Brain-tired should be a term

I apologize if I fail to formulate thoughts or sentences. I think my brain has finally stormed out in frustration with the hoops I have made it run through this week.

It started on Sunday, when I went back to my base for the first time since my Shmirot (guard duty). I decided to go and talk to the Rabbi on base about what happened to me on Shabbat. We ended up having a 40-min discussion that upset me for the rest of the day. The argument that he made, which I actually respect, is that just because I don't agree with their interpretation of halacha, does not mean that I cannot respect it. They were not trying to offend me, they were trying to follow the laws as they understand them. My counterargument, which the Rabbi did hear and agree with me, is that the army is not Mea Shearim, and while I might have to live by their standards of halacha when on their territory, their job when they come to base for Shabbat is to bring a Shabbat environment to all the soldiers. And while they were more than willing to accept men at any level of religious observance, they were not accepting of women at all. He agreed with me and said he would talk to the yeshiva that sent them, but there was an attitude of acceptance that really upset me. I remained upset when I returned to my office and ended up getting caught crying by my co-workers. And what I found is that even among the non-religious, there is an attitude of complacence towards the ultra-religious. One of the girls in my office had actually been in a car that had been stoned on Shabbat, and still, she treats me and other religious Jews with respect and understanding. 

When I moved here I thought it would be so much easier to be religious. And in a way, it is. I will never have to worry about working on Shabbat, I will never have to arrange my course schedule's around the Jewish holidays. My children will grow up in an environment where they wont be embarrassed to be shomer negiyah and learning Torah can be cool. But as I learn more and more about the religious world here, I find that it is much harder to accept the religious attitudes and divisions here. Ignoring the stereotypes and misconceptions and negative attitudes dividing the religious and non-religious, the way the religious people turn against each other and judge each other... it embarrasses me. We do not respect each other and we judge others for not practicing Judaism the way that we do. We categorize everyone by the way they dress and how often they pray and what type of kippah they wear. And it pains me. It pains me to be disrespected and it pains me to see how we treat each other. I came to a place where I could raise my children surrounded by their nation, by a Jewish family, and I find myself rejected by the very people that I consider my "family".

Sorry, I have rambled on again about a subject that is important to me, but somewhat dreary and depressing. I will move on to the next obstacle my brain faced this week.

On Tuesday I took an "occupational exam" that tested my strengths and will supposedly tell me what I am good at and where I should work. I mean I could have told them that I am not good at math and physics without sitting through a few hours of testing, but it was kind of fun to challenge my brain. I haven't done arithmetic without a calculator in over 5 years, so that was interesting. Plus there was a fun part of the exam that tested creativity and I enjoyed that part. But it was a full day exam and my brain was hurting by the end.

On Wednesday I went to Haifa to learn more about the creative therapies Master's program I am interested in. I spoke to the not so nice secretary and a few of the students and then embarked on a two-day frenzy in which I attempted to register for four online classes that I need to have finished by October in order to start the program in the fall. It was intense. I failed. So I will now be taking the next year to complete these four classes and apply for Fall 2011. Which means I am going to have to get a job. But Im not there yet. As I said, my brain has retired for the weekend, and there is no bringing her back until she's ready.

Thank God for Shabbat. 

My hairdresser tells me to eat more red meat

It appears that even my most epic emails are small tidbits compared to the novels that Dov Lerner writes. Ah well, Im okay with that. And Im sure y'all prefer the shorter versions. Lucky for you, this week was incredibly uneventful compared to last week.

Basically, there was Shavuot and then a day off where I did not know what to do with myself and then it was Friday. Sweet.

Points of interest included:

1. I sadly said goodbye to my friend Ari who headed back to the States after cruelly allowing me to become accustomed to his presence here. (Ari, I dont really think you are cruel, I am just going to miss having you here with me.) Another one bites the dust (and by "bites the dust" I mean "moves to NY").

2. David and Davida are back!! They ran off to India for like, ever/ five months, but have finally returned home (to a new half caravan in Alon Shvut) and I am happy. 

3. After failing to accomplish anything yesterday, I was feeling drastic and chopped off all my hair. Enjoy the pics.

That was pretty much it. How wonderfully uneventful, right?

Longest week ever or I hate flies and Sephardi men

"Anything one thinks about alot becomes problematic". 

