So I found myself barely awake at 0530 this morning, my small room lit only by the light that poured over the wall from the room next to mine. It was my cell phone that woke me on this particular morning, having set my alarm before going to sleep the previous night.
I rolled out of my bed, slowly and deliberately as my bed wobbled about on its two-by-four legs, and my phone screams out the theme from Super Mario Brothers. It would be this morning that I would enjoy a breakfast with the Vice Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, as my friend in the room next to mine took our pictures.
I was looking forward to an awkward and unenjoyable romp through the world of military celebrity. Fortunately, I was pleasantly mistaken. We entered the chow hall, grabbed our breakfasts, and asked to be directed to the appropriate room. Upon our entrance, we noticed a handful of familiar faces and decided to join the small group, making a total of five misfits.
We finished our breakfasts and began discussing our situation, when in walks a Maxim model by the name of Mayra Veronica—a Latino woman who was well endowed on both ends. Followed by her were two men: Wilmer Valderrama and Russell Peters, Fez of That 70s Show and an Indian-Canadian comedian, respectively. Now I had seen these three the previous night, having attended the USO show and been treated to a humorous stand-up act by Mister Peters.
(I would later get an autographed photo and have my picture taken with each of these individuals, but that has nothing to do with today's anecdote.)
My comrade who had accompanied me took this as a cue to start doing his job, and promptly stood up, snapping away with his "weapon of choice." The Vice Chairman—a four-star general—made his way into the room without anyone noticing, which at this moment is beyond my comprehension.
As the event went on, our four celebrities took their seats among the 30 or so soldiers in the room and struck up conversation. Mister Peters decided to grace our table with his presence, but having seen and enjoyed his show the previous night didn't stop me from informing him that he was in my friend's seat and asking if he could relocate. He obliged, and my friend returned shortly after, finding great amusement in the story that he would be told of the event that had just unfolded in his absence.
After the event was over, each soldier was allowed a photo of him/herself with three of our four "stars," and a number of soldiers broke off to have their picture taken with the Vice Chairman. It was about this time that our motley crew decided to do a group photo with the Vice Chairman—so we did.
For the record, this was far from a serious photo. Having accomplished this task, we each shook the Marine General's hand and continued on to our next objective: a group photo with the other three VIPs. I took up a spot, sandwiching myself between Fez and Miss Maxim as the rest of our group filled in around and behind me. Having taken the picture, we shook their hands and proceeded to move out, our morning mission being complete.
Upon return to our camp, I swung into our chow hall and grabbed a cup of coffee before heading back to the office to embrace whatever other tasks may or may not rear their ugly heads—albeit with a smile.
Peace,
Feelgoode
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Morale, Welfare and Recreation (Or the Lack of It)
Leon,
Good morning. I sit here, at 0810, writing to you and enjoying my cup of warm coffee with a hint of vanilla. I'd say I'm in a relatively decent mood, having gotten a good night's sleep and waking up early to shave, brush my teeth and indulge in a modest breakfast. In fact, I don't think much could go wrong today. At least, that's what I thought as I watched the stream of scalding hot brew pouring into my Styrofoam cup at 0700.
Having woken up earlier than usual, I decided to spend some time at the MWR — a small building dedicated to upholding the rare commodity that we soldiers call "motivation." However, it would seem that very little effort is put into this subject. The two pool tables we have are warped, torn, and generally non-serviceable. Fortunately, playing pool was not this morning's objective. No, what I had in mind was spending roughly 30 minutes on one of the four computers, chatting with old friends on MSN Messenger before they tucked themselves in for the night.
It started off well enough, getting in some conversation with my mother, an old flame, and a couple of other friends. This, however, didn't last long. Somewhere in the vicinity of five minutes I got this little message at the top of my window that read "You cannot send messages because you are not logged on." My eye twitched. I attempted to log back on, only to receive a message relaying the fact that the Messenger service could not be reached at this time.
Now by this time I'm frustrated, borderline irate. Not because that happened this particular morning, but because this has been happening for two-and-a-half weeks now. Just, this particular morning saw it fit to connect me for the first time in over a week, only to shut me down as I was finally able to get in touch with someone. I'm beginning to think this is the punch line of some long-running joke that I've missed.
Here we have a facility dedicated to providing entertainment and morale for the soldiers, which fails miserably at its task. Not only that but it gets worse. Last rotation we had six computers and a number of phones that worked well enough so as not to incite complaint. Near the end of said rotation, we had dropped to four computers and fewer phones, but they still maintained a satisfactory working order.
This rotation is a different story. Our four computers work, however, I'll be damned if your 30 minutes is up by the time you get one page to load! Every day I see fellow soldiers and civilians storm out of the MWR in utter disgust and dissatisfaction at the poor service that we're expected to put up with. As it would turn out, the phones seldom work as desired and given the 15-minute time limit, contacting friends and family has become a frustrating and difficult endeavor which leaves most tapped out and demoralized.
