Twenty three years in the making

It was a dream that took twenty three years to complete.  A childhood dream first inspired by playing with soldiers in a sandpit that the local cats often used to shit in.

Getting British army uniform for my tenth birthday cemented it (even though my beret was fucked up).

I have just come back from nearly a week in the field putting into practice what I’ve spent nearly a month learning.

One thing I’ve noticed is the stark difference between instructor teaching methods in each of the gun detachments.  I’m happy to say 15B was consistently the first in and out of action until the last day when our sight was all fucked up.   It got to the point where the Safety Officer would come and wait by our gun because he knew we would be first recorded.

I was ordered to record the gun one morning and I was very pleased with my performance.   Considering I’m new on the C3 I think I did it brilliantly.   One morning I did the check bearing drill and traversed twice instead of just once after applying the bearing but I fixed it.

I’m finally a trained soldier. I’m proud to be a Canadian Artillery Gunner.

Justin Webb sucks balls

I am of the opinion that the BBC employee, Justin Webb, is an idiot.  Not once did I ever like any of his blog posts.

Having left plenty of comments on Justin’s blogs, only to have them not published, I am quite happy he got what was coming to him.  Being demoted back to England.  For me personally that would be a wonderful thing, but for Justin – according to the theme of many of his blog posts it isn’t so great.

In the biography on his old blog on BBC News website it says:

There is nowhere in the world I would rather be than Washington DC. Sexier cities do exist of course, and less socially-divided places as well, but nowhere is as powerful, as full of news, and as vitally important to the lives and futures of us all. I have been here for six years and intend to stay for 600. My youngest child is American and my older ones sound American. And that’s fine by me.

Many a time I got very angry with Justin as it seemed he had lost sight of where he came from.  Frequently expressing anti-British sentiment and constantly poking fun at all things British it seemed like he was trying too hard to be something he never would be – American.  If his biography and blogs was anything to go by, I’d say that he finally got what he didn’t want and when push came to shove, his whole ‘America is the greatest’ idea theory went straight down the toilet.  Instead of sticking by his desire to stay in America he meekly got demoted back to England.

What bothers me more is he acts like a British authority on America; as if British people don’t know a damn thing about life in America.  The thing that puts the icing on the cake is that in an interview with the U.K’s Independent newspaper, he acts like he’s glad to be back in England, when most people know the wannabe Yank is probably plotting a paint bomb attack in Wood Lane.

I hope it causes him to have a nervous breakdown moving back to Britain.  Too bad he didn’t get treated like Hugh Laurie who found it impossible to find work in England after selling out and moving to the States to film ‘House’.

If both of them had gone to America and stayed proud of being British, with Webb leaving out the constant digs at British life and sensibilities, and Laurie either not using that horrendous American accent or perfecting it – then my loathing for both of the ‘wannabe’ Americans wouldn’t exist.

Life’s Latest Developments

Very shortly I’m off for a month to CFB Shilo to complete my Artillery Gunner’s course.  It’s going to be hell, sitting in a classroom all day falling asleep and getting crunked on caffeine pills to try and counteract that.  There’s plenty of thing’s I’m going to learn, such as the definition of Fire Discipline which is:

Fire Discipline is the language of Fire Control.  It consists of words, phrases, rules and conventions which have specific meaning and which result in some definite action at the guns.

Then there’s things like the GPO Sequence of Orders, Must Orders, Types of Engagement, Types of Rounds and even more good stuff.

I’m a little bit nervous about going on course again, but I’m also pumped because I bought myself a pair of SWAT boots which are going to make things a whole lot more comfortable, as well as our annual 13km rucksack march.  I also bought some boot bands, a boonie hat, a waterproof pen and paper pad and a water bladder with my last name and last three digits sewn onto it.  The water bladder and holder are going to awesome for on and off duty.

Just found out my children’s mother is now engaged.  I’ve got a few opinions on how I think that will go but I’ll keep that to myself.  Time will tell I guess.  Her happiness is all I care about.  If she is happy then my babies are happy.

