The Honest Guide to Cannon AFB

So, you (or your spouse) have gotten orders to Cannon. You've heard all the rumours. You're not sure if you should sigh in resignation or paste a smile on your face and give it the ol' college try. After all, anywhere's better than Minot... (Pretend you didn't just see that.) Well, I'm here to help. I've lived in New Mexico for 25 of my 29 years and I've been living in the Clovis/Portales area since 2010. I don't pretend to be an expert on the area, but I've been around long enough to know a thing or two about a thing or two.

The roads are horrid.

Potholes. SO MANY POTHOLES. I've heard many a spouse say they've had to replace the shocks on their cars several times because of the, ahem, bumpy rides around here. Clovis and Portales do not have adequate drainage on the streets either, so when it rains, floods force many of the main roads to close. In the country many of the roads are unpaved. Summer rains turn them into mud pits (hope you have good tires) and in the winter, the extreme cold causes the dirt roads to turn into muddy slush. Your little city Miata wasn't built for this kind of abuse. You've been warned.

That smell? Why, it's the smell of money...

As the locals will joke over and over until you can't fake laugh at it anymore. This area is home to many dairies which have been here for generations. As such, the air often smells like a wonderful mix of rotting hay and manure. Agriculture is big business here, so get used to the smell. Supposedly you won't even notice it after awhile. That's what I was told, anyway. It's been five years, and...

Target? Panera? (Insert name of business you liked back home)

We don't have any of them here, and they're probably not coming any time soon, so don't even bother to ask. Clovis/Portales are rather isolated. The nearest large towns are Amarillo and Lubbock, which are roughly a two hour drive. Roswell, NM is about 1.5 hours south and has some wonderful thrift shops (no extraterrestrials, though.) In New Mexico and West Texas, some businesses have no presence at all. In-N-Out, Wawa, Publix... Only in your dreams, amigo. (Side note: Starbucks recently opened up on base this year, so maybe this is proof that God loves us and doesn't want us to suffer.)

The area is full of wonderful gems and hidden treasures.

Clovis is a thrift store lover's dream. There are many locally owned consignment and "gently used" shops full of antiques, vintage clothing and fun little tchotchkes for your mantel. The Cannon Spouses Club also runs a thrift shop on base which donates all profits to the morale and welfare of the base. Some more discerning palates may disagree, but there are great places to get your grub on too. Try the bread pudding and green chile potato soup at Gallery 15. Indulge yourself in some excellent Italian at Roma's. Want authentic Mexican food? Espiga de Oro and La Paz (in Portales) have you covered.

Do all of the sightseeing while you're here.

A lot of times, spouses shut themselves up in their houses and pine for home (or their last base), becoming virtual hermits save for social networking. Don't make this mistake! New Mexico is chock full of culture and numerous sights to behold. Plus, most everything is a day trip away. Go see the Gathering of Nations in April, the world's biggest Native American Festival. Hike the La Luz Trail or at Bandelier National Monument. Get your (sand) sled on White Sands. See the Trinity Site, where the world's first atomic bomb was detonated. Take a relaxing dip in the refreshing hot springs of Ojo Caliente or at rustic Faywood. Go see the ancient, massive Valle Caldera. Decide for yourself if Georgia O'Keefe's paintings were really flowers.

Crazy weather and BUGS.

We live on the prairie, which means that the weather can be extreme. (Kinda gives you a new respect for the old-time pioneers, huh?) Summers are blazing hot, winters are bitter cold, and gusty wind occurs year round. It doesn't rain often, but during monsoon season heavy rainfall causes flash floods. Severe thunderstorms and even tornadoes are not uncommon. Be prepared for many types of bugs in your home as well, such as wolf spiders, roaches, and lots and lots of flies.


Clovis Schools are excellent.

Think that just because you're stuck in the boonies, your kids won't get a quality education? Think again! Clovis has a wonderful school system. They have programs to encourage kids to be good citizens and many parents say that teachers and administration are very proactive. For music, Clovis is top notch. When I was in band in Los Alamos, they were the ones we always feared because we knew they would beat us.

Volunteering, leadership opportunities, and socialising can all be found....

... when you join the Cannon Spouses Club. This organisation brings spouses, active-duty, retirees, reservists and base-affiliated civilians together for fun, friendship, and to make a difference in our community.  For just $45 a year (your first event is free), you can experience everything CSC has to offer. The Cannon Spouses' Club also gives away scholarships and has an annual charity auction. Wanna get involved? Check out their website HERE for more information.

Sometimes living here feels like a time warp.

With the dearth of big-city businesses, ultra conservative values (we are on the edge of the Bible Belt, after all), surrounded by crumbling remnants of a bygone era, living here can seem rather surreal at times. The mall is full of empty storefronts. Since this area is so isolated, many of the fads and trends in other parts of the country have not made it here yet. The good news is, if ever there is a zombie apocalypse, it won't hit us till two years after it happens.

YOU WILL SURVIVE.

