My dad served in Vietnam in 1967 in the 1/16th Infantry. Every year on June 17, he would be in a sullen mood. He didn't talk much about it, but over the years, I learned that a number of his good friends were killed or wounded that day in 1967 when a large VC force ambushed their regiment and the 2/28th as they were securing a new landing zone. From what I could gather from my dad, his company was furthest from the front of the onslaught, but several of his friends bore the brunt of it, and were killed in a chaotic and brutal battle in which a number of their unprepared positions were overrun. I know my dad carried a lot of guilt because he felt helpless hearing his friends screaming and dying over the radio and he wasn't up with them to help. I know that he had to pick up their bodies and body parts when the battle was over.

Years ago, my dad's cousin shared an award of commendation letter, saying that my dad exposed myself to fire to bring ammo to support positions, and to drag the wounded away. Years before, I recall some mention of this, but my dad said it was BS. I don't know the truth.

A year or two before my father died in 2009, he was visited by a friend from his company that was in the thick of it, and according to my mom, he explained to my dad that there wasn't any possible way that he could have helped them. My mom said that this removed decades of guilt from my father, and I do hope it did that for him.

A couple of weeks ago, I was searching about the battle, and found this book, published in 2016.

The names of my dad's dead friends were on the cover. I read it in a few days. My dad isn't mentioned in the book, but accounts of some of the fights his friends died in are. I now have a better understanding of that day, and the situation that my father and his friends were in. I also have a better idea of where my father was positioned during the battle, and how it played out from his perspective. Specific mortar attacks at the end of the battle are described almost exactly as my dad related them to me. I really wish he were alive to read this book with me.

I also found a page dedicated to his platoon.

My dad is second from the left.

I'll probably contact David Hearne. I'm grateful for his book.

Training:

My venture into martial arts continues and even manages to expand. Bought a month-long pass for Sambo lessons, and it got my interest alongside Aikido. Went for two lessons so far, plan on going this Saturday too. Doing both is a tad taxing, but it starts to grow on me. That said, if forced to choose at this very moment, I'd have to go with Sambo. Nothing against Aikido itself, but the flow of sessions is much more to my liking, and the same goes for the instructor. Change the trainer, not the sport.

It's weird how apparel changed my way of processing and remembering training. Between gi and those ridiculously bouncy floors – parts of which are softer and better cushioned than my bed – in my head, Aikido isn't something 'real world'. Sambo? Your getup isn't far from fatigues, you stop noticing protective gear after a surprisingly short while, and it just seems more serious. I liked that a lot. It helped me switch between "just standing here, repeating repetitive movements" and "focus or it'll hurt." They both required a lot of repetition, neither caused me any lasting pain, but this added 'realism' made it harder to notice the amount of drilling during Sambo. It became obvious, but only in retrospect. Makes me wonder what other trivial things like that play tricks on me.

Institute:

I passed my first exam, but that's not all! Lecturer asked if I'd like to TA this course next year, and I'm all for it. This whole 'loaning students as TAs' thing looks great on paper, but it's been hit or miss for us. Getting to work on-site seems if not better, then at least consistent.

Tomorrow I have the quantum information exam, and it's the one I'm anxious about. Definitely my weakest point this semester, hence the nerves. The fact us theorist weenies have to complete two more semesters of QI after this isn't filling me with confidence either.

Apartment hunt:

Housesitting for a friend gave me some insight into this place, and I'm no longer sure if I'd like to rent it myself after his lease is done. Neighbours on both sides have been louder than a parade of Italian stereotypes, and that's just the most immediate problem stemming from them. Couldn't find much to complain about otherwise, which is great. It's a big complex, so I'm asking around and continue to gather data.

People:

I'm friends with a couple that every now and then gets an idea they found someone perfect for me. It was a source of disappointing/horror stories, but they kept being persistent asses about it to a point where I stopped fighting back. Last week, however, they positively surprised me.

We've been talking and messaging a lot since then, and I can't get enough of her. Hella smart, witty, well-read and her sense of humour is almost as stupid as mine. We went for a coffee yesterday and loosely agreed to meet again after exams are over.

I think I’ve had three different versions of the cold or flu since 1/5/2020. Fucking miserable at this point and am quarantining myself from my partner and any friends who are sick because I think we keep passing different versions on the same thing to each other.

Passed my seven hours of no breaks ten stations of different topics mountaineering practical exam and crushed the conditioner hike even though I had a chest cold so I’m taking that intermediate course which is fantastic. Got a haircut for the first time in two years.

Yo elizabeth I’m going to be in Montreal for work in three weeks (Feb 17th - Feb 21st) you around? Any other Hubskiers up around Montreal?

My buddy called up about six weeks ago. I hadn't RSVP'd to his wedding. He wanted me to be his best man. I expressed that I didn't really feel like going to Singapore, thanks, and that I certainly wasn't dragging my kid to Singapore, thanks, and he was disappointed but insisted that it was super-important I be there and maybe we could leave the kid with her grandparents for a week because it just wouldn't be the same without me and he needed me to "come up with terms" (giggle) whereby I could appropriately punish him for his prior transgressions and come to his wedding and be his best man. there would be no requirements other than that I be there. No bachelor parties, nothing like that, and all the people that I hate, that he screwed me over for, probably wouldn't even be there.

