterday. These three things will apparently get me a Letter of Offer. Here's hoping. I've been told that my proposed enlistment date is 3 July, so if all goes according to plan, I've got about seven weeks of civilian bliss left!
When I first heard the date, I thought it would be plenty of time to sort out my affairs before I go in, yet not so much time that I'll feel like I'm just sitting around and twiddling my thumbs, waiting for the real action to happen. Seven weeks has turned into seven weekends to catch up with all sorts of people, hopefully scrounge enough money to have the biggest bash in the universe a mere handful of days before enlistment, and a small amount of time to gloat at current and past work colleagues about finally making it somewhere I've been talking about for years.
I'm surprised that I've got this far, to be honest. It's been years in the works, and I've got to admit that there have been multiple times when I really did wonder if this section of my life story would ever actually kick off. Even my enlistment coordinator was looking through my paperwork and commenting on how long my application process had been drawn out for. I've got this truly electric feeling as the days flash by.
My blood's been taken for HIV/Hepatitis screening. My first attempt at the Pre-Enlistment Fitness Assessment was successful. Just have to repeat it within four weeks of enlistment. My initial Police Check form had expired, so I sent another one in yesterday. These three things will apparently get me a Letter of Offer. Here's hoping. I've been told that my proposed enlistment date is 3 July, so if all goes according to plan, I've got about seven weeks of civilian bliss left!
When I first heard the date, I thought it would be plenty of time to sort out my affairs before I go in, yet not so much time that I'll feel like I'm just sitting around and twiddling my thumbs, waiting for the real action to happen. Seven weeks has turned into seven weekends to catch up with all sorts of people, hopefully scrounge enough money to have the biggest bash in the universe a mere handful of days before enlistment, and a small amount of time to gloat at current and past work colleagues about finally making it somewhere I've been talking about for years.
I'm surprised that I've got this far, to be honest. It's been years in the works, and I've got to admit that there have been multiple times when I really did wonder if this section of my life story would ever actually kick off. Even my enlistment coordinator was looking through my paperwork and commenting on how long my application process had been drawn out for. I've got this truly electric feeling as the days flash by.
Friday, April 27
this is a call
You have 1 saved message.
Received yesterday at 8.46AM.
Hi Angela, my name's Emma, I'm calling from Defence Force recruiting. I'm not sure if you're aware, but your medical stuff has all been finally sorted out and you're now ready to be enlisted. I'm Enlistment Coordinator here so I'm your point of contact from now on. Could you please give me a call back in regards to an enlistment date on 8633 !!!!
Thanks Angela. Bye.
Received yesterday at 8.46AM.
Hi Angela, my name's Emma, I'm calling from Defence Force recruiting. I'm not sure if you're aware, but your medical stuff has all been finally sorted out and you're now ready to be enlisted. I'm Enlistment Coordinator here so I'm your point of contact from now on. Could you please give me a call back in regards to an enlistment date on 8633 !!!!
Thanks Angela. Bye.
Thursday, March 29
hearts gone awol
It's been just over a couple of weeks since I sent in my medical reports. I've been trying to distract myself from the waiting game, but it's almost like the longer it takes them to reply to me, the more I manage to convince myself that they could be deliberating at this very moment whether to let me in or not.
Maybe they opened my envelope within the first couple of days after I sent it, and it's been forwarded on to some subsection of the recruitment office in the hope that someone can find a medical loophole big enough for me to jump through in order to get enlisted. Maybe they really want me in there, and they're willing to waive whatever eternity of a waiting period I've conjured in my imagination. Maybe I'm going to be rejected, and my application is just pending someone calling me or printing and sending a form letter to inform me of such news.
My feelings have swayed this way and that, sometimes I believe that no news is good news, because if they wanted to reject me straight away, it wouldn't take this long to let me know I can't get medical clearance at all. Other times I think that they're going to sift through their guidelines to try and get me in, but it'll be another twelve month delay, or I won't be able to do it at all. A friend of mine asked me if I'd be devastated if I don't get in, and I'm really not sure how I'll take it. I mean, I've done all that I can, and sure, this is the biggest thing I've actually tried really hard to achieve in my life, but there's just no precedent. I thought about sketching some alternative plans if I get a concrete rejection, but talked myself out of it, mostly for superstitious reasons.
I can't be too sure that the swirling in the pit of my stomach is solely due to nerves in a time of limbo, either. Despite this vibe of suspended animation and almost constant anticipation of a huge change, I've tried my best to keep the rest of my life as stable as possible. Consciously or not, I created a routine around me, of work and friends and home life, just to keep me sane in the meantime. I've never really been one to cling to regular anything, but strangely enough with upheaval seeming so imminent, I have come to enjoy all the things that give me a sense of home, a heck of a lot more. Not that I'm even enlisted yet, but I have already got quite a soft spot for my civilian life.
