Wednesday, July 30, 2008

Throwdown! Deployment Gremlins vs Anchored Away

And I totally am Teh Winnar!

 

On Sunday, I was lying on the couch trying to rub the sleep from my eyes (late night reading a fantastic book – if you like urban fantasy or chick lit or both or neither, check out Happy Hour of the Damned by Mark Henry...I laughed out loud, which I never do with books anymore) and waiting for my Sunday fix with George Stephanopoulos to come on when one of the sprogs said, “Uh oh! What happened?”

 

The television was gone. No volume, no video. Toten hosen. It had just been on two seconds before, so I couldn’t figure out what the issue might be. I did what any self-respecting software engineer would do – I turned off and unplugged the TV, then plugged it back in and powered it up again. Should work, right? Not so much. But after two evolutions of this, I finally got a red blinky light.

 

Lamp, it said. Or rather lamplamplamplamplamp.

 

F!@#$%, said I.

 

See, this is the only TV in the house that is hooked up to the crack (aka Tivo). That meant no Teletubbies, no Zoboomafoo, no late-night TV during nap times. It also meant, since our only digital  cable box is hooked up to this television, no decent TV. Oh, and limited DVD viewage unless I was willing to let the sprogs sit around the more obnoxious locations in the house (my bed, the office).

 

I used my enormous Google-fu and located the appropriate replacement part, hit up Best Buy (they don’t carry them though they suggest you replace yours once per year), ordered a new lamp online, paid extra for Pronto Mother-effer shipping, and then held off the OMGTeletubbies!!11! masses with pitchfork and torch. Today, the UPS man, my bestest friend ever, arrived. Tonight my other bestest friend ever, La Vegan Loca, came over to preside over the 911 call should the TV crash on top of me or should I accidentally try to electrocute myself.

 

It took five minutes to change that damn lamp. It was easy as pie. No squish, no zap. And now my TV is like new, with a brighter screen than I’ve seen on it in at least three years. I’m proud of the old lamp. It lasted 4 years. May it rest in peace. I shall give it an honorable burial at the local waste facility (it’s full of teh mercury) and mourn its passing.

 

But how hot am I to have fixed my own damn television? Sometimes I totally rock the casbah.

 

YodaMan’s footing is slowly eroding around here. Hell, once the kids go off to school, I won’t need him around at all anymore. He’ll be so last decade....

 

Monday, July 28, 2008

Afghanistan has a tiny penis

My elder son asked me to draw Afghanistan for him this morning. I did, and I put a little asterisk at the Kabul-ish point to show him where Daddy is.

 

“I color Afghanistan,” he said, which means he’s going to continue doodling the country. He then took the pen and drew eyes, nose, mouth, hands. And then he said, “I draw legs,” paused, then said, “I draw penis.”

 

After he scribbled the tiny little triangular nubbin, he went back to the legs.

 

Keeping in mind my son is 4 and has the artistic ability of, well, me, you can only imagine the result. Afghanistan looks like a guy who went on a serious bender after realizing he was as well-hung as a gerbil.

 

It’s so appropriate, I couldn’t help but laugh my ass off.

Friday, July 25, 2008

Obama and the Smears

I saw a lot of comments floating around the last few days about Obama and his behavior towards service members in the Middle East. I was so glad to see this tastiness posted at Snopes. Please go read, especially some of the e-mails that have been sent in defense of Obama.

 

I swear, I get so tired of seeing military folks bash on liberals just because. I’m especially tired of it after hearing milfolk say only a Republican will take care of the military. I might have agreed with that once upon a time, but then my husband worked at the Pentagon. I don’t buy that bullshit for a second anymore.

 

I know smears are going to happen on both sides. It’s the way things go anymore. But I swear it makes me feel like we’re in high school voting for prom king, and it’s going to come down to who’s more popular rather than who’s going to fix this country and put us back on the right path.

 

Bleh.

Tuesday, July 22, 2008

Ready, steady, go...

YodaMan called tonight to chat. We had some issues to bandy about with the impending move, putting our shizzle in storage, etc. Then he mentioned that he’ll be throwing his phone in tomorrow’s mail so it comes back here.

 

Because tomorrow’s the last day of training.

 

They head out in just a few days.

 

Then he told me about the training and how the scenarios turned out when they did their convoy. Holy good gods.

