A New Perspective

To bring this up to date I am going to make a few posts today:

A New Perspective

Ok so now I’ve been banished to night shift. Ok in all actuality I was banished to S3 first then to night shift. I guess now I’m free to ride my broomstick under the full moon. One of the first things I noticed was on night shift they don’t have shit to do. How does this differ from day shift one might wonder? Well you don’t have a bunch of officers up your tushie asking you for something that didn’t matter before you gave it to them and will continue to be useless long after they’ve nagged the living daylights out of you until you’ve produced it. Translation: a lot less bullshit. You can actually get a lot more done at night. The phone hardly rings and when it does your slightly annoyed that someone is interrupting your Arabic soap operas with work. I had almost forgotten (from my long lost days as the BN Chemo) that the S3 shop is the switchboard for stupid question central. If there is something that has absolutely nothing to do with us, we get the call. Ummm the AC went out in my trailer can you give me the number to Mr. Obscure emergency worker guy? You mean you don’t know the hours at the DFAC? Oh I thought I was calling 303RD Armor, well you don’t happen to know MAJ obscure field grade’s number over at 303rd Armor? Is the S1 in? And the list goes on…. As an officer I try to set the example and not sleep. I have somewhat succeeded in this. By succeeded I haven’t laid out on a PT mat in my cubicle for a mid evening kindergarten nap, or opened the CSM’s office and sprawled out on his black leather sofa. Much to my shame however, I have put my head down a few times to rest my eyes (yeah right) and woke up in a pool of drool (hey that rhymes). I expect next someone will tell me my legs and arms twitch like their dogs when they are dreaming of chasing cars. I wouldn’t be surprised. My vow, no more sleeping. It’s not entirely my fault I have narcolepsy. Honestly! I have found that since moving to night shift I have developed a little sleep problem….meaning I don’t (great, the kindergarten sleeper has started to snore in the cubicle next to me…the irony) I get home and its suddenly as if I’m on no doze. I’m studying biology and I read somewhere that night shift workers often have this problem due to internal brain cues that respond to light and crap telling you its time to be awake. Why do these types of quirky little bodily functions always turn out to be worthless? I mean wouldn’t it be nice if those brain cues had kicked in when I had oh….signed my military contract? Maybe they could have screamed at me “Run Blondie Run!” nope, instead my brain was thinking…. “get a boyfriend-cha cha. Lose ten pounds-cha cha.” I was doing the college girl cha cha and my useless brain was bumping right along to the beat. Ok so there are some benefits to being on night shift. The all important already mentioned bullshit factor. In addition its only 200 degrees at night. The draw back is getting up in the middle of the night (really the day) and walking the 200 yards to the bathroom. I brace myself every time I open the door as all 500 degrees rushes at me and it usually take about 45 seconds for things to come into focus (carolyann come into the light I am having poltergeist flashbacks). By now my useless brain cues are telling me its time to get up and I know it will be another 2 hours and suffocating myself under a pillow before I will get them to shut up….I really need to put foil over my windows. So anyway can’t sleep during the day = can’t stay awake during the night. Oh well things could be worse….I guess. The crew I work with is pretty laid back. Naturally I am supposed to be the adult supervision but somehow I am not quite sure I accomplish that task because frankly, I just don’t give a shit. I mean as long as they are here, not smoking crack and are doing the checks and reports I don’t care if they lay out on a PT mat and sleep, surf the internet or close the doors to their offices and play the music suspiciously loud. Don’t ask don’t tell. They accomplish the tasks that are given to them so who am I to try and make it my personal mission to make them earn their paycheck? So many of the officers here try to do that but I know their dirty little secret. I see them scramble to minimize the solitaire games and maximize some obscure army related document when I round their desks. Oh yes….I know. They haven’t got shit to do either, which is probably why they have so much time for the aforementioned nagging. Ok so here’s a great story. I went running, the first time in a week since my insomnia started and of course I got shin splints from my poor legs trying to push forward my big fat chair ass. So naturally I started dragging ass (no pun intended). Well our little camp here decided to put in these super duper speed bumps along the road at various useless locations. I bopped along and had almost made it back to the battalion when one of those speedbumps broke from the surface of the road and bitch slapped me. Naturally my 13-uh…125 pound frame was no match for 5 inches of concrete and I freed willy. My hand miraculously was the only thing that was injured besides my pride (my companion to his credit didn’t give way to snorting and guffaws until after he made sure I was alright). Of course blood starting pouring down my hand and arm. It was nasty. We were still a quarter-mile from the battalion and the blood was freaking me out. I had a PT shirt on I could stop the blood up with that but then I’d have to do laundry (translation haul my big butt to the KBR facilities prior to its closing during day light hours….how do we like our lieutenants? Extra crispy?). As if the walking wasn’t bad enough the laundry workers are a whole other ordeal I’ll get into later. So I decided the better alternative was to bleed to death. I can’t say I’ll regret it either tomorrow when I only have to venture out of my hole once to use the bathroom tomorrow. So I sit here contemplating why the internet had to break only on my computer and the days events and refuse to feel sorry for myself on a day that like 150 children were killed at a school in Russia.