Meaning of Dreams

I don't necessarily think dreams are portentous or overly meaningful, but they are interesting windows into the inner workers of our subconsciousness. I have the typical dreams: climbing stairs and never getting to the top; finding myself back in high school (or is that a nightmare?), wondering what I need to do to graduate even though I've already got a couple college degrees; having to give a presentation and being clueless about the topic. The ones I like the best are about flying or being able to breathe underwater.

But the other night I had a very vivid dream that made me wonder what the heck is going on in the inner workings of my little pea brain. I wasn't sleeping well (which isn't particularly unusual, just particularly annoying because I had a busy day the next day). And, you know how dreams put together disparate parts or people or places and they seem to make sense within the dreamscape? Well, in this dream, I was doing KISKA's mission, but had my OPS and XO from MAUI. I think we were still wearing desert cammies, and somehow there was a fancy D-FAC mixed in.

But the gist of the dream was that we were being tasked to conduct an escort, and I couldn't get any information on the details about when the escort was, where we were supposed to meet the escort vessel, or even who we were supposed to be escorting, who we were working with...you know all the relevant and enabling details. I tried talking to the command center watchstander, and while she was mostly polite, just would NOT answer my questions. I tried being super specific, I tried getting high and mighty and slightly pissy, I threatened to talk to her supervisor, but in the end, I just could not get the information I wanted. She treated me like I was a bitchy annoyance that was just too stupid to get the job done. Apparently the information had already been passed on to OPS.

So off I went to talk to OPS and XO. OPS and I had a somewhat rocky relationship while we worked together (in reality), so I approached him with that baggage. I tried my questioning routine again. When did we need to get underway? When was liberty going to expire? What did the WQSB look like for the evolution? But mostly, when did we need to get underway?

I started out calmly, with a hint of frustration from my conversation with the watchstander, but clearly asking my questions. I thought. Somehow I ended up *screaming* at them both, trying to get through to them. They just looked at me with a complete lack of interest.

I woke up frustrated, annoyed, feeling like a cat who just had its fur petted the wrong way. And wanting to apologize to all of them. So, MAUI OPS and XO and imaginary-dream watchstander, so very, very, very sorry that I yelled at you, spit flying, hair standing on end, in my dream. I *NEVER* want to be that boss or coworker.

Obviously, there's something going on in my head about communications. Writing it out like this, it sounds more like about being invisible and ignored, but in the dream, it was about not being able to get through to someone. I've been working on a couple papers lately that I'm not really sure what I'm saying in them, so maybe that's it. And working on a presentation on the theory of the coming Singularity that both scares and fascinates me, but that I just can't seem to get my head around.

But I think it just reinforces to me how important I think communications are. The first dozen or so times I saw the model of a message having two parts, the sent message and the received message, I just kind of glazed over it, on to the next portion of the LE training, LAMS training, TQC training, whatever. Somehow this dream brought home the sending/receiving model in a way that hours of classroom discussion never did. What do *I* do that prevents my audience from understanding the importance and relevance of the information they have that I need? What can I do differently to make sure my message is comprehensible and accessible to a wide ranging audience? How do I know when I have a message worth communicating at all?

It's an ongoing process, thinking about and honing my communication skills. But one that is so critical and worth putting the effort into.

And again, so sorry Ceebeemcghee and SDubs, for yelling at you. In my dream or in reality. It didn't help things *at all!!*

Tangents

I wonder sometimes what this blog is really about. Is it about my Coast Guard career? Is it personal? What are the bounds of what I can or should write about? I know it's not totally professional, and there are some things I will never attempt to address.

As part of a conversation about a lot of different things, a friend (FR) and I recently examined our individual personal relationships to the Coast Guard. The relevant portion went like this:

FR: "I’m somewhat amazed that you enjoy thinking and talking about the CG as much as you do. I’m not casting aspersions on you, I just know that I love NOT talking about the CG, except for minor examples during some of the classes I take. My work this summer will be dealing with clean aquatic energy, something that fascinates me and that I truly think I can be passionate about, at least for a time."