 

Tonight might be the last phone call I have from him before he’s in country. There’s good news, though.

 

The amazing Shannon came to my rescue again. She confirmed that we will NOT lose BAH if our stuff goes into storage, and she told me that there are child counselors available to talk to my sprog, since he’s not dealing well with this stuff at all. He reminds me every day that his daddy’s gone to Afghanistan (pronounced ‘Ghan’stan). He’s also dropped other hints, such as seeing a little girl crying at the grocery store or somewhere and saying, “She misses her daddy.” Yeah. Things like that make it plain that his very high-strung and angry behavior, so unlike him, do have a cause.

 

In other news, we’re discussing maybe possibly asking the detailer to find more San Diego orders. We’re going to be out so much money if we have to rent this house at about $1k less than our mortgage payment and then lose our BAH to the Monterey rental market/housing – assuming we have regular renters who pay their bills every month. Why did we buy again? Oh yeah. We were supposed to stay here for 5 years....

 

Thursday, July 17, 2008

Holy IA Smokes!

I have a lot of catching up to do here. Let’s start with the ick and move to the wow.

 

Ick: My mother called me on Monday afternoon and said my father had been admitted to the hospital with chest pains. They didn’t want to do a stress test for fear of an impending heart attack, so they scheduled an angiogram for the next day. The angiogram revealed 3 or 4 gnarly spots, so the cardiologist set up a bypass for the following day – Wednesday. When they got in there, they opted to take care of that fourth spot, so the father ended up with a quadruple bypass. Cut to the next morning – he’s bleeding from his chest tube. They return to surgery, find he’s one of the 5% of bypass patients who end up with chest wall issues, so they fixed him up and wheeled him back to the ICU. I haven’t heard any progress reports since this morning, but in spite of his oxygen saturation dropping, they seemed to think he’d be okay.

 

My mom? Not so much. My parents are real estate agents working as a team, so that means while my father recovers, Mom has to take care of both of their work. Her life would be vastly improved if I could get out there, but... yeah, not so much. Thanks, Mr. Detailer.

 

In other ick news, I’ve also had to call the police on my neighbors – count them – FOUR TIMES the last week for noise problems. I also had to go across the street to another neighbor and ask them to pipe down the music blaring out of their car radio as they worked in their garage, and I got lip from them. Lucky for me, the guy who’s buying the house next door to them decided right then to ask me what I think of this neighborhood. I didn’t hold back on anything but the profanity. ;) We’ll see if they’re still in escrow and if that sale goes through. It would suck if I scared him away because he seemed rather normal (and gods know we need more normal people around here to balance out the overwhelming trash-fest), but I sure didn’t want to lie to the guy.

 

I’ll be so happy to get out of here, and I hope we never come back. What would be really cool is if the house got caught in the next big fire. That would rock. No lives lost, of course, but just wipe out my house so I can sell the land and take the insurance money.

 

Now for the wow. This is pretty unbelievable, so hold your britches.

 

A couple of weeks ago, I got a call from some guy at the ECRC (that’s where the GSA/IA billets are going out of now) who sounded like he was trying to stay awake while he read a script  at me. I know he was reading a script b/c he had the cadence of a fifth grader trying to read a book aloud, complete with pronouncing “a” and “the” with long vowels. I was surprised I got the call at all since my dearest YodaMan is still deployed, and I was under the impression that my first support call would come no sooner than one month after my husband had returned home from the IA. Nevertheless, the call was completely pointless, so I gave them a 9 for effort and subtracted 5 for content.

 

This morning, I got another call. This time it was from a woman named Shannon, a milspouse whose job title is Individual Augmentee Deployment Consultant. The call started the same way with her, so I figured it was a duplicate call and could be blown off. But she didn’t read off a script. Nor did she ask me stupid questions. She did ask if I’d been told of any support, and I said I’d found the NKO site and the ECRC site but nothing more really. She rattled off several other support opportunities, then got my e-mail address so she could send me all the info I’d ever want to know about the IA stuff. I now have her number, too, in case I just want to call and vent. She’s a trained ombudsman on top of her consultant job, so I guess she’s equipped to deal with the OMGWTFBBQ calls from frazzled and/or psychotic milspouses in the middle of a freak out.

