Hey guys! So I have this english project due and need to do a survey... anyone want to help? Please? It's really short and easy. Just answer the questions. If you don't feel like just responding here, then go ahead and email me at jefferis@unm.edu.

Also, I numbered all the questions so all you have to do it put the number and your response.

( Abortion survey! )

thanks guys!

It's that time again!
I guess it was a weird up and and down semester. It started out great, then a friend died and my apartment was broken into, but I did find myself dating a very sweet guy. I missed appointments and got into trouble for it. Rotc... I still love it, but at the same time there's so much bullshit. I learned that some people you thought you could trust, maybe you can't so much. Some people talk a lot. One cadet a year above me pulled me aside and talked to me for a good 20 minutes about it. He said to be careful and not to get pulled into it. It's not worth it, and I agree. He told me how there has been a ton of shit-flinging and I've been a topic on the discussion list. I can't say I'm surprised, but it does sting. Especially when one of the people doing it I thought was my friend. I felt betrayed. He gave me warning and I'm thankful for it. I don't trust her anymore and since I screwed up I've felt this awkward gap between us like she's faking it. He said it pained him to see her smiling and being nice to my face then turn around and cut me down. Hearing that sucked. It's interesting how when something is brought to light you really pick up on it. It's like I'm suddenly hyper-aware of all the shit-flinging. It's a soap opera. This kid in my Art class who's also in ROTC and I were talking about it and he said to just go into the library and close the door. Just be silent and wait. In about 5 minutes you'll start to hear it, and it's ridiculous. All this bullshit is just making me feel like shit. Like there are maybe 3 or 4 POCs (older cadets who have already been to field training) that don't hate me and think I'm a shitty cadet.
Because of this, I have and am making a conscious effort to not tear down anyone. To not talk about them and critique them behind their backs.

Aside from all that, yes I still love rotc. Yes, I still want to commission and become a USAF officer. I want to get a pilot slot, go to SERE and eat bugs and berries for a week to survive.

Semester verdict? I made it. I failed a class, but got a lot of As too, so I still have a 2.5 term GPA. I had to go tell the captains I failed. I went in and say "I kinda failed a class..." to which capt. Green responds: "What do you mean you 'kinda' failed a class? That's like saying you're partially pregnant!" That guy is awesome. Okay, so my stuff's gotten messed up and DoDMERB never even received my piss-test results so I didn't get contracted this semester. However, there is an upside. Instead of getting a conditional (which is bad) for failing a class, I get a form 16 (not quite as bad). Basically, you can only have so many conditionals before they give you the boot. A form 16 is basically just a memo for the record that goes into your file. So I got one of those. I will retake the class on Kirtland next semester and replace the grade. My grades were all A's but that one, so I still had a 2.5 just in case contracting actually worked out. Next semester. Oh for the love of god let me be contracted next semester.

My cousin has leukemia. Apparently it's a really common form so they're doing their best to treat it. They found out the day after thanksgiving and my mom said she's quite a fighter. I'm glad. It's weird though. I barely know her and have only seen her 4 times in my life, but she's still my cousin. She's still my family.

Because the semester is over, I am relieved. Because of contracting, I am disappointed. Because of my cousin, I feel weird. Because of rotc bullshit I am bummed. Because of rotc, I am determined. I want to redeem myself. Somehow, I'll find a way to wade through all the bullshit and come out on top.

I went to a familiarization course with the M9 Beretta at Kirtland today thanks to ROTC. No practice, just straight into shooting for qualification and the chance to earn the Expert Marksmanship ribbon. I was two headshots short. Damn.

PFA (physical fitness asessment) was today. I didn't do as well as I wanted at all. I got a runtime of 12:31. I still think I got the highest scores for the females in the Det so hopefully my name will be going on the "Top Guns" board for Iron Woman.

Every now and then I see the pictures I have hung up. I remember that week and the weekend that followed. I remember feeling totally numb to the world and like an empty shell of who I am. I remember feeling constantly distracted 24/7 and not really paying attention to where I was or what I was doing. I remember that feeling of shock. I remember not being able to hold back the tears or pretend I was strong enough to stand tall and proud. I remember when we met. I remember when we laughed. I remember that night and how she chewed gum so loud it could "wake the dead." I remember her always being my friend. I remember the way she was always positive. I remember walking down the street to my house for bananas the morning after a sleepover and then walking back to her house to make pancakes. I remember walking to school and the morning we were almost late to a field trip. I remember burning sausage. I remember going to her youth group. I remember the way she was always there for me in choir. I remember the way she was patient enough to keep trying for an hour straight to get me to finally project and sing. I remember the way we would stay up until dawn. I remember the way we could talk for hours. I remember how glad I was to have gotten to hang out again over the summer. I remember the way after all those years we still joked about wanting each other's hand. I remember the way she could switch in a split second from being serious and deep in thought so lighthearted and silly. I remember how she was always my friend without question.

