this is pouring rain

This Memorial Day I am remembering Air Force Staff Sgt. Chris Frost. A combat journalist working for one of our subordinate commands in theatre, Multi-National Security Transition Command - Iraq (MNSTC-I), Chris had essentially the same job I did; he facilitated responses to media queries, coordinated interviews/media visits in country, and covered the ongoing Iraqi-Coalition partnership (he got to do this far more often than I did). Reporters in Baghdad thought highly of him. He and I had corresponded through email for several months, mostly passing requests to each other as the reporters often contacted the wrong public affairs staff. I finally met him in person at a press conference in early 2008, where he suggested the group of us enlisted PAOs meet at the Green Bean inside the Embassy sometime for coffee and to swap stories.

A month or so later, I traveled to Landstuhl for a few days for an unexpected mission. I checked my email from my room the night before I was to return to Iraq and opened an email from a friend still in Baghdad. Chris had been killed in a helicopter accident along with 7 Iraqi airmen March 3.

He had one month left of his deployment. He was 24. 

Immediate Release

No. 0181-08

March 5, 208

DoD Identifies Air Force Casualty

The Department of Defense announced today the death of an airman who was supporting Operation Iraqi Freedom.

Staff Sgt. Christopher S. Frost, 24, of Waukesha, WI., died March 3 near Bayji, Iraq in a crash of an Iraqi MI-17 helicopter. He was assigned to the 377th Air Base Wing, Kirtland Air Force Base, N.M

You can see some of his photography and read his deployment blog here.

You're still in my thoughts, Chris. I'm so sorry.

"it's the sound of the unlocking

and the lift away"

- Bon Iver "Re: Stacks" -

but you tell me over and over and over again my friend

This makes me want to scream:

If you're outraged (I know I am), here's their email address: [redacted]. I already sent them a "confrontational" email to let them know what I thought of the video. Bravo guys. Seriously, way to go.

UPDATE 4/20:

I recieved this from Mr. Dennis Heitzmann, Senior Director, Center for Counseling and Psychological Services Affiliate Professor, Clinical and Counseling Psychology

Good morning [Sgt Malibu Niki]:

Thank you for the opportunity to give some background on this regrettable circumstance, and to allow us to sincerely apologize for the harm that has has been done. We have apologized to our campus vets and many others, many of whom have become supporters of our efforts to clarify and make amends.

The video you viewed was one of several that had been produced to highlight the services available to students, while addressing issues of relevance to members of the faculty (including ironically, unfair stereotyping of groups of individuals, sensitizing instructors to the unique milieu of their students, the inappropriateness of instructor-conveyed political positions in the classroom, reducing risk and mitigating anger). In the faculty workshop context, which has included veterans, the videos are used as a stimulus to discussion, and the very issues cited above, as well as others, are openly discussed in an effort to educate and support.

Unfortunately, since the posting of that single video to the cyber community, the portrayal of the student as a veteran, outside of the workshop context, unfairly stereotypes our student veterans. Whereas the producers of the video would never wish to be party to any such intention, it is understandable that this could be interpreted as such. Many weeks ago, upon realizing the unintended impact on some and the potential impact on others, we immediately removed the video from our website, and it will not be used in future workshops.

The Division of Student Affairs has enjoyed a longstanding quality relationship with the Office of Veterans Programs, and the student counseling service has helped scores of veteran students to resolve their unique challenges, as well as to facilitate their transition to the university. We would not want to jeopardize those relationships in any way, particularly in view of the many services we believe we have yet to offer this important student constituency. To that end, among other things we have been working with the Penn State University Veterans Organization to seek renewed ways to provide focused support and services.

As an infantry trainee at Fort Dix many years ago, I recall the words of Corporal
Ingram, my team leader, who reminded us that we can expect to fall time and again, but to get up, check your flanks, and keep moving till the mission's accomplished. Together with the support of the veterans, some of whom are seeing this as an important opportunity to not only right the wrong that has been done, but to advance the cause for all veterans, we feel a renewed sense of affiliation and support in our mutual efforts to provide quality services to our returning veterans --- perhaps the best way we can make amends to those who have been offended.........D.H.