ME: "What you said about me enjoying thinking about the CG so much really made me pause. Harumph. Guess I just need to face up to the fact that I'm a CG nerd. There's a couple of reasons I came up with for our different perspectives on CG interactions while we're at school. First is the nature of our programs. The only way I know how to relate to Big Policy Issues is through the context of the CG. All my classes on budgeting and contracting and all that, I view through what I know and have experienced during my CG tenure as a way to help me understand what is being taught, similar to how you use your DCA experience in your engineering stuff (not even gonna try getting more technical than that, lest I leave you guffawing my ignorance). Second, I have a forum. I still can't believe this blog thing. Crazy how it's made things different for me. And lastly, we came to the CG from very different places. You literally grew up in the organization since that's how your Dad raised you. You've always known it, and have viewed everything you are and do within that context. I came to the CG much later, and found it to be something that really stabilized me, gave me purpose and direction...never mind a living wage paycheck and health insurance. And a bit of stature in my family. (Scarily) my career is something they brag about now. Hell, I say take advantage of being away from it. I think it's great that you'll be working on clean aquatic energy this summer--sounds super innovative and fulfilling. Explore, grow, flourish."

FR: "I guess my comment on you being a CG nerd was more along the lines that I'm surprised bigger issues beyond the CG don't interest you...it may be that they do, you're just cutting teeth with the CG stuff and applying it later to the larger picture? I just have a hard time personally, with my ever expanding big picture view, of getting inspired or excited by CG affairs."

There is a gauntlet thrown down in that last paragraph that I'm still pondering. Contemplating. Gnawing the edges of (to mix metaphors horribly). And I will get back to it during a later post (maybe much later). But I offer the discussion as an introduction to three things that are tangentially associated with my relationship with the Coast Guard.


First, I watched Disney's movie Oceans this weekend. I like movies, but I don't generally have strong feelings about them one way or another (well, besides the Pirates series...can't wait for May 20!). Oceans is different. I actually bought it (usually I figure, why bother...I've seen a movie once, I know what happens, and if I really want to see it again, I can get it from Netflix). Amazing photography. Like mind-blowingly amazing. I never realized just how large those humpback whales were until I saw the size of the photographer in the water next to the whale. The narrative is moving, but not overly emotional and (thank goodness) doesn't anthropomorphize the aquatic wildlife too much.


My favorite scene: I can't decide between a couple...
--the feasting scene towards the beginning when the cormorants are dive bombing a school of sardines, and the sharks are attacking from underneath, and it's like a fierce World War II battle scene.
--the footage of the humpback whales creating a mass of air bubbles to trap and stun fish in Alaskan waters. Half a dozen to a dozen whales all broaching at the same time, snouts come shooting out of the water almost simultaneously with snow-covered mountains and rocky shorelines in the background.
--watching the two ships get the snot kicked out of them in rough water. One is a Navy ship, and the other is some sort of commercial vessel, probably fishing, maybe 250 feet long. Don't know why that series tickles me so much, but it does.
--the leafy sea dragon...I love the graceful fronds this creature sports, and the fact that it just has these leettle-beetty fins to move it around. You really have to look to see its method of propulsion.


Tangent: I like the fact that my organization helps to protect these amazing and wondrous beings.


Second, my foster dogs. I signed up to foster animals through Operation Noble Foster. I'm still holding to the mindset that I don't want to take on full, lifelong responsibility for any more pets until I'm out of the Coast Guard and not getting underway, but I've really missed having a wagging tail and slobbering doggie kisses greet me when I get home. So back in January, I got a call from a lady in the Air National Guard who had two weeks before she was getting sent off for two months of training in preparation for a six-month deployment to Afghanistan. Two weeks to get all your affairs in order to leave for eight months...guh, what a PITA.

So, I am fostering her two Italian greyhounds, Bella and Pepe. She was a little hesitant to pass them off to someone else, I think because they're a little high-maintenance (I say as they're passed out on the couch next to me, snuggled into their blanket). Pepe has a Napoleanic complex...you know, small man's syndrome. He gets a little lippy/growly when he thinks he's being disrespected. But he's eight pounds, so I only take him so seriously.


I don't help the situation with him when I take funny pictures of him like this, so zonked that he's sleeping with his tongue sticking out.

And Bella looks particularly regal in this photo. She's a sweetheart, but is more impish than you'd expect. I'm very glad that I finally got the backyard fence repaired so there is no more sneaking through holes to go exploring the neighborhood. Mostly 'cause she's FAST!! It's fun watching her sprint from one end of the yard to the other at full speed. I just wish she'd stay out of the damn garden beds :0 I think once the plants get a little bigger she'll be less inclined to try to sail over the width of the bed in one leap.