And then I remember she's gone. And it's weird. It hurts. It's weird to think you'll never see someone again. It's weird to realize that they are gone forever. It makes me sad. It makes me cry. Even so, I hide it from my peers because I'm too proud. But I'm glad I could go to her service. I'm glad for the way it made it reality. I'm glad for the bandaid it provided. I felt better, and I felt like myself again. It still hurt, and yes it still hurts now. I miss her. But I'm glad for feeling, even if it's unpleasant. I would take this over that numb, distracted, empty feeling any day. I'm glad I knew her. I'm glad that no matter what she was always unconditionally my friend. I miss her, but I'm happy she could have left the positive and bright impact she did.

I was taking off one of my boots from my Halloween costume while standing. I lost my balance and fell down.

I rug-burned my butt and it bled.

So we all know how my appartment got broken into. Weird thing is, there was no attempt at theft. My computer was untouched, and programs still running. We did find a lighter left on the floor and a dollar. When the police arrived, the gas on all the burners on my stove were turned on, but the pilots were out. My box of matches had been scattered across the stove. My iron was on the floor turned on, and there were clothes draped over it. Totally random, but over by my tv was a block of cheddar cheese in a ziplock bag.

From everything I've heard, that kid needs help. His ID was left on the bench outside the office. His shoes and a sock were found in the bushes downstairs. He was messed up enough that he doesn't remember anything. Apparently he's dropped out of UNM twice and either lost or quit his job. His mother is in the ICU in Los Alamos with pancreatic cancer. His sister Renee was woken up around 6am to her brother being arrested in the middle of her apartment's floor. So it was a totally random coincidence that he broke into another Los Alamos kid's apartment.

A couple weeks or so ago I made a decision that seemed difficult but really easy at the same time. As much as I love it, I'm going to take a break from rugby. I will not be playing this semester and in all likelihood, I won't be playing next semester either.

So this fall I will be a 200 cadet (2nd year in the program deal) and they gave me the job of GMCA (General Military Course Advisor). Basically, I plan the fun "retention" events on the weekends and try to keep up everyone's morale. I also communicate any concerns or issues the underclassmen have to the upperclassmen, or wingstaff. It's cool and it should help out my ranking which will help me later when I go to apply for a pilot slot. Anyway, it's very time-consuming and looking at what I need to do in terms of ROTC and this position I just don't think I can handle school, rotc, gmca, and rugby. So I decided that I would rather pick one and do it well than try to do both and end up doing them very half-assed. Weighing my options, rotc has an impact on school and my future career whereas rugby simply impacts my weekend social life. Especially this year, academics are my first priority no matter what, and I will do what it takes to get what I want. Sure, I'll miss rugby and getting beat up and knocked around on the weekends, but I've got something really good going for me and I'm not willing to risk screwing it up.

I'm really excited about this semester. It's going to be good; I'm going to make it good.

That, and I'll finally be doing stuff again. I had summer classes at 7-8am and 5:30-6:45pm so it was a rather slow and uneventful summer.

I've also discovered the simple joy of a Rock Band and beer night with some of my best friends. These guys rock :D

Free fall? Well it's a no-go. The original cadet's stuff went through so he's going to freefall. BUT, there's nothing to say I can't apply and go next summer. When Capt. Green called me in he asked if I'd thought about next summer and told me I could "double dip." I'm all over that like an airman on the new girl at tech school. And as AF Blues makes perfectly clear... that is a damn good analogy. So I got my hopes up like a kid waiting to see Santa. But like I said, I'm applying to go next summer 'cause dammit, I want to graduate with my jump wings.

However, there are other good things. I'm going up to visit my uncle after finals and we're going to bond over firearms while my mom and aunt drink margaritas on the porch.

I'm moving into my new apartment next week! It's a great little one bedroom unit with AC and a pool in the complex. I'm excited, and my mom and I got a bunch of stuff for it including zebra striped sheets for my bed. I'm super stoked.

I need to organize at least one service project for next semester. I'm looking at doing a dunk-tank for Child's Play Charity and collecting donations for Operation Iraqi Children.

That's all for now. My house is super-hot and I'm a sleepy one.

My summer? Generally uneventful. I failed on finding a job. I'm lucky enough though to have incredibly generous and loving parents. They're footin' the bill for rent, food, and general expenses. I'll be moving in about a week or so into a little one-bedroom apartment across the street from campus. It's a nice feeling to know that I don't have to move and transfer all my stuff at the beginning and end of the school year. Nevermind I've been incredibly spoiled and UNM dorms are kinda shit. I've been taking weight training every morning and Statistics in the evening. I love weights, and I've been working my ass off all summer. It's paid off.

Summer takes a twist... Don't think. Just jump.