P.S. If you have already forwarded your message to other veterans, I would appreciate I if you would forward my message above for their information

Dennis Heitzmann, Ph.D. Senior Director, Center for Counseling and Psychological Services Affiliate Professor, Clinical and Counseling Psychology

"ah, you may leave here for four days in space

but when you return, it's the same old place"

- Barry McGuire "Eve of Destruction" -

why worry when it's warm over here?

I just watched an episode of Ramsay's Kitchen Nightmares by accident, thinking it was Kitchen Nightmares (same chef, different country) and not realizing the channel was BBC America and not one of the FOX channels we get (I think we get more than one? I'm no good with the tv). 

Wow, what a difference! Tree likes Gordon Ramsay, so we periodically watch Kitchen Nightmares and weekly watch Hell's Kitchen. In both of those (US) shows, Ramsay throws plates of food, mercilessly insults participants, and screams obscenities at everyone. About a quarter of what he says is masked by a beep. 

But in the UK version of Kitchen Nightmares, he's almost pleasant. He still drops an f-bomb here and there, but he's more willing to listen to and actually help his fellow chefs and restaurant owners, and he's much more forgiving with the waitstaff. He didn't call anyone a failure, didn't throw anyone out of the kitchen. In the episode I watched tonight, he circulated through the dining room, personally handing out comment cards to the patrons. In the US version and in Hell's Kitchen, he's rarely not raging in someone's face, let alone interacting with the patrons.

What does this say about US vs UK culture? Is it that (aspiring) American chefs are more dimwitted and therefore more deserving of having food thrown at them when a customer sends it back? Or is it that Ramsay has to be more over the top, more obscene, more shocking, in order to satisfy the American audience? 

After the show, World News came on BBC America and I watched a little and felt sad. It made me think of BBC International, which was shown 24 hours a day on a huge television directly in front of my desk in Baghdad. Of all the 24-hour news channels we monitored (Pentagon News Channel, FOX, CNN, Al Jazeera English, CNN International, BBC-I, and Sky News) BBC-I was my favorite. They'd do longer pieces than the others, and I enjoyed watching the features that focused more on telling the story rather than jamming as much information as possible between commercials. I miss BBC-I, among other things...

"you've got so much to say,

say what you mean

mean what you're thinking

and think anything"

- Cat Stevens "Can't Keep It In" -

but somewhat golden like the afternoons we used to spend before you got too cool

Have not had much to blog about lately, but I hate waiting a long time between posts and then have to type one of those horrid update lists.

Anyway.

I am now exactly (as of yesterday) 6 months into my tour with First Army. I'm now in the narrow window in which a decision needs to be made: do I stay here and continue this thankless mission, or do I move on? I've always believed a door will open when I need it, and I have faith that if I decide to move on from this mission, there will be something else for me. But what? Whenever is the devil you don't know better than the devil you know? Remember when I was looking forward to THIS job??

I'll keep you informed, faithful readers, but I've all but made up my mind already...

You ready for a mindfuck? - I've been home from Iraq 8 months yesterday. EIGHT MONTHS. Iraq used to hang on my lips, wrap around my shoulders, hold my hand - for a time (wasn't it always?), Iraq defined me. I was significant because of Iraq. Do you see that? I was superior because I was there, and all my sarcasm, my mood swings, my snootiness, my dark humor, everything was justified because I was in fucking Baghdad. Now I'm nothing, a regular worthless human. Now it feels a little like a dream. 

...Tell me, why does that depress me?

...

Also - if you hate me for whatever reason I don't understand, if you don't want to talk to me anymore, if you're so caught up in fixing your life that you couldn't possibly have me be a part of it (lest I mess it up like before, right?), please just let me know. Trust me, that will be a million times easier than to hear, "my phone is fucked up" or "our internet got shut off" or whatever. There are no other phones in the greater United States? I think my head just might explode.

"but when I say let's keep in touch

I really mean I wish that you'd grow up"

- Brand New "Mix Tape" -

I'm me, me be, god damn, I am

A. I still feel very wild and restless. I've done the Fort Dix thing, and the mission isn't going to change all THAT much for me (maybe decrease, but not really change...). I've pretty much seen and done all there is to see and do. Sure, I'd like to fit in a couple more professional development classes before I leave, but that's not life-or-death.

