This Desert Island

Today is taco Friday!

I’ve had my Kindle for three weeks so I’ve used it enough to have an opinion. The best thing is it’s convenience. It’s great since I am in the middle of nowhere and if I didn’t have it, it would take weeks to get a book I want to read. I also don’t really have any space for books because my room is about the size of a dorm room.

One thing I don’t like is the weird feeling I get when I “turn the page.” I am conditioned to read paperbacks were I have to physically turn the page. I feel a void because of that. It’s the same feeling I get when I don’t have to flush the toilet when I use an  outdoor latrine. It doesn’t feel right.

Things are going better at work. I’ve started to bring my iPod (Another modern convenience!). I listened to five Beatles albums today. I think I should get a metal. If nobody tells me I can’t listen to my music, I might start showing up early.

Calling home

I rarely talk to my dad despite how frequently I call home. If I do, it isn’t for more than a couple of minutes. My dad has terrible hearing. No mater how loud I speak, he asks me to repeat myself. I’ll repeat myself four times then stop talking because people in the office look at me like I am crazy.

Now, when I call, the first thing my dad says is, “I’ll get mom.” I’ve started to email my dad instead.

Mission statement

I have been thinking about why I started this blog. When I made a Tumblr account, I told myself I wanted something to give me an excuse to write everyday. I have no expectations for individual post but I do hope that by writing everyday I’ll gradually improve.

By setting the goal to write everyday, during every engagement I have to think, “Is this something worth writing about and how should I write about it?” The answer to the first question is always no, but because of my daily writing goal, I have to pick something.

See you tomorrow!

It happens

There are a lot of things in life that are worse than dealing with the frustration of shitty bandwidth. Being at COB Speicher I can think of handful of things I need to worry about more but those events don’t happen everyday. Right now, I am dealing with shitty bandwidth.

After work, when I got back to my room, I had the desire to download “Julian Plenti Is … Skyscraper” from iTunes. It has been taking three hours to get this album. While I wait, I get kicked off instant messaging when I talk to friends. I cannot work on fixing my tumblr page because the screen will freeze up. I cannot use my laptop to watch In Treatmeant because that will freeze.

Shit! I just realized I could read a book. Andrea mailed me a copy of Catch 22 and Poisonwook Bible. Why didn’t I think of that three hours ago? Wait, it looks like the last track is done…

Where the magic happens

I know what some of you may be thinking, “Why is that one bottle a different color from the rest?” You may think it’s urine and you would be right. It’s just another aspect of the war that you haven’t heard about in the media.

Since I’ve been in the Middle East, I drink at least four liters of water a day. I sweat without even trying. When I raise my hands off my laptop, I notice sweat where I rest my palms. I’m barely even moving.

My reason for using the bottle was, when I woke up in the middle of my sleep, my room was a mess and I couldn’t find my room keys or sandals to walk to the latrine. Well, now I have all my stuff in a specific place so I don’t have wake my roommate up finding those two things. And don’t worry, the bottle is thrown out. I had to wait for the cover of darkness to walk to the dumpster.

One of things my roommate had me do, when I moved in, was set up that little barrier. The one you see right of my wall locker so, I “could have more privacy.” It’s like he could see into the future.

What time is it?

Since I’ve been in Iraq, I haven’t been able to use my cell phone to tell the time. When I got here, I bought a watch for the first time in my life. I haven’t always used my cell phone to tell the time but before that I never needed to know what time it was all the time.

This watch is taking some getting use to. I find myself fascinated with the fact that I can tell the time just by looking at my wrist. I do it all the time and for no reason at all. I even do it while I am talking with people. I must seem incredibly impatient or like a total asshole.

Watching a lot of TV

One time, during third grade recess, some kids were talking about The Simpsons and I had no clue what the Simpsons were.  Two decades later, I don’t remember what their exact response was, but I remember that they didn’t approve and I wasn’t aloud to engage in their conversation. The places and subjects of the conversations may have changed but this social interaction repeats itself until this day.

I’m still waiting for my flight. I’ve been spending my free time checking out DVDs from the MWR library. Right now, I am watching Sopranos. I’ve never seen the TV series before this week. I have already finished watching the first season and I already a quarter of a way through the second season.  If I keep up this pace, I’ll be closer to the national average for television watching when I get back.  Let me know if there is anything you want to talk about.

Waiting

Since Monday, I’ve been at this base.  I’m waiting for a military flight from Kuwait to Iraq.  I don’t know when I am leaving.  The past three days have felt like a week.  At six in the morning and nine at night, I show up at the terminal for a roll call.  They read a list of service members who are waiting for flights into Iraq.  When they call off a persons name, the person is suppose to sound off to say that they are still here.  If you don’t sound off, you have to reregister for a flight, and your name goes to the bottom of the list.

My friend, Nick, works at Ft. Meade, Md.  He says the Army has more in common with Office Space than most war movie.  If Oliver Stone really wanted to make a movie to discourage military spending, he should show the bureaucracy and the administrative nightmare the Army is.  Pain and suffering can be romanticized but mind number boredom cannot. No boy would think, “What a bunch of tough men. They must be really emotionally strong to wait like that.” Of course, no boy would pay to see that film either or buy the action figure

June 9, 2009

3:00PM- I need something to read for the next three days. When I asked Andrea, she suggested I read Tom Robbins. At the bookstore, when I flip to the back of Half Asleep In Frog Pajamas, I hesitate to buy it.

The author’s bio shows a photo of Tom Robbins. He has sunglass and a goatee. I can let that slide but his bio that gets me. It reads, “Tom Robbins, maverick author of eight juicy, daring, and sagacious novels, is one of those rare writers who approach rock-star status, attracting SRO crowds at his personal appearances in Europe and Australia as well as in the United States. He lives primarily in the Seattle area.” I try not to puke.

I am going to trust Andrea on this one. Plus, I think Ruby has mentioned said I should read this author when I’ve told here I’ve been to Seattle.

I also buy a copy of Augusten Burroughs’ Magical Thinking. He only has a goatee.

9:00PM-  It would make sense if my biggest fear about going to Iraq was having an arm amputated or dying. Those are both possibilities but that’s all they are, is possibility. Every time I get a car ride from a friend I have the possibility of dying in a car crash. What I am worried about is the probability of 365 days of listening to shitty music.

Right now, I am sitting across the room from this medic, who is listening to Disturbed. He’s sitting in a bunk, with his laptop on his lap. I didn’t even know laptop could be that loud. As he sits, shirtless, with his back against the wall, I wonder if this shell of a person can comprehend there is other people in the room. He should. I am staring right at him. What really makes me made is his smile. He wins. I’ve given up reading for the night.