I think I’ve been delinquent in my correspondence with all you fine, lovely specimens of the human race. I apologize for my absence, but beg you to remember that absence does indeed make the heart grow fonder. If you have any questions regarding that colloquialism, please just call up Vincent or my mom and get all the sordid details.

In any case, this week has been pretty hellish for me, after a few scandals that went down here at FLETC, and then some personal problems dealing with having a long-distance relationship. (If anyone has any advice, feel free to call my voicemail at 215.990.8975 and leave it; with any luck, I’ll get it and take it to heart).

The first scandal that started out my week was an issue of integrity for which I somehow became the focal point. I won’t go into too much detail, but there was much miscommunication; a ton of finger-pointing, name-calling and the like; and a little bit of a rift was caused between all the alphas we have here. It is all settled now, and I am feeling much better about it, now knowing much more about the people with whom I will have to work. I know who my friends are, who I can trust, and so on.

Now there are a bunch of little scandals running amuck in our group, but it is the predictable outcome of putting a lot of alpha males together for seven days a week, with barely an inch of breathing room and hardly any sleep. I dare say it is nothing we won’t overcome.

On the personal side of things, Vincent and I are enjoying the absence of the other – NOT. So somehow that has manifested itself into all sorts of repression of emotion on both sides, until the powder keg explodes, and I am so off kilter that I actually FAILED to qualify with my firearm today. I am the only one out of 46 who needs to re-qualify. I managed to knock over 60 points off my regular score, to miss quals (i.e. qualification) by about 17 points. Therefore, I now have 8 extra hours of remedial firearms next week (yes, that is above and beyond the 6:00AM-4:30PM, Monday through Saturday schedule I keep), plus qualifications. Good times, yes, good times…

But I worry not. Fear not. Quiver in my shoes not at all. Vincent will be here this weekend and we’re going to whisk ourselves away to the lovely confines of a hotel room on Jekyll Island, where I am told I will be regaled with a very fine Jacuzzi. I cannot wait! And tomorrow evening, i.e. Saturday, Vince and I are going on a moonlit sail. I’ve only been sailing once before, but it wasn’t at night. This should be a wonderful weekend for the two of us to get back in touch with one another…

And then I get to re-qualify NEXT week. No problem…

Of course, more prominent in my mind is this comprehensive test we have tomorrow. I really shouldn’t be on the computer typing up my blogspot at all, but I can’t seem to shake the feeling that you all might be missing me, and really care about what’s going on down here in South Georgia.

Whew. That’s most of my story. Just another day in Hell. Oh, and I think I’ve been counting wrong…There are exactly 33 days of training left, down here at FLETC, not including holidays and our “weekends.” If you want to think of the longer timeframe, i.e. how long before I am back in DC, that would be exactly 43 days…

However, I will be counting down FLETC days…so, 33 and counting, boys and girls, 33 and counting…

Oh my...38 and counting...and I just accidentally deleted an entire blog before I posted it. I just don't have the heart to type it all up again. My my my, how will you ever survive without today's update???

Sorry I've been away for the past few days...on Monday we had our first big legal test, and I thought I'd take some time away from you guys to study for it. I mean really, priorities people! (Yeah, I don't know; what WAS I thinking??? Who really wants to graduate from FLETC anyway?)

So anywho.

Today was yet another full day of shooting guns, handcuffing and searching my fellow classmates, running for miles on end, and trying my darnedest not to fall asleep in our self-incrimination class (yay for the 5th amendment!). Speaking of which, yesterday in our nonlethal control techniques (i.e. "cuffin' and stuffin'") class, the other DS chick, Jen, and I were paired up to conduct a search. I was the officer, and she was the suspect. Well, they had me leave the room so she could place some contraband on her person for me to find during my search. When I came back it, let me tell you, it was quite the experience. I think it is now official that Jen and I know each other more intimately than any other two people in our class... You see, she hid a hyperdermic needle in her bra strap for me to find, but when I checked under the back band of the bra, it slipped out and into her cup. Once I got around to searching the front, she kept repeating, "You still haven't found it, try again." Well, try, and try again! I must have felt her up about five times before I found it...and then I had to unbutton her collar (remember that she is handcuffed while this is happening), and tear that baby out with my teeth!

Okay, so maybe I didn't use my teeth, but I had to go in after it...how embarassing! I mean, really, I have to work with these people...

So anyway, ever since then I refer to Jen as "Little Spoon." And yes, that makes me the big spoon. And I ain't sharing!

Hmmm, what other FLETC news? During the rainstorm yesterday, the entire ceiling in the kitchen of our dining hall collapsed, so we are without hot food items until further notice. Due to this, I have eaten nothing at the cafeteria today, other than to nibble on a sandwich at lunch, which was completely unpalatable. Tonight we all managed to get a group together to drive to Mo-Joe's, where we enjoyed the fine cuisine that is chicken wings. It was FWAT and then some (for those of you who know what I'm talking about)...