The thought of another deployment makes my heart beat a little faster. Iraq? It's like longing for a lover you haven't seen in far too long. I want so bad to see the cluttered landscape, taste the sand, hear the foreign prayers at dawn. 

Do you know that I still roll my shoulders backward sometimes, the best way to make my pistol holster sit comfortably? I haven't touched that weapon in nearly 7 months.

There is a major I know that is willing to take me along with his unit to be the last AFN in Baghdad. It would require me going back to DINFOS for the broadcaster course (great!!), transferring into the Army Reserves (not so great), and possibly paying back most of my reenlistment bonus (exact opposite of great). But I'm really, really considering it: early 2010 is the timeframe for that deployment. I'd get off my OWT orders as scheduled in July, go to DINFOS until November, hang out for a few months and then..

And if not that, there are TONS of other opportunities. As a trainer for all Army reserve component public affairs units going to Iraq, I could easily hop on with any one of them. The current PAOC we have on the ground asked me to go with them; their LTC keeps telling me to pack my bags so I can leave when they do.

Do you believe me, I mean, really believe me, when I tell you that I loved it?

Iraq made me important, needed, a part of something so much bigger than myself, but in that way, big. My heart felt big each and every day I was there.

B. I love my little house, my little car, my little cats, my little life. I love sleeping in, having a weekend off, and the possibility of calling in sick. I love seeing my family pretty much whenever I want, and I love even more not hearing the tension in my mother's voice over the phone. I love having more than 10 cable channels (two of which were in Arabic, three were AFN channels, and the rest were MTV, History Channel, Animal Planet... forgot the other two...). 

I love not eating the same 5 meals over and over again. I love soda that tastes like soda and not watery shit. I love more than 5 minutes of a hot shower.

I love the wintery air and snowflakes. I love not having to pretend that the holidays don't matter to me.  I even love the Christmas tree that I didn't want in the first place.

And the lakehouse - how can I live without this view?? The loft, the outdoor hot tub, the window seat, the screened in porch, the floating dock, the wild ducks... this place is the closest to perfect I could have ever imagined.

Does loving those things make me selfish? Because that's exactly how I feel after typing all that.

"watch me unravel, I'll soon be naked"

- Weezer "Undone (The Sweater Song)" -

somewhere a queen is weeping

Sometimes I think I am still in Iraq. My weapon - where the fuck is my weapon?!

When I am dreaming, I am almost always shuffling my feet through the dust. Sometimes I look down and watch how it settles on the toes of my boots, like I've been standing still too long. I can feel the comfort of my IBA around my torso, weave my fingers through the loops that hold my gear to my vest. My medical pouch is full of sand. Sometimes, with all the shit I have to carry, I think about taking out one of the plates to make my IBA a little lighter. I've already given up on my side plates - they'll sit in a duffle under my bed until we're ready to go back to the world. It isn't safe, I know, but being constantly on guard has a way of wearing on you and making you stop caring as much. If I get shot, then I get shot.

We were joking, when the IDF was really bad around Easter, that the Iraqi barbers who worked in the palace were actually the mortar team that was responsible. They worked in the palace with us and the State Dept., so they knew the rhythm of the work day - when the most people were in one place. We'd look in the mornings to see if they'd posted a sign: Closing at 3:00 today, or whatever. They're leaving early, we'd say to each other. That means we'll get attacked later this afternoon. It wasn't funny, but it was funny. 

If we got attacked while at work, we had to move to the secured part of the palace - right near the cold sandwich bar. I took to making myself an soft serve cone while we waited for the All Clear. If you don't eat ice cream during an attack, the terrorists win, we'd say to each other.

The IDF was an annoyance - I just sat down at my desk! Fucking insurgents, I was trying to send an email to my father. And I'm getting sick of soft serve. If I was in my trailer, my day off or sleeping or whatever, sometimes I wouldn't even try to run for the Duck and Cover bunker. I'd just lay there, waiting for the sirens to stop. 

I don't think I can tell you what those moments felt like. Not paralyzed - I just felt made of air. I felt like I literally weighed nothing, like I wasn't a solid form anymore. I felt like I could lift up and float away. I couldn't hear my heatbeat anymore, I stopped having conscious thoughts. For that split second, I was as closer to death than I was to life. 