 

Then she asked me if she could help me with any other information or support. I shrugged and figured what the hell. Couldn’t hurt to ask about the moving stuff. So I did. I explained that YodaMan has deployed twice in the last year, and then he went straight on this IA. Needless to say, I told her, I’m all done. I’m dried up, and I need to go home and suck my thumb and curl up in the fetal position while my mommy pats my back and tells me I’ll survive this. Shannon is either an Oscar-worthy actress, or she’s the sweetest thing in the world because she totally understood and didn’t dismiss my whining. And she knew where I was going even before I was able to finish my whiny sob story. She didn’t have the answer, and she didn’t give me a number to call. Instead, she said she’d get back to me when she had the answer. I figured it would be a few days because, well, we are talking the Navy here, right?

 

Ten minutes later, I was on speaker phone with Shannon and Mary, the IA Family Relocation Whosyourdaddy. They had gone straight to Personal Property and asked a rhetorical question about a family wanting to put their crap in storage and go home for the duration of this IA but had no orders because of a rotten, evil, a-pox-on-his-head detailer from hell, and they had an answer for me. The answer is we can pay out of pocket from now until the orders come through, assuming the orders allow for storage of personal property, and PPO will then go to my personal storage unit, pick up my shiznit, and cart it to Alabama/Monterey. It’s the sucky answer I expected, but it’s so cool that they went to the effort to get that answer. Then they gave me the number for the person at PPO who can tell me for sure what the deal is with our situation, so I’ll call them in a bit and ask if I have to walk in and schedule the move or if I can do it from an Army office in Alabama.

 

Meanwhile, these two awesome women quizzed me on the detailer situation and said they were on a mission to discover what could be done about this evil, lying sack of dung (my words, not theirs). Again, I’m not holding my breath on a return call with that since I already know the answer from Millington regarding questions about how they do their job is always a resounding “don’t make me pull this car over.” But still. The effort.

 

I’m astounded. I’m amazed. And I have resources I’m going to post here to share with the world (or, rather, the eight readers of this blog, plus anyone random that comes here on one of the crazy searches they do). That will be my next post, as soon as I follow some links and get good info from each site. Or perhaps I’ll follow Kimba’s lead and let you eight readers know what Google searches bring random surfers here. Because it’s funny, and I’m in the mood to kick the recent blahs to the curb.

Monday, July 14, 2008

Wow...

Check out the IA training. There are lots of videos on the YouTubes, but this one is my favorite.



I might think the whole IA thing is a big crock of shit. But thank goodness they do this training. Apparently the Navy way only works on ships and stuff. You know, not so much in sand.

Saturday, July 12, 2008

Oh, joy

Here’s an excerpt from a fabulous article, and exactly what I need to be reading.

 

Abu Yahia al-Libi, an escaped prisoner from Bagram since 2005, said “militants are ‘determined to turn the upcoming winter to hell for the infidels.’"

 

Read more here.

 

Lovely. Really. That’s lovely.

Thursday, July 10, 2008

It's smackdown time!

Dearest detailers who currently, or within the past eight months, have been sitting in Tennessee, doling out the usual round of lies and bait-and-switch orders:

You are no longer on my shit list. You have been permanently removed from said list. Before you begin cheering, please note that your status of “shit list worthy” has moved up to “I’ve got a voodoo doll with your name on it, and I’m purchasing some pins tomorrow.”

Peace out,

Anchored Away

Dearest Navy community:

Please be aware that in spite of the CNO’s former promise to provide immediate follow-on orders with all IA orders, the new policy is now to withhold any and all written orders excepting the ever-fucking-important IA orders until your boots hit the ground of your final destination country, regardless of the amount of training that precedes your arrival. Why? Because apparently there are folks washing out of training, and it’s too hard to process new orders for those folks.

Awwww. Poor widdle detailers being forced to do their jobs. Awwwwwwwww. I’m heartbroken for them. No, really. I am.