In other news, my physical restrictions have been lifted as of today, so I got to enjoy the rigor of running around a track for an hour today. Good times had by all, I swear. Now, it's not like PT isn't my most favorite thing in the world, but sprinting and then jogging after I've been out of commission for over a week is really sucky. I even managed to somehow get a blister on my foot. But of course I blame that entirely on the unforms we have to wear (yes, I said "uniforms"). I think they originally purchased these uniforms in the 60s and haven't bothered replacing them yet. We even have socks, sports bras and jock straps issued to us (well, to the respective genders anyway). My biggest problem is the socks, which generally equate to wrapping a few cotton threads around your foot. Which explains the blisters (the bastards!).

This morning we also had a run-through of our firearms qualifications course. I just want you all to know that, despite my complaining, right now I am shooting at the "sharp shooter" level. That is only a few points less than "expert" and is still many, many points above the minimum score we need to get. So look out boys and girls, your buddy o' pal Ryan is about to be qualified, and then armed and dangerous! I believe our "real" qualifications are on Saturday... wish me luck!

And that pretty much wraps this up for the evening...TGNR needs some rest (TGNR=The Girl Named Ryan)...Much love to you!!!!!

By the way, 39 and counting...

43 and counting...

Today ended with quite an interesting twist of events. Remember how I mentioned that we have an assignment to do some photography and shoot some basic video? Well, as part of that assignment, we have to film a "crime scene." Our buddy Lester decided to make it into a real crime scene by getting his Samurai stuck in a boggy ditch. The local FLETC police came out, with the blue lights a-flaring and all the commentary one can handle (such as, "I think you should call a tow truck"). It took us over an hour to find someone who could drag him out of the ditch. Several attempts, one broken line, and several Samurai overheats later and presto-change-o, Les was out of the ditch. What is most funny to me is that when you're dealing with a large number of alpha males, it is usually best to stand around, watch and laugh. Every guy on base seems to have a different opinion of how a truck would best be dragged out of ditch. And they're loud too. Good times had by all, I swear. At least I was there with my camera to capture all the action on film.

In any case, that is the big news for today. There isn't too much else to report. I am in week three and I've already been restricted from physical exertion as I strained my right quadricep (aka my right thigh). Now the health unit informs me that I'm not allowed to run, jump or kneel - which basically kicks out all my PT classes, firearms, and walking up the stairs to get to my room. I have now hired my own personal manservant to carry me around everywhere, as I am so very fragile. :) At least I get to return again on Tuesday to see if my status changes. But until then, I am armed to the teeth with ibuprofen and all the ice a thigh can handle (remember that ice machine? It's beginning to come in handy...).

Man, I realize now how thoroughly exhausted I am. I think that means that it is way past my bedtime. So, I must bid all you little wannabe blogsters goodnight, and go on my merry way. I hope you can all learn to live without me....I promise I'll be back tomorrow!

Well, well, well...day two of the blogster, and there are only 44 days of FLETC left. Not that I'm counting or anything. But if I were, I might even mention the fact that I am free on 27 November at 4:30PM, until 5:00AM on 2 December...yay for Turkey!!

In any case, let me describe my surroundings. My first thought of FLETC was: prison. Yes, yes, the campus looks very akin to a variety of cell blocks. We even have one dormitory on site that is simply referred to as "The Crackhouse." I tried to tell them that my good friends Martha, Mel and Michelle don't live here, but they quickly corrected my confusion over the differences between a crack "house" and a crack "home." Heh, go figure.

So, as I mentioned yesterday, I live in what you would describe as close-knit, intimate surroundings, with my neighbors being able to hear every last snore, grunt, muffled yawn, and whatnot that issues from my room. That and I'm right next to the ice machine which makes the same noise as the icemaker in your respective freezers, only about 10 billion times louder and every 10 minutes or so - and no, I do NOT exaggerate. It is that obnoxious. I don't suggest you move down here. I fully plan on graduating from here on time and never returning.

As luck would have it, my entire Diplomatic Security (DS) Class lives in Dormitory 275 (I don't understand their numbering system), even though when I first arrived they mistook me for a guy (glad they check up on their paperwork) and paired me up with a guy. And that's the incident that landed me on the 3rd floor of my building, right by the ice machine. At least my cellmate is nice enough. Her name is Kimby and she is also 22 years old. She's from somewhere around here - and by "here," I mean down south - and listens exclusively to country music. I am sure she also enjoys my stirring renditions of Blind Melon's "Changes" that waft through the bathroom doors.

Did I mention that we share a bathroom? My only downside to having a cell mate at this point in my life is that I am often locked out of the bathroom. Which really stinks when you have just downed three bottles of water to combat the humidity that is Georgia. Other than that, we get along fine. I see her around the cell block quite a bit, always doing cadences (she's in the Capitol Police and their program requires them to march around all the time - good times).

