urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:admiral_bingo Part of the Theatrical Muse Project admiral_bingo 2004-02-29T18:58:05Z urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:admiral_bingo:824 2004-02-29T18:58:05Z 2004-02-29T18:58:05Z I thought Beeks had forgotten about this, but of course I should have known better. And, cause I naturally don't have anything better to do, she insisted I catch up. So here goes.<br /><br /><a name="cutid1"></a><br /><br />Where do you want me to start? <br /><br />This is a hell of a question to ask a recovering alcoholic. I spent a good thirty years thinking that everything under the sun was a good reason to get shit-faced. I was good at hiding it, too. Too good sometimes. Then I woke up one day with yet another hangover, learned that my third (or was it fourth?) wife had left me, and realized that if I wanted to end up a pathetic drunken vet on dialysis, I was heading in the right direction. So I changed course. <br /><br />I'd quit smoking, too, but there has to be something for Sam to bug me about when he gets back. <br /><br /><br /><br /><a name="cutid2"></a><br /><br />You know, I really don't think these questions were made for me. First, the drunk question to an alcoholic, then the love question to a guy who's been married five times...and this is helping me how, exactly, Beeks?<br /><br />The easy answer would be yes, I believe in love at first sight, it's when you get to know each other that stuff starts to go south. But the real answer is, I don't think I've ever really been in love with anyone. Unless you count Sam, and I don't think that's the kind of love you're talking about.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a name="cutid3"></a><br /><br />Tough choice. In the navy, it's self-preservation all the way, if you take "self" to include your ship and your country. In real life, it has to be forgiveness. Oprah was right. If you don't forgive, you'll never be happy. I forgave Sam a long time ago, and I'm still not happy, but I haven't given up hope yet.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a name="cutid4"></a><br /><br />Finally, a question I can relate to! <br /><br />The first time, I was thirteen, still living in the orphanage, she was sixteen and the sister of a kid I went to school with. The kid's parents didn't like him hanging out with a charity case and the nuns didn't like me hanging out with a Protestant, so we had to sneak around. I sneaked into his house after school one afternoon and found that he was out, but Ellen was home. I got the strap when I finally went back home, but sweet Jesus, was it worth it. <br /><br />The second time was when I was a young ensign. Let me tell you, all those navy stories are true, but I got off easier than most guys did. I even enjoyed it. I still see the guy around occasionally. He's retired now, with grandkids and everything. I don't know what happened to Ellen, but if the nuns were right, we'll all meet up in hell one day. <br /><br />I wouldn't be surprised if I saw Mother Superior there, too.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a name="cutid5"></a><br /><br />Cigars. And I don't care what Dr. Freudian Beeks says, sometimes a cigar is the only thing that keeps you sane.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a name="cutid6"></a><br /><br />I don't know about history, but I do have some serious issues with The Man Upstairs, GTFW, or whatever he calls himself. It'd be nice to hash all that out Italian-style, over some cannelloni and a nice glass of wine. Then, if he still didn't bring Sam back, I could find out where he lives and get the navy to leave a horse's head on his cloud or whatever.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a name="cutid7"></a><br /><br />Me and Sam used to crack ourselves up over Abbot and Costello routines and Three Stooges skits. My wives never got that. Now, though, I only laugh when I'm in the imaging chamber, and I want Sam to think things aren't as bad as they really are. <br /><br /><br /><br /><a name="cutid8"></a><br /><br />Albert Calavicci, a great admiral, inadequate husband, mediocre scientist, but a hell of a good friend. <br /><br />That, or simply, The Man Who Brought Sam Beckett Home. Either one'd work for me.<br /><br /> <br /><br /><a name="cutid9"></a><br /><br />If you've read this far, you can probably figure this one out. Sam's home, and sane. Or at least sane enough to remember he owes me fifty bucks from that dinner we had in Albuquerque before he took off. urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:admiral_bingo:304 2003-12-20T02:47:59Z 2003-12-20T02:47:59Z Dean Martin, "That's Amore" Predetermination? What a crock.<br /><br />Without giving too much away here, I can safely say that I know for sure nothing in life is set in stone. I got to where I am through hard work, good decisions, and luck, both good and bad. That's all life is, luck, and it can change for anyone at any moment. <br /><br />I admit, I've spent some time thinking about this, especially when it comes to Sam. Was he born for some higher purpose? Is there some reason he was chosen to fix everyone else's life instead of living his own?<br /><br />I don't know, but if it turns out the nuns were right after all, and if I somehow slip through the screening system and end up going one-on-one with the big guy with the white beard, I'm sure gonna have a lot of questions.