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| Update of Random Thoughts
Realization: I am a procrastinator. There's no
sense in denying it, it's the truth. I believe, in my case at least, it's
a form of misguided wisdom if not an inherent drive for efficiency. Do
you ever get those days you wake up, swing your feet out of bed onto the floor,
and suddenly realize you have the motivation to knock everything off of your
To-Do List? Well, my argument rests solely on this phenomenon.
Those days are entirely satisfying, and there's no feeling like ending a day
with not a single thing on your list. My reasoning behind putting off
certain tasks is that I'm betting on encountering a productive day before the
respective deadline. This is an optimization of efficiency, whether
intentional or unintentional. Does it happen? Yes. Does it
happen often? Regrettably not. Ergo, given the frequency of these
aforementioned phenomenal days, procrastination is not a reasonably efficient
practice. After this exhaustive
analysis, I am left where I began. Procrastination is still a problem I
need to overcome, albeit a more well understood one. And yet, I merit
myself for the mental journey.
You may be thinking, "What an odd sort of thing to think about,
Jeremiah," and you're entirely within reason if that is the case.
Allow me to explain myself. I've been doing an inordinate amount of
self-analysis for the past month or so due nearly entirely to a sort of
hardship I’ve run into. I’ve been having
what I first believed to be mild heart attacks within the last month. Seemingly unprovoked, my heart would
palpitate in random sequence, then my heart would race. I couldn’t catch my breath for the life of me,
causing me to want to gasp for air. I
did my best to fight the urge, but I was breathing much heavier than
normal. There would be significant
pressure in my chest, then I would nearly
lose consciousness, and I felt like I was losing my sanity. After so many minutes, I would slowly come
down from the episode, spooked but otherwise unhurt. Eventually, the chest tightness would stay
with me all day every day. Along with
this symptom came a constant tremble, weakness, and light-headedness. I was seeing the doctor regularly, and
eventually he sent me to a psychiatrist who, in turn, diagnosed me with panic
disorder.
I resisted this diagnosis for a long time since I’m the most
laid back guy around with a personal philosophy of “worrying only makes things
worse.” How the heck did I start getting panic attacks? The worst one happened a few days ago when I
was woken from sleep to find my heart rate at over 220 beats per minute. Just try to count that fast, much less have
your heart beat that fast and you’ll relate to my sense of urgency to get to
the hospital. They sent me to the trauma
room immediately and threw me on oxygen.
My heart rate came down to normal again within 20 minutes, though, so
they sent me home to see the psychiatrist the next day. The psychiatrist put me on some anti-anxiety
medicine and some zombie drugs to break what he theorizes is a “panic cycle.” We’ll see.
I come off of the zombie meds tomorrow.
I digress. Deep analysis
of any sort has always been one of my favorite hobbies; chief among the topics
of interest is, in particular, deep self-analysis. Tracing your superficial thoughts to their
sources and beyond is analogous to tracing the trunk of a tree to its
source. You find a farrago of related
thoughts running tangent to the original.
Some are discouraged by this, but I belong to the group who finds this
predicament an opportunity for an agreeable pastime. A practical example of a superficial thought
is the sort of question like, “Who is your favorite character on [insert show
here]?” What qualities do I value in this
character? In particular, what do I
merit within his personality with more gravity than the characters around
him? Does this not show some significant
personal values? What sort of fictional
iconic figures do you find yourself favoring?
Just a chance at self reflection that we rarely get to slow down and
partake in.
Sadly, it seems that, at the pace we live our lives, we
learn more about other people than we know about ourselves. Well, I’ve written enough. I suppose I had quite a bit more than I
thought I would to say. Thank you for
taking the time to read this, and my love goes out to the people back in the
States that have been so supportive.
Love you.
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| Bachelor Life - Round 2When not on shift, living in Iraq is a lot like being a bachelor again. Toss in a few mortars, some rockets, stupid superiors, and the fact that everyone wears the same thing and you've got it. Everyone around here has dirty rooms, gaming centers (whether consoles or computers), loud music, and junk food. It seriously feels like some degenerate form of dorm life. Like, a university dorm that got tossed into that sand trap from Star Wars and got crapped out the other side which just so happens to be filled with a bunch of small brown people with horrible hygiene.
(Pictured here: The portal to the prestigious Camp Taji University, lovingly nicknamed Sh*tStain U. -- Note the excited freshmen aboard the craft USS ArmyHatesYouAndYourFamily)
The bad thing about going back to a state of bachelorhood, though, is that it lets you realize how much it sucked and you didn't even know. Don't get me wrong, I look back on my days as a bachelor fondly, but once you've been well-fed, in a clean house with a nice bed and someone you love to interact with every day, going back to the slobbish, lonely life of a bachelor is kind of gay.