So said Nietzsche, whose name is annoying to pronounce and spell, but was very right in this matter, as I learned this week. Because this week I did alot of thinking. Due to intense and overwhelming boredom. (Boredom, by the way, is one of those words like "eloquent" that fits its definition perfectly). I thought circles around the big problems in my life like grad school and boys. I delved into some more depressing subjects like living the rest of my life in a different country than my family and wondering whether I will ever be able to yell back at people in Hebrew. I pondered on the small pleasures in life like a breeze when its freaking hot and the wonderful canteen worker who brought me treats every time she went through the gate I was guarding. I spent an unusually large amount of time thinking about inane subjects like Oconomowoc, WI (where my magazines are made) and how the reality of ants in your pants is not as funny as it sounds. In fact, it got to the point where I actually ran out of things to space out about. I finally understand what Ari and Ayton were talking about when they told me that sometimes, boys really just aren't thinking about anything at all. 

So why all the free thinking time? Because all I did this week was guard and sleep. Which unfortunately cannot be done at the same time. Other things that you are not allowed to do on guard duty:

- Eat (which I did repeatedly after my first shift when I apparently complained to so many people that I was hungry that the rest of the week they all brought me food.) 

- Talk on the phone (which I also did repeatedly because COME ON! I was guarding from 2-6 am and in clear danger of falling asleep. Plus, it was ideal talking to America time. Shout out to Yael Skversky who once again proved her awesomeness by calling me every night this week)

 -Listen to music (although singing is allowed, as well as listening to the other guards sing) 

- Sitting at the same time that the other guard is sitting (which only ever proved to be a problem with Maxim, who insisted on sitting on the curb/floor/desk and leading me to play this "jump up every time he sits down" game. Which was not fun)

- Reading/writing/praying (all of which I did anyway)

- Smoking (which I did not do, but got on the good side of my fellow guards by covering for them when they did)

(Please dont let this change your opinion of how hard the Israeli army is working. It is obviously a very efficient and well run institution.)

When I wasnt guarding (I did 6 hrs on, 6 hrs off, 4 hrs on, 7 hrs off), it was eat, pray, sleep (less exciting than the more popular "eat, pray, love"). Shabbat was the only change in this. I had to close Shabbat on base (my first since Basic Training) and was less than thrilled about that, but at least I did not have to do the 6 hour day shift, because that gate was closed on the weekend. As I have mentioned before, it is not so easy to be a religious girl in the army, so I was kind of nervous about spending Shabbat on base, but I was going to be able to make it to synagogue and my one friend on base (outside of my office) was also closing Shabbat, so I tried to be optimistic. 

That kinda went down the crapper on Friday when I was called and yelled at because the logic I had been using- my gate is closed, thus I have no guard duty- was wrong. I was supposed to be at the other gate from 12:30 to 6:30 pm. I didnt get in trouble (probably as a result of my fumbling Hebrew as I tried to explain that there were alot of things I had missed in our 20 min "Welcome to Guard Duty" lecture) but this did mean that I was getting off duty 30 min before Shabbat started. I managed to shower, made it to shul, and had the pleasure of company in the women's section. 

Dinner was gross and I got questioned for making my own kiddush, but I sat with my friend Chen and her friends and it wasnt too bad. Then Chen decided to slip off base and go home because she was sick of being on base and I was left alone :( Since I had to wake up at 2am to go guard, I made the best of the situation and went to bed. I read the parsha while I guarded, and went to Shacrit (morning services) afterward. I was the only woman there and after we had finished one of the guys invited me to come with them to say kiddush. It was pretty awkward as I didnt know any of them and no one really talked to me, but I had an impromptu lunch with about ten guys and the two rabbinical students who were brought to the base to bring a Shabbaty-environment with them. After my nap I went back to synagogue for Mincha (afternoon prayer) and planned on staying for Seudah Shlishit (dinner) and Maariv (evening prayer). There was one other woman at Mincha and I asked her to stay with me as lunch was kind of awkward. 

This was the worst part of my entire Shabbat. Long story short, the rabbinical students would not let us sit at the same table as the men for dinner. They claimed that it was immodest for us to eat together, told me that they shouldnt have let me sit with them for lunch, and said that if we wanted to stay, we would have to sit at another table on the side. I would like to say that I argued with them, showing my fluency in the language and my superior knowledge of Halacha, teaching them an important lesson about including women in the community. But what really ended up happening was that I became more angry and more upset, lost all my Hebrew, started crying and couldnt get out anything stronger than "You are wrong. This is wrong". 