And just as quickly as it comes, the sensation is gone - replaced with a nauseous urge to start moving at lightspeed. Colors are vivid and the air smells so great and the ground has never seemed so solid beneath my feet. Have you ever realized that you are alive? That's what it is. You're alive and that's the most beautiful thing in the world.

Even thinking about those sirens is bringing tears to my eyes. Sometimes the sirens were worse than the sound of the explosions. Sometimes I'd lay in bed staring at the ceiling, hyperventilating long after the All Clear.

When I first got back, I spent a lot of time trying to sleep and not really sleeping. I drank too much and paid for it. I had to keep moving - felt weird and anxious and uncomfortable if I had time to rest. I'm a little better now, but loud or sudden noises still make me feel spooked.

Once, right when I first started at Fort Dix (about a month and a half after I left Iraq), I was getting my camera out of the back of the van to go shoot some photos at the counter-IED / IMT lane. I had my back to the lane, which was on the other side of some trees.  I was changing lenses when one of the range cadre threw an artillery sim - it whistled and exploded - and I burst into tears.

I'm not afraid of the sound really, but my responses scare me. That empty, light feeling I was talking about? It's the greatest feeling, but it's also the most terrifying feeling I have ever experienced.

I'm not trying to tell you cool war stories or to make you feel bad for me. (I'll be the first to admit that I was lucky - I only had to deal with IDF, no direct fire.) I don't want you to try to comfort me, or even to talk to me about this. I just needed to write and feel like I'm normal again.

"will the wind ever remember 

the names it has blown in the past?"

- Jimi Hendrix "The Wind Cries Mary" -

I'm tired of holding on to all the things I leave behind

Ok, well I know it's been quite a while since I've posted a blog - call it laziness, lack of inspiration, shell shock: I'm home.

A short breakdown of my activities / whereabouts:

Week 1: tried to sleep, with little success. Woke up more than a few times thinking I'd heard the duck & cover alarm. Had a recurring dream (nightmare?) that I'd misplaced my weapon [read: I no longer carry a weapon] and woke up sweaty, with my heart pounding.

Week 2: flew down to Florida with Coug and stayed with her mom. Went to Busch Gardens (it rained), tried to go swimming (started raining), enjoyed the best orange soft serve ever (while watching the rain) and managed not to get even a little bit of color (tan cancelled on account of... rain).

Went to a martini bar with Coug, her cousin, and a friend and managed to make a complete and utter ASS of myself. That night really deserves its own blog post, but I'll summarize in the interest of time: got trashed, ended up puking (up everything I think I've ever eaten) in the bathroom while people came in and out, commenting on the smell ("Is someone puking in here?")... had to be CARRIED outside where I proceeded to puke into the bushes and try to lay down in the mulch. Was carried to the car, laid on Coug's lap and physically could not unclench my hands (weird!), was carried into Coug's mom's house, and fell asleep in my clothes on top of the covers. I prayed for death - it would have been less embarrassing.

Week 3: occupied the couch and sulked. Continued having the dream about the missing weapon.

Week 4 (last week): went back to work at Joint Force Headquarters, Massachusetts National Guard. My sole accomplishment for the week (I'm not joking):


Well, I didn't want him to run away from boredom! We're in this together, Camel.

Really, I hate being back here. Sometimes I think that it's really changed; a number of my friends are either gone or are on their way out; the leadership is all new now and the changes they implemented while I was deployed are mostly less than enjoyable. And the walls upstairs have been painted a bright, mental hospital white that creeps me out everytime I walk down the hall to my office.

But then other times, I look around and marvel at how everything is exactly the same. There's still the same drama, same gossip behind everyone's back, same building full of broken deployment-dodgers. Don't mean to come off as a snob, but it's rather interesting I think that the majority of personnel in the HEADQUARTERS element of the MA National Guard have NEVER DEPLOYED. Aren't we, like, fighting a war?

