Anthony the Scorpion
Where are you and I'm so sorry
I cannot sleep, I cannot dream tonight
I need somebody and always
This sick strange darkness
Comes creeping on so haunting every time
And then…depression set in.
My more or less best friend here on the FOB is now on leave. Maybe partly because of this, I am kind of disjointed inside. I miss my wife. I miss my home.
The four months down south were a horrible time for me. Nobody to talk to, very little contact with peers, and an overwhelming sense of responsibility, that the mission hinged on me not screwing stuff up. Now it is sort of back. I guess it is better now—I see various buddies much more often. And professionally, if I had to look at it objectively, that was the best time of my career. Far from the flagpole, and we had the best program in theater for all four of those months. Incredibly high success rate—unprecedented, as far as I know. It was a good FOB and we worked well there. But I’ve gotten used to stimulating conversation and humor and having somebody to lean on. I guess I will be doing the same thing to him when he comes back and I go on leave immediately after, but he seems a lot more independent than me, and it is much easier for him to lose himself in his work. I kind of envy him his work ethic.
There is a scorpion that leaves right outside my door. Actually, there are probably thousands of them living within a few meters of my room, but this one comes out sometimes. He lives in a hole that also contains an ant colony. It was while trying to flush out the ants with Mountain Dew that I met the scorpion. It was the most unsettling thing in recent memory. I was squatting down watching the ants run around and the scorpion darted out, covered with ants and dripping with soda. The ants were teeming all over him, and at first I thought they were fighting, and that I’d interrupted it when I poured the Mountain Dew in. But then I realized, to my amazement and horror, that they must live together, because he didn’t seem to be bothered by the ants, and they didn’t seem to mind him either. I figure that when he hunts at night he must bring back bugs and stuff, and the ants eat the leftovers and clean out the hole. Anyway, I have named him Anthony, after our old intelligence officer. I considered catching Anthony, as I have always wanted a pet scorpion (a proposal that, much like the tarantula and the octopus, Jennifer has firmly and exasperatedly vetoed several times), but then I decided to leave him alone. As long as he stays out of my room, Anthony can go about his business in peace.
The new boss is pretty good, I guess. He seems very grounded, and keen on people doing the jobs they are supposed to do. We had adopted a habit of senior leaders doing much of the mental footwork of the mission, which is not good and goes against doctrine. In a properly functioning unit, the leaders plan and set goals, and it is up to the mid-level NCOs to decide how to carry out the mission. We are going back to that now, which is refreshing. Some people are angry because they have more responsibility now, but screw them. I wouldn’t say I have less work now, but my role is much less ambiguous than it was before. I am not saying my old boss was bad; but shakeups are necessary once in awhile. New blood and whatnot.
I have exactly thirty days until I go on leave. I am salivating. I am lost and found in the daydream.
I cannot sleep, I cannot dream tonight
I need somebody and always
This sick strange darkness
Comes creeping on so haunting every time
And then…depression set in.
My more or less best friend here on the FOB is now on leave. Maybe partly because of this, I am kind of disjointed inside. I miss my wife. I miss my home.
The four months down south were a horrible time for me. Nobody to talk to, very little contact with peers, and an overwhelming sense of responsibility, that the mission hinged on me not screwing stuff up. Now it is sort of back. I guess it is better now—I see various buddies much more often. And professionally, if I had to look at it objectively, that was the best time of my career. Far from the flagpole, and we had the best program in theater for all four of those months. Incredibly high success rate—unprecedented, as far as I know. It was a good FOB and we worked well there. But I’ve gotten used to stimulating conversation and humor and having somebody to lean on. I guess I will be doing the same thing to him when he comes back and I go on leave immediately after, but he seems a lot more independent than me, and it is much easier for him to lose himself in his work. I kind of envy him his work ethic.
There is a scorpion that leaves right outside my door. Actually, there are probably thousands of them living within a few meters of my room, but this one comes out sometimes. He lives in a hole that also contains an ant colony. It was while trying to flush out the ants with Mountain Dew that I met the scorpion. It was the most unsettling thing in recent memory. I was squatting down watching the ants run around and the scorpion darted out, covered with ants and dripping with soda. The ants were teeming all over him, and at first I thought they were fighting, and that I’d interrupted it when I poured the Mountain Dew in. But then I realized, to my amazement and horror, that they must live together, because he didn’t seem to be bothered by the ants, and they didn’t seem to mind him either. I figure that when he hunts at night he must bring back bugs and stuff, and the ants eat the leftovers and clean out the hole. Anyway, I have named him Anthony, after our old intelligence officer. I considered catching Anthony, as I have always wanted a pet scorpion (a proposal that, much like the tarantula and the octopus, Jennifer has firmly and exasperatedly vetoed several times), but then I decided to leave him alone. As long as he stays out of my room, Anthony can go about his business in peace.
The new boss is pretty good, I guess. He seems very grounded, and keen on people doing the jobs they are supposed to do. We had adopted a habit of senior leaders doing much of the mental footwork of the mission, which is not good and goes against doctrine. In a properly functioning unit, the leaders plan and set goals, and it is up to the mid-level NCOs to decide how to carry out the mission. We are going back to that now, which is refreshing. Some people are angry because they have more responsibility now, but screw them. I wouldn’t say I have less work now, but my role is much less ambiguous than it was before. I am not saying my old boss was bad; but shakeups are necessary once in awhile. New blood and whatnot.
I have exactly thirty days until I go on leave. I am salivating. I am lost and found in the daydream.
posted by Battler03 at 11:03 AM
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