So I get to have my cake and eat it too with fostering. I get temporary pets that I enjoy for a defined period of time, and help out someone who needs to focus on something besides whether their pets are being well taken care of while they're away. I wish I had known about Operation Noble Foster that first tour on BOUTWELL. Would have made things a lot easier for me and my cats. And neighbors.

Tangent: the whole helping out a fellow military-deployable member, while also satisfying my own preference for having pets in the house.

Third: I discovered mud runs, which are basically trail races with a bunch of man-made obstacles mixed in. A while back, my uncle Steve told me me about the Tough Mudder race, and suggested we should roust up a team and train for it. Looked like fun from the pictures, but I thought 10 miles might be a little much to start with. So I found a 5K mud run close by his house that we signed up for. 

Uncle Steve, Aunt Jan, Judy and me at the finish line

Weekend before last, four of us ran the Rugged Maniac in Asheboro, NC. I have to give my fellow teammates total props...Jan is the youngest of the three of them, and she's older than me by a couple decades. I thought I was a bad-ass, but they put me to shame! We all finished, tired, dirty and thrilled to have gotten through the barbed-wire mud pits, over the fire jumps, across the plank and down the slide into the mud pool. I felt like a heel for leaving my teammates as they slowed down and started to walk (some of them). They told me to go ahead and run my own race, and I did, but it doesn't mean I felt good about that part of it.

It was SO MUCH FUN!! I wanna do another one, maybe a 10k later this fall before tackling the 10 mile Tough Mudder next year, and maybe a half marathon one after that. I was telling a friend who is also a runner about it, and he said that his running group was getting bored with just running. Ex-ACT-ly! I like to run, but the obstacles provide more of a challenge, and the mud...well, that's just fun.

I did have to laugh at the poor girl in my heat who cut me off, nearly tripping me, to get from the middle of the course where it was really muddy (like suck-your-shoes-off muddy) over to the side where it was drier and a little cleaner. Seriously?!? My philosophy...gonna get dirty, might as well enjoy it, even revel in it!

Tangent: fitness is important in the Coast Guard, and I found something to help me stay fit. Oh, and the team-work aspect of the race was pretty cool, too. Almost had to be Spiderman to get over the seven-foot walls without a leg up from one of the other participants. A lot of people ran in teams.

Maybe I just wrote this post to prove to myself that I am more than just my Coast Guard persona.

The Garden

I start a lot of projects that I don't always necessarily finish. I never did get my loom set up to weave on almost two years ago when I settled into Hilo. I've still got the bag of Grandpa's ties, but it's been moved out the the backyard shed...I'll get to 'em one day. The shed is a project in and of itself. I've got grand plans for it to be an organized, useful space, with tools in their proper places and maybe even a handy ramp so I can store the Old Man out there during the winter. Right now it's a disaster of about a dozen bags of random stuff that need to go to the thrift store, piles of cardboard and packing paper from the move, garden tools strewn about, and my bicycle right in the middle of it all.

But the shed will hang on for a little bit longer until I can get to organizing it. The garden, however, just *could NOT* wait. Spring is springing, for heaven's sake, and I didn't want to miss my planting window!

Now despite having an advanced degree in horticulture, I haven't ever really had my own garden. Well, I take that back. I had one over ten years ago when I lived in Southwest Virginia, but I was very busy with overworking myself at my poorly paid job, and wasn't able to give it the attention and resources it needed. And I'm kinda intimidated by a garden...I suspect I might have a black thumb, or at least a brown thumb. I highly doubt it's green, or even pond scum brown (that disgusting mix of green and brown that my homemade smoothies so often resemble).

This year, I'm gonna put it to the test, though. I've got a wonderful flat and sunny yard (with too much grass to mow anyway). And the resources (i.e., disposable income) to buy stuff for the garden. So this weekend, I went to work.

I got nine 2x10x8's for three beds (cut one in half for the ends of each bed), a load of (free!!) mulch from the City of Brentwood (just had to load it up myself = good exercise), three cubic yards of topsoil and compost from Denchfield Nursery (delivered for free!!), six types of greens and four herb starts from the Takoma Park Farmer's Market, and *too* many seed packets from Seed Savers Exchange (I can save what I don't plant for next year, right? And I'm gonna split 'em with my sister.).

Friday night saw me outside cutting boards and arranging the beds, cussing a little over stripped out screw heads when I tried to go through knots in the wood. I got two beds built and situated that night before it got too dark to see what I was doing. Underneath the frames is cardboard to keep the grass from coming up through, while still allowing water to drain...that's the theory anyway.