Without quite realising what I was doing, I think I actually put my heart on hold. Whether I managed to do this successfully is another matter, but for obvious reasons, I thought it best to avoid getting too involved, or too attached, or too dependent on anyone else. A lot of my slog to get physically and mentally fit for enlistment has been a personal battle, and there has been many a run when I have pondered how much I'm going to miss this place, and the people in it that I love. I didn't know how long it would take me to actually get enlisted, heck, I still don't know now, but I did actually try to maintain a certain level of closeness to people such that I wouldn't be a complete stranger in my home town, yet also be able to leave at short notice without breaking my heart.
When I had my job interview, I was asked whether I was single or not, I guess to see whether I had any issues about leaving loved ones behind, or had to consider the possibility of taking anyone else with me. I'm almost tempted to speak to a recruiter about what they would have said to me if I hadn't said I was single. Not that I'd have as much dramas as someone that had their own family to deal with or anything like that, but I guess I'm still at a loss for how to deal with saying no to opportunities of love in case I get whisked away. I guess it's not paranoia exactly, because the reality is that I might not be around town for much longer, but it's still a 'what if' situation that shouldn't be haunting me as much as it has.
At the start of the year, I kind of made a resolution to no longer bother with halfhearted relationships. It's going to be hard enough adjusting to not having my good friends around and on call whenever I need or want them. I just won't have the energy to maintain any kind of mediocre friendship just for the sake of it. I think what I didn't bank on, when making a conscious effort to forge better connections with the people that mattered most in my life, was that certain existing relationships could intensify to the point where it's going to be even harder to make the phase shift to not having an immediate network of loved ones.
My general outlook on life has improved tenfold since adopting a take-it-as-it-comes attitude, so I'm definitely changing for the better. I'm trying my best to not act too much like someone with a terminal illness, because I just don't know if these days are my last or merely the beginning of a new phase. Then again, no one really knows what the future holds, or can know, which is a relief, really. I've got to find the balance between pre-emptively latching on to my civilian life, and becoming accustomed to letting it all go.
In the meantime; the wait continues.
Maybe they opened my envelope within the first couple of days after I sent it, and it's been forwarded on to some subsection of the recruitment office in the hope that someone can find a medical loophole big enough for me to jump through in order to get enlisted. Maybe they really want me in there, and they're willing to waive whatever eternity of a waiting period I've conjured in my imagination. Maybe I'm going to be rejected, and my application is just pending someone calling me or printing and sending a form letter to inform me of such news.
My feelings have swayed this way and that, sometimes I believe that no news is good news, because if they wanted to reject me straight away, it wouldn't take this long to let me know I can't get medical clearance at all. Other times I think that they're going to sift through their guidelines to try and get me in, but it'll be another twelve month delay, or I won't be able to do it at all. A friend of mine asked me if I'd be devastated if I don't get in, and I'm really not sure how I'll take it. I mean, I've done all that I can, and sure, this is the biggest thing I've actually tried really hard to achieve in my life, but there's just no precedent. I thought about sketching some alternative plans if I get a concrete rejection, but talked myself out of it, mostly for superstitious reasons.
I can't be too sure that the swirling in the pit of my stomach is solely due to nerves in a time of limbo, either. Despite this vibe of suspended animation and almost constant anticipation of a huge change, I've tried my best to keep the rest of my life as stable as possible. Consciously or not, I created a routine around me, of work and friends and home life, just to keep me sane in the meantime. I've never really been one to cling to regular anything, but strangely enough with upheaval seeming so imminent, I have come to enjoy all the things that give me a sense of home, a heck of a lot more. Not that I'm even enlisted yet, but I have already got quite a soft spot for my civilian life.
Without quite realising what I was doing, I think I actually put my heart on hold. Whether I managed to do this successfully is another matter, but for obvious reasons, I thought it best to avoid getting too involved, or too attached, or too dependent on anyone else. A lot of my slog to get physically and mentally fit for enlistment has been a personal battle, and there has been many a run when I have pondered how much I'm going to miss this place, and the people in it that I love. I didn't know how long it would take me to actually get enlisted, heck, I still don't know now, but I did actually try to maintain a certain level of closeness to people such that I wouldn't be a complete stranger in my home town, yet also be able to leave at short notice without breaking my heart.