I have never, NEVER been asked to eat a different table, and I have eaten with countless Rabbis and even a few Charedim. These men were brought to base to help the soldiers connect with Shabbat and feel the Kedusha (holiness) of the day even when they are surrounded by people who are not keeping Shabbat. I have kept Shabbat in a house full of Christians, in a hotel by myself, and out in the woods. This was by far my worst Shabbat ever. The very people I had been depending on to help me feel Shabbat rejected me and sent me off to the side as if I was something dirty and impure. As if my presence contaminated them. 

I limped through my last two shifts and thanked God when Sunday morning came around and I got to hand in my gun, change out of my stinking uniform and head out on a two day trip with everyone in my office. I was exhausted and emotionally drained, but everyone else was very excited and the feeling spread. I totally failed to sleep in the car on the way north as I sat next to Shachaf, who reminded me oh so much of my little brothers. He tapped me every three minutes because he was bored (Barak), sang the Hebrew version of "I know a song that gets on everybody's nerves" (Rafi), tried to get everyone in the car to play a game with him (Barak) and tried to start a fight with me by telling me that we should just kill all the Arabs (Rafi). In fact, he reminded me so much of our old family roadtrips that I just laughed at him and taught him the english version of the song. 

When we got up North it was stiflingly hot but we very quickly changed into swimwear and headed out on a 2 hour inflatable kayaking trip. We were paired into boats and I ended up with Boris. (Not quite sure how this happened, but there is a running joke now that we are going to get married. Im really hoping he doesnt take it too seriously.) I successfully attacked three other boats, but Boris was a very bad partner and kept abandoning me in the water. Its not totally his fault, since I kept launching myself into the water and he doesnt really understand how to row, but still. Came out soaking and exhausted and had a great time.

At this point my mother expects me to insert a long rant about the beach where we (for some god-forsaken reason) decided to spend the night. It was to include a section about disgusting Israelis who leave their garbage everywhere with a special focus on the dried up chicken bones all over the beach, and then lead onto a long winded complaint about the horrible heat and lack of western wimps (I mean wind, but it is a joke for my dad). And I was going to conclude the whole thing with a rant about the flies that almost drove me to insanity (Oh the flies! The flies!!). But soon after I hung up with my mother the sun set, the flies went away and the four bottles of water I had chugged finally fought off the affects of dehydration. Then my commander came back from the hospital (he had jammed his finger kayaking and was afraid it was broken), we started barbequing, setup a generator and a DVD player (because who doesnt bring all the props for karaoke when they go camping on the beach?) and sang and ate and danced into the odd hours of the night. We were all filthy and sweaty and gross, but the flies were gone (seriously, they were ALL OVER us before) and everyone started being their less-exhausted ridiculous selves so we had a good time. I went to bed at 4 after telling Boris I was sorry, but just really couldnt stay up all night with him, and we all woke up around 7. 

We booked it out of there the next morning as the flies had returned and headed out to the next part of our trip- Jeeping. It was kind of cool, but mostly just driving down unnecessarily bumpy roads in a part of Israel that used to be Syria. Lots of driving and waiting for buses later I got home, walked straight into the shower and started the process of feeling like a person again.

I like cashews

This was kind of a random week so, like the good ole days of yore, this will be presented in list form. 

Occurrences of the week that made me smile:

- I was accepted into graduate school!! The college I visited in Tel Aviv called me yesterday to let me know that they would love to have me. I am not yet sure if Im going there, but its nice to know they like me :)

- I got to shoot. We have to go back to the range every six months, (and since I just passed that marker!) I got to hang out on base super late Sunday night and shoot an M-16 in the dark. 

- Boris finally grew a pair and fought back when we ganged up on him and got him soaked while cleaning the office. An amazingly ridiculous water fight ensued.

- I helped build a recyclable bench this week, leaving some stupid boy totally boggled by the sight of a girl using an electric drill. Silly child. 

- There was one day this week where FOUR women were in mincha (afternoon prayer). Mwahaha, we are taking back the women's section!

- On Thursday we had a field trip to Modiin and the graves/memorials of the Maccabees and my team won the treasure hunt. Oh yea!

- I got to talk to my brother.

- I went out for dinner three times. Which, while not fiscally responsible of me, meant I got exclusive time with some really good friends.

- I got to run through sprinklers. 

Occurrences of the week that were incredibly frustrating at the time:

- Boris and Lihi (the english teacher) have been alternating between fighting and not talking ever since Boris told Lihi that he liked her and then Lihi told everyone in the office. This made it really fun to stay late with them on Sunday in order to go to the shooting range. Or to be in the same room with the two of them all week. 