This past Monday while I was in class I got a call and a voicemail from Capt. Green. "Cadet Jefferis, I have a great opportunity for you..." He asked if I would like to do the Freefall training at the Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs. My heart jumped, my stomach turned as it was flooded with butterflies, and I got goosebumps. I had toyed with the idea of applying to do this program just before senior year, but to have the chance to do it just handed to me totally unexpected like this... I could hardly contain my excitement.

I went to talk to Capt. Green who gave me some paperwork and said that they were going to get me ready like a coiled up snake. The original cadet was seriously lagging on getting his shit together like sending in his medical forms. Capt. Green said I'd done more in about 2 days than he had all summer. So this past week I've been at the det every day doing my part to put everything together and be ready to go. I've tracked down and turned in medical papers, I've filled out forms, and got my uniform items issued to me. I got lucky and there was a pair of boots that fit me perfectly. Everything has been falling into place for this. The flight suit is a little long, but fits well enough that no one will really notice. I even have my nametag for it ordered and it should be here in the next couple days.

I'm officially on stand-by. This other cadet is apparently getting one of those "last chance" deals to get his stuff in. He's had all summer, and thanks to the amazing people at the det, I'm nearly ready to go in about a week's time. I thought I would have an answer by the end of this week, but so far: nothing. Hopefully there will be an update of some kind on Monday, but just waiting around is killing me.

So what is this freefall program at the AF Academy? It's jumping out of a perfectly good airplane from 4500 feet up. It's the only parachuting program in the world where the student's first jump is solo. It's 12 days of intense training and a lot of PT. Once I finish though, I earn the DOD Basic Parachutist Badge. It's something that I can wear not just throughout my career as a cadet, but also my career as an officer. Once I earn it, I can wear it forever. I want this. I want to do this so incredibly much.

Not to boost my already tubby ego, but really... How awesome would it be able to go back this fall and say that after only a semester in the program I've earned 4 ribbons, honor society membership, and jump wings? I'm not a military brat. Prior to this semester, the only exposure I've had was the big green duffle-bag I used to transport my bedding. This had been the best decision of my life. It's teaching me, no forcing me into new levels of responsibility and discipline I never thought I had or would have. I love every minute of it.

FT ramblings...
I'm even excited about Field Training. It will suck. I know this. But it will still be an amazing and valuable experience. I heard it changed you, and people came back different. Subtly, but still different. I saw this last night when I was hanging out with Ortega and Roux. Ortega recently got back, and there's this different air about him. It's hard to describe but it's like he's noticeably more mature and incredibly respectful. I'm not really sure what it is that's different, but there's something. In a good way though. It was actually really damn cool to see, and I wonder how I'll turned out. I'm not afraid of Field Training. I'm not worried. I will go in, give it what I have and get out of it as much as I can. It's all about the attitude you bring in. I'm not afraid because I know that no matter how much it may suck getting bitched at and yelled at for damn near everything I do for 28 days, I will get through it. I don't want to sound conceited, but I think I have a strong determined mind. And I will make it.

So basically joining ROTC has been the best decision of my life and I am so grateful that everything I've done has brought me here.

If you look before you leap every time, how often do you think you would actually follow through?

It's always late at night or after physical activity that stirs up the thoughts in my mind like convection. An overstated fact by now, I couldn't be happier where I am. I found my niche, as unlikely as it is. I have dreams, goals, passion, and drive. Classes and graduating are a daunting task, but for once, I feel like it is attainable. Actually, the thought that my dream might actually be attainable scares me; it scares me almost as much as the possibility of failing. But the excitement of the prospect of success overpowers my fear.

Despite everything, none of which I regret or would change, there are certain simplicities I miss. I miss my brother. I miss having my best friend always there. It's like someone sawed off a limb and left this nasty mess of a stub. It's like something reached into my heart and ripped out half the core. It leaves this dull ache insatiable by anything except knowing that my best friend loves me just as much. And despite how it aches, it makes me smile to know I'm that lucky. I'm lucky enough to have someone like that in my life.

I have come to realize that I have become one of those people. I am a career oriented woman. Academics, school, and ultimately my career path come first. Sometimes I want to be a girl and cuddle up next to somebody, but to be honest, it's not high enough on my list of priorities to make the effort. Actually it's pretty low. It sounds selfish, and a little bitchy, but it's not important enough for me to make the time for boyfriend right now. I don't want to have that added stress and try to balance it with everything. Class, rugby, and rotc pretty much consume my life. Like olions, rotc is also my social network- my social life. And you know what? I'm okay with that. I love it. I'm used to that kind of deal. I don't want to jepordize my academics because I'm spending time with a guy, and it's not fair to not be able or in my case willing to make the time for a guy because I'm focusing on academics. I've royally messed up once and I can't afford to and I will not do it again.

