Crushed
I leave for FEX in the morning and all my gear is packed. I will board the bus at 3:30 am and when I disembark the air will be hot and heavy with dust; soon after my nostrils will be uncomfortably dry and my skin will be covered in a layer of dirt. I will be tasked with physical labor and will not shower for days. Sleep will be scarce. Men will yell around me, across me, and probably at me. And so to survive my Bag of Tricks must include a thought-set that will consistently distract and refocus me on something other than reality.
Enter the FEX crush.
Last FEX’s crush, a short squinty Lieutenant, took me by surprise. I was whisked away in a trailer for a few hours while I plotted and drew a new runway to replace one that had been notionally blown away. During that unusually quiet and almost peaceful time he sat across from me. He looked like hell: he hadn’t slept in more than 36 hours, was fueled by cheap coffee and crackers, and was justifiably frustrated with our evolution. But he was pleasant, easy, and often smiling nonetheless. He won me over.
A FEX crush is a crush of necessity and in that way establishes itself as something to be embraced. There is no shame or conflict. Indeed, it could be broadcast to the world if only the announcement wouldn’t be highly unprofessional.
This FEX my crush is a toss-up:
In one hand is a tall, highly unattractive but charismatic senior chief who is a strong advocate of a friend of mine. Advocates are rare because the action is seldom rewarded. It is an altruistic pursuit; it never earns points on an exam or improves a formal evaluation. I find it attractive. And another thing I find attractive, in the interest of full disclosure, is that I think this senior chief has a small crush on me.
In the other hand is a chief with salt and pepper hair, distinguished crows feet, and piercing eye contact. He is always calm, rational, and thoughtful. He never raises his voice or makes inappropriate remarks. He is a gentleman. Gentlemen are even more rare than advocates.
May the best man capture my temporary affection.
Enter the FEX crush.
Last FEX’s crush, a short squinty Lieutenant, took me by surprise. I was whisked away in a trailer for a few hours while I plotted and drew a new runway to replace one that had been notionally blown away. During that unusually quiet and almost peaceful time he sat across from me. He looked like hell: he hadn’t slept in more than 36 hours, was fueled by cheap coffee and crackers, and was justifiably frustrated with our evolution. But he was pleasant, easy, and often smiling nonetheless. He won me over.
A FEX crush is a crush of necessity and in that way establishes itself as something to be embraced. There is no shame or conflict. Indeed, it could be broadcast to the world if only the announcement wouldn’t be highly unprofessional.
This FEX my crush is a toss-up:
In one hand is a tall, highly unattractive but charismatic senior chief who is a strong advocate of a friend of mine. Advocates are rare because the action is seldom rewarded. It is an altruistic pursuit; it never earns points on an exam or improves a formal evaluation. I find it attractive. And another thing I find attractive, in the interest of full disclosure, is that I think this senior chief has a small crush on me.
In the other hand is a chief with salt and pepper hair, distinguished crows feet, and piercing eye contact. He is always calm, rational, and thoughtful. He never raises his voice or makes inappropriate remarks. He is a gentleman. Gentlemen are even more rare than advocates.
May the best man capture my temporary affection.
posted by Jessica at 18:36
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home