Got kids? Join a playgroup. Love to read? Join a book club. Once you get involved in the community, you'll feel much better about being at Cannon and actually enjoy your time here. Since Cannon is a small base, the community is tight-knit. The base also has many, MANY resources for spouses looking for jobs, trying to finish their education, or just needing someone to talk to. (Call the AF&RC at 575-784-4228 to learn more). Get to know your spouse's squadron's key spouses... and for heaven's sake, if you don't know what squadron your spouse is in, ASK! Your key spouses are invaluable resources and they know how to get you to the right people for whatever you need. (Not to mention, I've heard stories of some Key Spouses bringing soup when you're sick and being great shoulders to cry on, but that could be an urban legend.) Point is, you're not alone and no matter how tough things get, someone has your back. This is important to remember when the inevitable Deployment Curse strikes.

I hope you found this useful. The best part of military life its transience: you won't be here forever, so make worthwhile memories while you wait for your BOP to come through, or your spouse to separate. :)

-Matti

Call Me Matti: The Beginning

I was born Veronica Renee Archuleta in Las Cruces, NM. I was named partially for my dad, Ronnie (which is short for Veronica) and Renee, (meaning "reborn" in French) is my mother's favourite name. At birth, I was designated female. For most of my first year of life, I wore the same little pink outfits because my parents were very young, poor, and couldn't afford to buy me many new clothes. When I was a small child, I was not really too aware of the differences between male and female. I wore feminine clothes because that is what my mother bought for me. I remember taking my role of "big sister" very seriously when my siblings were born.
Sometime during elementary school (I do not know exactly when) I started realising I didn't quite fit in with other girls. I hated wearing dresses to church.  I enjoyed rough-housing, reading, and playing football with the boys way more than I enjoyed putting on lip gloss and gossiping with the girls. Around this time, I met a kid in Sunday School named Ashley. Ashley's hair was short and she wore suits to church. The girls would tease her behind her back, and they called her names I didn't quite understand, like lesbian, dyke, and tranny. It was clear that she wanted to be thought of as a boy but our classmates would have none of it. When I tried to defend Ashley, they teased me too. Soon enough the family quit attending our church. I sometimes wondered if I was a person like Ashley. I had no concept of the word "transgender" at this time, and the way that Ashley dressed and acted was very contrary to the way I was taught that girls should dress and act. Since I didn't know how to express myself, and had no one to advise me on the subject, it retreated into a dark corner of my mind.
So life went on. I entered junior high as the same rambunctious tomboy I was in elementary school. I learned that I was very good at making people laugh; I used this to earn friends and weave my way into many different cliques. I didn't quite fit into any of them, but I was popular in my own right. I started experimenting with wearing makeup, and as it turned out, when I fixed myself up just right I was an attractive girl. Boys started noticing me, and I had a string of boyfriends (whom I kept strictly at school since I wasn't allowed to date.) I envied the popular girls and did everything I could to emulate them: I read fashion magazines, I wore the nicest clothes that our tight budget could afford, and I sought their advice on hair and makeup.
  When I was in my late teens, I started experiencing gender dysphoria for the first time. Gender dysphoria means basically feeling distress at being in the wrong body. The wide-eyed, curvy girl in the mirror did not match who was inside. It didn't help that friends always joked that I would have made a better guy.  One of them even said, "V, you just don't know how to 'act pretty.'" I had no idea what she meant by that. Apparently this meant I was too opinionated, brash, forward, sloppy. etc to be a girl. She echoed what my mother had always told me growing up. Mum was constantly on my case for not being ladylike and for choosing t-shirts and jeans over dresses and cardigans. Once again, having no real outlet for my feelings, I chose to bottle them up and continue with life, hoping one day I would be what a girl was supposed to be.
It was not until my mid-twenties that I watched a movie called "Boys Don't Cry" that the question of my gender identity resurfaced. The film focused on the life and death of Brandon Teena, who was a stealth, non-op transman. In 1993, he was murdered after being found out by two acquaintances. As the credits rolled, I remember thinking to myself, "I'm Brandon." I was excited to finally put a name to what I'd been feeling for so long, but also terrified. I'd grown up a lot since I'd first met Ashley, and I knew the world was not kind to transgender people. I was afraid of alienating my family, losing my friends, and my then-fiance. I wanted desperately to start transitioning.
At first, I opted to do it gradually.  I decided that I needed a masculine name. I chose the name Matti because it was a) ambiguous sounding (not many in the US know it's a Finnish boy's name) and b) I thought it suited me more than Veronica ever did. I had my friends, family and coworkers start calling me this. Over the next year or so I started dressing more masculine, though I was still not out of the closet to anyone but my fiance and a few close friends.
My first attempt at transition was a disaster. Once people started getting the hint, I noticed that they started treating me differently--sometimes, in bad ways. I worried that my fiance, who had started dating me as a bisexual woman, would not be attracted to me any more. I broke up with him and entered into a very unstable, unhealthy relationship. I became so depressed and hopeless that I attempted suicide and was hospitalized for five days. When I got home, I knew I wasn't ready yet. Transitioning went on the back burner. I started dressing and presenting as a woman again.
In 2013 I met my husband, and it was with him that I felt like I could truly be myself for the first time in my life. I didn't have to hide or pretend to be someone I wasn't. Part of me was still scared to tell him, and I didn't reveal my trans status until a few months after we were married. He was a little shocked, but he told me that he had seen it coming. With his support, I came out publicly on Facebook and to my siblings. Our families still do not know. We have decided that, for now, it is best for them to keep seeing me as a woman.
At this point, I am not on hormone therapy. That's another obstacle I have to overcome. Trying to find a doctor who will treat a transgender patient is very difficult. Furthermore, as of this writing my medical insurance does not cover transgender services. In the future, I am hoping to get surgery to remove my breasts and get a more masculine contour. Again, this is going to be very expensive, not covered by insurance, and difficult to obtain.
I do not hide my past; I am not ashamed of it. I only wish it hadn't taken me so long to come out. The road ahead is long, but the future is bright. I can't wait until the world sees the man I have always been!