I'm starting to slowly adjust to life here, though. I've set up my room a little bit, but we still don't have the furniture we're supposed to get. A couch and some living space, you ask? Why no, silly, I'm talking about a wall locker and a "night stand." When I say night stand, mind you, be sure you picture a step stool with a slide out drawer. I'm not exaggerating when I say it doesn't even reach halfway up my shin. Thanks Army! Now I've got something to step on so that you've got a better angle to screw me! Yesssssssss.
Bah, people here make the best of it which brings me to my next point. I don't know if I'm encouraged by the extreme resilience of the human spirit or depressed by the depths of human stupidity. People will try to convince me to stay in the Army about every other day. I just look around us and say, "Are you retarded?!" This place sucks! The Army has showed time and time again they don't give a crap about us. They TRY to screw you out of health benefits. In theater, they spend millions on the dining facility and about a buck-fifty on anything the soldiers will be living in. In the States, every day is a 12+ hour day except for the weekends, but even then, they can call you at any time to come in and do whatever it is they want. Don't even get me started on what we're supposed to do about bad guys. You pretty much have to be bleeding from a mortal flesh wound before you can take your weapon off safe. I could go on for about 15 pages on all the crap the Army dishes out to you, and there are still people who are trying to convince me to stay because of how good of a career move it is. I don't get it....
Moving on to good news. I had my very first cook out today. Yes, my friends, I had a bona fide barbecue party with my roommate and a couple other guys. I had two hot dogs and two non-alcoholic beers. I was in heaven. As we were standing around, I couldn't help but start talking about my thoughts on the power of relative happiness. I seriously had a great time. If you could be a fly on the wall during that ordeal, though, you would probably just laugh. The first thing that stuck out was the fact that the grill is about the size of our night stand. I don't know where you can purchase grills this small, but someone did. You have to sit on a chair and bend over all the way at the waist to cook on it, but I didn't care. The hot dogs were some sort of Hajji product called Mahammu Maku Shakem or whatever crazy name that Arabic writing really said, but I didn't care. The beer was St. Pauli's Girl N.A. (which, incidentally is by far the best non-alcoholic I've had next to Kaliber by St. James Brewery) which is nowhere near a beer I'd actually prefer in the States, but I didn't care. There was so much dust flying around in the air that we were eating just as much dirt as we were hot dog, but...you guessed it...I didn't really care. I honestly, for just a few minutes, felt like I was back at home. I wasn't worried about where my weapon was in case I needed it. I wasn't thinking about the crazy Hajji goober that almost shot me and my battle buddy Brand only 7 hours ago. I wasn't worried about the nerve damage that I've gotten from wearing the heavy battle load we have to carry around. I just felt happy. The best way to describe it is like walking around all day wearing three heavy weights on your back. At the end of the day, you take two off, and you feel as happy as can be. You're oblivious, at least for a moment, that you're still loaded down with a sizable burden.
I'm not gonna lie, this place sucks. It'll be hard to forget how awesome the US is after this little trip, so that's always a silver lining. Thanks everyone back home for staying in touch. It's nice to be reminded of what's waiting back at home.
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| Father's Day package!I got a package in the mail today from my wife! She's so awesome. She sent me a present full of presents. I didn't get a chance to take pictures of everything, but here's a basic rundown of what happened. I spent a long night sitting in the ASV waiting to blow someone's head off. Upon never getting the chance, I got off shift and headed to my sleeping area. Lo and behold, I had a big brown box with MY name on it. "What's this?" I say aloud and begin opening the box. Once I found out it was my Father's Day box, I promptly stopped rummaging through it and took a picture, re-enacting my initial response. 
I tore up neatly-wrapped blue packages unceremoniously. One of the first things was this SWEET shirt of my son as a gamer! YES! 
YES! That's my little man playing a video game! He's a freaking prodigy! The next thing I notice is a baby sleeper that shows how big Elijah is getting. Check it out. 
Ooooh, that's a big baby, I thought to myself. He's getting to be as big as his Daddy...or is he? Well, I'll settle this right now, I thought. 
Guess not, suckah! After trying it on, I realized he's still got some growing to do. There were a few more things in there like a card from my wife and even a card from my son! Nothing I took a picture of, though, until....what the holy monkey crap is this? A tie! Naturally, I put it on. 
How suave! Then I realized something...what the crap is a tie doing in my package?! 
