I like writing, and I want to keep this space alive, but I also need to be able to make it more me, I need to be able to talk about myself in a way that will be a little less anonymous. So, going forward, I’m going to take several of the suggestions and password protect some of the posts. In going forward, if I want to talk in a way that is less anonymous, then I’m going to do it behind that type of temporary barrier. If you want to read, shoot me an email and I’ll fill you in.

Yesterday, as everyone knows, was the 8th anniversary of the September 11th attacks. I remember the day, just like everyone else. One of those days of tragedy that instills itself in your memory forever. I remember the initial confusion, the horrible realization, and then the silence. Even living in a major city, it was silent in a way that still gives me chills. No horns, no loud conversation, no planes overheard. Just small clusters of people, speaking in whispers, searching for answers.

I’ve thought about that day a lot over the last eight years. I was going to school for something very different from what I’m doing now. I was dating a girl I shouldn’t have been. It wasn’t the path for me, but it wasn’t an unhappy path. It would have been fairly lucrative, quiet, safe. I didn’t realize it at the time, not immediately, but I was going to be pushed away from that path in the very near future.

I found myself wanting to do something more. I still remember breaking up with the girlfriend, knowing that in reality she just wasn’t a nice person. Not someone to surround myself with. I remember walking out of a final about 30 minutes into it, knowing suddenly that it was not something I could do for the rest of my life. Not thinking, no wondering, just suddenly knowing it without a doubt. And whether or not I knew it or not at the time, by the time I went home for Christmas in December of 2001 I was already on a path to join the military.

So now I’m getting ready to head to Iraq and I find myself thinking of how much the events of eight years ago shaped my life, and the world we live in now. And just like that, I’m sure that I’ll still remember exactly where I was and exactly how I felt decades from now.

So I’m unhappy with the format here, and I don’t think I’ve ever quite managed to find a way that this has really worked for me.

I started writing nearly two years ago. I was at a down point in my life and it helped to push the words out. I was ultra-vague about my job, which was heavily influenced by my wish to remain anonymous. I still have that desire, even though some of you know me and talk to me.  I’ve just never wanted to be out there.

So away I typed and it was fine. I was mostly talking about personal stuff, my life was at a funny spot, and professionally there was absolutely nothing happened. Work wasn’t a big part of my life, so there wasn’t any stirring need to change the way things were done.

I took a short break with the blowup after the breakup and switched blogs (note: breaking in full “view” is never a good thing, I’ll chalk this up to lessons learned). At that time I was switching gears though, working hard, seeing how my life changed so much depending on my circumstances. Will I be here next year? How about next month? At what point will I deploy to who knows where?

So I took a long break. At that point I wasn’t even being totally forthcoming about my job, so a lot of what I said didn’t make sense. I wasn’t happy with what I was pushing out to the world but at the same time I wasn’t willing to lay out who I am. Did I miss writing? Yes. But more, I missed what other people were writing. I missed keeping up, and honestly I was bad at it for a while.

So I came back. I was honest about my job. It’s a big Navy, after all. And now after 2 sites and 2 breaks I’m still writing and still feeling unfulfilled. I want to write freely and openly about my life and about my experiences. I love my job, I want this to be my career. But at the same time, I would hate for this to ever be something that hurt me. Maybe the various and sundry stories about outed bloggers have taken my paranoias to a new level.

In the end, I’ve come to a point where I’m still not happy with what I feel comfortable sharing. The format I’ve chosen holds me back, but at the same time I don’t know that I could really move this in another direction. I’m left half-assing it without a clear picture of how I can get it to a better place.

So I’m going to think about this. I’m not necessarily leaving, but I need to figure out a way to make this work better. It might be changing the format. It might be giving up this little project. Regardless, it needs to get figured out, because the initial fun has been quickly fading into a quagmire of unfulfilled expectations.

Your thoughts are always welcome.

Theory of International Politics and Zombies

I was talking to a dear friend today when I made the comment that she agreed with, “I feel like I’m playing grownup.” She agreed. It’s a funny feeling to have.

Every day I go to work in a professional job that I’m apparently qualified to do. People come to me, and place in me their trust. Trust not to screw up in a way that would mess up their careers, lives, and/or aspirations. I wonder sometimes where this trust comes from. “I was playing video games and watching an episode of Mad Men last night, obviouslyou have the wrong guy” flashes through my mind.

