Marine Corps 237th Birthday Ball

Last weekend, I had the pleasure of attending my first Marine Corps Birthday Ball. I've been dating my Marine for over two years, but this was the first Ball I've ever gone to. Every year, he would suffer through a barrage of "He's taking HER?" and "They're not even dating," while I would listen to him weigh in on whether or not Kate Upton would accept his invitation.

It's safe to say that this year, I was excited when he asked me to attend. I quickly learned that there are certain unsaid rules that go along with the Ball though.

1. Dates must match the Marine dress blues. That means dresses should be red, blue, black, gold, or white.
2. Don't be a skank. No cut outs, no plunging necklines, no sky-high slits. Doesn't matter if you're a double 00 or double D (or a lucky son-of-a-b*tch who's both), be modest.
3. Don't be a prom queen. No ball gowns, quinceanera dresses, or wedding gowns. You're going to meeting a lot of people, and if people can't get within five feet of your tooled, poofed, and fluffed dress, that's kind of problematic. (Also, don't wear a train. People will step on it all night despite your cautionary stink eye.)
4. Remember the Ball is not about you, it's about celebrating Marines, past and present, who have been giving their minds, bodies, and souls for our country since 1775. This means act appropriate--no drunk messes or club dancing. No one wants to have Frank as their date:

Chris wanted to make sure I knew these rules, especially the first one. So, many of our conversations went like this:

Chris: "Just remember to match my uniform."
Stephanie: "Soo how about a gold sequin dress?"
Chris: "No."
Stephanie: "But that matches!...Silver sequin dress?"
Chris: "No! Keep it simple, wear black."
Stephanie: "You want me to be a wallflower??"

If he hadn't specifically told me to wear black, I would have just told him I had already bought a black dress. Of course, since he DID say that, I told him that I bought a pink, glittery ball gown. ("Hey Chris, how hard will it be to get glitter out of dress blues?")

I flew to Virginia Saturday morning, arrived at 7am, and greeted Chris an hour later with a sour puss face and a second Starbucks in hand. We drove to Richmond, where we stayed at the Lindon Row Inn.

It was southern, with a porch and rocking chair outside every room. It was Gothic with black fountains and autumn-swept gardens. And it was historic. Edgar Allen Poe met his life-long love Elmira there. Poe's mother even died there and is rumored to still haunt the rooms.

Every room contained real antiques from the 1800s. Our room had hand-painted blue and white vases, tarnished gold lamps, and creeky floors. I loved it. For a guy who chooses minimalist modern decor, he definitely went out of his way to find something I would gush over.

It was such a perfect hotel that I felt slightly bad for my faux pink ballgown. It's an understatement to say that Chris was grateful to see me in this instead:

Our Ball was at the Richmond Convention Center. One of the guys said that Richmond has the largest Ball in the country. While I'm not sure if that's true, our Ball was definitely big. At least 700+ officers and their dates. Children weren't allowed (though there was childcare offered), so no one had to worry about screaming babies or tripping on a galloping toddler.

The first hour was cocktails, where I met all the people I've heard so much about. The little things like knowing your boyfriends friends become so meaningful in a long distance relationship. Putting faces to names is a rare treat. Altogether, there were nine bars (one with a fountain), and they were busy all night long. Later, we were shuffled into a secondary room, where dinner and the ceremony would take place. My favorite part of the ceremony was the cutting of the cake. Marines take their cake cutting seriously. (Have you ever been to a Marine wedding? They use their sword. Overkill? Perhaps. Awesome? Definitely.) For the Ball, the oldest and the youngest Marine are each invited up. The oldest Marine then cuts a piece and hands it to the youngest, symbolizing the passing down of tradition and honor from old to new.

The ceremony as a whole reflected the Marines dedication to our country and each other. While everyone was happy-go-lucky the whole night, they were also incredibly respectful. To my surprise, the ceremony began with prayer. And not a standard ceremonious one either; it was a true, individualized prayer. Throughout the night, every Marine I spoke with included me in conversation and seemed genuinely pleased to meet me. Several Marines offered to get drinks for everyone at the table, especially the girls. At the end of the night, we all got taxis, and the Marines we were with made sure us girls got the first one, accompanied by an escort Marine. Chivalrous and thoughtful. While these men and women have a well deserved reputation for being the biggest bad-asses in the world, they are also the most respectful people you will ever have the honor to meet. The Ball reminded me exactly how proud I am to be dating one of them.

Altogether, the night was wonderful. I'm so thankful I was able to attend, and with such a good looking date too. It's nice to see people who work so hard get a night to just enjoy themselves and their Corps. It was definitely worth the two year wait.

Thank you for all you do, Marines. Happy 237th birthday!

Holla Military Girls

When I see posts, videos, or pictures about military homecomings...

Before I was dating a military member:

Now:

You too?

Farewell is necessary before we can meet again...

