2334: During my first hospitalization years ago, a prompt resembling mIRC chat, ICQ, or NetMeeting appeared on my screen. It was then I realized my daughter could communicate with me in an unusual way. At 11 or 12, she relayed a message through a popped-up terminal, starting with "hey" and followed by "how are you?" Recovering at the time, I thought it was my Cyber Warfare Operations school classmates, though the school had another name. I recalled taking the Electronic Data Processing Test (EDPT) in 2012, scoring 82; if taken today, I’d likely score a 19 and be recommended for food services, which I wouldn’t mind, given my love for cooking. This test gauges your ability to endure a rigorous four to five-month course. Joking aside, the terminal evolved from ICQ to Skype and later FaceTime as I slowly recovered repressed memories. My daughter found me each time I was lost, gently easing me into a sea of information that could otherwise overwhelm me. She knew I’d rebound, as my attachments and memories last forever. Loss stretches these ties infinitely. I still wait for that terminal message, asking how I am. Instead, I decipher day-to-day clues relayed by acquaintances and colleagues involved in our shared research. Tonight, for those who saw me out getting supplies, I recalled a pre-holiday night years ago when Marina and I went for snacks, coordinating our sky descriptions during walks. She hoped I’d be happy and that anyone I found would be happy too. The impromptu fireworks and racers creating figure eights around my car amidst a bright moon were quite interesting tonight.
2020: One hard knock, and I reported to my Commander. Despite the formality, he asked me to relax, impressed by my bearing though I was known to be jovial in the workplace. Holding every additional duty, I always did my best to please my leadership, often forgoing rest. At the end of my first six years, I was explaining my intent to reenlist. I made a promotion, got an assignment, and recovered from a tough ordeal, returning to duty as a vouched-for wounded warrior. Twelve years later, I had promoted again, joined a new branch, and embarked on a new assignment, each time leaving family who harped on me for not joining the industry side, seeing my training and skills. In two weeks, I face a different but similar situation, still under medical evaluation but consoled by my progress. Talking things out, I learned my condition was not a weakness but a potential strength. This year, I missed promotion by a sliver, a hare; a number that, on its side, represents infinity. If I am told I shouldn't be retained or reenlist, industry still hasn't given up on me. If I cannot stay, I will spend my remaining time passing on my knowledge. I have forgone selfishness, learning that withholding knowledge stunts growth. Courage developed for those I care about, including the kid I helped raise, weighs heavily as I decide to stay with a service that will likely continue without me.
0638: One tool absent from my set is the ability to mediate between groups or parties. I recall possessing this skill, but its absence became clear when explaining work requiring calculations—an adaptive number matrix adjusting fields based on inputs and variable weights. I used this to calculate delta v, or rocket fuel for destination, albeit in a game with workplace applications for resource management. I could compute this naturally, but visually presenting it frustrated a boss needing rapid data correlation to time and budget priorities. Previously, varied calculations were presented smoothly, often verbally. Now, I see what’s missing and need this to manage a team and operate at a higher level. Witnessing my live calculations, please ask me to reapproach, as early intervention saved me from near-dismissal in that meeting (haha). In the Myers test, I'm an ISFJ-A, Defender, but recently switched to ISFJ-T. I work with Architects, Innovators, and Mediators—the latter I should aim to work on and with. To those concerned about my previous post, I hope I didn’t premeditate an answer for myself. I discussed the worst-case scenario, contemplating an exit from service with a graceful transition to a similar trajectory but a different path. Regardless of uniform, I'll carry my head with the same pride as always.
0348: My colleagues sent me pictures of Vegas, and it looked like a splendid time. I shared in the wistful sentiments, having visited years ago. While I could likely thrive there now, I didn't want to become someone you constantly wondered about, lost to wanderings. I often find myself where I feel compelled to be, never truly in the "wrong place at the wrong time." In retrospect, I was the right person in the right place, with the right people, and the right tools. Arriving on scene, calm and collected, knowing only what I was trained to do, yet something more seasoned seemed to guide my actions. Much like my first ultra run, where without research or training, I spontaneously ran the equivalent of my age in miles on a birthday I couldn’t spend at home. These actions stemmed from a feeling, an innate desire rather than obligation. I wish to formally thank everyone for the well-wishes and notes, even from unexpected sources. Over the past year, I have received parcels, letters, and other tokens, often convincing myself they were self-gifted necessities. These gestures, more meaningful than wished-for items, reminded me of the warmth and connection shared with those who took the time to reach out.
0222: DozerGPT Tried to Help:
Count your blessings as time falls backward, savoring the richness of hours past. Amid life's frenzy, find tranquility—shaded havens within the luminosity of existence. In this season of change, seek comfort, walk your unique path, imprinting it with your artistry and style. Radiant, you illuminate countless lives; navigate your trajectory, sustaining brilliance. Once steered by external light, now charting an independent course. Find comfort wherever your journey leads, basking in perennial inner light. Congratulations on this milestone, a testament to promises kept and enduring thoughts. In the cosmic dance of Sun and Moon, constant stars inscribe a narrative where truth and beauty harmonize. These celestial murmurs, secretive and commenting, engage in a perpetual dance with time—a symbol of enduring love and perpetual renewal. In this celestial expanse, embrace the unfolding journey, where light persists.
0155: After departing my assignment at Key West, I embraced a modified vow of silence, refraining from discussing the team, the mission, and my role. This silence lingers like a calloused splinter in my mind. We sought resilience amid a perilous era, confronting a disease that ravaged body, mind, and spirit. Our team of six disbanded, each taking newfound gifts with us. However, I lost some faculties en route to my next base, battling a storm that nearly claimed me. A service worker, off-duty and accompanied by his daughter, rescued me from the embankment, affirming that I was always looked after, though I never knew to what extent. I am not the standard toy soldier but one trained for a purpose. My team attempted to reconnect in unconventional ways. Throughout the years since leaving Florida, I've received binary instructions, affecting me in a wetwire fashion, guiding me to destinations or directing me to "do what I do best." I was designed to save lives, a hero in time.
0057: She was a data analyst, and we conversed daily. Marina would ask what we talked about, and it varied. Early on, she shared her ADHD, now termed neurodivergence. That same year, my child sought diagnosis but, sensitive to medication like me, pursued holistic methods. We managed symptoms through behavior modification and a balanced diet, though not as extreme as my keto regimen. Cooking together, we devised new recipes based on our nutritional studies and led active lives, making her an endurance athlete. Amidst this, I had a brief "relationship" lasting a year, transitioning to a remote engagement when I left for an assignment. The pandemic made this untenable, especially for the neurodivergent. My autism thrived on routine, pushing me forward, appreciated by others despite their distractions. Marina’s guidance kept my focus on what mattered. Boundaries and timing grounded me, revisited almost a year ago in a dance that ended swiftly. Preparing for a service ball, I dreamt of dancing, recalling lessons akin to those of Bruce Lee. For those concerned, it’s true I struggle in darkness, my vision impaired by harsh weather and screen time. I meticulously audited, perfect for fine details. To those offering to help with my reenlistment, I’m grateful but accept my current perception shaping my future. Adaptation is key, as it has been with me. Your confidence in me, based on past consistency, is deeply appreciated. This holiday, I reflect on the independence you've instilled, marching forward with a nation. Hell yeah, get some. Relationships were “relationships” because Marina felt I hadn’t found the one, only a series of zeroes, in a Boolean, not derogatory, sense.