And that's actually a part of the changes I was talking about: a number of officers in the system were not retained at the last retention board, and rumors has it that lack of deployment time was at least a partial factor in the decision to retain/not retain. Can't say I really blame the leadership... although my boss was one of those not retained, and he's a really great guy... but then everyone has their own backstory, right? You could probably plead a case for just about any of them. So where do you draw the line? 20+ years in the Guard, 0 deployments, 0 battalions commanded... I don't know. It makes me kind of sick to think about it. Obviously I'm a long ways away, but I cannot imagine having the rug pulled out from under me like that. One day they type up a memo saying I'm all done, mandatory retirement, GTFO - and then what?

Strange when you realize that your life so revolves around a single thing that you really think you might just die without it. Stranger still when you consider that you hate a sizeable chunk of this thing (the chunk being JFHQ, in case you aren't following).

I need to get the fuck out of here. I never should have left Iraq.

"...she said I need you to hold me

I'm a little far from the shore...

and I'm afraid of sinking..."

- Santana feat. Steven Tyler "Just Feel Better" -

the shit's so deep you can't run away

Today after formation, Signal-R suddenly interrupted a conversation to notice my tongue piercing and gave me a rash of shit about it, "Sergeant" (love that condescending tone... takes me back to the arguments we got into at Dix and then once in Kuwait - on the fucking range, no less). He then proceeded to point out the high level of brass here (really? I hadn't noticed... and truth be told, there is WAY less here at Striker than there is in the IZ... but I digress...) and told me that if some SGM catches me, it'll put "everyone" in a "world of hurt."

Ok - I know the policy on body jewelry, I shouldn't have this in while in uniform (and more importantly, I suppose, in formation), I get that, I admit that. But spare me the doucebaggery. If a SGM catches me (unlikely, but possible I guess), he's not going to seek out Signal-R (who is not even in my chain of command) in particular and demand to know why he didn't do anything about it. Even if this hard-charging theoretical SGM came and found MY SGM, he could alway deny knowing about it and promise to take care of it. And maybe I'd get counseled (oh no). So Signal-R's playing of the "think about the unit" card is bullshit (it also implies that I CARE about the unit... but that's another story...).

A silver lining to the horseshit (in my increased annoyance, I just upgraded the conversation to horseshit: less commonly heard than bullshit, so therefore worse): EBRI and M5 both deflected a little of the above rash of shit by piping in and trying to distract/lighten up Signal-R. In light of that and in light of other recent events, I will admit that I judged both prematurely and unfairly, and for that I apologize. Sometimes I don't know decent people when I see them, and sometimes I see "decent" people despite glaring examples on the contrary (isn't that right - ?).

Also - only a few more days of being stuck with this group of imbiciles and then I am free! Three glorious months and then...! SAB, please don't fail me... my sanity depends on it...

- Green Day "Walking Contradiction" -

you gotta give the other fella hell

Had a pretty good day today, all things told. I know you can only kind-of see it, but [above] this is me getting my eyebrows "threaded." Is that the word? You can read about the process here if you want to (gotta love Wikipedia!), but basically it is two strands of thread that are rolled over your hair and pull it out. It was more painful than waxing, only because it took longer, but the woman at the salon (named Cleopatra's Saloon - but I think she meant 'salon') was really great. Before she started, she asked me when I'd last had my eyebrows done and I laughed... so she handed me a tissue.

I needed it.

Unrelated, but been thinking a lot about this whole promotion thing - and I will not be screwed over twice. Z is staying in Iraq so - good. I'll be an E6 before he gets back.

- Guns 'n Roses "Live and Let Die" -

please excuse me while I tend to how I feel

This will be bland. My fingers do not work today.

I saw SAB in the PX this morning, before he left... he promised (again) to do all he could to help me get what I want. He also sent an email a short while later with his contact info, so I can keep in touch and follow up once I'm back in the states. Good stuff... as it turns out, I need this more than I realized.

So then I got back to my desk and started watching the movie I bought at the PX...

Got a phone call, and a little piece of me broke off and blew away (really, Tree?). Is it possible to feel the moment the air is sucked out of your chest? Possible to feel your tear ducts swell the moment you find yourself unable to swallow?

Fuck you. Fuck everyone.

Mama, they try and break me...

- Metallica "Hero of the Day" -

she loves to move, she loves to groove

Ok ok ok ok ok ok okokokokokokok I'm ok! And everything is going to be ok.