I’ve been hanging out with someone lately quite a lot that quite a few people have a negative opinion about.  It bothers me the way some people won’t even be around this mate of mine.  Far too many people are judgmental.  What right does any mere imperfect mortal have to cast moral judgments upon any other human being who isn’t hurting anybody?  I’m very particular and picky about who I hang out with.  The first and foremost criteria I look for is whether or not they get along with my children.  I’ve faltered on that thing one time and that person hasn’t been a friend for a long time.  Then I look to see whether they are open minded.  If they’re not then I usually can’t be friends with them.  Lastly I look to see if they’re truthful.  If they lie then they’re gone!

There was an incident that made me realise again the joys of having children. I had a cup of coffee which I was drinking at home and had nearly finished.  There was a bit left in the mug when my daughter Alex asked for a sip so I gave her the rest.  After the cup was empty I pretended to cry that she had drunk it all.

So in perfect innocence Alex spat the coffee back into the mug and offered it to me with a beautiful smile and said “Here you go, daddy!”

It was heart warming.  It is situations like that which make me realise that no matter how much they stress me out, and no matter how much sometimes I wish I was back in London as a 21 year old – having children is a gift and parenthood is the greatest privilege a person can have.

Obviously that is followed by being a member of the Canadian Forces hahaha.

Freedom

I was amazed at the amount of freedom that came with knowing who one of my former girlfriends is in a relationship with.

Upon asking a few people about him it turns out he’s not a bad guy, but according to two separate people he’s a major pot head who smokes weed all the time.  I may have had a lot of flaws like putting my job before my girlfriend, or when I was angry myself being blind to the hurt and frustration she had – but at least I’m not on something.  I guess we all have our flaws.

It did irritate me and hurt a little bit when one of my former girlfriends said that I’m a mean person. I can say mean things in the heat of passion, but I don’t set out to hurt anyone purposely.  I don’t think I’m mean – it struck me as rather ironic someone being mean by telling me I’m mean.  I suspect that she didn’t think I was mean when we were together (unless she confused rude with mean).

Finding out who he was bothered me as I was directly lied to (as opposed to not answering, or being economical with the truth), but it’s still an awesome thing being in the know.

Now that I know who he is – I’m free.  I’m no longer wondering if she left me for a woman abusing drunk, or a crack dealer.  Life goes on with freedom and laughter.

Breast Obsession

I always had a pretty accurate idea as to why I love knockers. Tits are awesome. So I did a little bit of internet research and found out that the male obsession with women’s breasts is bang on what I thought.

Men find breasts calming

In a linear world full of hard edges and harder realities, breasts are soft, welcoming and non-threatening . With their obvious connection to breast-feeding, and by extension childhood, breasts remind us of our halcyon days when our mothers protected us from all the world’s evils.

Breasts are a symbol of fertility

A-cup or Z-cup, breasts define femininity in the same way that channel surfing and participating in fantasy sports leagues define masculinity. Breasts hint at a woman’s ability to nurture and sustain life. They also point to a woman’s capacity to breed, as they signal the onset of puberty. It’s for this reason that we can find Pamela Anderson’s breasts alluring while we can be disgusted by Ned Beatty’s floppy man tits in Deliverance (sorry Ned).

It’s a matter of natural selection

According to Charles Darwin and his theory of evolution, we subconsciously select partners who are healthy and appear capable of reproduction — all of which explains why the frail Darwin had so much time to write books rather than go out on dates.

According to his research, men are attracted to bazooms (especially the more shapely variety) because they are indicative of a strong constitution and an ability to further propagate the species. Although reproduction is no longer our top priority, this instinct remains despite centuries of evolution (much like our own nipples).

So there we have it ladies… it’s a natural thing when we stare at your tits.  Don’t take it personal, don’t get uppity, don’t get stuck up, don’t get offended.  Just realise we are only doing what comes instinctively.  We can’t help it if we happen to like acting instinctively