I sat on it for about three days. Talked it over with friends and loved ones. There was a lot of "it won't be all bad" "just get through it" "the easiest thing is to hunker down". None of it sat right. I decided that in order to get him to hear, I needed to write a letter and mail it. It was a solution I'd puzzled out prior to being asked to be best man; the request added urgency. He called twice in two days for my answer. I didn't pick up.

I was in the process of drafting my response, as carefully and concisely as I could, when it boiled over. I was doing the thing that had the least impact for him, not for me. So I called him up and chewed his ass out for assuming that (A) I wouldn't get royally fucked over as per usual (B) I wasn't 100% right to be insanely pissed at a guy who fucked me over so badly I've stopped mixing post (C) he could saddle me with something so momentous and inconvenient without even the barest attempt to take my temperature about any of this shit. I hung up on him.

I hadn't seen that bachelor party thing before. Looked it up after I got off the phone. Pure hateful schadenfruede. Yet there it is. While he was passionately assuring me that I just needed to be there, his fiancee was expecting me to throw a "skanky" "age appropriate" bachelor party "within Singaporean laws thank you." In case you're curious, Singapore is where you get fined for chewing gum, caned for vandalizing a car and marijuana? Ten years in jail or, if you're feelin' lucky, the death penalty for half a kilo. Eleven in 2018.

I've been grappling with this ever since. It's fair to say I can't go running without getting mad. 'cuz I'm the bad guy. He texted me twice before Christmas; I didn't answer. he wrote me an email last week because obviously if I'm not getting back to him it's because my life is in shambles and there must be something dreadfully wrong (he's been liking my posts on Instagram and Facebook, none of which illustrate familial catastrophe). I wrote him back saying I was fine I just didn't want to talk to him. Within 48 hours his fiancee had sent me two invites to their reception in Pasadena in July.

My subconscious has finally surfaced why, exactly, it doesn't want to go to Singapore SO BADLY. It reminded me of the literal years I have spent in daily hour-long calls talking him off the ledge about this girl or the other who isn't responding to his phone calls the way he likes. It reminded me of the ex-girlfriends of his I've had to reassemble after he gets bored, talks them up again, and then finds a shiny and ghosts them. It reminded me that I can be expected to appear somewhere at 6am the next day but when my car blew up he didn't pick up the phone. And it reminded me that if he has to choose between mildly inconveniencing anyone he's sleeping with or fucking me over royally? He won't even feel bad about it because that's the price of love.

So the metaphor I've settled on is that if we were on a cruise? And I fell overboard? He'd check to make sure his girl's drink didn't need topping up before he'd reach for a life preserver. And that more likely than not, he'd watch me drown satisfied in the knowledge that his sweetie wasn't parched.

He's never been engaged before. By now he's married. And my subconscious has been screaming at me about danger for about eight weeks. It took a while to figure out that Lassie was saying Timmy was about to fall down a well but I hear it now. It's brought me a little bit of peace but not enough. Because the thing is? He's been through headshrinking enough that he doesn't say "I'm sorry" he says "I can see how that would be your experience and I validate your emotions" and he's still about the necessary transaction to get what he wants without even understanding that I'm not even dealing with him anymore, I'm dealing with his fiancee and you know what? I ain't dealin' with his fiancee.

I wish I could run without getting mad.

This pinyon pine is pretty cool. Growing in between rocks, digging its roots into probably less than ideal soil, scraping by but somehow still thriving.

And this one? Something knocked it down at one point or another in its life. It kept growing though, kept doing what it knew to do, kept being a tree.

Those are two hardcore trees right there, really impressive. They don't look like normal trees but I think they're pretty to look at anyway. Maybe you guys do too.

I think I've been first to the last few Pubskis, and it looks like I'm keeping the trend even for this one. It's an accident, I swear. It's not like I keep checking to see whether or not mk made it yet. This morning? The dog woke me up. Not on purpose mind you, but these kinds of things happen when you have a giant, stinky, four legged toddler.

Healing after a breakup is a lot of back-and-forth, progress being a trendline that curves towards independence and happiness. I know this, but the backslides I've made in the last few days have been demoralizing nevertheless. I'm craving an emotional connection that single life simply doesn't afford; I'm not ready to start a new relationship, but grieving for my last one causes so much discomfort that it's hard to not complain to someone.

When I was in the relationship, I complained about it here. I asked you about knowing when it's time for a relationship to end. That relationship needed to end, but the way it ended didn't feel like a severing - it was apathetic, languorous. I felt like a boat cut from its moorings; effortlessly, naturally drifting away from safe harbor. Part of me wishes I had raged, or wept, or begged, or done anything to express the deep unhappiness I felt in that moment. It wouldn't have affected the outcome, but it's easy to feel like I'd be farther along in my healing if I'd done something to overwrite the good memories with a bitter ending. I don't believe that, but it's easy to feel that.