I shouldn't be getting too excited yet (it's wayyyy to early to get my hopes up) but I don't care, I'm fucking bouncing off the walls - I'm crazed!

I thought about what he said some more - woke up restless this morning - couldn't shower fast enough! And then I went to work in PTs even though I knew I was going to ask to talk to SAB in person - can you see that I didn't even have enough time to get my uniform on? So I got in, logged on, sent him an email... he said he'd meet me in the Green Bean right away. And as soon as I told him that I wanted to come back here, his face lit up with an idea. I won't tell you what it is just yet - mostly because if this doesn't work out, I will be crushed and any reminder will just make it worse - but if you see me, ask me and I might whisper it to you.

We have all been afforded the same opportunities. Fuck yes.

- Journey "Any Way You Want It" -

always living in the final hour, there is always sweet in the sour

I am elated, dizzy, glowing, spinning - I am vibrating so fast now, I am a blur against the dusty sky - can you see me? I'll always exist in the places that I loved: I'll be there at the counter of the Green Bean, ordering my usual spiced chai latte. You'll see my wet hair and tired eyes, makeup-less face turned toward the screens to watch the BUA every morning. I'll be there out front, between the pillars, a cigarette frozen in my hand, watching the birds dip and chatter into eternity. I'll be out by the pool, enjoying dinner beneath the palm trees. You can find me leaning back in my chair while collecting my thoughts, then rocketing forward to fire off a perfect email, the perfect response. I'll throw a blue football at you if you aren't paying attention, but mostly I'll be there in the MOC juggling the phones, putting out fires, networking, keeping it together. You might see me hurrying by in the hallways of the palace with my camera gear and body armor, cursing at my watch. You'll catch a glimpse of me on the front balcony, listening to my iPod and pointing out flares over the landing zone. Later I'll be walking slowly back to my trailer, enjoying the sandy quiet of night.

And you'll see me at the Rhino stop, crying, because this is the tragically unfit ending for the greatest thing I have ever been a part of.

We've all been afforded the same opportunities, he said - and I agreed with him without really considering it. Today I thought about that a lot, and decided that I'm a damned fool for not pushing harder. OWT at Fort Dix is good, but not good enough, and I never should have been content to settle for what is easy.

...but for now, grit my teeth and make it through. Falling to fucking pieces is only making it harder. I'll get this right next time - MNF-I hasn't seen the last of me.

- Wolfmother "Joker and the Thief" -

little darling, it seems like years since it's been clear

I've... I've been pretty substandard lately. Laziness.

And that's really the thing I hate most about myself, I think. I'm not very good at self motivating. I don't even really feel like writing right now, to tell the truth - but I always feel so much better after I write. Same thing with going for a run. I feel good once I get going, and feel great afterward, but it's so hard to get started. And smoking! I can already feel physically better after 3 or 4 days of not smoking... but putting down the lighter is sometimes too hard.

Ok - enough being negative. What are some good things going on right now?

1. Yesterday afternoon I discovered that I'm not half bad at ping pong.

2. I have moved into transient housing (blech) but the upside is I no longer have a roommate, and my room is right by the pool (yay!).

3. No indirect fire attacks so far today.

4. TOA is tomorrow (finally) and already I'm on a relaxed (read: non existant) work schedule.

5. The photo of me and the CG was waiting for me in my inbox when I got in today!

And now I feel like going swimming... I'll try not to have a cigarette on the way to the pool.

- The Beatles "Here Comes the Sun" -

it's too late - ready or not at all

Found out today that our TOA has been postponed - now what? Are we ever leaving, or what's the story? This is like the moment of anticipation right before you get a shot - there's the needle, turn away, should I wince yet? Hold my breath... still nothing... look over at the nurse, she's put the needle down and is doing something else - breathe easy for a second, but I know the shot's still coming - oh, she's picked it up again, pulling up my sleeve, look away-

TNM is basically trained. I'm going to (try to) let her do it herself today. I know she's capable - just hard to let go, you know? I've gotten so proficient - I feel like I'm spinning an elaborate spiderweb, or conducting an orchestra - up here, attach a strand, pull down here, cellos - a little louder, weave through these, get this just perfect, dip and weave and hum and create and mix and look! there in the sunshine, drops of dew and music notes have attached themselves to my web - isn't it beautiful? Now take it down, carefully, and tuck it away - a new day and a new symphony-web to create -

I fucking LOVE my job! I'm not good (really good) at many things, but this I am very, very good at. I guess that's part of why I don't want to give it up?