I'm so young still and have so much ahead of me. I don't see the point at all in finding "the one" right now. I'm restless. I'm too restless. I don't want anything serious. It boggles my mind that people my age have not only had very serious relationships but have already been engaged. Even weirder to me is that many women my age and younger already have kids. I can't even fathom myself having kids. It comes down to me simply not being ready or wanting anything serious. I feel like I'm standing on the edge of an outcrop looking out on a vast world with open arms just waiting for me to leap.

And the previous two paragraphs are really why I broke up with my last boyfriend. Good to me as he was, I broke up with him for myself. For once, I put myself, my desires, feelings, and my ambitions first. It's taken so long for me to find the words for the feelings I felt in my gut. For the life of me, I couldn't explain why, I just knew I had to. I made the right decision.

With the exception of less than 5 people, something I feel I've missed out on is having real friends. The type you call up outside of class, rugby and rotc. The kind you call up and go "hey, lets go check this thing out..." I finally have a few. Funny, I make friends better and easier with guys. Winfield psycho-babbled to me why that was and whatnot. Personally, I find it easier and more laid back. There is less drama and I don't feel intimidated or like I'm being judged and looked down upon. Being friends with guys I don't get those inadequate feelings of "I'm not pretty/thin/dolled up/wealthy/ enough." My interests and attitude integrate more easily than with girls. I'd rather chug a maß than talk about "omg! did you see the hills? he is sooo cute!" I'd rather get tackled in the mud or try out kickboxing than go shopping. I'd rather fire a gun than get a pedicure. I'd rather watch crazy B-movies and action films than chick flicks. I'd rather go to a heavy metal concert than some pop singer.

I'm stubborn as all hell. I pride myself on being an independent woman; on not needing anyone else to hold me up or keep me going. Sometimes though, aggression, anger, stress, sorrow, pain, pure joy, whatever it is... it builds up. It just pools in a bottle fermenting. Sometimes I wish someone would be willing to just give me a hug and wait. Just sit there and wait while it all liquidates and leaves. As it is slow to accumulate, it is slow to leave. Patience. Don't say no. Don't say stop. Just be. Just wait. Wait until that bottle is empty and dry like the desert so that I might feel new, rejuvenated, refreshed, and ready to take on the world no matter what it might bring.

I thought about filtering this. I found I saw no point. It was counter-productive. It's a funny thing really, and something I learned about myself around the time I graduated high school. I learned a lot about myself that year and spent the subsequent years learning more, growing, and finally getting a spine, solid feet, and my own voice. I found the more I hid things, filtered my thoughts, and censored my feelings- the weaker I felt. The more I built up a wall to "protect" how I felt inside, the smaller and weaker I felt. The more i laid it all out, and exposed myself... the more "vulnerable" I suppose I made myself, the more confident and strong I felt. It always seemed flip-flopped and kinda backwards. Like the 4 square, two color pattern of a harlequin. So I'm not hiding. The people that love me, love me for me. They know me and still do, regardless of faults, regardless of the fact I sometimes need a helmet, and regardless of the fact that I often don't act my age.

So there you have it. Those times when I'm zoned out staring out a window, or look like I'm simply not paying attention... these are the types of things on my mind. These are the things I don't just spout out when you ask what I'm thinking about.

What bothers you? What are you afraid of? "I know what buttons to push." He may be a douche-bag, and may know a couple superficial ones. But really, you really want to piss me off? You want me to act like you're nothing more than a festering pile of gangrene?

Cliche as it may be, I hate being preemptively judged. I hate not being given a chance. I hate being glanced over and given the brush-off. I hate being underestimated. I hate being doubted. I hate being told I can't do something because I'm female. I hate being told I can't do something because I'm small. I hate being told I'm not strong enough. I hate being told what I am not able to do. I hate feeling restraint. I hate feeling somehow kept down. I hate feeling held back. I hate those closed minded fuck-asses that won't listen to a damn word you say.

I fear never being able to bring forth words held deep inside. I fear never truly being heard. People will hear you, but do they actually listen to what it is you have to say. I fear my opinion never being valued. I fear being cast aside. I fear feeling like white noise. I fear falling short. Failure.

...Thank you.

Thank you for your doubt, your judgment, your brush-off. Thank you for telling me I don't have what it takes because I'm female; because I'm small. Thank you for telling me what I cannot do; for trying to keep me down. I have a streak of stubborn pride that has yet to be cracked much less broken. Your doubt pushes me to break through it; to prove you wrong; to show I have the heart to push perceived limits- physical and mental.

Thank you for never listening. Thank you for letting my words fall on deaf ears. Thank you for making me feel like nothing but background. I found sources of drive and motivation unreliant on transitory surroundings. I learned not to waste my time on those who will never even hear you out. I learned to move on from those who don't and will never hear you and actually listen. Waiting for those who will is worth it.