[ETA: This paragraph is angry hyperbole re: what the Navy pays for. Like I say within the text of this paragraph, I don't actually know what the Navy is up to and can only extrapolate worst case scenario since that always helps me to determine the most likely scenario when dealing with the good ol' USN. :)] I guess that means, if your verbal orders have you moving across the country when you’re done, and your report date is two days after your IA extension ends, you should either pay out of pocket to have someone pack you out or just kiss all your shit goodbye. I guess. I wouldn’t know. Because apparently the poor volunteer milspouses who sit behind the single page of information on the Navy Knowledge Online site don’t really know the answer, either. Because I assume, if someone out there knew what the fuck goes on with IAs, someone would post that info for all us poor little milspouses to read between polishing the silver and shopping online for dresses and heels that don’t scream “whore.”

But again, that’s just my assumption. Because there is so very little info out there on what to do, what recourse (if any) we have on any of this nonsense, and the processes required to get any help, and I’m assuming (uh oh! more asses of u and me!) that the family helpline will consist of “you should contact XXX office about that,” to which XXX office replies, “Uhhhhh, there’s no direction on how to proceed, so we’re just oops! I can’t hear you, can you- uh oh! Bad connection! Call back... uhh... next month!”

My new mission, should I stumble over anything useful (not likely, but here’s hoping), is that I shall begin posting that info here. I might even make a nice page, snark-free and totally professional (if I can manage it) (doubting that right now), with the info I find so that maybe, perhaps, perchance, some other IA milspouse will have a hand up.

Peace out, my peeps.

AA

Wednesday, July 9, 2008

Thank You

When I started this blog, I never imagined I’d get more than one or two random visitors. I was shocked when I installed Google analytics and saw not just the amount of traffic (nothing blinding, I assure you, but much more than one or two random visitors) I got, but also how people were finding the blog. I never realized Google placed so much weight on keywords from Blogger posts. ;) And wow, some of those Google searches. Just. Wow.

Anyway, I know most of what I write here is bitching, but that was the original intent of this blog. I needed a place to whine about all the reasons I loathe and despise being a milspouse since my husband had begun to take it all personally. Though he claims he doesn’t do that anymore, I still rely on this space to spew my venom so I can have a calmer and much less vitriolic discussion with him. This IA, though less than a week old, has already changed things a bit. All those implied threats of Causing Irreversible Damage to Troop Morale if I dare breathe a whisper about slowly cracking under the pressure - they're actually affecting what and how much I’ll say to the YodaMan.

If when I post here I sound like I’m two bullets shy of a high powered rifle and a tower (are bullets the right word for rifle ammunition?), I’m not. Well, I am, but once I’ve spewed my rant on this blog, I feel much better, like maybe ten munitions shy. Then when my e-mail dings with notice that someone heard me – even if they think I’m a melodramatic asshat – I feel immeasurably better. I have been acknowledged. The rifle is locked away in the gun case.

In short, you guys rock. I can’t imagine where I’d be right now if I’d never started this blog. Certainly, I’d never have begun the fine tradition of champagne brunch 40 minutes away from my kids with Kimba. I’m pretty sure I’d never have found such inspiration from so many amazing women who somehow manage to survive this lifestyle with smiles (or are those grimaces in disguise?) still firmly pasted on their faces.

I’ll never manage the smile thing. I think a snarky or at least bitchy scowl is permanently etched after thirteen years of this crap. But at least I can laugh about it all now. I might look like Wednesday trying to smile, but it’s there.



And I owe you guys so much for giving me back the ability to laugh even when the suck is neck-deep and rising. Bless you.

Monday, July 7, 2008

Bad arithmetic or me trying to avoid the sad, horrific truth?

Talked to YodaMan tonight. Actually, he talked. I said “uh huh” and “the kids went swimming today and na na na na na you missed seeing your son swim unassisted for the first time.” Whatever.

 

We talked convoys for a minute or two.

Turns out he won’t be on base. <- not amusing

I mentioned he’s going to be doing a lot of convoys. One a week. Nay, says he. Once a day. Seems my original maths were correct, and my wishful thinking had me recalculating the incorrect number of convoys. But the good news (hahahahahahaaaaaaaa!!!!! Yes, this is really good news, fuck yeah!!) is that each way constitutes a convoy. So it’s really more like every other day, a convoy there and a convoy back again. Then sleeping away from the safety of the goddamn base. <- also not amusing

 

Needless to say, I’m honest to gods freaking out now.

 

What the hell happened to “I’m going to be safe behind the wire, riding a desk, totally doing the PowerPoint Ninja job”? Fuck if I know.

