Lady or Sailor?

"You might meet women who sail, but you sure won't meet no ladies."

light or mess?  lady or sailor?

light or mess?  lady or sailor?

 

The vessel is inbound for Bahrain.  I'm off watch and sound asleep.  The Captain and Third Mate can't get ahold of Port Control to gain entrance to the buoyed channel.  They've called and called - they've tried every channel they can think of - nothing.  I get a knock on my door.  'Mate, we need you on the bridge!'.  I scurry up to the bridge in my jammies.  The Captain looks at me and says, 'I'm really sorry to wake you up but, we need you to call Port Control...'.  I look at him blankly and grab the Mic.  'Bahrain Port Control, Bahrain Port Control, the is the Good Vessel Lollipop.'  'Ahhh...yesss!!!!!  Good Vessel Lollipop!!!!  Good Morning, Good Morning!'  'Yes, Good Morning Sir, We'd like permission to enter the buoyed channel.'  'Ah yes, no problem, no problem!'.  I had the Mic back to the Captain.  He looks a little miffed and says, 'Thanks Megan.  You can go back to bed.'.  At the end of the trip they had a shirt made for me that said:  you give good radio.

 

I rarely change my sheets at work.  One time, I ate chocolate chip cookies in bed and smeared chocolate chips into my sheets on accident.  It looked like baaad things had happened.  I still didn't change them.  On this last go around, I just spent three months on the same sheets.

 

I'm in Fujairah.  We've been anchored for a bit.  Spot market for tankers - Fujairah is popular waiting ground.  I've caught a launch in for some time at the Seaman's Center.  I have had a few too many Diet 7Ups.  It's time to head back towards the launch.  I may have 'escaped' my shipmates watchful eyes.  There may have been things shouted like, 'you're not the boss of me!'.  There is a flotilla of Dhows.  I hop on one and immediately scurry below deck.  I wake up the first sailor I see...and ask him to make me something to eat.  He is looking at me like I am craaaazy (and well....I guess that's fair).  I realize I'm maybe in the wrong place so I try again.  I run back to the main deck level and hop from one Dhow onto the next.  I scurry below deck.  I wake up the sailors who are all laying together around a stove.  'Hi!  Do you guys want to have dinner?!'  They're rubbing sleep out of their eyes.  I must have been the weirdest thing they'd seen in awhile.  'Miss Megan!  Miss Megan!'  I look up the ladder and there is a little Filipino man.  I've never seen him before in my life.  'Miss Megan you must come with me!'  He seemed so sincere that I start my way up the ladder and am on the deck of the Dhow with him.  'Miss Megan, we have to goooo!!!'  He grabs my hand and pulls me from the Second Dhow onto a Third and then we hop back onto a different pier.  'Miss Megan, these men are very, VERY dangerous!'.  I'm nodding like I understand.  'Miss Megan, you have to be VERY careful!'  He walks me back to the launch.  He exchanges rapid fire Tagalog with the launch operator and then the launch operator comes over and grabs my hand.  I look at my new friend and say, 'I have no idea how you know my name is Megan but, thank you Manong.'.

 

It's my first ship.  I left home knowing that I'd be at sea for Christmas.  I decide I have to take gifts with me.  I go old school and make cinnamon and glue ornaments.  They smell so good I figured people could use them as air fresheners.  I roll out the cinnamon and glue dough and cut out different sized stars and throw them in the oven to harden.  I've pre-poked holes and I string ribbon through them.  I take the time to package them in little gift bags.  I label each one for the specific individual.  I pack them all safely in a shoe box and throw them in my sea bag.  On Christmas Eve I sneak out and hang a gift bag on everyone's door.  Christmas morning I'm sitting at the galley table.  I'm just waiting for someone to say thank you for their present...and nothing.  After a bit I hear one AB say to another, 'Man, I don't know who left those cookies but that shit was fuuuucked uuuup....'.