I finished the last frame on Saturday morning. Also on Saturday, the topsoil/compost was delivered. I was super happy that the delivery driver was able to get into the alley out back, maneuver through the tight gate and patient enough to accommodate the dumping truck bed around the dead tree branches that got in his way. He was able to dump the soil about 30 feet away from the beds...just a short jaunt with a handy wheelbarrow. Then started the fun...wheelbarrow load by wheelbarrow load, transferring the soil from the pile into the frames. I got about halfway done with that on Saturday before I just couldn't sling dirt anymore. Oh, and I had a couple of papers to work on too--minor details. You can see the frames about half-full, each with four wheelbarrow loads in them, and the dirt pile top center. Off to the right is the pile of (free!!) mulch.

Sunday morning dawned partly cloudy, with a good chance of rain throughout the day. But I knew if I didn't get the beds done that day, they wouldn't get done for a while due to classes, papers, projects, weekend trips and races. Another four wheelbarrow loads per frame, and I was done with the dirt pile.

Planting was fun. I sectioned each bed into eight squares with some string. And then divided all the greens starts into individual plants. I hope they survive. The roots were so very fragile. But I quickly got them into the bed, and watered everything. I planted collards, arugula (arooooo-gala, Hobbes-style), two kinds of green leaf lettuce, speckled lettuce, red lettuce and cilantro from starts, and swiss chard, sugar snap peas (absolute favorite!!), radishes, spinach and kale from seed.

I've still got nasturtiums, okra, cucumbers, two types of melons, eggplants, green beans, three kinds of peppers, tomatillos and garden huckleberries (couldn't pass up the chance to grow huckleberries) to plant. And blueberries, red and black raspberries and a pawpaw tree to go in the ground also. I think I may be a little ambitious for my first garden. 

Oh, and the herb bed. This is right behind the back door, fairly convenient to the kitchen. My rosemary, chives, oregano and mint all survived the winter. And I added some sage, cilantro (can never have too much cilantro), thyme and chamomile.

Everything has survived so far. I mean it's been a day, so that's a good start, right? I watered this morning before class, and when I came home for lunch, things were looking a little droopy, so I watered again. I haven't figured out a good watering system yet. My rain barrels are fantastic storage for runoff from the roof, but the water is gravity-fed coming out. My interim solution (while I wait for creative inspiration) is to take an empty juice bottle (Trader Joe's Orange-Carrot) and punch holes in the top and one air vent in the bottom and refill it by hand from the rain barrel. Working so far.

I guess one of these days I should mow the grass too. Maybe next weekend.

AThird Bit, Slightly Rambly

I saw this post from the Coast Guard Compass. HAMILTON is the first of any ship I've sailed on to be decommissioned. I'm really, really sad to see HAMILTON and CHASE go. I know it's well past their time, and they've served their country and sailors well. Thank the powers that be that I have the memories I do of my time onboard, the good, the excellent and the bad and ugly. I was OPS onboard HAMILTON from June 2006 until January 2008. Most of these snippets won't make sense, but I'm cataloging them for my own sake.

Having a nasty cold and wanting to sleep in Combat so I wouldn't have to go so far in the middle of the night when the watchstander woke me up with an interesting contact report (I didn't, but Doc was nice enough to send down a cot just in case).

The sun rising over the deck of that Peruvian fishing vessel we chased for two weeks out too far past the Galapagos. The flat tire on the helo that kept them on the deck and unable to search. The 200 bales of cocaine the traffickers had stacked on deck as we came alongside.

"Shiny metal objects." And skull tattoos (not mine). (Well, maybe mine...thanks, MPA, for making sure Jimmy got it straight on my arm).

Watching Sunday evening sunsets on the flight deck while enjoying a rationed root beer. Most other sunsets on the gun deck, chatting with friends, commiserating about being far, far from home. Running the decks, laps and laps and laps around and being very grateful I never stumbled and shredded my knees and hands up on the non-skid.

The *reee-dik-uuu-lous* conversations with TACON.

The tasty fresh water the ship made while underway, and watching the EO get annoyed when we pulled in because it meant his good water would have to be treated once it was mixed with whatever we got from the shoretie. It would always take about four days underway to get back to the good stuff.