Yes, we do have the Net in the offices. Unfortunately, these connections either don't work at all, or block you from visiting an excessive number of Web pages. So as it stands, I'll be reading random tidbits on Wikipedia until this issue gets fixed. Did you know that the creation of pizza is often credited to the peasants in Naples, who would deck their bread with the tomatoes that the upper-class thought were poisonous?
Peace,
Feelgoode
Good morning. I sit here, at 0810, writing to you and enjoying my cup of warm coffee with a hint of vanilla. I'd say I'm in a relatively decent mood, having gotten a good night's sleep and waking up early to shave, brush my teeth and indulge in a modest breakfast. In fact, I don't think much could go wrong today. At least, that's what I thought as I watched the stream of scalding hot brew pouring into my Styrofoam cup at 0700.
Having woken up earlier than usual, I decided to spend some time at the MWR — a small building dedicated to upholding the rare commodity that we soldiers call "motivation." However, it would seem that very little effort is put into this subject. The two pool tables we have are warped, torn, and generally non-serviceable. Fortunately, playing pool was not this morning's objective. No, what I had in mind was spending roughly 30 minutes on one of the four computers, chatting with old friends on MSN Messenger before they tucked themselves in for the night.
It started off well enough, getting in some conversation with my mother, an old flame, and a couple of other friends. This, however, didn't last long. Somewhere in the vicinity of five minutes I got this little message at the top of my window that read "You cannot send messages because you are not logged on." My eye twitched. I attempted to log back on, only to receive a message relaying the fact that the Messenger service could not be reached at this time.
Now by this time I'm frustrated, borderline irate. Not because that happened this particular morning, but because this has been happening for two-and-a-half weeks now. Just, this particular morning saw it fit to connect me for the first time in over a week, only to shut me down as I was finally able to get in touch with someone. I'm beginning to think this is the punch line of some long-running joke that I've missed.
Here we have a facility dedicated to providing entertainment and morale for the soldiers, which fails miserably at its task. Not only that but it gets worse. Last rotation we had six computers and a number of phones that worked well enough so as not to incite complaint. Near the end of said rotation, we had dropped to four computers and fewer phones, but they still maintained a satisfactory working order.
This rotation is a different story. Our four computers work, however, I'll be damned if your 30 minutes is up by the time you get one page to load! Every day I see fellow soldiers and civilians storm out of the MWR in utter disgust and dissatisfaction at the poor service that we're expected to put up with. As it would turn out, the phones seldom work as desired and given the 15-minute time limit, contacting friends and family has become a frustrating and difficult endeavor which leaves most tapped out and demoralized.
Yes, we do have the Net in the offices. Unfortunately, these connections either don't work at all, or block you from visiting an excessive number of Web pages. So as it stands, I'll be reading random tidbits on Wikipedia until this issue gets fixed. Did you know that the creation of pizza is often credited to the peasants in Naples, who would deck their bread with the tomatoes that the upper-class thought were poisonous?
Peace,
Feelgoode
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Greetings From Afghanistan
Leon,
Long time no see, bro. How are things? The situation here is simple enough, although I'm working both as an illustrator and a combat camera. No local watch for me this rotation—it would seem they've earned the right to meander about on their own. I've taken up pipe smoking as a relaxing past time, though it's been a while since my last smoking. I also enjoy the occasional cigar.
I'd be lying if I said my time here was well spent. The vast majority of my time is spent providing graphics for any videos we happen to be putting together...oh, and watching movies, I do a lot of movie watching. You should watch Transformers, if you haven't already.
I may get sent to the more southern portion of this forsaken country where things are a little less uneventful, but until then, I'm here. If I could afford a computer, I could make better use of my time doing what I joined the Army to do—taking college courses.
I'm sure there will be more to come as my deployment unfolds. Until then, I'm off to create a flyer for the local soccer tournament.
Peace.
Long time no see, bro. How are things? The situation here is simple enough, although I'm working both as an illustrator and a combat camera. No local watch for me this rotation—it would seem they've earned the right to meander about on their own. I've taken up pipe smoking as a relaxing past time, though it's been a while since my last smoking. I also enjoy the occasional cigar.
I'd be lying if I said my time here was well spent. The vast majority of my time is spent providing graphics for any videos we happen to be putting together...oh, and watching movies, I do a lot of movie watching. You should watch Transformers, if you haven't already.
I may get sent to the more southern portion of this forsaken country where things are a little less uneventful, but until then, I'm here. If I could afford a computer, I could make better use of my time doing what I joined the Army to do—taking college courses.
I'm sure there will be more to come as my deployment unfolds. Until then, I'm off to create a flyer for the local soccer tournament.
Peace.
*****
Meanwhile in Washington this week, Defense Secretary Robert Gates warned Congress that without an urgent infusion of another $196 billion, U.S. military bases in Iraq and Afghanistan could face partial closures and civilian job losses.
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