 

I'm at the Farmers Market with my Mom and we run into old friends.  She starts catching them up on life and says, '...and who knew Megan would end up a Sailor?!  Doesn't she look like a pre-school teacher?!'.  This wasn't the first time she had said this.  We walk away from the friends and I look at her and say, 'if you ever tell someone I look like a pre-school teacher again I am going to freak.  the.  fuck.  out.'.  

 

I walk into the cargo control room.  The Bosun is sitting there with the Pumpman and the Chief Mate.  Things look serious.  I'm feeling nervous.  The Bosun says, 'Magpie.  We need to tell you something.'.  Now, I'm freaked.  The Pumpman looks like someone has died.  The Bosun, clearly the designated bearer of bad news says, '...you have the most annoying voice on the radio....now don't worry!  Your voice isn't annoying in real life!  Buuut, on the radio, can you try to lower your voice an octave?'  I don't say a word.  The Pumpman pipes up, 'Seriously, it's like a screech.  One octave.  Pleeeassee...'.  I now have a radio voice.

 

I'm on my first tugboat.  I'm getting to know a new Captain.  A week into our trip he looks at me and says, 'uuuummm....you're kind of alpha....'.

 

It's twilight.  I'm on the bridge.  It has been the longest watch ever.  I stood a six hour watch in the Persian Gulf.  Non.  Stop.  Traffic.  I finally call the Captain to assist me with traffic.  I have a traffic situation that's making me nervous  We normally do sanitary prior to daylight however; I have had one AB in hand-steering almost the whole watch - the other has had his face in the windows with binoculars.  I haven't made a fresh pot of coffee.  There was some sugar spilled at the coffee station through the night.  The Captain comes up to the bridge - sees the mess at the coffee station and freezes.  Then he flies forward.  He takes his hand and sweeps everything to the floor.  The coffee.  The creamer.  The sugar packs.  The carafe.  He whips around and yells, 'Megan!  Clean this shit up!' and storms off the bridge.  I turn around and say to my AB, 'hard right'.  I slow the vessel with the turn, let the two ships pass each other, complete my round turn and meet the third ship while getting over taken.  The bridge is silent.  My AB finally says, 'Mate, that was totally fucked up.'.        

 

I'm at work this past go around.  A dude from another boat says, 'I like your sweater'.  I look down and say, 'Thanks!  It's a good work sweater and pajama sweater.'  I realize that I haven't been differentiating between the two...and that I've been wearing it to bed and work...for three days... I look back up and say, 'I think I've had this sweater on for three days.'.  Dude says, 'You are a tow boater!'.  I felt kind of proud.

 

Someone sent me this prompt:  You might meet women who sail, but you sure won't meet no ladies.  I thought he wanted me to write about it but, instead he called it a prompt....or a psychopomp for the blog.  A Woman Who Sails or a Lady?  Is there even a difference?

 

 

Playing Catch Up.

 
tug boat insides

Sometimes I just don't know where the time goes....It's time to play a little catch up....Let's start with the basics....

Who:  I'm still Megan.  

What:  Well, I'm at work.  I'm outfitting a tug boat.

Where:  I'm on the Columbia River.

When:  I got here at the beginning of April and I'll probably be here until the beginning of June.

Why:  This boat is brand spanking new and is scheduled to be commissioned in June.  I'm here helping put the final touches on her.  I'm literally ordering everything that goes inside a vessel.  From sheets, towels, blankets to mooring lines, tow cable, sledge hammers to fire fighting equipment to televisions to printer paper and sharpies.

How:  I make lists upon lists upon lists.  Then I email everyone I know to ask them questions.  Once I have an idea about what I want / need I send a Purchase Request to my company.  They in turn issue a Purchase Order and items are shipped to me.  I receive the items and stow them in a big container.  Once the vessel is actually ready for things to be inside it I'll unload my container into the boat.

The Good The Bad The Ugly:  I'm very new to tug boats and I haven't ever done a project like this.  It's stretching me.  I'm learning tons.  It's pretty darn fun.  Unfortunately, I probably won't know what I didn't order until we need it.  The ugly?  I'm living in a Comfort Inn.  Yikes.