Note my confusion. Moving right along, I find an ancient and sacred Beene tradition in opening presents. The bow-on-the-head tradition. Good thinking, Amy! 
How happy I was. Second to last were some covers and a pillow case from home! Check out how smooth my place looks. (She also sent some chewy chips ahoy and peanut butter M&Ms, which are pictured here) 
Now a picture of my area from the outside:
 And a picture of the pictures Amy sent. I have them proudly displayed above my wall-locker fortress. 
Here's a picture to prove that no one is as cool as me in my section of the warehouse. Where are all of your pictures, you unloved scumbags?! Guess you don't have any. Bangarang, Peter! 
There is a tragic end to this happy tail, though. I was on my way to call my wife when I was notified that we had a ceremony we had to go to. "What the P?" I thought to myself. I wasn't able to call Amy and tell her thank you for all the stuff! I went to the ceremony and came back, but guess what? It was our combat patch ceremony, so I'm a certified combat veteran now. Check out the patch, suckas! 
BLAM! Alright, I'm out of here. I've got some stuff I still need to do, unfortunately. I miss everyone back home, and I can't wait to get back. I'll try to post a few more things when I get a chance. Later! | | |
| Iraq? Brilliant!First, I'd like to say sorry that it's been so long that I updated. I've been getting adjusted to this night shift, and I've been moving everything I own countless times. Anyway, greetings from beautiful Taji, Iraq. This wonderful place is a huge trash dump, completely dirty, virtually free of mortars, and the home of the whattaburger. That last part is a lie, but the rest is true. Good news? We basically don't get hit by incoming artillery or rockets very much at all, which is a huge plus. Waking up to screaming women is not something I want to relive for a good couple months if that's up for a vote. The chow isn't quite as plentiful, but it tastes better. The living quarters are a step up, although I'm still in temporary housing. Bad news? My sleeping quarters is about eight light years from anything worth doing. To get to the PX or, well, anything whatsoever except for camel spiders and scorpions, you have to get on two buses. Why two buses you ask me? Because the Army hates redundancy and doing things over again. I'm currently on tower duty during the graveyard shift here. I work from 2015 to 0600 or so. It's got its ups and downs, really. It's relatively safe considering the ground we're overlooking, as opposed to the other side of base that's overlooking a red-hot terrorist village. Also, you have huge weapons up in the tower with you so you get a little feel of being a BA. The sucky part is that it's horrifically boring staring out of a window for over eight hours at night. In Taji, night time is pretty much incident free, so there's absolutely nothing to see. So far, I've pretty much just been waking up, going to work, working out, eating, sleeping. Rinse. Repeat. Now, though, we've got a full company, so we've started getting days off! I got my first day off today, so I'm extremely excited. I've been able to do a lot of leisure activities I've been wanting to do. I even got a chance to get sunburned at the pool we have here. Yes...a pool. It's freaking outstanding. Apparently, it's impossible for the Air Force to build a base without setting up a swimming pool. All the fun I poke at the Chair--err--Air Force is still completely founded, but I'm reaping their benefits and loving it. All-in-all, things aren't looking too shabby for this deployment. I see very little action except for friendly fire from .50cals zinging by my tower, and there are comforts here that I really didn't expect to see in Iraq. Lastly, I'm supposed to be getting my Sergeant rank soon, and I'm supposed to be flying UAVs at least a couple times here to be sure that I get my flight hours. Other than the fact that I miss home, I can't complain too much. Time for pictures... 
A very horrible picture of a palace we were driving by a while back. Sorry...it's the best I've got. Next are some pictures of my living area that I set up. I'll try to take better pictures for next time, but we'll see. 
Here's the bunk bed right next to me that I cordoned off. 
Here's my "night stand" complete with my Firefly series, South Park series, ear plugs, George R.R. Martin book, and Scientific American Mind magazine. 