Getting backhanded with the Wonder Woman compliment. In front of all the other Department Heads, the XO and the Command Senior Chief. Still stings, that one.

The blueness of the waters in Gulfo Dulce when we came in close enough to pick up some passengers. And the chat about mentoring that happened while the small boat was away.

Four ugly days at the pier in Acajutla, El Salvador. Hot, sticky, and dirty rub marks left all alongside the hull. The late night berth shift to the other side of the pier, tight between two merchant ships.So that we could get gross, dirty rub marks on *both* sides of the ship.

Numerous hands of Bastard while sucking down Otterpops (I think I was Strawberry Short Kook), munching popcorn, and whatever other tasty treats the Wardroom Mess Treasurer supplied.

The peacefulness of Decameron Beach Resort after countless Panama City port calls. Bosn's comment afterwards, "I drank so much pina colada I'll be shitting coconuts for a week."

A helicopter almost out of radio range, two small boats in the water at the edge of radio range, and an LE team on a captured go-fast without running lights all screaming towards each other in the pitch black. Oh, and which way is the Equator? North or South?

And how happy I was that my sister was onboard when I finally lost it at the end of that last, shitty patrol when the mooring line snapped the deckie's leg.

Three days on both MDEs at flank speed...to  conserve fuel, of course.

Two Bits and a Rant

Good heavens, if I thought I was slacking before my last post, I'm not sure what to call not posting for nearly three weeks! But, here I am, posting again, even if this post does threaten to be whiny and dejected. Onward though...

First bit: I'm making O4 on April 1st. Which is GREAT!! (Though I do feel just the slightest bit cheated for making it on April Fool's Day. Is that some kind of commentary on my career? Just as a point of reference, I felt the same way when my divorce papers were dated April 1st. *That* likely was a commentary on the circumstances :) ) I posted my happy news on Facebook as "O4 on 04-01-11. Whooooppeeee!!" My aunt commented back, asking what that meant. I explained, saying I'd be promoted. Due to the vagaries of FB and email notifications, I thought she asked the question again (not that she was too "Denise" to get it the first time), and it got me thinking, what *does* it really mean? Ok, so it means more money, which will be great and useful and well-appreciated, even though sometimes I think the Coast Guard already pays me an obscene amount of money.

But beyond the money, I am really grateful that my hard work and perseverance has paid off with a promotion. It's nice to get that recognition of a job well done (or at least done to a satisfactory level). For me, right now, I don't think it means much more beyond that, though. No one at school knows what being an O4 means (beyond a couple of the other military folks in my Private Enterprise/National Security class...which I've already proved to them that I'm a little bit of a PITA know-it-all. Have I said before I feel like I've got an unfair advantage in that class? Eleven years of military experience v. four to five years administrative/work  experience like many of the others have...let's just say I have an opinion on most everything--not that that's really an anomaly, but opinion + experience is a powerful combination). And I doubt it will mean much once I get to Headquarters...just another of the multitude of Junior Officers in the building. Maybe after the HQ tour...XO of a bigger boat will be good fun. Couldn't do that without the promotion. More opportunities, different challenges, I guess that's what it really means.

Second bit: just as I've been slacking with the blog, I've been slacking with general correspondence as well. My good friend Rickey sent me an email in the middle of February!! and I haven't gotten back to him yet. He shared this sweet photo of his friend Sammy, chillin' on a beach in Central Cal. Dog's life :)

And an old shipmate sent me an email about a previous post. How cool to hear from him.

And a friend sent me a great message about my last post. I *really* need to get back to him on that. I've been thinking about my response, but haven't quite gotten fingers to keyboard yet. Sorry, friend...I feel like a schmuck for pestering you about your comment, and then procrastinating my own response. Got a million excuses: midterms, readings, excuse-blah, blah, blah, papers to write, excuse-blah, blah, blah, spring break, family emergency, excuse-blah, blah, blah. But just excuses in the end.

And on to the rant! I'm finding that bureaucratic red-tape is all the more galling now that I'm a student of public policy. There was a confluence of three different events that really rained frustration down on my head. None of the three of them would piss me off separately...well, maybe the motorcycle license part would annoy me, but all three of them within the same day just made me mad.