When I had my job interview, I was asked whether I was single or not, I guess to see whether I had any issues about leaving loved ones behind, or had to consider the possibility of taking anyone else with me. I'm almost tempted to speak to a recruiter about what they would have said to me if I hadn't said I was single. Not that I'd have as much dramas as someone that had their own family to deal with or anything like that, but I guess I'm still at a loss for how to deal with saying no to opportunities of love in case I get whisked away. I guess it's not paranoia exactly, because the reality is that I might not be around town for much longer, but it's still a 'what if' situation that shouldn't be haunting me as much as it has.
At the start of the year, I kind of made a resolution to no longer bother with halfhearted relationships. It's going to be hard enough adjusting to not having my good friends around and on call whenever I need or want them. I just won't have the energy to maintain any kind of mediocre friendship just for the sake of it. I think what I didn't bank on, when making a conscious effort to forge better connections with the people that mattered most in my life, was that certain existing relationships could intensify to the point where it's going to be even harder to make the phase shift to not having an immediate network of loved ones.
My general outlook on life has improved tenfold since adopting a take-it-as-it-comes attitude, so I'm definitely changing for the better. I'm trying my best to not act too much like someone with a terminal illness, because I just don't know if these days are my last or merely the beginning of a new phase. Then again, no one really knows what the future holds, or can know, which is a relief, really. I've got to find the balance between pre-emptively latching on to my civilian life, and becoming accustomed to letting it all go.
In the meantime; the wait continues.
Friday, March 2
tempus fugit
It's been just over six months since I started this blog, around twelve months since I recovered from my last bout with surgery, and almost three years since I first saw an ad in the paper to cook for the RAAF. It seems incredible that so long ago, the seed of this idea was planted in my brain, and despite a couple jobs I almost disappeared into, I've still maintained some semblance of focus on getting there. Here? So close!
The past few months have been a strange mixture. There have been a few ups and downs, but I've found that it's been easier to grin and bear it at my current job, because I've always been able to cheer myself up with the prospect of escaping for something far cooler, hoping that it would be sooner rather than later. It's not difficult to enjoy the temp mentality, even if I'm having a particularly crappy day and customers are giving you the irrits, I console myself by thinking they're stuck being an asshole forever whereas I'm going to be doing something completely different and changing for the better as a person to boot! That, and whenever I look around my current workplace and see the madness that ensues, I am comforted by the thought that in a few years' time, I will be possibly looking at the same thing... but with enough responsibility and knowledge of the situation to do something about it. It might still be mad, but at least it will all be mine!
About a week ago, I did a 2.4km time trial in 12:41, which is fast enough for the 18-24 age fitness level let alone the 25-34. Stoked by this performance, I decided to kick on and see if I could crack the 25 second flexed arm hang, and found that I could go for 30. Even if I counted a little quickly, that should have me within the new improved range for 25-34 year olds. Buzzed further by taking care of the hang without breaking too much of a sweat, I figured I should pump out some sit-ups for the win. 25 of them were no trouble at all! This pretty much means that I'm good enough to pass boot camp's minimum fitness requirements, but of course if I'm at this level now... ten weeks and two days of basic is going to get me blitzing even those levels.
Now, I don't think of myself as being particularly superstitious, but I do believe in signs. It was pretty cool how the first time in a while that I checked the fitness requirements, I found out that it was easier than I thought to pass. Then when I tested myself, it turns out that I'm fit enough for the old levels anyway. Some time last year (not long after starting this blog), I was looking for some jewellery to go with a dress, and ended up buying a necklace with some mini-dog-tags on it. I also happened to keep buying military styled/coloured clothing, possibly because it came back into fashion at the time, or most other available options were dresses and/or pastels. Even though I tried to hold back on the military gear (I should be buying genuine civilian stylings, so I've got nice stuff to rock out in whenever I get leave privileges!), I think it's all helped me keep enlistment in mind.
Not long after my RAAF interview last July, I thought I should do a couple of things to make the shift to military living a little easier. One was to start getting used to sleeping in a single bed again, after some blissful years of loving a queen. It was hard to do at first, especially when I woke up most mornings to the vision of my disassembled queen bed leaning up against the wall. It got easier after I ended up selling my bed to a workmate! Another thing I've tried to do is get accustomed to drinking less coffee (a quality espresso dependency would no doubt be laughed at), and getting up earlier/quicker in the mornings. I must admit, now that I'm a lot more active, I don't nap and sleep in as much as I used to, but I also don't feel as much of a need to do it anyway. I think my next challenge should be going to sleep with clothes on!
This morning I received my final medical report from the hospital, which gave me a glowing recommendation for entry. It was kind of strange reading it on the way to work today, it was almost like a job reference, but obviously all the doctor knew about me was from a phone conversation and whatever was sitting in my medical file. Amongst all the clinical stuff, there's this super strong element of 'let this chicky in; her bits will cause no trouble!'. I didn't get time to make it to the post office today, I might deliver the reports in person on Monday depending on my work roster, otherwise it'll all be sent by Monday.
