How I Met Your Mother

   I figured I would use the popular TV show title as a catchy title for what I am about to write. I decided to "put pen to paper" as they say, and write down the story of how my wife and I came to be together. I am going to leave out some events, as my perspective of them is different than others, and could cause some strife with people I don't want strife. Everything that I am going to keep in is accurate, though. And the story won't be diminished.

   My wife and I met a long, long time before we ever thought about getting together. Back when I was in first or second grade. She and another girl came and stayed with us for a week when my Dad was in college in Oklahoma. Her church sent two girls down to our state to attend a Youth Rally that our church was holding. Rather than stay in a classroom with about 10-15 other girls, sleeping in sleeping bags on a hard floor, my family opened our home to the girls so they would be more comfortable in their sleeping arrangements and have easier access to a bathroom.

   It was love at first sight! ... Not really. I was about seven or eight years old. I barely noticed her, because she was too busy to play Nintendo with me. In fact, I thought she had a boy's name. Charlie. Turns out it wasn't her name, but what some people called her, because her unique name Chaille' was hard for some people to remember. It's pronounce Shaw-lee.

  She was there or a total of five days, four nights. That's how we met. Now, it shouldn't need to be said, but I'll say it anyway. My wife is several years older than I am. That will make this next part make more sense. Also, my family used to call me "Bobby". In fact, even though I've gone by "Bob" for nearly 15 years, my immediate family still calls me "Bobby".

   Fast forward a bit. We used to see each other every now and again. Once I got old enough to join our church's youth group, my youth group used to attend her church's youth rally. In what later would be recognized as irony, my Dad used to ask Chaille' if she had a boyfriend yet. Or whatever word you want to use. I know that some people in the church world are sensitive about that. Some prefer to call it courtship, some betrothal (though not in the sense that just went through your mind). Either way, when she responded in the negative, he used to tease her, "Well, you can always wait for Bobby to grow up." Like I said. Ironic.

   Fast forward several years. She has taken some college courses. I have been to a couple different Bible colleges, for a total of three semesters. I get the offer to become an apprentice to a pastor whom I admired. It was at the church that she attended, where she helped in the home-school center. Basically, her job was to record grades, send out books, and generally keep the records straight so that home-schooling families had proof of their children's schooling.

   She was on the tail-end of a failed relationship. It's her story to tell, not mine, so I'll just give the relevant details. She and this guy had planned on getting married at some time in the future. He had to leave, and he told her that one day he would come back for her. (Spoiler: He never did.) I, on the other hand, was in what I thought at the time was a happy relationship.

   She and I got to know each other pretty well. I was told by the pastor that I worked for that I would be seeing her a lot, and so I should keep my relationship with her "just business". I had no intentions of  ever forming a relationship with her at that point. As fate would have it, however, we became pretty good friends. We worked together in a play for the upcoming youth conference that the church still held every year. So we would meet (always in a group) to practice lines. Also, one of my best friends at the time was dating her younger sister. Since I hung out with him, and he'd go over to her house, I would also go over there. We became pretty good friends.

   One day, I thought I found a parking ticket on the windshield of my car. I got angry, and looked at it closer, to see why I had gotten a ticket. Turns out it was a fake ticket, with joking things on it. I knew who it was from by my superior powers of deduction (also, she was the only other person where my car was). So, in response, I put a 3x5 card on her windshield that said, "Just Business".

   My relationship started taking a turn for the worse. Things seemed like they weren't going to work out. I talked to Chaille' about it. I was thinking of ending the relationship. She talked me into putting more work into it, and so I drove the eight or so hours down to where my then girlfriend was attending college.

   It was the perfect night for what happened. I couldn't have scripted it better had I written a screen-play. It was dark, and it was raining. I met my girlfriend on a park bench next to a single streetlight. Long story short, she broke up with me. Leaving me on a park bench in the rain, alone underneath a streetlamp. Had I not felt so bad, it would have been poetic.

   I then went to my car, unsure of what to do next. I called the person I knew would listen. Chaille'. I don't remember how long we talked. It could have been a long time, or only a few minutes. I honestly don't remember.

   I drove back to Illinois, where I picked up my job as apprentice. Chaille' and I got to be even closer friends, and I learned the story of her failed relationship. She still had hope that he was going to come back. She was also telling me to not give up on my failed relationship. Meanwhile, my relationship with the pastor I worked for began to become strained. We didn't exactly see some things eye to eye.