Of course, I don’t say that. I do my job, apparently I do it well, and people respect that. But it doesn’t feel real sometimes, like the rest of my life.

I’m getting married. Soon. I own a house. And a car. I have bills (including a mortgage on said house). This playing a grown up thing makes me wonder, from time to time, when I’ll actually feel grown up. When I’ll stop feeling like an overgrown kid in a grownup world. Is it when I have kids? When I hit 30? 40?

I mean, for now I’m content to play grownup five days a week and come home to my house (with my huge tv, dog, and fiance), but I’m trying to figure out at which point I become an actual adult.

Thoughts?

It has been hard to find the time to write.

I came home, slightly concerned I would find my personal life in disarray while my professional life got back on track. In reality? Just the opposite.

Things at home are going great. Wedding plans are continuing.  Things are good. Busy. But good, and I’m happy to be back.

Professionally? Everything is in flux. I’ve been working long days, after being hit with things to do just after I returned (wouldn’t it be nice to have some time off?). Where I’ll be in a few months, what I’ll be doing, if I’ll even go, are all questions rattling around my environs right now.

So what comes next? I don’t know. In the short term, the wedding. In the slightly longer term, I’m still waiting to figure it out.

I sat down and drew up 3 possible scenarios the other day. One has me getting a dream deployment in the not so distant future. One has me getting a dream job in the not so distant future. The third has me getting neither and getting screwed by the process I’m currently lost in.

Let’s just say I’m pulling options one or two vice three.

Ah, glad I’m back.

So we pulled into the US for a few days of liberty, and it feels so strange to be home.

At first, it was another port call. Sitting in port at a tropical city. The humidity doesn’t feel different. The scenery was similar.

The first time I noticed it was getting into the cab. I’ve gotten used to negotiating my fares in dollars, prior to going anywhere. “We will give you ten dollars to take us to our hotel. Ten dollars for all of us, not each.” The simplicity of the computerized fare was soothing (I hate negotiating).

But being home was a feeling, you just need to take it in. You can understand the bits of conversation you overhear while walking down the street. Everything seems a little more ordinary, a little less new. It is good to be back.

We’re now taking part in a Navy tradition known as the tiger cruise. It’s a short time underway, at the end of the deployment, where you can bring some family members onboard the ship to live for the last couple of days. So my family is on now, and despite having to run around trying to finish up my work, it has been great to see them.

This is such a foreign part of my life, especially to my Mom (it’s her first time on a Navy shape). It’s great to hang out, to show them where I’ve lived since I deployed, and just to be around family.

We’ll pull into port in a matter of days, and I’ll be back home, trying to sort out life and everything that happens when you’re away. Because even though I kind of pictures things just like I left them when I left? I know it’s not true. It’s easy to think that way, but life moves on even when I’m out here.

So I’ll be back, and writing a bit more on the home life which has gotten lost in all the deployment posts (and posting a few more pictures, because I’ll have decent internet again, finally). And adjusting, I hope that won’t be too hard.

We got underway the other day, with the knowledge that the next time we pull into port it will be back in the US. Back on American soil for the first time in months, since we started our slow winding ark across the Caribbean to the Pacific. After that it is just a short stop in a southern port before we proceed up along the coast to home.

 I’m excited, to be sure. The bright blue waters of the Caribbean seem to match my mood. I miss home. I miss the ability to reach out and connect with friends so easily (my cell phone will work again as of this weekend and I cannot wait). I miss my house, my dog, my fiance. I miss being able to go out and have a beer with friends or watch a baseball game on tv. 

 I am also excited to share the things that happened. Our last liberty port was outstanding. A fun few days in the sun with friends. Cheap Panamanian beer, wonderful Cuban cigars (I mean, of course not), great times with friends. The story of how I almost (legitimately) died? A classic I will have to share (and soon, what a tease I apparently am).

 But on the other hand, I’m nervous. What will it be like to be back? Will the issues that came up during the deployment come back? My relationship almost ended at one point, burdened with the reality of my deployment schedule and the complexities of being away for months on end. We’re better now, probably better than before, but it still isn’t easy, and the next one will be twice as long, and after that there will be more, probably many more.

And then there’s the  reality that I’m simply not the person I was when I left. Not in a good or a bad way, but you change. You live a separate life for months at a time. You have incredible experiences, and then you go back to a life, and a job, that is unchanged in a lot of ways.