Time to stop stalling and get in the shower. Have to be at work in an hour.

- Green Day "Waiting" -

when I was down, you just stood there grinning

Today - today! Today was fantastic! Today was one day closer to getting the fuck out of this psychotic place. That's not really fair - if I could spend all my time in the MOC and not have to worry about unit bullshit (and all sorts of other bullshit), then I think I could stay here forever. And I really mean that with all of my heart.

I'm actually starting to feel myself getting resentful of our replacements. That's crazy! I want them to succeed, obviously, because the public affairs mission over here is a very important one... but - for example, yesterday, The New Me (from this point forward to be referred to TNM) changed the way I'd been upkeeping the press desk inbox. Granted, my system wasn't perfect, and I was really the only one doing any significant deleting out of the inbox (too long of a process to explain - just stay with me, people), but TNM has been here, what, three days? That's MY inbox, bitch! And that's really how I still kind of feel about it. I keep trying to talk myself down out of it - I'm fucking leaving, this is going to be her show pretty soon - but I'm... having a really hard time with this. I've made such great relationships with so many spectacular public affairs professionals - I want to be special. I don't WANT to be replaced. I'm going to bawl like a little fucking girl on our last day - whenever that is.

And that's the other thing. TNM and TNMD (figure it out) are basically trained up. Tomorrow I'm going to just hang out in the MOC and see how she does. But I still don't know when we're leaving - and I really need to have something to brace myself against. I'm afraid one day we'll get an email from the SGM saying 'pack your shit, we're leaving tomorrow.' I'm not ready! Where did April go? Where did 2007 go? This place is MINE, my fucking HOME, I know how everything goes and what to say and who to talk to and I'mnotreadytoleavenotreadytoleavenotreadyyoucan'tmakemeyoucan'tmakemeleaveI'mnotreadynotreadynotready.

And I hate crying. Why am I crying over Iraq? I've spent the last year of my life crying. I'm not sure I'm going to make it.

This sucks. (understatement) :/ (also an understatement)

Disclaimer: This is unrelated:

If one more fucking person asks me why I didn't answer my phone, I'm going to throw it against the fucking wall. Yes! Yes, I'm a fucking hypocrite, and I don't give a FUCK. I'm here another two weeks or so, maybe less - can I be happy for awhile? Kthanks.

It's Positively Fourth Street, my friend! (look it up)

I'm going out for a cigarette.

- Bob Dylan "Positively Fourth Street" -

a black fly in your Chardonay

Tomorrow we may go swimming. I told him I'd talk to him tomorrow and gave him my email address. Despite all of these things, he came off really genuine, and even a little sweet. He probably even listens to Toby Keith. He didn't say it, but I'd bet he came from a small, blue collar town and believes in hard work and pride. I feel like I should hate him because of how much he loves the Infantry, because he has a tribal armband, and because I'm certain he bleeds red white and blue. He has a really defined jawline. I'm making him sound gay, but he's not gay. He told me I speak really well, and couldn't belive I went to a public school (??) and was very interested in my toenails. He told me about his sisters and confessed that he likes Enya - and Nickelback (shudder). He told me about his job over here and how he used to be in the Marine Corps (he's NG now) and that he enjoys fighting (professionally - if there is such a thing). And anyway, we were just talking. This is just a random guy - I only know his first name. Really, though, I do try very hard to be likeable, and I guess that could be taken as flirtatious (is that a word?). I guess that might be part of it. 63 says I'm too nice to people, that I'm a flirt, and that I need to learn how to tell people to fuck off. Why does this happen to me? I actually had a really nice time. Someone I didn't know came by my place tonight and talked to me for over two hours.