   She had a Camaro. A 1994 blue Camaro. She loved that thing. I rode with her to her house one day, and simply said, "You know what? I'm going to forget about <girl>, and you're going to forget about <boy>, and we're going to get married." She laughed it off. Said it would never happen. (Spoiler again: It did).

   I am going to interject a story here that has nothing to do with our relationship, but is hilarious. Two brothers (one who was dating Chaille's sister) and I took Chaille's Camaro to pick up some props for our play. One prop we picked up was a giant yellow shark. We couldn't put it into the car, so we put it on top, planning to reach out the window and hold it down. Well, the driver was able to do so. But me being on the passenger side, I had to open the door slightly as the window wouldn't roll down. I had a plastic Irish bowler hat on as a prop as well.

   So, we're driving down the road, with the driver having one hand out the window holding the shark and one on the wheel. I had one hand out the door holding the shark, and the other holding the door as closed as I could. The wind began to blow my plastic hat off, so the guy in the back reached up and held it on my head for me.

   The driver got a phone call. He said, "grab the wheel". So, I let go of the door to grab the wheel. The guy behind me reached up and held the door. So, there we were. The driver with one hand out the window holding the shark, and a cell phone in one hand. I had one hand on the wheel, and the other out my door to hold the shark. The guy in back had one hand holding my hat, and the other holding my door. We went down the road this way for a bit.

   And passed a police officer...

  Hilariously, the police officer didn't even pull us over! Looking back, he was probably too dumbfounded at the sight. Either that, or he had to open up his book of codes to know what in the world to call in. But back to the main story.

   I went to an awesome place with my buddy's family, and with Chaille's family. It was for Chaille's sister's birthday, and my buddy was planning on proposing to her. The place was called "Starved Rock", and has a lot of history behind it. I didn't care about the history so much as the fact that there was a lot of rocks and cliffs to climb. We had a good time, and my buddy ended up proposing.

   Chaille and I had a long talk that day. We both were falling in love with each other, though neither of us realized it. We decided that the feelings we were having for each other were actually the feelings that we were feeling for our failed relationships, and that we were channeling them towards each other vicariously. Yes. We used the word "vicarious".

   We performed the play. Shortly after that, the pastor I was working for and I decided to part ways. Well, he decided that we should part ways. I wasn't so sure. But I didn't have any say in the matter. I moved back to Kansas, where my family was. Before I moved back, I asked Chaille' about being in a relationship with me. She turned me down.

   I had Thanksgiving in Kansas, and borrowed my cousin's cell phone to talk to Chaille for several hours. I again tried to talk her into a relationship, and was again denied.

   I had no money and no job. I decided to pack up all my things in my tiny pickup and move back to Illinois. So I did. I stayed in my truck for a night in the cold, stayed with my cousin for a night, and then stayed with my buddy who had proposed to Chaille's sister. His parents didn't want me staying there, though, and told me to move back to Kansas.

   I got a job making pizza at a Casey's gas station. I worked there for 4 hours. I talked to Chaille', and again she rejected my attempts at forming a relationship. I decided to move back to Kansas after all. But the day I was going to leave, I got sick. So I stayed one more day with my buddy, much to his parents' chagrin.

   The next morning, my buddy asked if I wanted to go to Chaille's house to help him cut some firewood. He told me that the girls wouldn't be there. I decided to help him and then head out.

   Chaille' had earlier introduced me into the neat little symbolism of the numbers "143" meaning "I Love You". There's one letter in "I", four in "Love", and three in "You". You get the idea.

   I always wore a boot knife back then. Chaille' had once asked me what it was for. I told her that it was for protection, and without it I felt vulnerable.

   So, I decided to go all out and try one last-ditch effort on Chaille. I took my boot knife and a marker and wrote "143" on the blade. My plan was to leave it where she would find it.

   I rode with my buddy to her house, and to my joy, I saw that her car was in the driveway. I knocked on her door, and she answered the door. I didn't say a thing. I just handed her the boot knife. She opened it, and saw the numbers written on the blade. She moved forward and immediately gave me a hug and whispered, "I love you, too."

   51 weeks later we were married. We wanted to make it an exact year, but that was December 17th. The church where we were married said that it was too close to Christmas for a wedding. So we were married on December 9th, 2005.

   And that kids, is how I met your mother... or whatever.

23 April 2017

   Exactly a month since my last post. I know you've been waiting with baited breath, checking my site every day to see if I had posted again. But I warned you in the beginning. I will post when I feel like it. And I haven't felt like it.

   Truth is, I've been taking my meds. Yay! Right? No. My meds have been having me sleep for literally about fourteen hours a day. I haven't been to school in weeks. It's safe to assume I've failed all my classes this semester.