Matt

How to Become A Slave to the System

Work. Buy. Consume. Die. --OTEP, "Smash the Control Machine"

Chances are, you're already on the path to becoming a mindless drone, but by reading this blog, you've become aware that you aren't doing nearly enough. Well, I'm going to show you exactly how you can live a purposeless, meaningless, consumerism-driven life. It's not as hard as you think. Trust me.

Get a job you absolutely hate (but pays really well).

I want you to think really long and hard about what you wanted to be when you were a child. Did you want to be an astronaut? A firefighter? A farmer? A fairy princess? Grand High Pooh-Bah of the Starflowers and Unicorns? Wrong, it was always your dream to become Senior Vice Executive Assistant to the Manager of Finance. It must have been, because that is what you wasted your four years in college (no wait, two in community college to save money) studying to be. You wanted to get a real job because your well-meaning parents told you that your dream of being a music producer was impractical, or your high-school sweetheart said you'd never make it as an artist. Success is measured in the amount of zeroes in your salary. That being said, now that you make a lot of money, it's time to

Spend, spend, spend on stuff you don't need.

So, it's Black Friday-- That wonderful day after Thanksgiving where, after sleeping off your turkey coma, you can go to just about any big-box store and stand in horrendously long lines whilst you wait to get the best deals on useless crap you'll throw out in six months. That huge big-screen TV that says "I'm cool because my TV is as wide as I am tall?" Thanks to the wonders of planned obsolescence, it is flimsy and made to break after a couple of years, thus requiring you to purchase a new one. But who cares? Status is the name of the game. Go to as many tag sales, door-busters, and grand openings as you can. Accumulate stacks of merchandise that will rival any hoarder's. You'll find a use for those twenty cosmetic bags... Eventually. You've spent a lot of money so step two is:

Get yourself in a mountain of debt.

Well, say you don't have enough money for all the stuff you want, thanks to all those student loans from college to get you the education for the job you hate. You've had your eye on that expensive, fancy smartphone from Best Buy for weeks now, but its $250 dollars, not to mention the two-year contract. No problem! That's where credit cards come in. Credit cards make it easier for you to buy now and pay later. Sure, you'll have to pay for it SOMEDAY, but for now, you get the instant gratification of being the envy of your friends. You can do the same thing with that fancy car you want. Lots of car places will give you a loan so you can have it now and pay it off for the next six years. Oh, and that big house you want? Get a mortgage! You'll be paying it for twenty-five or thirty years, but that's okay. At least you have lots of space to put your useless stuff.

Have no idea what's going on in the world.

This is probably the most important rule of becoming a slave to the system. If you know too much of what's going on in the world, you might suddenly start caring and doing things to change them. Corporations are counting on you to keep buying, Hollywood is counting on you to see their latest mind-numbing blockbuster, and television channels would rather you watch their latest Kardashian special rather than the news. If it doesn't affect you, it doesn't matter. Never mind that your trendy Hollister shirt was made by a ten-year-old working in squalid conditions. Never mind that we always seem to be at war with someone. The less you know, the happier you'll be.

Have no idea what's in your food, either.

Eat whatever the fuck you want. Life's short and we're all gonna die anyway, so why not have that Triple Whopper with cheese? And who cares about all the poison that's in processed food. If it tastes good, eat it. With medical technology advancing so much, they can fix just about anything that happens to you with pills or surgery. There's no need to torture yourself by living off bland rabbit food. But what if that excellent job you have doesn't give you health insurance? Well, that's just more debt you can add to your credit cards, car payment, house payment, and costly data plan.

Get married and have kids.

This is what society expects you to do, that way you'll always be slaving. Kids are also mini-consumers and have lots of disposable income (yours). Teach them that they need things to be happy, and shower them with fancy electronics so they can keep themselves out of your way so you can catch up on online shopping or the soap operas you have on the TiVo.

And there you have it folks. Now get crackin'! There's a sale at KMart you're missing.

M.