Hey, guys,
For all future blog posts, go to the new site at http://servicemembersunited.org/?cat=13. This will be my last post on blogspot. See you on wordpress!
-Jarrod
29 May 2009
27 May 2009
Sand and Seals
Sand flies through the air, for a second providing a brown tinge to the haze already obstructing the sun. A few grains land on my face, in my eyes, on my tongue. I don’t mind, as I know I will be looking at moments like this nostalgically in just a few days. In moments the bluish-grey returns, an ever-present mist as much a part of Monterey as the local seals barking less than twenty feet away, their language muffled only slightly by that same fog. We used to joke that the barking signified the beginning of mating season, periodic as it was. Or periodic as we thought it was. I suspect we only noticed the barks when the comfort of regularity was interrupted by uncommon events.
Brown suddenly rises, falls. Sand again hits my face. I wipe a little off, wincing as the grains remind me of the sunburn from a few days ago that still has yet to heal. Sand mixing in with greasy sunscreen somehow remains less appealing - as it does when you are young and impatient with practicality – so I don’t castigate myself too much for carelessly staying out in the sun too long. The pain is more an annoying heat, anyway, and doesn’t last more than a minute.
Brown, grey. I wipe sand off my cleanly shaven head, pale in contrast to a pink face because the hair was removed the night before. I had sworn to my roommate I would bic my head if I were to pass the DLPT, a promise I would not have kept were it to anyone else. Debts of gratitude somehow make honoring ridiculous bets more feasible.
Once more the brown obscures my vision, this time accompanied by angry grunts and mad noises. I realize the sounds are not as sudden as I thought, as I jump out of my self-indulgent thoughts into a tirade of frustration.
“…failed! Again! What is wrong with me, Chappy? I studied so hard for this, so hard - you were there! - and I missed again by one point. One point!” Sarah kicks another clod of sand up in frustration.
I duck to avoid this latest attack, no longer motivated by the prospect of nostalgia. “With only one point, I can’t imagine they won’t let you try again,” I appease, rather unconvincingly. Another attempt was highly unlikely. The only reason we as a group were allowed to retake the DLPT the first time was a result of the command feeling external pressure due to the abnormally high attrition rate of Korean linguists.
“Every night I fell asleep listening to my tapes, Chappy!” Sarah continued, as if I had not spoken. I’m suddenly reminded why I had spaced out in the first place. “I don’t know what happened, but I could not understand anything during the test. The audio was horrible!” She was right, the audio was horrific: no joke, a test for Korean language listening ability required the speaker to fill his mouth with cotton and caramel before recording the audio with his mouth on the receiver. This alone was not justification for complaint, if not for the fact that the average rating for the listening test for any other language was typically at least a half tier higher than that of a Korean linguist. Sarah’s 1+, one point shy of the necessary 2, was understandably hard to swallow. I had passed by the same margin.
“Well, what did the command tell you?” I interject, trying to steer the conversation towards finding a solution. I already knew the answer, however, justifiably earning Sarah’s withering look.
I had accompanied Sarah back to Alpha Company after we had received our scores. After Sarah had revealed her score to a platoon sergeant, he looked over at me and asked if I had failed as well. I shook my head slightly, not wanting to bring attention to my own accomplishment when Sarah was feeling so miserable. The platoon sergeant understood, and quietly told Sarah to “take a weekend pass, and we can discuss options on Monday after formation.”
Of course a weekend pass was not the solution, not when Sarah’s friends were packing and leaving for Texas. I had already scheduled the movers to pick up all the random junk I had accumulated over eighteen vigorous months at DLI. It seemed I would have to leave a few things behind. Not yet, however. Today was for Sarah.
I make a quick joke about Doritos and squirrels that to this day only Sarah would appreciate, and finally a hint of a smile sneaks on her face. Good. Now to get her to laugh.
Eventually the fog remains a steady grey as we talk and reminisce over the next few hours. And as I go to bed that night and wipe the remaining sand from my lips, I at last let myself be excited for the future.
Brown suddenly rises, falls. Sand again hits my face. I wipe a little off, wincing as the grains remind me of the sunburn from a few days ago that still has yet to heal. Sand mixing in with greasy sunscreen somehow remains less appealing - as it does when you are young and impatient with practicality – so I don’t castigate myself too much for carelessly staying out in the sun too long. The pain is more an annoying heat, anyway, and doesn’t last more than a minute.
Brown, grey. I wipe sand off my cleanly shaven head, pale in contrast to a pink face because the hair was removed the night before. I had sworn to my roommate I would bic my head if I were to pass the DLPT, a promise I would not have kept were it to anyone else. Debts of gratitude somehow make honoring ridiculous bets more feasible.
Once more the brown obscures my vision, this time accompanied by angry grunts and mad noises. I realize the sounds are not as sudden as I thought, as I jump out of my self-indulgent thoughts into a tirade of frustration.
“…failed! Again! What is wrong with me, Chappy? I studied so hard for this, so hard - you were there! - and I missed again by one point. One point!” Sarah kicks another clod of sand up in frustration.
I duck to avoid this latest attack, no longer motivated by the prospect of nostalgia. “With only one point, I can’t imagine they won’t let you try again,” I appease, rather unconvincingly. Another attempt was highly unlikely. The only reason we as a group were allowed to retake the DLPT the first time was a result of the command feeling external pressure due to the abnormally high attrition rate of Korean linguists.
“Every night I fell asleep listening to my tapes, Chappy!” Sarah continued, as if I had not spoken. I’m suddenly reminded why I had spaced out in the first place. “I don’t know what happened, but I could not understand anything during the test. The audio was horrible!” She was right, the audio was horrific: no joke, a test for Korean language listening ability required the speaker to fill his mouth with cotton and caramel before recording the audio with his mouth on the receiver. This alone was not justification for complaint, if not for the fact that the average rating for the listening test for any other language was typically at least a half tier higher than that of a Korean linguist. Sarah’s 1+, one point shy of the necessary 2, was understandably hard to swallow. I had passed by the same margin.
“Well, what did the command tell you?” I interject, trying to steer the conversation towards finding a solution. I already knew the answer, however, justifiably earning Sarah’s withering look.
I had accompanied Sarah back to Alpha Company after we had received our scores. After Sarah had revealed her score to a platoon sergeant, he looked over at me and asked if I had failed as well. I shook my head slightly, not wanting to bring attention to my own accomplishment when Sarah was feeling so miserable. The platoon sergeant understood, and quietly told Sarah to “take a weekend pass, and we can discuss options on Monday after formation.”
Of course a weekend pass was not the solution, not when Sarah’s friends were packing and leaving for Texas. I had already scheduled the movers to pick up all the random junk I had accumulated over eighteen vigorous months at DLI. It seemed I would have to leave a few things behind. Not yet, however. Today was for Sarah.
I make a quick joke about Doritos and squirrels that to this day only Sarah would appreciate, and finally a hint of a smile sneaks on her face. Good. Now to get her to laugh.
Eventually the fog remains a steady grey as we talk and reminisce over the next few hours. And as I go to bed that night and wipe the remaining sand from my lips, I at last let myself be excited for the future.
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