- Alanis Morissette "Ironic" -

take your protein pills and put your helmet on

1. Finish packing, throw shit out

2. Train replacement

3. Stock up on cigarettes

4. Take pictures of everything I'd been meaning to

5. Save crap from computer on thumb drive

6. Get everyone's contact info

7. Mail home laptop

8. Clean IBA

9. Finish packing (seriously this time)

10. Stand on the roof one last time

11. Charge iPod and camera

12. Buy more cigarettes

13. Say good bye

- David Bowie "Space Oddity" -

hey man, free rides just don't come along every day

So... probably I'm going to hell over this... (if I'm not already for laughing at the My other car is a VBIED bumpersticker outside the Green Bean... haha, still hysterical) but I'm writing a press release about the mock-street corner-dedication to W and S. You might remember them as the two most broken people in our unit (and that's really saying a lot)... now they will be memorialized at Whatman Square, down the road from the CSH. I hear someone even got a street sign made for the corner. Anyway, I drafted a press release for the ceremony (there will be no ceremony) and changed all the names of the guilty, so if V doesn't post this on our last day here, I will. Although... I'll probably have to fuzz up the unit name some more before I post it, because even with name changes, you could still figure out who I was talking about.

And you know what's surprisingly hard? Writing really good quotes. I can spout talking points like nobody's business, and while they are factually correct (if you ignore the IO), they sound canned. I am incapable of giving a good, genuine sounding quote. I would be the worst subject for an interview because I'd be trying too hard to get the perfect quote, get my soundbite just right, that it would sound fake. I'm starting to notice that I unconsciously slip command messages into my normal conversations now. What is wrong with me? I've been in public affairs too long. Blech.

Also - the live version of "Melissa" by the Allman Brothers is waaaaaaay better than the studio version. Just in case you were wondering.

- The Offspring "Why Don't You Get a Job?" -

I said, "someday you'll understand"

my life these days is the most bizarre thing i have ever seen.

earlier tonight (yes, i am 8 hours ahead of those of you on the east coast) i went swimming in one of saddam's pools. a poolside dj played hits of the 80 (it's that an oxymoron??) while my Battle and i floated in the shadowy warm water, staring up at a PERFECT moon through the palm trees. a group of guys played volleyball next to us and people along the pool smoked cigarettes and laughed to each other.

before we went swimming, i ate a ridiculously good chicken wrap in the dining facility, and Battle and i walked back to our rooms to get our towels along the carved-stone walkways, eating ice cream cones.

how can i even tell you about this? how can i make you see how it isn't what you thing, it isn't what I thought, either. i feel so guilty enjoying this... people are our in such worse conditions... and here i am drinking lattes in the palace, not wearing any body armor, not worrying about IEDs along the road i take to work or car bombs going off in the parking lot... sure, there is the occasional mortal, but it's NOTHING like it is elsewhere. the environment here in the embassy compound is a professional, white-collar one. can you understand how i could come to love this place? i can feel myself slipping, getting comfortable... here in iraq. iraq. iraq.

and the palace... my god... how could someone ever LIVE like this while his people are struggling in such poverty? i saw the pictures from the first invasion of the insane wealth, i'm sure you have too... it's so much different when it's right here in front of you. much of the furniture was stolen or destroyed in the beginning of the war, but a scattering of ornate couches and chairs remain. the walls, the marble floors, domed ceilings... you know what? there is nothing i can say that will help you to understand. my words are failing me; i am incapable of painting a picture for you to see, to touch and smell and taste. this place is nothing like i have ever seen, nor anything i could have ever imagined. you see the pictures and you think you understand, but you don't, trust me, you don't.

it must have been like a sinister disneyland, only instead of mickey's face everywhere, it was saddam, all saddam... statues and posters and murals, huge portraits now covered with drapes in the palace. where does such arrogance come from? how could he watch the parades he forced his people to hold in his honor, oversee the construction of yet ANOTHER palace? how could he sleep at night knowing there was such a stark difference between his life and the life of those in his country? and the deaths he ordered...

it makes me embarrassed for mankind.

and i have realized how little i knew (and still know) about the world. it boggles my fucking mind.

"...well, i'm here to tell you now, each and ev'ry mother's son,

you better learn it fast, you better learn it young

'cause 'someday' never comes..."

- Creedence Clearwater Revival "Someday Never Comes" -