 

YodaMan talked to his brother today, too. That’s right. Talked to his brother, but he only had 20 minutes to spare with me before lights out, and almost all of it was to yap about the bullshit training and Army gear and crusty drill sergeants. Anyway. His brother saw a report on Afghanistan, and the report is that none of his family are amused.

 

Do tell, Yoda family. Do fucking tell.

Sunday, July 6, 2008

Oh holy convoys, batman.

YodaMan will be doing on average 1 convoy per week if he runs the same schedule as the guy he’s replacing (and why wouldn’t he?).

I’m not freaking out. I’m not.

Not sure why a comms guy needs to be racing around the countryside that often, but this is Army, and I have enough trouble understanding the Navy’s version of logic even after 15 years of exposure to it. Army’s a whole new flavor, so who the hell knows.

A hunger strike might be in order. I’m not sure I’ll be able to eat anything anyway for the next 7 months. Might as well make a political statement of it, right?

[Edited for bad math.]

Here it comes, and it starts with convoys

On the lead-up to this IA, I told YodaMan that I fully expected he’d be in danger’s way at least some of the time. It’s in his nature to volunteer for the worst jobs, and those are the ones I expected him to get.

 

Right before he left, he got an e-mail from the guy he’s replacing – a desk jockey. Woot! There’s an actual, physical body out there in Afghanistan who’s passing the time generating PowerPoint presentations while he waits for my husband to replace him. I couldn’t be more thrilled.

 

Then I get an e-mail this morning from the Yodester saying the guy he’s relieving has actually clarified the nature of his job over there. YodaMan tells me that he’ll share the e-mail if I want open communication on exactly what he’ll be doing. But meanwhile, I should know that he’ll be going on “some convoys” as a passenger.

 

Way to rock my world off its axis on a Sunday morning.

 

I keep going back and forth between “ignorance is bliss and I don’t need to know” and “if I don’t know, I’ll freak out anytime something comes on the news about where he is.”

 

Meanwhile, I spent some time online yesterday looking for support for IA families. The Navy can’t profess a whole lot of positive, but it certainly can lay claim to one thing: consistency. Before the big push to make IAs more seamless, they sucked balls. Since the big push, they still suck balls. I have stories about how much time was wasted at the ECRC while the IAs and GSAs were preparing for the deployment, but I have more stories about stuff like how you have to have a sponsor to get on the Navy Knowledge Online site, where a network of IA milspouses can apparently get together to chat about how bad this all sucks and where to get support. It leads me to believe there are about five intrepid milspouses on that network, and they’ve long since given up on it.

 

Once more there are a very few programs out there to help, but nothing useful for someone in my position. Most of it’s financial, and we’re blessed enough to be denied most any kind of financial support (though who doesn’t love free money?). I was supposed to be contacted by the family support folks as part of a new push to actually make contact before the IA begins, but here I sit, twiddling my thumbs. I’m not holding my breath on any of the promised support, and instead, I’m packing my shit and preparing to go home. On my own dime. Because apparently we’re not even entitled to familial help in the absence of military support. Consider what bollocks this IA is, I’m obviously bitter about this.

 

And PS, my kids have watched that damn Elmo movie so many times, that last song is now stuck in my head, only obliterated when my kids start squalling about how they want their daddy now.

 

Me too, kids.

 

Friday, July 4, 2008

Oh, is today supposed to be special?

YodaMan has all his gear folded and ready to be stuffed into sea bags. It's sitting like camouflage piles of crap on the coffee table. So far this morning, I have fantasized:

  1. Skipping in a circle (er, oval) around the table, dribbling an entire can of lighter fluid on the table and its piles and laughing maniacally as I toss a lit match on top of it all.
  2. Grabbing the neighbor's dog just before it takes a crap in my yard again and depositing it in its squatting position right in the middle of the table.
  3. Finding the can of paint left over from the beige-fest that our walls now sport and doing some contemporary art project all over the uniforms.
  4. Bleach + scissors + coffee + dirty diaper contents
  5. Super glue. When it's dry, 9M HCl. Muwahaha.
  6. Reenacting the I Love Lucy episode with the grape squishing, only with the Costco pack of blueberries we purchased this week.
  7. Leaving the clothes at the front gate overnight so they're either stolen or tagged.
  8. Laying them out in the middle of the road and running over them with the car. Leaving a big pile of peanut butter and whipped cream and raw eggs and tomatoes right in front of them so the tires leave some awesome tread marks.
  9. Just getting in the car and driving away.
It's been a fun day. All around us, people are dressed in patriotic bullshit lip service gear and drinking and playing their loud-ass craptastic music and laughing off the rights that this administration has stripped away.

