Hey, I'm not dead!

Wednesday, Apr. 11, 2007, 8:24 a.m.

Sometimes I forget that people around here might think that if I don't post any entries for awhile, it's because I'm dead. Um, whoops. Sorry about that!

I've been meaning to update this thing for several days, especially seeing as how I really do have quite a bit to say, but lately all I seem to do is work and sleep. My job actually requires some brain usage now, so I'm not always just sitting around staring at an empty office all night humming showtunes and hating the day for being so easily split up into two twelve-hour shifts.

I am working the night shift again -- 9:30 p.m. to 10-ish in the morning -- which is not a bad deal. The building we all work in is nearly empty at night and nobody bothers me with inane tasks while I work, unless they sense that I am nearing an illegal contentment level. At that point, I'm usually instructed to go lift heavy things, or pull a guard shift (only two hours at a time, but still sufficiently annoying), or do anything else that involves me having to acknowledge the fact that I am not the master of my universe.

Mainly, I put together our division's daily four-page newsletter, the DFD (which stands for something other than Dumb Fucking Daily, believe it or not), and do miscellaneous busywork for Sergeant Insane-o, who is my new Night Boss. Working with him requires me to learn how best not to disturb the delicate balance of chemicals in his brain that keep him from crossing over the divide between "kind of anal-retentive, in the most disturbing way possible" and "Balrog." I've found that the best way to keep the demon at bay is by 1) always doing what it says to do and 2) ensuring that there is always fresh coffee in the pot. When I follow these two rules, it generally keeps me from being yanked into the abyss o' verbal abuse. Since I've been trying to get better at that whole "playing the game so as not to get my money taken away again" thing, I may as well continue the effort, even though I think it makes me feel as though I've somehow sold out.

Speaking of selling out, I was told a day or two ago that my name was on The List of people who are being offered several thousand tax-free dollars to reenlistrightnowpleasepleaseprettyplease. Which is kind of interesting, seeing as how the very reason I'm here right now is because I was prohibited from reenlisting a mere three months ago. Hunh. I am so surprised that my situation has suddenly changed. Shocked. Really. I am not being sarcastic at all, either -- I am truly amazed that my retainability status has altered in a way that suits the Army. Maybe I should trade the next four years of my life for eighteen grand.

(No, I'm not reenlisting. Not even for 18,000 tax-free dollars. No. Nyet. Nein. Now rest easy, my child.)

Our camp is fairly safe, but every now and then we get a mortar round or two over the walls. It's not anything unexpected or even frightening for the most part -- if you hear a BOOM! but don't feel anything, and are still standing in one piece two seconds later, there is really nothing to be concerned about. Those are the kind of explosions I was used to from the last deployment, and which I quickly got used to this time.

About a week ago, though, I was in my tent half-asleep when I heard a very loud, very distinct whistle. I knew what it was, but since a mortar had never passed so close to me before, I kind of freaked out -- which was actually kind of silly of me, because if you hear the whistle, it's probably not going to hit the ground very close to you. I told Sergeant Jew about it later, and he reassured me that I had nothing to fear.

"But if it were to hit your tent when you're inside it," he added, "you'd be fucked. That thing would melt around you instantly. You'd be like one of those little plastic soldiers -- except, bigger."

"So, in that case, I should just give up all hope and get into a cool pose?" I asked.

"Yes. Definitely get into a cool pose."

Which is why I have confidence in my leadership.

I have to go and be productive now, but one more thing before I do:

Those of you who have sent me your address and requested mine in return should have gotten a response by now -- if not, it's probably because I either haven't gotten around to it yet, or I think you're kind of creepy. I suppose the creepy ones will figure out who they are after a while, but all you others, please bear with me. I love you. Kisses.