Y'know, one of the reasons I started this blog
in the first place was to cheer myself up.
I've been kinda down lately, and it's
mainly manifested itself as a severe case of the bitchies. For a former attempt
to excuse that as righteous anger, see Who took my self control? in this same
folder. This entry is different; I'm beyond trying to excuse it. Now I'm just
trying to explain it to myself so that I can fight it before I hurt anyone
else.
I have been deployed for two
years this July. Luckily by July I won't be deployed anymore, but still. In
July of 2002 I went to Kosovo, and left there in December. In January of 2003,
I went to Kuwait and stayed there until it got boring (once the war was
technically over) and headed up to Tikrit, Iraq in June (just as the real
fighting began). I left there in mid August, had about a month and a half, and
boom! headed here to Afghanistan.
Let me explain a bit about
deployments for the Red Cross: you are on call 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.
Normally I only work 8-12 hours per day (depending on the deployment), but it
could be more. Oh yeah, and it's every day. Do you know how much I miss
weekends? I haven't had one in almost two
years.
I'm not allowed to go off base.
There's a rectangular area about 1/2 mile long and 1000 yards wide, and that's
as far as I've been from one central point since I got here in October. If
you've seen Muppet Treasure Island... you know where all the Muppets on the ship
have "Cabin Fever" and they sing about it? Yeah. Like that. Only I'm slightly
less furry than your average Muppet, I'm not singing about it, and their's
actually looks like fun.
Other
sources of stress: I have applied for graduate school to get a masters degree
in maritime studies. I do not think I will be accepted. In spite of fantastic
GRE scores, my transcripts from my undergraduate work and my first masters are
just weird. Maritime Studies at ECU is in the history department. Now,
nobody's actually said anything about it yet, but I'm guessing they'd like for a
student to have a background in history. My transcripts show one history
course, dropped at the same time I changed my major from history to whatever was
next. That looks bad. How do you explain in an admissions application that you
would have been happy to stay a history major, but you were going to flunk your
first history course because your teacher was a religious fanatic who failed you
on the first test because you didn't state in your essay that God led George
Washington to free the United States of America? You think I'm exaggerating,
probably. I'm not. After he handed the test back, he had someone read aloud
their essay which was, in his words, "perfect." God was mentioned in every
other sentence, I shit you not. I couldn't do that, so I dropped the class, and
the major.
Last year I applied for
graduate school at University of New Mexico. I was rejected. Quite impolitely.
I contacted the graduate coordinator after I was rejected and asked why. She
said to email the head of the department. He never answered. After the fourth
email which started "Just in case all three of my previous emails vanished into
the internet before reaching you..." I gave up.
That was hard for me, and it took me
a while to realize why. I'd never been rejected for anything before. I was
accepted to every college I applied to after High School (a 29 on your ACT and
having been a Governor's Scholar tends to open doors); even the rich hoity-toity
private one that I ended up not going to because, although I got a scholarship
and need-based financial aid, it was nowhere near enough compared to the 15K per
year tuition. That was the closest to rejection I'd ever experienced. Never
mind that I was in Kuwait at the time living with 3 thousand Marines. It hurt.
A lot.
So this time I've prepared
myself for the eventuality of failure from the start. And that hurts even
worse, knowing that I can allow myself to not have confidence in my abilities
just to make me feel better after the fact. I think that this is a significant
addition to the stress load. One of the ways I've prepared is to go ahead and
accept an assignment to Fort Polk, Louisiana. If by some off chance I do get
accepted to ECU (although it's been over a month since I last heard from them),
then I won't be the first person to change their mind about "Fort Puke" at the
last minute.
Let's see. I don't
really consider the
board a source of stress; more an outlet for it, but that's
unfortunate as well. Bob believes I'm spending too much time on it, and yeah,
he's probably right. However, I think I mentioned before the lack of things to
do. Staring at the board for hours at a time helps fill that space of hours.
Guess I'm going to have to find other things to do, since it's going to be
closed for renovations for a couple of weeks.
If it were stressful here, I might
humor myself by claiming to have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, or some variant
that strikes while one is still in the stressful situation. I don't buy it,
though. Not even as Post-trauma of being in Iraq, because I never found Iraq
that traumatic, and Kuwait only slightly
moreso.
I'm sure I haven't listed
every reason here for why I've been an asshole lately. There are others -- I
miss my Hall, I quit smoking, I SO want to get drunk (military regulations
forbid personnel from drinking while on deployment -- this is one of the things
forbidden in General Order Number
One)....
I've just been unhappy. And
worse, I've taken it out, in one way or another, on everyone in my life. While
I do hope they allow me to make amends in whatever way I can, that can't be my
first priority right now. Priority number one has to be this: making sure I
get in enough of a good place mentally to where I don't do it
anymore.
Well, time for bed,
everybody. It's 1PM here in Afghanistan, and I have to be at work at midnight.
Just like every other night since October. Hopefully I'll be more straightened
out by the time I post this. I am trying.