We're packing a bunch of fucking sea bags for a bullshit deployment.

It doesn't feel like a day of celebration. It feels like 222 years of a fucking facade.

Just in case anyone's forgotten what the Declaration of Independence said, all praise Thomas Jefferson, I've copied and pasted from USHistory.org for your wonderment. When you're done, maybe go look at what the Constitution says and give a good, hard think about the state of our country today and how we're wasting human lives and the welfare of families.

When in the Course of human events it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. — That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, — That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness. Prudence, indeed, will dictate that Governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and accordingly all experience hath shewn that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed. But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same Object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute Despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such Government, and to provide new Guards for their future security. — Such has been the patient sufferance of these Colonies; and such is now the necessity which constrains them to alter their former Systems of Government. The history of the present King of Great Britain is a history of repeated injuries and usurpations, all having in direct object the establishment of an absolute Tyranny over these States. To prove this, let Facts be submitted to a candid world.

He has refused his Assent to Laws, the most wholesome and necessary for the public good.

He has forbidden his Governors to pass Laws of immediate and pressing importance, unless suspended in their operation till his Assent should be obtained; and when so suspended, he has utterly neglected to attend to them.

He has refused to pass other Laws for the accommodation of large districts of people, unless those people would relinquish the right of Representation in the Legislature, a right inestimable to them and formidable to tyrants only.

He has called together legislative bodies at places unusual, uncomfortable, and distant from the depository of their Public Records, for the sole purpose of fatiguing them into compliance with his measures.

He has dissolved Representative Houses repeatedly, for opposing with manly firmness his invasions on the rights of the people.

He has refused for a long time, after such dissolutions, to cause others to be elected, whereby the Legislative Powers, incapable of Annihilation, have returned to the People at large for their exercise; the State remaining in the mean time exposed to all the dangers of invasion from without, and convulsions within.

He has endeavoured to prevent the population of these States; for that purpose obstructing the Laws for Naturalization of Foreigners; refusing to pass others to encourage their migrations hither, and raising the conditions of new Appropriations of Lands.

He has obstructed the Administration of Justice by refusing his Assent to Laws for establishing Judiciary Powers.

He has made Judges dependent on his Will alone for the tenure of their offices, and the amount and payment of their salaries.

He has erected a multitude of New Offices, and sent hither swarms of Officers to harass our people and eat out their substance.

He has kept among us, in times of peace, Standing Armies without the Consent of our legislatures.

He has affected to render the Military independent of and superior to the Civil Power.

He has combined with others to subject us to a jurisdiction foreign to our constitution, and unacknowledged by our laws; giving his Assent to their Acts of pretended Legislation:

For quartering large bodies of armed troops among us:

For protecting them, by a mock Trial from punishment for any Murders which they should commit on the Inhabitants of these States:

For cutting off our Trade with all parts of the world:

For imposing Taxes on us without our Consent:

For depriving us in many cases, of the benefit of Trial by Jury:

For transporting us beyond Seas to be tried for pretended offences:

For abolishing the free System of English Laws in a neighbouring Province, establishing therein an Arbitrary government, and enlarging its Boundaries so as to render it at once an example and fit instrument for introducing the same absolute rule into these Colonies

For taking away our Charters, abolishing our most valuable Laws and altering fundamentally the Forms of our Governments:

For suspending our own Legislatures, and declaring themselves invested with power to legislate for us in all cases whatsoever.

He has abdicated Government here, by declaring us out of his Protection and waging War against us.

He has plundered our seas, ravaged our coasts, burnt our towns, and destroyed the lives of our people.

He is at this time transporting large Armies of foreign Mercenaries to compleat the works of death, desolation, and tyranny, already begun with circumstances of Cruelty & Perfidy scarcely paralleled in the most barbarous ages, and totally unworthy the Head of a civilized nation.