I should call my recruitment officer to find out when the intakes for RAAF cooks actually are, before I get too nervous about what's going on with the short term remains of my civilian life, or way too excited about handing in notice at my work. I was thrilled to bits when I wrote 'applying for employment with RAAF' as my reason for leaving my old job... it's even closer to the truth now!
The past few months have been a strange mixture. There have been a few ups and downs, but I've found that it's been easier to grin and bear it at my current job, because I've always been able to cheer myself up with the prospect of escaping for something far cooler, hoping that it would be sooner rather than later. It's not difficult to enjoy the temp mentality, even if I'm having a particularly crappy day and customers are giving you the irrits, I console myself by thinking they're stuck being an asshole forever whereas I'm going to be doing something completely different and changing for the better as a person to boot! That, and whenever I look around my current workplace and see the madness that ensues, I am comforted by the thought that in a few years' time, I will be possibly looking at the same thing... but with enough responsibility and knowledge of the situation to do something about it. It might still be mad, but at least it will all be mine!
About a week ago, I did a 2.4km time trial in 12:41, which is fast enough for the 18-24 age fitness level let alone the 25-34. Stoked by this performance, I decided to kick on and see if I could crack the 25 second flexed arm hang, and found that I could go for 30. Even if I counted a little quickly, that should have me within the new improved range for 25-34 year olds. Buzzed further by taking care of the hang without breaking too much of a sweat, I figured I should pump out some sit-ups for the win. 25 of them were no trouble at all! This pretty much means that I'm good enough to pass boot camp's minimum fitness requirements, but of course if I'm at this level now... ten weeks and two days of basic is going to get me blitzing even those levels.
Now, I don't think of myself as being particularly superstitious, but I do believe in signs. It was pretty cool how the first time in a while that I checked the fitness requirements, I found out that it was easier than I thought to pass. Then when I tested myself, it turns out that I'm fit enough for the old levels anyway. Some time last year (not long after starting this blog), I was looking for some jewellery to go with a dress, and ended up buying a necklace with some mini-dog-tags on it. I also happened to keep buying military styled/coloured clothing, possibly because it came back into fashion at the time, or most other available options were dresses and/or pastels. Even though I tried to hold back on the military gear (I should be buying genuine civilian stylings, so I've got nice stuff to rock out in whenever I get leave privileges!), I think it's all helped me keep enlistment in mind.
Not long after my RAAF interview last July, I thought I should do a couple of things to make the shift to military living a little easier. One was to start getting used to sleeping in a single bed again, after some blissful years of loving a queen. It was hard to do at first, especially when I woke up most mornings to the vision of my disassembled queen bed leaning up against the wall. It got easier after I ended up selling my bed to a workmate! Another thing I've tried to do is get accustomed to drinking less coffee (a quality espresso dependency would no doubt be laughed at), and getting up earlier/quicker in the mornings. I must admit, now that I'm a lot more active, I don't nap and sleep in as much as I used to, but I also don't feel as much of a need to do it anyway. I think my next challenge should be going to sleep with clothes on!
This morning I received my final medical report from the hospital, which gave me a glowing recommendation for entry. It was kind of strange reading it on the way to work today, it was almost like a job reference, but obviously all the doctor knew about me was from a phone conversation and whatever was sitting in my medical file. Amongst all the clinical stuff, there's this super strong element of 'let this chicky in; her bits will cause no trouble!'. I didn't get time to make it to the post office today, I might deliver the reports in person on Monday depending on my work roster, otherwise it'll all be sent by Monday.
I should call my recruitment officer to find out when the intakes for RAAF cooks actually are, before I get too nervous about what's going on with the short term remains of my civilian life, or way too excited about handing in notice at my work. I was thrilled to bits when I wrote 'applying for employment with RAAF' as my reason for leaving my old job... it's even closer to the truth now!
Thursday, February 22
meet my new best friend; the universe
Things finally seem to be rolling, in a way that has elicited a strange eye-of-the-storm feeling deep within my belly. I'm waiting on receipt of a written report from the hospital about my girlybits, though I know it's definitely in the mail because the doctor that wrote it called me on Monday to ask what she was meant to say. She was actually worried she might write something that would get my application rejected! How sweet. I can't really get around telling the truth, though.