I painted my kitchen pink!

A couple days ago I posted photos of my kitchen. It is hands down the room in the  house that bugs me the most. It was just bland. Everything was the same color.  

Overall my theme downstairs is 'hipster beach cottage'. It kind of developed organically. I didn't set out for beach cottage. Or hipster. But, since my kitchen was driving me nuts I decide to channel the hipster beach cottage and did a poor mans remodel! 

Just to refresh your memory. Here's the before: 

Also, to be fair, it's a messy before

Also, to be fair, it's a messy before

Here's the after! 

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Here's what I did: 

Painted it pink

Took down the exit guisher

Added a little print above the sink (I'll probably switch it out with something I love) 

Added a mat to break up the floor color matching the cabinets

Added some hipster #ohjoyfortarget vases 

Added some very 'college dorm-y' bulb lights that I LOVE

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I also hung some paper lanterns that were left over from a party. They're admittedly too large - I'll probably switch them out.  

Lastly, I put a little table between two chairs I had on hand to make a little seating area. These chairs have been around since I was a kid. They need a painting but in the meantime I love that they're at my house. They also kind of highlight my bottle collection (I've dug up all these bottles in my backyard!).  

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All in all, I'm very, very pleased. It says 'Megan the Nautiemermate' for sure.  

The photos above were taken at night time when the kitchen had lights hung and was all glowy.  

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This is what it looked like pre-lights looking towards the living room. (Also, I'm in love with my bar cart...) 

Looking from the living room - with no other lights on in the house.  

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There you have it. Casa de Mermate!

I'm about to talk politics. Turn away if you can't handle it.

I'm voting for Hillary Clinton because she's a woman.  Boom.  I said it.

She has a point.

A variation of this NY Times article was published in our local paper.  It really made me stop and think about the generational gap in feminism.

When I first got out of school and started working in a male dominated industry I absolutely would have told you that I was treated the same as men and that there was no downside to being a woman on a ship.

People would always ask me, 'is it hard being the only female aboard?'  I'd almost always say no.  

You know what happens when you get older?  You realize things you didn't realize when you were younger.  I mean, duh, right?

Sometimes, I look back at things that were said to me or done to me and I think, 'holy crap! how did I let that stand?!'.  I didn't know any better.  Of course it was hard sometimes to be the only female onboard!

These women who feel so secure in their womanhood, who think that it's best to vote for someone on merit and not because of their gender, they're younger than they know.  Have they had to pay for child care because our maternity leave policies are wiggidy whack?  Have they been taught to negotiate a salary?  Are they fully aware of what their male counterparts are earning?  DO THEY CARE ABOUT HOW UNDER REPRESENTED THEY ARE?!  

Let's be honest, when the Canadian Prime Minister Trudeau made his cabinet fifty percent women and answered criticism with the line, 'because it's 2015', he had the right of it.     

Sure, mass assumptions are terrible, I am positive that some women are voting for Bernie Sanders because they believe in his policies.  Good for them.  He's still just another old white dude.  

Is Hillary a saint?  Nope.  She's a politician.  Wanna know why she has more scandals than other candidates?  Because she's been playing the game a lot longer.  Ahem.  That's also called paying her dues.

I'm with Madeleine Albright.  I can tell the story about how I climbed the ladder.... and guess what?  It's not done.

I'm voting for Hillary because she's a WOMAN and she's EARNED this and WORKS HARD and because IT'S NOT DONE.

BECAUSE IT'S 2016!!!!!

 

Can we just talk about blogs for a second?

Let's just talk about blogs for a second.  I mean, really think about the overall concept.  Sometimes when I think about what's really going on here I find it very, very strange.  Sometimes I have incredibly cynical feelings about myself and the blog.   It almost feels like I've detached from myself (and from the blog) and am look at myself from a different angle - or maybe even from above - and I'll think, 'why am I doing this?!'.