As for my program, I am in the Criminal Investigators Training Program (CITP). Thus far I have learned the ins and outs of the 4th amendment, the 6th amendment, the 8th amendment, the 14th amendment, courtroom evidence, how the government works in relation to the laws, preventative disease control, how to yell out commands like a police officer and cuff the compliant bad guy, how to run in cadence, why I never made it in gymnastics (could it be that Ryan already failed the flexibility test?), and how to shoot a Sig Sauer 228 9mm pistol. I wonder what they'll teach us next week...

The guys in my class are really great. I understand that a lot of the classes down here end up becoming polarized by week 4 (or thereabouts), but I really don't foresee any problems. Although it is a class of alpha males, most of them are from the military and understand how to lead and be led. We're pretty tight-knit already.

Of course, there are 46 people total in my CITP. Us DS people comprise about 22 members of the class, and the rest are split between Department of Commerce, Coast Guard, US Forest Service, and Fish and Wildlife Service. I'm everyone's kid sister and they make sure that I stay in line by not cutting me any slack. Not that my line was never anything but a zig-zag, but I am causing considerably less havoc than I did back in college. I guess I'm growing up... :)

Our first big test is this Monday and everyone seems to be making it out to be more than it really is. Everyone always wants to complicate issues by asking detailed "what ifs" and hypothetical scenarios. Maybe I'm just strange when I think that we should all just take the information for what it is, study it, and ace this sucker. The only thing that throws a wrench into our plans is that today we just had our photography and video classes, and now we have two fairly sizable assignments due by Saturday morning at 9AM (Did I mention that we take classes 6 days a week?). Top that off with all the report-writing we have to take care of, and we're finding our free time disappear in leaps and bounds.

Hmmm, what else to talk about? I am an incredibly bad shot with the Sig (my gun). Okay, okay, I'm definitely not the worst, but I was put into the remedial training course. We wear these little helmets, and everyone talks real slow so we can understand...no really, it's just that only a select few of us are bad enough to warrant more time on the firing range. We have to qualify with a score of 210 out of a possible 300. Fish and Wildlife have to score a 240 minimum. It's tough stuff for those of us who have never shot a gun before - and no, I am not the only one, thankfully.

On a happy note, I did really well on our preliminary Physical Efficiency Batteries (PEBs). We have to pass each of the four categories in order to graduate: bench press, flexibility, agility run, and 1.5 mile run. I completely annihilated the 1.5 mile run, scoring over 90% (which means that I beat more than 90% of the women in my age group who came through FLETC - we are not compared with your average Joe citizen), and did pretty well in the agility run. The bench press was good, but I really want to jack that up there, and I completely failed the flexibility test. Luckily, none of this counts. We have 7 more weeks of fun and training to get those scores up. Then we have to qualify.

Maybe I should take a moment to explain how our CITP class is run. Basically, we have all these classes, and then a bunch of practicals, where we learn all the ins and outs of conducting a criminal investigation on the federal level. While we are here, we are all honorary members of the South Georgia Federal Task Force (which doesn't technically exist; it's for training purposes only - even though we do get a badge) (SGFTF). Well, we get this case, and we work all the different angles of it, conducting our Practical Exercises (PEs) as we go. These include interviews, conducting surveillance, collecting evidence, going through the search warrant process, etc., etc., all the way until the Grand Jury and Suppression Hearings, where we act as the prosecution's law enforcement witness. Basically, when the case is done, so is class. Make sense?

Well, good. I now have to go create a crime scene so I can photograph it and make some pretty videos. Boy, the fun never ends...

Day one of my blogspot. For any of you who are wondering, yes, I've now made it to week three of hell, uh, I mean "of the wonderful program that is Criminal Investigation." So here I am, at the Federal Law Enforcement Training Center (from here on out entitled FLETC, and pronounced with a strong southern tilt as "FLEEE-TECH"), learning how to interpret the 4th amendment and shoot a SigSauer 228 9mm pistol. Good times had by all, I swear. Did I mention that I passed into the remedial firing range class today? Yeah, Ryan is a great shot now that she's had all of three days training on a gun...Actually, if you can believe it, I have excellent aim but terrible trigger pull (sounds like a problem only you men have, don't it?). And it doesn't help that our instructor makes us all nervous, psychs us out by simply "refreshing" us on the use of a gun, and tells us to take our time, but hurry the hell up.

Anyway, I want to make this short so I can see if it works. I may even write again later tonight. We'll see. Let me just figure out how this works and I will come back with more tales from the cell (i.e. my 9'x9', cement-walled "bedroom" with just enough mold to breathe and a shared bath - my cellmate's name is Kimby [only in the South I tell ya])...