- While I did get to go shooting, I dont know how I did. Because the army apparently doesnt care if you can hit anything, just that you can point your gun in the right direction and shoot it.

- There was a base-wide blood drive this week but they wouldnt let me donate :(

- I realized that in the next two weeks I have to get answers from all the grad schools I applied to and find out which ones the Israeli government will pay for.

- A soldier called me stupid this week which was just mean. He then clarified that he meant I was stupid for joining the army, not for the way I speak or something, but it still wasnt very nice. 

Things that I am looking forward to:

- Bonfires on Saturday night for Lag Ba'Omer.

- My brother is going to be in Israel for SIX WEEKS this summer. 

- Next week I will not be on base because I have some sort of "how to be a person after the army" course. And my friend Elodie is going to be there too :)

- SHABBAT!!!

להיות עם חופשי בארצינו

This week was both Yom HaZikaron (Memorial Day) and Yom Ha'atzmeut (Independence Day), coming one week after Yom HaShoah (Holocaust Memorial Day) and three weeks after Passover. This is my second year here experiencing this transition of holidays as an Israeli, but I think this year was more real for me in many ways.

This Passover involved alot of firsts for me, including being in a completely new environment for Seder. For the first time I was not with my family (or adopted family), and I had never been to such a small Seder before. But it allowed me to share new thoughts, hear new thoughts, and experience Yitziat Mizrayim (the Exodus from Egypt) in a whole new way. The Rabbi on my base also told me something this year that allowed me to look at Passover and Yom Ha'Shoah in a whole new way. We were talking about faith in the truth of the events that are described in the Torah, and he told me the following:

Despite the photographs, the physical evidence, and the recorded testimonies, there are still those that deny that the Holocaust ever happened. There are still survivors of that atrocity alive and yet there are those that say there is no proof that it really happened. What will it be like 50 years from now? 100? Imagine, if each Yom Ha'Shoah, all the Jews in each community gathered in one room, ate some sort of symbolic food like what they had in the camps, and told the story of the Holocaust. They read testimonies from during and after. They told their children the story of the Holocaust and acted out parts of the story using certain foods or symbols to accentuate their points. If we did this every year, the Holocaust would never be forgotten-  but would our children ever reach a point where they thought it was just a weird tradition about a fictional story? When Bnei Yisrael left Egypt there were no photographs, no videos, no paperwork, and the survivors died out long ago. All we have is stories, written testimonies and the tradition to sit and retell our history to our children every year. This is our proof. Believing that Hashem took us out of Egypt does not need to be an act of faith. 

As I stood in silence with the rest of Israel as the sirens went off around the country and we remembered all those who have fallen in the fight for a Jewish homeland, I knew we would never forget what it cost us to be here. And as I wandered the streets of Jerusalem that night, surrounded by Israelis from age 4 to 90, all out celebrating the creation of a Jewish state, I knew that we would never stop appreciating what Hashem has given us. Last month we relived the exodus from Egypt, we remembered what it was to become a free people. Our journey to become a nation was not a simple one. Over a hundred years of slavery followed by a hurried chase to the Red Sea and a spiritually and physically challenging trek to Har Sinai where we recieved the Torah and officially became the Jewish people. But even than, our journey was not over and we had to wander through the desert for 40 more years before we were prepared to start fighting for our country. The Torah describes the generations of trials and difficulties we went through to become a nation. It tells us of the spiritual cleansing we had to go through to earn the Torah, and the battles we had to fight, amongst ourselves as well as with our enemies, before we earned the Land of Israel. It took hundreds of years to become a nation of Israel with the Torah of Israel, in the Land of Israel.

And then our kingdom faltered, our country was conquered, our Temple destroyed, and our nation dispersed. For two thousand years we fought to hold on to our Torah, we fought to hold on to our nation. We survived the Crusades, the Spanish Inquisition, and even the Holocaust. We have lost parts of our nation, and parts of our Torah, but we had lost all of our land. We fought to maintain a presence there, in Jerusalem, and Tzfat, and Hevron. Herzl and the Zionist Congress fought to keep the idea of Jewish homeland alive. And then, 62 years ago, the Jewish people once again had a country. 

I cannot imagine how it felt to celebrate our first Yom Ha'Atzmeut, to commemorate our first Yom Ha'Zikaron. But I do know what it feels like, as a Jew, as an Israeli, and as a soldier in Tzahal, to celebrate our 62nd. And being a part of this nation, being a part of this country, we are never going to forget how we got here and what it means to be a free nation in our land– להיות עם חופשי בארצינו

The future is in my hands

This week I have two stories for your reading enjoyment.

