It’s About Time
Another week has gone by. Perhaps more. Really, you lose track of time around here, mostly because you are either really busy or incredibly bored. I spend a great deal of time somewhere in between, most often both. Bored while busy. Honestly, an adventure in and of itself.
Several days ago I continued my quest to modernize the children of Afghanistan. I now have an entire community of villages near the city which has learned not only devil horns (with the accompanying cry of rock and roll), but also high fives, both courtesy of myself and a military policeman both with once again no mission, as well as pounds from another girl who was with us. The entire school was surrounding us yelling “Rock and Roll! High Five! Rock and Roll! High Five!” and then performing some sort of odd hand gesture that we deemed a mixture of the three motions and called it a day. Since we left the compound with no mission, we deemed this event mission success, since it annoyed everyone else on the mission with us…
Tragically, however, I had to say good-bye to another very good friend a few days ago. He was going on leave, gallavanting off to Germany or some such to go to a music festival and beaches and hotels and some other super fun and exciting adventures. Meanwhile, Nazi gold is out there for the hunting and I remain in Afghanistan… I have concluded that there is no Nazi gold here, primarily because there really isn’t much of anything here outside of the dust and the pistachios, which admittedly keeps the donkeys content, but leaves a bit to be desired on my end. Point being and ignoring the rambling tangent, I will be out of the country by the time he returns, with a small bit of luck, and so I will have to wait a few months until he returns home, at which point it will be incredibly awkward because it has been months of sporadic e-mails since the last time we saw each other face to face, and really we only knew each other a few months prior.
That is probably the most interesting thing about the Army. People talk all they want about Army Buddies and all, but in all honesty, most of the people you meet you will never see again, might talk to for a few months or years but eventually you lose track of each other and that is the end of that. True enough, there are quite a few people that I am happier than a clam (and how happy are clams, when you get right down to it?) to never hear from again, but there are some I do wish I could mosey off and see for a weekend once in awhile.
Digression is the key to success, and I do it well, so I hope the fortune starts rolling in soon. All tickets to Nazi gold should be sent in direct e-mails, and sunken pirate treasure treated in the same manner.
Speaking of pirates, I have picked up a noticable limp after our most recent Army Physical Fitness Test. A common reaction, thanks to Army medicine, but regardless of such not a grand situation. My chain of command will deal with it as they do best, I am sure. I love having a chain of command. I like to call it my chain of shirking responsibility for anything that happens to me and anything I accomplish or fail to accomplish. A long name, to be sure, but really much more accurate when you get right down to it.
In other news, our replacements are in country, on ground, I think right now sleeping in a room somewhere on this compound. Wonderous event. That means we should be moving sometime in the next few weeks, and then shortly after heading back to a land where flush toilets are not such a novelty and there is a socket for every light bulb. The small joys in life will become common again very soon… back to my mission of teaching my cats chess, or at least checkers, and other important tasks that need attending to back in civilization. The advancement of the Afghan people in terms of learning high fives and rock and roll will have to be continued by another, but I have corrupted enough Americans that I am sure the task has fallen to good hands.