A picture of me in my area just before a mission...Check out that game face. >:-| 
That's my sweet Alienware computer on my bunk. That thing is the greatest thing to happen to face-melting graphics since Chuck Norris starred in Bad Dudes. Oh, and that mattress? Satan's gift to this earth. I think it could get more uncomfortable, but it would involve a strand of barbed wire and a lighter. The entire middle section of that mattress decided to go AWOL, apparently, because when you sit on it, it venus-flytrap's your arse. Forget sleeping, you spend your entire night fighting for life against Posturepedic's evil bastard son. Turning over? Not gonna happen unless you can cut your way towards the light with a machete while simultaneously struggling for air. Seriously...springs must've been invented in an age long before this thing was crafted b/c it has a complete lack of them. It's like somebody laughed evilly to themselves while they cut out only the springs in the middle just as a present to me. I checked the tag just now on this thing...yep...manufactured specifically for me by Al-freaking-Qaida. True story. Alright, enough of that. I'm out of here. Love you guys! If you get bored and have spare cash and want to send anything, Amy has my address! Later! | | |
| The Adventure Continues...Well, I'm still en route to my duty station in Taji, Iraq. I'm sitting in Baghdad now waiting for a flight out. Since we're a little late coming, transportation tends to get arranged last minute. Turns out securing a flight is kind of a long process. Well, we've been in Baghdad for about two weeks now doing a whole load of nothing. My itinerary is packed here....first, I've got to sleep, which takes a good 9 hours out of my day. Then I've got to get up and walk almost an eighth of a mile to the largest DFAC (Dining Facility, by the way) known to man. Then, I pretty much lie around the rest of the day watching DVDs. This DFAC, though, is seriously about the size of a Wal-mart back in the states. It's friggin huge. You can get pretty much anything you want there, it's just a matter of it tasting good. That's not really gonna happen, but if you hold your nose and close your eyes, it's kind of like tasting a bit of home. Nah, the food isn't bad at all, it's just a tease since it looks and smells like American food, but doesn't quite taste the part. I'm not one to complain, though, I get all I can eat and drink 4 times a day. OH! And they have non-alcoholic beer in the DFAC here, too! It tastes like 9 piles of garbage, but at least for the moment that it rushes over your tongue, before your palette has time to really taste it, it seems like real beer. Nothing like a horribly hot day followed by a cold beer, even if it tastes like a dirty sow dropped a golden shower in the top of it.
Moving right along, I've gotten plenty of DVDs from these little shops that the local nationals have set up. I've watched a lot of movies, but I'm not really supposed to talk about them by name...*sigh* Censorship ftw. I also can't talk about the unit I'm going to in Taji. Incidentally, I'm going to dispel a little myth that just so happens to be my pet peeve. When people say they can't talk about where they are or what they're doing, it doesn't mean they're in some secret operation or some nonsense like that. Nine times out of ten, it means they're either retarded or know nothing of standard OPSEC rules. You can tell someone where you're going and what the nature of your mission and unit is, just not specifics. For example, I can tell you that I'm going to Taji to do either base defense or convoy security with a horizontal engineer unit. I should not, however, tell you what specific unit I'm going with, where and when we're doing our missions, and what the strength of my unit is in numbers.
As far as when I'm leaving Baghdad to finally reach my duty station in Taji to start missions, I'm really not sure when that's going to happen. We're still waiting for a flight. For a couple days, they were making us pack all our bags, throw them on a truck, ride up to the flight line, then wait there for 14 hours. Needless to say, we just about had a mutiny after doing that a couple times and said, "Yeah, ya know what? I'm not carrying all my belongings all over God's creation to supposively catch a ride that tends to never show. Call us when you've got our names on the actual flight document." So, here we are. That's alright with me, though. Things are relatively safe here, so I'm just fine with that. I've heard two mortars and a lot of firefights, but none of them have been danger close. Something that did freak me out pretty bad, though, was waking up to an explosion, then hearing some female screaming bloody murder about a half mile away. It was the kind of screaming you hear when someone's lost their freaking mind. It was really creepy. I still don't know what that was all about, but I imagine it had to do with someone losing body parts and some female not being able to handle it. Mmmm...war ftw.
Alright...let's see...pet peeves - check, rough itinerary - check, freaky screaming - check. I guess all I have left is pictures....without further ado.
Here's a picture of us loading up on the C-130 to fly out of Kuwait and into Baghdad. Yes, they're as big, loud, and uncomfortable as their reputation prescribes.
Here's one part of the inside of that beast of an aircraft. We're just about to take off. Pictured clockwise: Palmer, Cude, Holmes, and Palmer. They're brothers.
Not sure who that ridiculously handsome soldier is. That's supposed to be my hero face, by the way, but I started to smile a little. Fear not. You'll be seeing that face again, I'm sure. It's a popular one for me.
Okay, there are some WEIRD signs here, but this one caught my eye first. I have no idea what that sign freaking means. So, I did what any sensible person would do...I emulated it immediately and took a picture. FYI, our tent is about 50 meters away from this sign.
Well, that's it for now. I'll be sure to take some more pictures of me acting absolutely retarded and slap them on here. P.S. Iron Man is an outstanding movie. I wholeheartedly approve of what they did with the story line. Later!
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