The first, is of the army. I would like to prelude this story by saying that as I was recapping the series of events to my commander he was shocked that getting this simple thing done had become so complicated and convoluted. He told me that the army was not normally like this. I laughed.

About a month ago, I asked my commander if I could switch my uniform and get a skirt. The army does offer religious girls the option of a uniform-skirt, but very few people wear them. I had originally gone with pants because I thought skirts attracted more attention, and I dont think there is a religious issue with women wearing loose pants (and since I am the only girl in the army that didnt take my pants to a seamstress and get them fitted skin-tight, mine are unattractively baggy). This decision was also part of my "I can be religious and still wear pants, you stupid Israelis!" statement. 

I have, however, decided to make a different statement. While it still sort of frustrates me, I realized that wearing a skirt in the army is not just an issue of modesty, but rather a statement of religiosity. While a Jewish man can wear a kippah or tzitzit to show that he is religious, Jewish women dont have those options. Those of who are married can cover their hair, but us single ladies have more limited options. So once it started to get warmer and I didnt have to worry about the practical/warmth side of my decision to wear pants, I decided to ask for a skirt. 

Now, in order to switch to a skirt, you have to get a permission from the Rabbi of the base. This was not a problem for me, as he sees me at Mincha (afternoon prayer) every day. I then took my permission slip to the Afsanoot (store room in charge of distributing uniforms) and handed it to the girl (we will name her Olga) there. She had me try on the two skirts that they had there, and when I told her they were too small (flashback to my first day!) she told me they would have to order it from the Bakoom (the main outfitting-base). She took down my name and number and skirt size and told me I could go. The rabbi had told me it is only supposed to take two weeks, but as Pesach was in the middle, I gave them three before going back to inquire what was going on with my skirt. Olga was there, from what I understood, she told me "Im waiting for the guy to take it to the thing. I did my job, you're just going to have to wait."

So I waited another week and went back. This time the girl was not there, but her commander, Michal, was. So I asked Michal what was going on with the skirt I ordered and she looked at me and said "I have no idea what you are talking about." I told her all that I had done and she told me to come back the next day when Olga would be back. So, I went back the next day, when both Michal and Olga were there. Michal asked me for my permission form from the Rabbi and I told her I had given it to Olga already. Olga then turned to me and said "I have no idea what you are talking about." I attempted to remind her about our previous conversations, but she continued to look at me like I was crazy and insist that we had never spoken. Michal eventually jumped in and told me to just go get another form from the Rabbi, as well as some other form from a different office. 

I got the latter form, but when I went to the Rabbi's office he was not there, and the phone number on the door turned out to be the old rabbi's, who had left more than 6 months ago. So after having a nice awkward conversation with him, I waited an hour for the rabbi to come back. He was pretty pissed that I still hadnt gotten my skirt, so he gave me another form as well as emailing it to the Afsanoot with an angry note that he forwarded to my commander.

I went back to the Afsanoot and they were closed. Figures. So I waited another 20 min, and eventually Olga came back. I went in and she looked at me like she had never seen me before and said "Yea?". So I explained that I had gotten the forms for my skirt and wanted to give them to her. She said I had to give them to Michal, who wasnt going to come back today and whose office was on some other part of the base that I didnt know. Great.

So I went back to my office pissed off and cursing in English. They seemed to pick up that I was upset, so they had me recap my story and then spent the rest of the afternoon cheering me up. Come the next morning, the story has gotten back to my commander who is seriously ticked off on my behalf. So he sent one of the officers to the Afsanoot with me. Olga is there but Michal is not. But voila, Olga suddenly knows how to do her job. She took my forms, filled out a bunch of new ones (that she hadnt had last time) and within five minutes had put in my order and once again told me I just had to wait for the guy to bring it to the thing. Right. 

