Every time

I hear the song "The Sea" by Morcheeba, I can't help but feel that's where I should be right now. It never fails to evoke still-oddly-clear memories of the Baltimore dockside, Charleston S.C. and the Yorktown memorial, San Diego and the Midway, driving over the bay in New Orleans. At times like these I mourn my lost life. Then, when one of my former classmates puts up an away message that says they're being sent to Panama at the end of the summer, and I think about Panama for a few minutes, I don't feel so bad.

Actually, I do. That was a lie. Despite everything I've learned about our great military machine and our rotting country and our unrepentant succling of oil from corrupt muslim kingdoms, I still miss the Navy and the people I would have served with. I'm playing EVE Online, which feels okay, I get to say things like "target is twenty cilcks out" and "i'm taking fire! shields down fourty percent!" There's comraderie, I get to accomplish missions with friends and break the ships and bases of bad guys.

But I don't get to live on the ocean.

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