So I knew I needed to get my motorcycle license renewed while I was in Hawaii for spring break this time. My learner's permit had expired the week before, and I really want to be able to keep riding my bike, especially now that spring is coming and the weather is getting better. I tried to find a loaner bike over Christmas break so I could just take the road test and be done with it. But I couldn't find one...friends had bikes, but they were either not registered or on the other side of the island or kinda too big to feel comfortable taking on the road test. Actually the best line was from my mom's pastor--he doesn't loan out his bike, his wife or his guns. All for very good reason :) So, no bike. I knew I was going back to Hawaii for spring break, so I signed up for the Hawaii-sponsored motorcycle safety Basic Riders Course. First minor bit of frustration here: the DOD-sponsored course I took last spring wasn't good enough for the state of Hawaii. Had to take theirs to get the waiver for the road test. But I understand that. The policy is a tool to generate revenue through their continuing education program at the community college. So I took the class over spring break. The next day I went to get my license.

Well, apparently, Hawaii has a rule that if your learner's permit expires, there is a 90-day cooling off period before you can do anything about getting a new license, learner's or permanent. WHAT?!? Are you freaking kidding me? No consideration for the fact that I'm a Hawaii resident on active military duty stationed outside the state. I was supposed to attempt the road test at least once during the year my permit was good in order to get an extension. Never mind that I tried in Hilo and was told, maybe they could do the road test if it wasn't raining. Not raining? In HILO?!?! Are you freaking kidding me?

I asked why they had that rule (poor lady behind the desk, I really tried hard not to take my frustration out on her), and was told so that people didn't just come in and keep renewing their learner's permit. WHAT?!? Are you freaking kidding me? First of all, the learner's permit is not all that great. You can't take passengers and you can't ride after dark. Yeah, I want to put up with both those restrictions for a lengthy period of time, because they're both so convenient. And, and, and...they'd make more money that way anyway. If someone came in to renew their learner's permit for the entire six-year duration of the regular license, the state would make $30 ($5 x 6 years) instead of the $20 they make on the regular license. ARGH!! Really?!? I can't imagine what the real reason is for the policy, but it's gawd-awful annoying.

The second incidence was my fault. Totally. I went into the local library to enjoy a quiet place to read a couple chapters for my Federal Budgeting class. I took my water bottle in and sat down in a reasonably comfy faux leather chair, which just happened to be rather centrally located in the middle of the library. I got the first sip out of my water bottle before I was brusquely told by the stern library security guard (really, a security guard in the LIBRARY?!) that drinking wasn't allowed in the library. I said, rather snottily, it's just water...from your water fountain. She just as snottily pointed out the signs that said no drinking or eating in the library. I put the water bottle away. Water, in a faux leather chair, reading MY BOOK!! Not doing a water dance in their rare books collection. And, and, and...she noisily told a table of four middle school boys to "SSSSHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!" about as obnoxiously as humanly possible. I really thought that only happened in the movies.

So the next day I went back, and sat around the corner instead of smack in front of her desk. And safely enjoyed casual sips of water from my water bottle while reading my book. That's why the first incident was my fault...should never have sat where she could see me.

That same afternoon, I went looking for an outlet to plug my phone into while I read since it was low on battery. There was a block of tables around a pillar with outlets that was labled "for laptop use." *ALL* the other outlets in the library had little flap signs over them that said, "Not authorized for use. Use outlets in Laptop designated area." Ugh, seriously?

I recognize the need behind all the policies. But where's the leeway for responsible people? I said it was a rant...I never said it was rational.

Reflections Revisited

I've been slacking on writing a post for a while, mostly because I've got thoughts from about four different projects roiling around in my head, all tangled up in each other. It's making it hard to make progress on any of them. So I'm going to cheat a little, and recycle another post from when I was in Bahrain. It's interesting to me how my perspective has changed, even over the course of the last year and a half. I'll explain more after the recycled post.

I’m coming to the end of my tour in [what is marketed as the Coast Guard's] most challenging and arduous mission. Let’s just say it hasn't lived up to the hype. The things that I thought were going to be challenging, like tactical decisions, bullets flying down-range, tensely intimate engagements with a particularly volatile and slightly ludicrous enemy, turned out to be non-existent. My failing was in realizing that far too early, and not training or preparing for those things that, while infinitesimally possible, would have been catastrophic because of my lack of fore-thought and preparation.