Buoyed by the knowledge that the red key was on its way to me, I figured I should start on the blue key. That one being booking into a GP for a retest of my urine. When I had the RAAF interview that included some initial medical testing, they found blood in my urine, so I needed another report after any required investigation. Fortunately it was all clear, and I didn't have to go through the rigmarole of figuring out what was wrong with me that was causing that particular bit of trouble. I have never been so excited about pee in a cup, ever.
Strangely enough, yesterday was the last day of my gym membership. I wasn't sure whether I was going to be enlisted by now, but because I had to give 28 days notice to cancel it, and I've been training a heck of a lot outdoors these days, I thought it was a good idea to get rid of it. A weird coincidence happened when I decided to hand in my two weeks' notice at my job last year, when all I knew was that I had sent in my RAAF paperwork, and was waiting to hear whether they would even give me an interview, let alone a job offer. As I walked back to my car at the end of the shift, I checked my voicemail and there was a message from the recruiters. I set up my interview for the day after I got back from a short stint in Sydney...
I haven't resigned from my current job yet, but I have actually planned another visit to Sydney. I'm quietly hoping that I'll still be in town by the time Sydney peeps come down here to visit, which is some time closer to Easter. Heck, I've signed up for a 15km run on April Fool's Day, which I've been training too hard for to not feel bummed if I miss out on it, no matter how thrilling enlistment would be! My Sydney friend said I should worry less about the what ifs and she's right, as much as I feel like I should put parts of my life on hold in case I get the call within the next couple of weeks, I've still got to live. I'm far better off adapting to circumstances as they change; not a moment before.
Couldn't sleep properly a couple of nights ago, and thought I should reread all of the online information about training prior to and during boot camp. It turns out that the metrics used to graduate from boot camp have been changed according to different age brackets! Even though I am still getting fitter (and hopefully stronger) as the weeks fly by, because I've spent the best part of a couple years dragging out my application, I now fall into the 25-34 year old category. This means that I get an extra minute to run 2.4km (I've spent about a month cutting down my run time to under 14 minutes, which is now good enough), only have to hang for 25 and not 30 seconds (the last time I checked I could go for 20), and need to do 25 and not 30 sit-ups (which I've been able to do with medicine balls 3-6kg anyway). Despite all my training, someone or something has suddenly made my chances of passing the fitness requirements a tad easier. Fantastic!
Told my run bud that I was feeling fortunate enough to buy a lottery ticket. You know how sometimes, every now and then, things just seem like they're starting to slip into place in your favour? I was reading somewhere that whenever you experience such a 'luck window', you should buy a lottery ticket. Just to see. If anything, just so you won't regret not trying your luck while having such a good run at life. I also said to him that even if I happen to land a ludicrous amount of money, if I get a job offer from RAAF, I'm still going to take it. That's probably a good sign that I'm onto a winning albeit unusual career path, ey.
I think that if they're willing to let me in with my status quo, I may be enlisted just after my birthday! If I need to get further treatment, it could be another twelve months before enlistment. If I am deemed permanently medically unfit, I've gotta think about another way around this!
Buoyed by the knowledge that the red key was on its way to me, I figured I should start on the blue key. That one being booking into a GP for a retest of my urine. When I had the RAAF interview that included some initial medical testing, they found blood in my urine, so I needed another report after any required investigation. Fortunately it was all clear, and I didn't have to go through the rigmarole of figuring out what was wrong with me that was causing that particular bit of trouble. I have never been so excited about pee in a cup, ever.
Strangely enough, yesterday was the last day of my gym membership. I wasn't sure whether I was going to be enlisted by now, but because I had to give 28 days notice to cancel it, and I've been training a heck of a lot outdoors these days, I thought it was a good idea to get rid of it. A weird coincidence happened when I decided to hand in my two weeks' notice at my job last year, when all I knew was that I had sent in my RAAF paperwork, and was waiting to hear whether they would even give me an interview, let alone a job offer. As I walked back to my car at the end of the shift, I checked my voicemail and there was a message from the recruiters. I set up my interview for the day after I got back from a short stint in Sydney...
I haven't resigned from my current job yet, but I have actually planned another visit to Sydney. I'm quietly hoping that I'll still be in town by the time Sydney peeps come down here to visit, which is some time closer to Easter. Heck, I've signed up for a 15km run on April Fool's Day, which I've been training too hard for to not feel bummed if I miss out on it, no matter how thrilling enlistment would be! My Sydney friend said I should worry less about the what ifs and she's right, as much as I feel like I should put parts of my life on hold in case I get the call within the next couple of weeks, I've still got to live. I'm far better off adapting to circumstances as they change; not a moment before.