I'm sitting here, and I haven't written in a month.  I have guilt.  Like genuine, bonafide guilt.  When I try to analyze the why I can't put my finger on it.  I've let my readers down?  Maybe.  Could be valid.  But, let's be honest and admit I know almost every single one of you.

I got a text message last night from a friend pointing out that I hadn't been writing.  I wasn't lying when I said it's been stressing me out!

Here's the thing.  There's all this stuff that I want to talk about.  There are all the moments of every day life that I think about sharing.  There's the real talk.  The best parts of life that are hard and great at the same time -the family - the friends - the time - the money - the job.  Then I start to think, 'why the heck are you posting this on the internet?!'. 

I often wonder if my blog is innately narcissistic.  I have this place on the internet where I write about myself - then I hope people read about it.  What I keep coming back to is that it's only narcissistic when I'm not 'keeping it real'.  When I'm only sharing the good.  When I'm styling photos.  When I'm glossing over the not so amazing details.  

You know what's hard about 'keeping it real'?  It makes you vulnerable.  Truth.

I invariably find myself going back to the big question of, 'why the heck are you posting this on the internet?!'.  I mean, sure, vulnerability is part of our human experience but, does it have to happen online?  Because, lets be clear: once it's posted, it's there forever.  There are no 'take backs' online.       

I think the reason I struggle with this is because I'm naturally an oversharer.  For example, I'll tell you that I tripped down the stairs and showed my panties to the world.  I could hold it in but, I rarely do.  The thing is, if I had held it in then it would mean only 10 people know my panties were exposed - not 100.  

Where's the line?  When do you make yourself vulnerable and when do you hold it in?  When I wrote a post on writing and feelings I shared a quote by Brené Brown, 'I don't share anything until my healing and growth is no longer dependent on the reaction to it'.  I started to share some essays I had written during a rough time.  But then I started to second guess myself.  Am I over it?  Am I no longer dependent on the reaction?  Have I grown?  

Yesterday, I was prepping vegetables in the kitchen and a song I loved came on.  I started to spontaneously dance.  Like drop what I'm doing and break it down in the kitchen.  I whipped out my phone and I took a photo of my counter.  It was a disaster and it totally cracked me up.  I thought, 'maybe I'll post this on the blog'.  

Narcissism?  Oversharing?  Vulnerability?  Maybe a little of all three?  But also, my love of this little space I've created on the internet.  My love of my Nautie Friends.  My love of writing.  My love of photography.  My love of a tiny dose of creativity.  It's my moment of zen.  

All this to say, I know this place is gathering cob webs.  It won't be forever.  In fact, I think I'll start dusting them off.  

I Le'a! I Ola!

To Joy!  To Life!

via
I do it for the joy it brings
Because I’m a joyful girl
Because the world owes me nothing
And we owe each other the world
— Ani DiFranco

It's the seventh day of the new year.  Sweet Sixteen.

What kind of blogger would I be if I didn't talk about how I plan to move forward this year?

I'm currently sitting on my couch, with my feet on the ottoman.  The upstairs is rented out on Airbnb and I'm living downstairs.  The guests woke up at 4am and tromped all around making breakfast before leaving the house for what I'm assuming was some kind of sunrise tour.  My house is pretty messy but, it's also clean thanks to my friend Danielle.  I've got big boxes of crap to go through.  Whatever.  I've worked out 9 days in a row - which is like nothing - but I'm super irritated I haven't lost any weight.  I've done nothing of consequence today.  I've puttered around the house and dabbled in this and that.  I just started painting the legs for this desk that I want to put together.  Two out of four are painted on the lanai the other two are laying in my hallway.  I don't have a menu plan for the week but the fridge is full of food.  My little dining room table is covered in paperwork but seriously, whatever.

All this?  It's how I plan to move forward.

I don't have goals right now.  Not real ones.  Not tangible ones with action plans.  I don't have one little word to focus on.

This is life.  Find the joy.  

 

in case you're wondering about those Ani lyrics you can listen the song Joyful Girl here.  It's an oldie but a goodie.