He has constrained our fellow Citizens taken Captive on the high Seas to bear Arms against their Country, to become the executioners of their friends and Brethren, or to fall themselves by their Hands.

He has excited domestic insurrections amongst us, and has endeavoured to bring on the inhabitants of our frontiers, the merciless Indian Savages whose known rule of warfare, is an undistinguished destruction of all ages, sexes and conditions.

In every stage of these Oppressions We have Petitioned for Redress in the most humble terms: Our repeated Petitions have been answered only by repeated injury. A Prince, whose character is thus marked by every act which may define a Tyrant, is unfit to be the ruler of a free people.

Nor have We been wanting in attentions to our British brethren. We have warned them from time to time of attempts by their legislature to extend an unwarrantable jurisdiction over us. We have reminded them of the circumstances of our emigration and settlement here. We have appealed to their native justice and magnanimity, and we have conjured them by the ties of our common kindred to disavow these usurpations, which would inevitably interrupt our connections and correspondence. They too have been deaf to the voice of justice and of consanguinity. We must, therefore, acquiesce in the necessity, which denounces our Separation, and hold them, as we hold the rest of mankind, Enemies in War, in Peace Friends.

We, therefore, the Representatives of the united States of America, in General Congress, Assembled, appealing to the Supreme Judge of the world for the rectitude of our intentions, do, in the Name, and by Authority of the good People of these Colonies, solemnly publish and declare, That these united Colonies are, and of Right ought to be Free and Independent States, that they are Absolved from all Allegiance to the British Crown, and that all political connection between them and the State of Great Britain, is and ought to be totally dissolved; and that as Free and Independent States, they have full Power to levy War, conclude Peace, contract Alliances, establish Commerce, and to do all other Acts and Things which Independent States may of right do. — And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of Divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes, and our sacred Honor.

The Declaration of Independence

Wednesday, July 2, 2008

Can you get RSS from continual :headdesk:?

I've had a very insane last couple of weeks. My life's theme right now seems to be Anxiety with a running motif of Why The Crap Can't I Get My Head Together?

I wasn't going to post since it's not likely that anything I have to say right now will make much sense, but a friendly prodding or three got me off my duff. Voila! Enjoy the whining.

Anxiety: As YodaMan's IA approaches (two days together and counting), I'm fighting a daily barrage of panic attacks. And I'm weepy, which most of you probably know is my Least. Fave. Thing. Ever. In fact, when I was at school last week, I started bawling because someone really cool was nice to me. And the worst anxiety attack in recent memory was on the plane to school. I realized when I got back from school I'd have less than a week with my husband, and then it occurred to me the flaps weren't down on the wing and we were certainly going to die in a fiery ball of exploding aircraft and screaming people that would fall into the Pacific (even burning all the way to the floor of the ocean, mind you). Never mind a 717 doesn't apparently need flaps to take off. Second worst was last night when I actually got hit with that horrid spike of pain in the chest that comes when you're struggling too hard to keep breathing.

Oh, and I thought I was doing *so well* on the emotional thing. Yeah. Not so much. I'm devastated right now. I figured I'd handle this deployment better, but I have a feeling the last two years have just broken me down. I feel like I'm barely functioning.

Loserville: I can't speak English. I write, but apparently there's a disconnect in the nervous connections between my mouth and my brain. So most of the time when I start talking, I sound like someone with a major brain injury that affected both my communication and my ability to perceive, well, anything. And people will sometimes reach out with a napkin to catch the drool they're certain will follow a particularly daft comment I made. Exhaustion makes it worse, and the lack of sleep I've had lately just shoved me right over the edge. I've made an ass of myself in so many, varied ways, it's amazing I haven't been shunned and forced to go all Wild Man in the woods by myself.

Bleh.

I think I need a new prescription for my anti-depressant and probably an anti-anxiety med to get me through this Afghanistan bullshit. I have so much to do between writing and preparing for the move to Alabammy, I need to get my head together or I really won't make it through this deployment.

Oh, but there's a cherry that I neglect to mention. Apparently, as YodaMan so wisely reminds me every time I get pouty about this stupid effing war and this cracktastic effing IA, we'll have 21 whole slamming months together once he gets home. Yes, because after the last eight years, 21 uninterrupted months of actual marriage is going to make up for it all. Yes. Indeed.