I never really did buy into this mission, even when I first made the decision to ask for it; never really thought W’s dirty little oil war turned personal vendetta was a good fight. I selfishly came over to challenge myself. What I didn’t realize in not buying in was that I put my self, my guys, my unit and my fellow teams at risk because I wasn’t thinking things through all the way. I did my job as assigned and fairly well, but I didn’t face up to the bigger threat picture and become the professional that I gave lip-service to being. My command philosophy as stated, is something like, “any job doing is worth doing to the best of your ability.” I say the words well, but didn’t do such a great job putting it into practice. I’ve been lazy and complacent.

I keep looking for something that will challenge me, something that will inspire passion in me, something that will make me work hard, stay up late and go to bed exhausted each day, pleased with what I’ve accomplished, and chomping at the bit to get up the next day to do it all over again. I haven’t found it yet. I worry that I never will.

But I had the blinding realization, or at least initial spark of recognition, that maybe the challenge is within myself…and this is definitely a thought process in progress, so bear with me. Does the mission really matter? Or is it that I need to buy in more to my own philosophy, and give more of my ability to whatever I’m doing? I think buying into the mission would give me the motivation to get more involved in the operation, to spend the extra time and energy to become thoroughly familiar with the intricacies and details as well as the big-picture, long-term, organizational-level stuff that actually makes a player into a leader.

I like my job now. I enjoy it, mostly because I’m good at it. I have career goals that I’d like to accomplish. But I don’t love it. I count the time until I can be done with it and move onto something I’d rather do. I have a sneaking suspicion that I’m not going to be very good at what I want to do…farming is a fairly creative venture; my nature is more regimented.

So one of my take-away lessons from this assignment is to be passionate about what I do. But how do I do that if I don’t believe in it?

I thought of this post when I was watching ADM Papp's State of the Coast Guard address last month. His remarks on qualification versus proficiency struck me as elementally important. And I hung my head a little, acknowledging that I have plenty of room to improve in this area. It's so easy to get wrapped up in the crisis of the moment and dismiss the necessity of continued familiarity, dare I say intimacy, with the details of operational guidance and requirements. That is my goal for my next job, whatever it may be...to know the fundamentals, the background, the foundation of what I'm doing. If it's the budget shop, know the statutory basis for our funding; if it's strategic planning, know the overarching, big-picture guidance. When it's XO, know the PERSMAN. If it's CO, know the CG Regs. And whatever I'm doing next time I'm underway, know the COLREGS, shiphandling theory (beyond "drive the stern of the ship"), and the casualty control and emergency ops manuals to the point that they are much more internalized than they are now. That's my goal for myself.

It makes me laugh a little, that part, "But I don't love it." I'm sure that some of it is that you never know what you've got 'til it's gone. In rereading this old post, I realized what I appreciate so much about my time on KISKA. I found more to believe in than just my own philosophy. In some ways, KISKA helped me to see the bigger picture, the grander challenge. The power of the future, if you will. 

For example, on MAUI, all of my crew came from other units; there was no one there straight from boot camp. Within a month of taking over KISKA, I had three guys newly report directly from boot camp slogging through the rigors of drydock. One of them commented on my last post, and I sent him an email back, chiding him lightly for still calling me "Captain." He responded, "...you were my first captain so I will prolly always call you captain unless we're around other people who don't know that story." That is the power of the future.

The discussions that XO and MKC (soon to be CWO--super, major CONGRATS, Greg!!) and I had about Big Coast Guard Issues inspired me to persevere through some pretty boring classes (microeconomics and statistics, blech) so I could get to the more interesting classes I'm taking now. And I'm learning *a ton* that I hope to use to make life better for my shipmates. That's the power of the future.

And the classes I'm taking now are pushing me, stretching my capabilities, giving me the opportunity to think about things that I know are important to the future of the Coast Guard. I'm not even close to pretending that I have any of the answers, but I'm glad to know that I can at least frame the questions. Knowing the question is the easiest place to start for figuring out an answer. And the coolest part of what I've seen in the Coast Guard is our organizational willingness to self-examine in pursuit of a better way of doing things. Our institutionally heuristic nature (Frank--I win...though there is something oxymoronic about an "institutionally heuristic" anything). That is definitely the power of the future.

So, the realization from this post for me...I do love it. The challenges, the people, the demanding tasking, the opportunities, the doors opened, the sights seen, the sea stories told and retold, and the possibilities for a next generation.

PS - The more I think about this power of the future concept, the more I realize that *is* the mission of the Coast Guard, in aggregate. I'll write more on this later, but providing the possibility of the best future is what the Coast Guard is all about...SAR, LE, homeland security, prevention...all of it.

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