I dunno if it's just the stress, but this place sure seems to induce some strange dreams. I don't remember any of them, because there's invariably something waking me up at unholy hours, but the general sense of "...what?" remains. Some of the other guys seem to be having the same thing.

Probably just the stress.

Simple Pleasures

They just cleaned the port-a-shitters. Yay.

I Hate Everyone

I am an introvert living in a tent with 60+ dudes. The door is 5 feet away from my head. I haven't slept for more than two hours at a time since I got here. I have acquired a hacking cough, and the scab on my arm floats on vaccinia pus like a tectonic plate on the intolerable molten mantle of the earth. The only natural light that enters is when someone leaves both of the airlock-double-doors open. We have accomplished a task and a half in the three?...four?...days that we have been here.

Why have you forsaken me?

(You volunteered to be forsaken, so that others might live.)

Oh. Yeah.

Kuwait

Military life is conducted almost completely in bizarro world. You put on this uniform, and all the sense that things make in the real world evaporates like ethanol under a blowtorch. We got a briefing yesterday that contained the both an insistence that we are in a combat zone (Uh-huh. When was the last shot we fired in this country?) and an admonition to make sure we continue to observe military customs and courtesies. (Saluting officers...which happens to handily pick them out for snipers.)

And this morning, the desert was coated in a thick layer of fog. (On the upside, it did feel nicely like home.) It was so thick that the busses that were supposed to take us out to the range (about 30 minutes out of the base, I believe) weren't allowed to. However, they did drive us to the chow hall over roads substantially more crowded than the highway outside the base.

This is the sort of thing that destroys people's brains. Last time I was on active duty (basic and AIT), it took me several months to regain the ability to interact properly with the world. I wonder how long it'll take this time.

Timing

Can somebody tell me why it was necessary to start movement to Kuwait and on to Iraq just as my bloody ballot gets sent out? I couldn't register with my APO because I didn't have it until just a few days ago, so now it's gotta get forwarded from home. Now I'm just hoping it doesn't get blown up. Well, that or lost on the way there. Or the way back. Not sure which of those many disaster options to worry about more.

Maybe I should've just had mum forge my signature.

Smallpox

Man, if the innoculation for it (delicious cowpox) sucks this bad, I can't imagine what having a full-blown case of the real deal is like.

Also, ceremonies are stupid. What brain disorder do they implant in these officer types that make them think having us stand around for an hour and giving us a flag is motivational? We've got shit to do, don't take it up telling us how special we are.

Hats

As some of you may know, whenever military types are outside we have to put our 'cover' (hat) on. But do you know why?

It's to hide us from the vengeful gaze of God. After all, we make a living breaking his shit. If your kids came over to your house and started shooting the place up, wouldn't you be pissed?

Breakfast

The other two guys in my company who're still here for pass decided to go to Cracker Barrel for breakfast today.

First thing the hostess did was look at their shirts (both emblazoned with ARMY in big block letters) and ask wide-eyed with amazement, "Are you in the Army?" You've got to be kidding me. Really? She was somehow awestruck that less than 15 miles from an Army base, there were soldiers having breakfast. Wow.

But then, oh no. They undercooked their eggs (mine were fine). So they sent them back. Okay, fine. Not my style, as I generally fail to give a crap about meaningless stuff like that. Then they came back overcooked. Uh-oh. You've offended my buddy's delicate sensitivities about his food. We were mostly done at that point, and this guy is pissed. He snatches the check out of my hand, tromps up to the counter, and when asked how his meal was: "Crappy."

He proceeded to bitch until the manager came over, listened politely, then took the receipt, shook our hands, and said good day. I was a little dumbfounded--I dont go out to restaurants often, and that's never happened before.

It didn't sit well with me at all. Working a restaurant is, by all accounts I've heard, a pretty shitty job. Worse than the Army, even. So while they were out smoking their cigarette (I'm quite sick of waiting for addicts to do their business so I can get on with mine, by the way), I went back in and told the cashier, "My meal was fine, I'll pay for it." You know what she told me? The manager wouldn't let me. Say what? How can he not let me pay for my food. It just feels wrong. She suggested, helpfully, that I do something nice for somebody and thanked me for coming back. So now I owe the universe a favor. Any suggestions? Worthy charities, maybe?

I Feel Deadly, Oh So Deadly

Well, my time here at Dix is coming to an end. I've completed all the training the Army says I need to have before we ship off to Kuwait, and now I'm on a four day pass. Time to start catching up on my sleep.