Couldn't sleep properly a couple of nights ago, and thought I should reread all of the online information about training prior to and during boot camp. It turns out that the metrics used to graduate from boot camp have been changed according to different age brackets! Even though I am still getting fitter (and hopefully stronger) as the weeks fly by, because I've spent the best part of a couple years dragging out my application, I now fall into the 25-34 year old category. This means that I get an extra minute to run 2.4km (I've spent about a month cutting down my run time to under 14 minutes, which is now good enough), only have to hang for 25 and not 30 seconds (the last time I checked I could go for 20), and need to do 25 and not 30 sit-ups (which I've been able to do with medicine balls 3-6kg anyway). Despite all my training, someone or something has suddenly made my chances of passing the fitness requirements a tad easier. Fantastic!
Told my run bud that I was feeling fortunate enough to buy a lottery ticket. You know how sometimes, every now and then, things just seem like they're starting to slip into place in your favour? I was reading somewhere that whenever you experience such a 'luck window', you should buy a lottery ticket. Just to see. If anything, just so you won't regret not trying your luck while having such a good run at life. I also said to him that even if I happen to land a ludicrous amount of money, if I get a job offer from RAAF, I'm still going to take it. That's probably a good sign that I'm onto a winning albeit unusual career path, ey.
I think that if they're willing to let me in with my status quo, I may be enlisted just after my birthday! If I need to get further treatment, it could be another twelve months before enlistment. If I am deemed permanently medically unfit, I've gotta think about another way around this!
Friday, January 19
chin up, charlie
Some time in November, I hit a real low, triggered by the crashing down from heights of being trained to within an inch of my life... to the realisation that I couldn't actually lift my weight in order to do the required flexed arm hang. I wrote that I'd review my progress in another month and a half, but it slipped my mind. I guess when I stopped personal training I also lost my easy access to an adjusted Smith Machine, which was what I was practicing supported flexed arm hangs on.
I figured that I would grit my teeth and give it some time and more work, seeing as I was already surprised with what personal training would do for me in as little as a month. Similarly I've managed to get in a funk if I weigh myself too often, riding the highs and lows instead of paying attention to how I feel and the progression of my weight over a timeframe that doesn't involve hours or days.
So it's been about two months, and I've managed to surprise myself yet again. By chance, I was taking an easy stroll around one of the parks I run around, and I think that because I wasn't running and focused on making a time/distance I actually noticed some chin-up bars near a sports oval. I'd been practicing holding myself up as well as doing tricep dips and push-ups at a nearby playground (monkey bars are good for adults too!) for a couple of weeks, and even doing the climbing work I felt a lot better about my upper body strength than I did last year. I thought it was high time I figured out whether my chances of hanging had improved.
Who would have guessed? Seventeen seconds. I might have counted inaccurately, but the next time I go with someone I'll get them to time it properly for me. Even if my counting's slightly off (it's like the part of my brain that perceives time blanks out from the physical strain I'm going through), it's a heck of a lot better than nothing. I am now officially the fittest/strongest I have ever been, as when I was back in high school and fairly active, I couldn't run 5km to save myself, and I could only ever do the flexed arm hang for 3-5 seconds.
I'm at least halfway there. Most fantastic!
I figured that I would grit my teeth and give it some time and more work, seeing as I was already surprised with what personal training would do for me in as little as a month. Similarly I've managed to get in a funk if I weigh myself too often, riding the highs and lows instead of paying attention to how I feel and the progression of my weight over a timeframe that doesn't involve hours or days.
So it's been about two months, and I've managed to surprise myself yet again. By chance, I was taking an easy stroll around one of the parks I run around, and I think that because I wasn't running and focused on making a time/distance I actually noticed some chin-up bars near a sports oval. I'd been practicing holding myself up as well as doing tricep dips and push-ups at a nearby playground (monkey bars are good for adults too!) for a couple of weeks, and even doing the climbing work I felt a lot better about my upper body strength than I did last year. I thought it was high time I figured out whether my chances of hanging had improved.
Who would have guessed? Seventeen seconds. I might have counted inaccurately, but the next time I go with someone I'll get them to time it properly for me. Even if my counting's slightly off (it's like the part of my brain that perceives time blanks out from the physical strain I'm going through), it's a heck of a lot better than nothing. I am now officially the fittest/strongest I have ever been, as when I was back in high school and fairly active, I couldn't run 5km to save myself, and I could only ever do the flexed arm hang for 3-5 seconds.
I'm at least halfway there. Most fantastic!
Thursday, January 11
hard to the corps
Whoa, another month has flown by without me stopping to write. In some ways I still feel like I haven't progressed that much since the end of last year, because I've certainly slacked off with the regimented weight training, but maybe I've balanced it out with better eating habits, and incorporating more general physical activity into my life.