   Except I do feel the need to point out that one of my professors has called me to check up on me. She's awesome. She even offered me a way to pass the class. I'm hoping to take her up on it, though I honestly don't know if I'll be able to.

   I'm trying to figure out how to finish school, as I'll likely be dropped out of the program I was using for funding. I'm hoping that I can use my GI Bill. I've been on a chapter 31 vocational rehab up until now.

   And I don't feel like writing any more. So, guess you'll have to wait until I do.

- Sapper Woody

28 Febuary 2017

So, this past weekend has been good, actually. I am a part of the University of Arkansas at Little Rock competitive robotics team. We are the first University level robotics team in the state of Arkansas. We went to a competition in Houston, Texas this past weekend.

   It went pretty well. We ended up getting seventh, though I am positive that we had the fourth best robot there. The reason we got seventh instead of fourth was that we got screwed over by the judges. The way the programming works, the judges can cut your communication to the robot. This makes it so that you can not move your robot before the timer starts or after it ends.

   What happened with us is that our side of the field started experiencing a loss of communication. To be clear, it was not our fault, but the playing field's fault. After a while with us unable to move, but the other team being able to, the power went out to both sides. The judges decided to call the game and score it as it stood, rather than doing the proper thing and doing a redo. So, we lost the match.

   We protested quite a bit, and were told that we would have a rematch at the end (it was a weighted round robin style). At the end, we never got the rematch, because they said they didn't have the time. So, instead of doing things properly in the first place, and instead of fixing it later, we got screwed over by the improper running of the tournament.

   Regardless of that, we still won an award. We ended up getting the "Judges Award". Think of it as a mix of "best in show" and "sportsmanship". The judges liked our design, and the fact that we were helping out another team by literally doing their programming for them. So, that's something, anyway.

   I've decided to stay in the teaching program for now. I figured I'd through that out there, since I mentioned in my last post that I was thinking about dropping it.

   - Sapper Woody

24 February 2017

This post is coming in on the heels of my very first post. I just recently got off the phone with the veteran's crisis hotline. Talked to a nice woman. Shaundra, I think her name was. If not, that's what I'm calling her now. It was something close at any rate.

The veteran's crisis hotline uses the same phone number as the suicide hotline, but when you get on there, there is a button to press if you are a veteran or calling about a veteran. Only my wife knows this until this blog post is read, but I call the veteran's crisis hotline about two times a month. I wear a bracelet on my right wrist at all times that has the hotline number printed on it.

I called the hotline because I needed to talk to someone, and it was 2 AM. I was on my way home from building a robot at the University of Arkansas at Little Rock for an upcoming competition we're having. We're leaving in less than twelve hours from now.

I called because I'm unsure of what my future holds. I am stressed about the direction my schooling is going. Right now I am a dual major in Physics and Math, with a minor in Secondary Education. Problem is, I don't think that I can do it. I can barely make my own classes, much less teach day in and day out.

I'm thinking of dropping my two teaching classes that I am taking this semester. I'm taking more than a full course load at 20 hours this semester. In addition to my two teaching classes, I'm taking Physics I with the associated lab, Calculus III, Linear Algebra, and Composition II.

I'm contemplating dropping my teaching minor altogether, actually. At this point, I am sure that I won't be able to teach, as most high schools won't keep a teacher around who is frequently absent; even if it is due to combat related mental issues. So, I'm thinking of dropping that minor, and leaving those hours open to my majors and possibly some electives.

I like music. Maybe I'll take a music course. I heard tonight that you can actually make some money by taking band, and playing in recitals. I play the piano; not good enough to play concerts, though. I play the Baritone. I could possibly play that in band. I am also a tenor, and could sing in a choir. I may try out for one of those next semester.

I did find out that Calculus III is the highest math needed in order to apply as a college math tutor at UALR, working in what they call the Math Lab. I'd like that. I could help people with their math, make money, and work and go to school at the same place.

Speaking of school, I have to leave my house in about an hour to make it to my first class. I've been up all night. I stayed up so late, that I knew that if I slept, I wouldn't wake up in time for class. I have some mild insomnia. And by mild, I mean that it is severe when it hits, but it doesn't hit too often. The longest I've ever stayed up unable to sleep was roughly 78 hours. At that point, I started to hallucinate. I was sure that I had played Kerbol Space Program for over an hour. I 'woke up' to find that it was five minutes later, and nothing I had thought I did in the game had been done.

Well, I'm out of time for this morning. I'm sure I'll rant some more later.

   - Sapper Woody