 A dear friend of mine flew home from our liberty port and we have talked about being back from what is also her first deployment. She said it doesn’t feel real, and it’s a comment I’ve heard from other people. Your normal life seems distant, like you’re there but you’re still somewhere else. I don’t know if it will be the same for me, I don’t know if I’ll be able to seamlessly slip back into the life I left, I don’t know if it’s in my nature.

So we push on and I find myself a bundle of nerves and excitement as we get closer. The days have trickled down into the single digits, and soon I’ll see for myself what it is like to be back.

So we got underway again, beginning our slighly lazy and roundabout voyage home. There are a few brief stops along the way, but we are moving, slowly but surely, back home.

Being underway always relaxes me, there’s something about moving around on the ocean that is poetic, it appeals to my adventurous side. When “anchors aweigh” is called and we hear “underway, shift colors,” I know that we’re on to something new and exciting, the next chapter is about to begin.

I stumbled across the following quote this morning and found it applicable.

The sea is everything. It covers seven tenths of the terrestrial globe. Its breath is pure and healthy. It is an immense desert, where man is never lonely, for he feels life stirring on all sides.
-Jules Verne

So, while the last month has been draining, and while I still have a million things to do, I feel a lot more peaceful when we’re out here and I can always see something like this:

I’m trying to avoid getting up on my soapbox too much, but I’m just unhappy with politicians (don’t mistake this for having all my hatred flowing towards one political party, I find them both pretty useless nowadays).

(1) The CIA controversy. Congressional democrats (several of whom I have voted for or worked for) are up in arms that the CIA had a secret plan to kill terrorists that they weren’t informed of. Go ahead and read that sentence again. Apparently the CIA devised a program for killing terrorists in the aftermath of the September 11th attacks. My immediate reaction to this news was, “Of course they did.” In fact, I would be pretty upset if they didn’t.

The kicker? They never implemented this particular program. So according to all reporting on the subject, Congress is upset that the CIA had an idea that they NEVER ACTED ON, and didn’t tell them.

(2) President Obama is asking for an investigation of whether our Afghan allies killed 2000 Taliban prisoners following our invasion. Now, I firmly believe in the Geneva Conventions and think that all POW”s should be treated fairly. But we’ve got a lot of nerve. War is an ugly (though unfortunately necessary) thing, and bad things will happen during it.

We invaded Afghanistan and sought the help of the Northern Alliance. We had left them to fight for themselves since the rise of the Taliban. They were badly outnumbered by one of the most repressive regimes in the world. The Taliban instituted the strictest religious law the world has ever seen. Women were beaten for driving in taxis and were not allowed to attend school, clapping your hands at a sports event became illegal. There were widespread cases of rape of murder carried out by the Taliban, included the massacre of 8000 innocent men, women, and children at Mazar-i-Sharif. We did nothing during their rule under after September 11th. We have not asked for investigations into the Taliban crimes, nor called for war crimes tribunals. The Northern Alliance are our allies who, in their own country, may commited a crime during military actions which brought them the first hope of freedom in decades.

It seems hopelessly backwards, so far this month we’ve ignored hopes for democracy in Iran, punished a country trying to save its democracy in Honduras, and are now investigating our allies in Afghanistan. As the great guys at Blackfive pointed out, “2000 dead terrorists sounds like the beginning of a citation for a medal.”

IA. It stands for “Individual Augmentation.” Not necessarily a well known program, but it takes Navy and Air Force personnel and attaches them to Army/Marine units operating overseas. It’s a way of filling gaps without calling up reservists and national guard units, given how things are still stretched a little thin over there (and have been for a while now).

So, I’m going on one, leaving soon, for Iraq.

There are two competing ways that I look at this. The first is that I’m excited for the opportunity. It’ll be great professionally, giving me a leg up later on. It’ll be a great experience too, to be there, to work in theater, to do some good in support of everything going on there.

The second is that I’m spending a lot of time deployed. A whole lot.

I once said to a friend that I wish I could pause time while I’m away, things change and there are memories you miss. You miss your birthday, then Thanksgiving, then Christmas. Then you miss another birthday. It’s a lot of time spent away from home, missing holidays and special events. Sometimes you realize the magnitude of what you’re missing and it just hits you as being very sad.

So there are two sides to it all, and so it makes it bittersweet news. It’s a lot of time preparing to go or being gone, and not a lot of time enjoying home.