I've kicked it up a couple of notches training wise, taking most of my running to the streets. I haven't done that many boot runs of late, partially because it's getting too hot to pull them onto my feet, and also because I scored a nano for Christmas. This has made running almost like a game, definitely a lot more fun when I'm out of the gym and exploring off-road or even just padding around a park track. It's almost like the nano's a puppy that has me on a leash, begging to be taken out to play. I don't want to let it down, even though I know it's just a tool, and the voices in my head aren't real, even though sometimes they're all I need to push myself that little bit further. Even having a training buddy some of the time helps me go harder the next time I'm by myself, not that I'm at any kind of competitive level with my running, but in some ways I feel more accountable when I'm actually taking note of how far I'm going each time.
In an effort to try and combine social with physical activity, I've been indoor rock-climbing, ten-pin bowling, mini golfing and even cycling. The climbing was my first time ever, and such an awesome thrill. I still have a terrible fear of heights and of falling, even though I know it's safe to let go of the wall, I just get a mental block when I think I've got nothing left in me to get any further. Sometimes I can ignore what I think is possible and push on anyway, and it's a key example of how good it feels to achieve something I thought I couldn't.
Bowling and golfing were for the first time in years, probably since I was a kid, and more for fun than anything else (while the climbing was to work on my hanging muscles for boot). I hadn't been on a bike forever, and never really did much road riding back in the day either, and it was great fun. I was surprised at how effortless it felt, cruising through the streets. But I was also painfully aware of how little nerve I have when it comes to something as seemingly easy as riding on the road. At times I was just way too conscious of falling, or drifting into traffic, or getting clipped by someone opening a car door suddenly, and I had to control my brain in a way, to stop getting overwhelmed by all this information that I somehow manage to tune out whilst driving... even though it's much the same information that's there whether I'm in a car or not.
I had my final follow-up appointment at the Women's, and the low-down is that unless something shows up at the lab, according to the doctor that saw me I should be able to go back to regular pap smears. The tricky thing with the medical clearance I need is that maybe low grade changes still count as too iffy to let me through, and I might need treatment to get back to a state where there's no changes at all. Hopefully with the paperwork that says I've had low grade changes for a stretch of twelve months means that I'm stable enough to get in. I guess it depends how pedantic the medical guidelines are. Sometimes it can take two or three years for this kind of thing to clear up of its own accord, and apparently in typical circumstances, treatment wouldn't be recommended until there are medium or high grade changes. Sucks to be a girl, really.
I've still got to bolt to a GP and get something cleared up about the urine test I had when I did the RAAF interview about six months ago. I guess I was hoping that it would sort itself out by the time I had to go to the Women's again, but to be honest I don't know what any of it's about. So if all I need is a second urine test that doesn't come up with anything strange, I could be a couple weeks away from getting medical clearance. I'm really hoping that the stuff with the Women's was the hardest part. It's pretty insane that I can feel this fit and healthy but still not know if I'm actually alright!
So, if my body behaves... I've got the skills to pass the pre-enlistment fitness test, which is the shuttle run equivalent of running 920m in 5 minutes and 40 seconds. That's the easy bit, even though at one stage I did think I had to slave to make it that far! As for the boot camp graduation requirements, I'm confident that I can do the 2.4km run in 13 minutes. I'm on the verge of getting it down pat now, so I'm sure that by the end of boot camp I'll be a cardio hero. The 30 sit-ups will be even easier than the pre-enlistment, as I'm doing that amount of sit-ups now, but with a 3kg medicine ball. What about the hang? Well, I'm still working on it. I can hold down 45-50kg on the lat machine, and support myself at a similar weight on the assisted pull-up/tricep dip machine. If I lose a little more weight and build up a little more strength, and bank on beefcaking even more during the process of boot camp, it's definitely doable.
I surprised myself the other day. I was reading something about the SAS and the thought occurred to me that I should maybe start doing proper push-ups. You know, man push-ups. None of this on-your-knees girly stuff, which I did start off doing when I first picked up the ADF four week training program and couldn't bring myself to do even one man push-up. So I put the book down and got out of bed, just to see how many actual push-ups I could do. I pumped out eight, not to the point of fatigue, but I was almost shocked that I could do even that. I mean, I've only been training properly for about three months. I'm tempted to do the four week program from the start again, now.
It's getting simpler, really. I honestly didn't think I'd see the day, when all I'd care about is climbing, running, and beefcake sorta grunt work. I heard from someone that basic training is the worst that it gets, which is quite the opposite of what I'd previously believed. From the sounds of it, basic training should be just the beginning of a wonderful world of physical hell. So that's something uplifting, I guess, if I actually make it to and through it all!