For those of you who know me, I'm not a huge sharer, whether that means clothes, music, ideas, or feelings. I like to be in control and sharing is not conducive to that. (What if Jane spills mustard on my favorite white shirt? What if Jack steals my idea for a paper and then has the audacity to get an A on it?) This makes flying standby a huge ordeal. I literally don't know if I'm going anywhere until everyone is boarded, the terminal is empty, and the gate attendant has stubbornly refused to make eye contact with anyone for the last 10 minutes. It's awful, and yet it's the biggest rush of appreciation in your life when your name actually does get called.

This is how Chris and I have made the majority of our long distance relationship work. When he was in Pullman, I flew standby to go see him. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't, but it averaged out to about one trip per month. Now that I'm in Berkeley, it's been a lot of the same. Last weekend, I went through all those emotions just to get home for three days. While flying standby has helped my control-freakedness, it's being in a relationship with a Marine that has really put me in my place (AKA: the back seat).  Recently, I've been learning to let things go. That may mean sharing my concepts for movies with a friend, or letting my coworkers eat half my Girl Scout cookies. But much more importantly, it meant saying goodbye to a certain Marine officer for an undetermined amount of time.

Now, don't be fooled by the melodramatic-ness of that statement. We are still completely happy and still 100% together. It's just that now, he is at The Basic School (TBS) for Marine officers in Quantico, Virginia. For those of you who have non-military lives, let me break it down for you. For the past two summers, Chris has attended a 6-week program called Officer Candidacy School (OCS). The program physically and mentally tests men and women who are interested in becoming Marine officers. If the candidates pass the tests (because everything they do is scored and ranked), then they are given the option to commission. A commissioning is the formal initiation into the Marines as an officer. There is no going back after that's done. After that, the now-officer goes to TBS for 7 months where they are again tested, but this time it's to decide their Military Occupational Specialty (MOS). For normal people, this translates to their career. At TBS the better you perform, the better chance you get the MOS you want because the top of the class gets first pick. When I learned this my inner Berkeley student freaked out. Could you imagine if there were limited spots in your major and you had to be the mental, academic, and physical cream of the crop to ensure a spot? (PS: This is pretty much how I understand military things: just translate everything to my situation.) After being assigned their MOS, they report for MORE training depending on what they get. For example, if assigned Human Intelligence, he would be assigned 2 months of sniper school and X months of another school, etc etc. I haven't listened well enough to understand that part yet. Maybe in another month or so, I'll have it down and explain it to you. Anyways, so as you can imagine, TBS is a super stressful time for the officers. 

Chris reports for TBS on March 8th and last Wednesday, we had a bitter goodbye in between poor jokes and half smiles. But, our situation is a tiny speck in comparison to the thousands of families and girlfriends who have a loved one deployed. To further lighten our predicament, I will be interning in D.C. this summer. (D.C. is about an hour train ride away from Quantico.) It seems like just when we think our long distance relationship won't work, some sort of opportunity opens up. Just like we've been able to use our flight benefits to see each other, we will also be living generally close this summer. This makes me eternally grateful for every opportunity, be it a cross-country internship program, an extra seat on the airplane, or the 30 hours of free time he gets per week. I can't control everything, but some things are worth the chaos.

I don't know how long we'll be apart.
I don't know if we'll have time to see each other this summer.
I don't know when we will talk or text.
I don't know what MOS he will get.
I don't know if this will work.

But I know he's worth it.

In the mean time, please excuse any melancholic Eeyore moments I may have in the coming months. Your words of encouragement will be much appreciated.

This is the last picture we took: Enjoy it as much as I do :)

PS: Like the new hair? :P

New Years Resolution

I always hate blog introductions. I mean honestly, no one cares why you're writing a blog, they just care if it's entertaining. In lieu of that, let's move on.


This is the first year I made a resolution that has nothing to do with my weight. The subtext of that statement means that this is the first year I might actually keep my resolution. Instead, my 2012 resolution is to know what career path I want to take by the end of the year. A few older people that I've told patronizingly smiled at me. One even replied, "You're a college student, you don't know what working for a living is even like." I thoroughly enjoyed telling that idiot that I had worked three simultaneous jobs right out of high school so I could pay for college and I've been working every since. It was the verbal equivalent of the triple snap. (Ex: Snap Tutorial.)

So I have one year to figure my career out. I don't plan on a big epiphany, let's be honest, this isn't an ABC Family movie. But, I do have a lot of opportunities this year. I am lucky enough to go to a fantastic school packed with amazing professors. So, Step 1, I plan on making use of their knowledge by actually talking to them. I learned in high school that teachers are a valuable asset, not for what they teach you in class, but for what they tell you outside of it. Step 2 is interning in D.C. with an amazing program on campus. Finally, Step 3, keep my eyes and ears open. Obviously, I'm not one of those people who has always wanted to be a doctor or a teacher. So, it doesn't make sense for me to blindly sprint through my college career focusing on some hazy goal.

There you have it. My three-step process to career nirvana. 
1) Talk to professors
2) Intern in D.C.
3) Be open

I expect great things from you, 2012.