I've been doing a lot for my own happiness in the time since. I've read three books in the last two weeks. I'm eating better. I built a dresser yesterday. Everything in my life is shiny and new because I've restored it carefully in the image of who and what I want to be. That doesn't change that the person I was in that relationship stubbornly keeps wanting to exist. Starving him out is painful and slow, and it makes me want things I can't have right now.

Big sigh.

On a metatextual note, I'm a little embarrassed about using Pubski as my diary every week. I think I'm opining to an audience sees the weight of my emotions through a lens of anonymity, hoping that it protects you from the weight of them. I'm seeking the feeling of talking to someone, but freedom from the guilt of placing my burdens on someone's shoulders. Maybe that's not fair to all of you? I figure that this space exists to fill with ourselves, and my person has always been driven by an emotional engine, so if anyone's annoyed, at least you're annoyed by an expression of myself too honest to share with people who don't know me as kingmudsy. I hope you're annoyed, anyway, because I'm annoyed with myself.

My boat has no rudder or steering, but the motor is thrumming along just fine, and I'm skipping across the water at a pretty good clip towards nothing in particular with almost constant directional changes as the waves and breezes bump the prow of the boat around to the left and right. It's all fine and good out here where the nearest land is beyond the horizon, but there's always the chance of a low-lying shoal just under the waves, or a breaching whale, or surfacing nuclear sub to consider as possible sudden impediments in my directionless journey.

Let's hope they don't appear.

Music

I'm making music with two different collaborations, right now. Rarely/never in the same room; mostly just sharing files over the internet with far-flung friends. It has spurred my entirely dormant creative itch, and it's nice to feel that again...

Travel

Heading to San Diego in a week for the kickoff of the Major League Rugby 2020 season. It's a rematch of the Championship we won last year. Got more than 100 local fans going together, staying together in the hotel, and sitting together at the game and the after party.

Then going to the UK in March for two weeks, with the brother and his wife. Get to see the Wales v Scotland rugby match in Cardiff while we are there.

Then going to Utah for a weekend to see the Seawolves play the Utah Warriors.

Then going to Washington D.C. to visit my Aunt and Uncle.

And that doesn't even get us to June.

I somehow have the feeling I should be embarrassed about traveling. Like it's excessive or ostentatious or something. But the fact is that my wife and I have good jobs, no kids, few expenses, and our time is our own to spend doing what we want to do. And we are having a great time having adventures with each other! We are 50, healthy, and able to travel comfortably and semi-frequently. I need to be OK with that, and proud of it, rather than ashamed about it, and not talking about our adventures.

(FUCK, it was hard to write that!)

Hubski

I LOVE the influx of text posts here on Hubski this last week! People talking about their thoughts, feelings, and ideas. Just putting it out there and trusting us to "be hubski" with them. It's a nice change from the regular "here's another dumb article about the world falling apart" content that has been so common here recently. (Honestly, because the world IS dumb and falling apart, but no more or less than it always has been...)

Love y'all.

Research

Two Thursdays ago, I went in to meet with my advisor about a journal paper we're finishing up, and she says to me, "let's split this into a conference paper and a journal paper. There's a conference we should publish in, the deadline's already been extended and it's due Monday"

so rather than being able to take a long weekend right before the semester, I spent a bunch (but not all, fortunately) of it making edits. We got it in on time and then they immediately extended the deadline again. Ain't that just the way.

Anyhow, the journal version should be in soon too which I am jazzed about as it's hung around for FAR too long. I'm a bit frustrated now with the quality of some of the work I did for it, but most of that happened while I was an undergrad and let's just say I've learned a thing or two since then! At least now I have ideas for more work in that vein.

Cars

Friday my metamour's car got stuck in the muddy part of our driveway, so Saturday I pulled it out with one of these

using the truck as a dead anchor. Then Sunday my wife came home with it on a tow truck. It was very low on coolant but after a bit of filling and burping it seems to be doing alright. No immediate signs of a blown head gasket so I suspect a small leak instead.

Same time I found a fuel leak on the truck that I think I fixed with a new hose clamp. I also recently tried to start it while it was on because I was not entirely awake yet and chipped a tooth on the starter or ring gear. Hopefully it's on the starter because I do not want to do a ring gear laying in the cold wet mud.

Last Thursday, we're having a potluck and I mention to my photographer friend I'm kind of broke and would love to help out for any gigs he has if he ever needs an assistant. So right away, he's like - come to this wedding on Saturday!

And that's how I ended up taking picture of this super sweet couple I never met while they had one of those progressive weddings. A speech from a poly partner, a super queer bridal party, an acknowledgement of the native land the ceremony is on (it's a thing that has picked up in Canada the past few years, i think they even say it in parlement now), I think i saw crystals somewhere. It was great! There were such heartfelt moments from the family and it really looked like everyone had lots of fun. Met a couple Burners from Toronto.

I learned a bunch about event photography, I think I took about 1000 pictures. I really don't think I could do it alone - I'm not skilled enough not to screw up getting a shot of that vital moment. But as a backup camera portraits spotting some spontaneous moments I feel like I did a good job. And I got 200$ out of a fun night. And as an extra bonus they served poutine at midnight which was just perfect.