I've kicked it up a couple of notches training wise, taking most of my running to the streets. I haven't done that many boot runs of late, partially because it's getting too hot to pull them onto my feet, and also because I scored a nano for Christmas. This has made running almost like a game, definitely a lot more fun when I'm out of the gym and exploring off-road or even just padding around a park track. It's almost like the nano's a puppy that has me on a leash, begging to be taken out to play. I don't want to let it down, even though I know it's just a tool, and the voices in my head aren't real, even though sometimes they're all I need to push myself that little bit further. Even having a training buddy some of the time helps me go harder the next time I'm by myself, not that I'm at any kind of competitive level with my running, but in some ways I feel more accountable when I'm actually taking note of how far I'm going each time.
In an effort to try and combine social with physical activity, I've been indoor rock-climbing, ten-pin bowling, mini golfing and even cycling. The climbing was my first time ever, and such an awesome thrill. I still have a terrible fear of heights and of falling, even though I know it's safe to let go of the wall, I just get a mental block when I think I've got nothing left in me to get any further. Sometimes I can ignore what I think is possible and push on anyway, and it's a key example of how good it feels to achieve something I thought I couldn't.
Bowling and golfing were for the first time in years, probably since I was a kid, and more for fun than anything else (while the climbing was to work on my hanging muscles for boot). I hadn't been on a bike forever, and never really did much road riding back in the day either, and it was great fun. I was surprised at how effortless it felt, cruising through the streets. But I was also painfully aware of how little nerve I have when it comes to something as seemingly easy as riding on the road. At times I was just way too conscious of falling, or drifting into traffic, or getting clipped by someone opening a car door suddenly, and I had to control my brain in a way, to stop getting overwhelmed by all this information that I somehow manage to tune out whilst driving... even though it's much the same information that's there whether I'm in a car or not.
I had my final follow-up appointment at the Women's, and the low-down is that unless something shows up at the lab, according to the doctor that saw me I should be able to go back to regular pap smears. The tricky thing with the medical clearance I need is that maybe low grade changes still count as too iffy to let me through, and I might need treatment to get back to a state where there's no changes at all. Hopefully with the paperwork that says I've had low grade changes for a stretch of twelve months means that I'm stable enough to get in. I guess it depends how pedantic the medical guidelines are. Sometimes it can take two or three years for this kind of thing to clear up of its own accord, and apparently in typical circumstances, treatment wouldn't be recommended until there are medium or high grade changes. Sucks to be a girl, really.
I've still got to bolt to a GP and get something cleared up about the urine test I had when I did the RAAF interview about six months ago. I guess I was hoping that it would sort itself out by the time I had to go to the Women's again, but to be honest I don't know what any of it's about. So if all I need is a second urine test that doesn't come up with anything strange, I could be a couple weeks away from getting medical clearance. I'm really hoping that the stuff with the Women's was the hardest part. It's pretty insane that I can feel this fit and healthy but still not know if I'm actually alright!
So, if my body behaves... I've got the skills to pass the pre-enlistment fitness test, which is the shuttle run equivalent of running 920m in 5 minutes and 40 seconds. That's the easy bit, even though at one stage I did think I had to slave to make it that far! As for the boot camp graduation requirements, I'm confident that I can do the 2.4km run in 13 minutes. I'm on the verge of getting it down pat now, so I'm sure that by the end of boot camp I'll be a cardio hero. The 30 sit-ups will be even easier than the pre-enlistment, as I'm doing that amount of sit-ups now, but with a 3kg medicine ball. What about the hang? Well, I'm still working on it. I can hold down 45-50kg on the lat machine, and support myself at a similar weight on the assisted pull-up/tricep dip machine. If I lose a little more weight and build up a little more strength, and bank on beefcaking even more during the process of boot camp, it's definitely doable.
I surprised myself the other day. I was reading something about the SAS and the thought occurred to me that I should maybe start doing proper push-ups. You know, man push-ups. None of this on-your-knees girly stuff, which I did start off doing when I first picked up the ADF four week training program and couldn't bring myself to do even one man push-up. So I put the book down and got out of bed, just to see how many actual push-ups I could do. I pumped out eight, not to the point of fatigue, but I was almost shocked that I could do even that. I mean, I've only been training properly for about three months. I'm tempted to do the four week program from the start again, now.
It's getting simpler, really. I honestly didn't think I'd see the day, when all I'd care about is climbing, running, and beefcake sorta grunt work. I heard from someone that basic training is the worst that it gets, which is quite the opposite of what I'd previously believed. From the sounds of it, basic training should be just the beginning of a wonderful world of physical hell. So that's something uplifting, I guess, if I actually make it to and through it all!
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