Anyway, story two is shorter. I went to visit graduate programs in art therapy yesterday in Tel Aviv as I am trying to organize my life a little. The first school I went to was awesome and I have an entrance interview scheduled for next week. I then headed over to this other school that I had found on the internet and had invited me to entrance exams today. It quickly came to my attention upon arrival that this was not an art therapy school, but rather a holistic therapy school. Unfortunately they were waiting for me, knew my name and were just way to friendly and attentive for me to just walk back out the door. They sat me down at a computer and had me answer a list of questions on a scale of 1-4 to see how much I agreed with each statement. Some were all right, like "I believe that people are innately good" or "I believe the things I do can make a difference in this world". But then there were ones like "I would describe myself as tasty" and "I dont like wearing clothes". Again, there was no way out, so I worked my way through the questions, skipping those I did not understand (whether because of the hebrew or because I dont know what it means to think of yourself as tasty). Once I had finished, the director of the program (and founder of the school) invited me into his office for my interview. His office has a massage table, a kabbalah chart on the wall, and pillows all over the floor. There were also two chairs, where we sat and he looked over my test results muttering to himself. He asked me a few questions, but apparently my answers were not quite satisfactory, because he asked me for my hands. Not really knowing what was going on, I put out my hands and he then proceeded to read my palms. 

He was flipping my hands over, looking at the lines and the nailbeds and taking notes. After a few minutes of this, he sat back and began to tell me what he could see, based on my palms and test results. Ill be honest, I was intrigued and there were some things that he got spot on. Plus he said I clearly had an artists hands and that just made me all happy inside. He talked all about my personality and the things I will need to work on in my first year in the program and then he told me he was very excited to have me come to his school and sent me back to the main office to sign papers.

While this had been a fascinating experience, and I am sure there is some truth to the therapy he practices, there is no freaking way I was going to spend four years in this program and pretend its graduate school. Also, no way I will ever be crunchy enough to pull off what this man does. Thankfully, his secretary is the fluffy-type so I said something about having to confirm something something and Ill call them before high-tailing it back to the elevators.

Was an interesting experience either way. Hope yall had a good week, feel free to share your own funny stories with me :)

A Tangential Rant for your Reading Pleasure

I know, Im super late this week. I did it on purpose! Thought I'd spice things up a bit. Keep yall on your toes. Mmhm. Thats what it was.

ANYWAY (I think this is the most frequently appearing word in these emails), last week I learned how much it sucks when vacation ends. I had a really good Pesach and got to do so many of those things that I love doing (excluding eating leaven of course) and then I had to go back to base. I wasnt sure if everyone hates returning to their regular life so much or whether it was just me, but it got me thinking about things I have been avoiding thinking about.

I know I have been avoiding talking about the army. In fact, I have even adopted a new policy and whenever anyone asks me what I do in the army I just say "I dont like to talk about it." Occasionally alternating that with an "I cant talk about it", but Im not a very good liar so I cant keep that up for very long. (Last week someone believed I was a pilot for a whole 2 minutes!). The truth is that nothing has changed, and I just dont know what to do about it. I say that I have called and harassed and begged everyone I could, and I really do feel like I have. Maybe there is more that I could have done, more that I could be doing, but it is really hard for me to be happy when I am spending all my time fighting and pushing and getting nowhere. I went into the army without a plan- or rather with a very Kfi "lets see where this goes" plan. And it did make sense to me, because I have seen so many people plan and plan and go in and end up somewhere they hated. I have friends who delayed going in for months in order to insure that they got into the unit they wanted. And then I have friends who knew what they wanted and cried and kicked and screamed until they got it. And I have friends who cried and kicked and screamed and still got screwed over. 

I know that I have truly lucked out when it comes to the people I work with. I have heard horror stories from other soldiers in addition to the guys in my office repeatedly showing me what amazing people they are. They really watch out for me and help me with every hardship I face. They have even learned to interpret my quiet disappearances and force me to tell them what is wrong so that they can help fix it. Plus they can be alot of fun to work with.

Im nearing my six month mark in the army and dont really think I am any closer to getting a job. There has been alot of talk about making some sort of teaching position for me, but nothing really seems to be happening with it. I still meet people who check with their commanders to see if they can get me a job, but its always the same answer "You arent serving enough time." My commander is still trying to help me out, but I find it hard to stay motivated and ambitious. I worry that I am wasting time and wonder how I can make the best of a bad situation, what I am gaining from this, and how it is helping me.

My days are kept busy for the most part, whether it with field trips or assemblies or random tasks, but none of those things really create a feeling of accomplishment, and I dread ending my service without having actually done anything.

I dont really know why I am telling you all this, but I feel some need to be honest with the 40-odd friends and family who care so much about me that they read these weekly updates. I have been recieving plenty of advice on these issues as I spend way too much time with other lone-soldiers (many of whom are the yelling-fighting type I mentioned before) and I think that that is one of the reasons I stopped talking about it. Frequently the advice is "Yell more, fight harder" and that really just makes me feel like a failure, makes me feel like my yelling and fighting just isnt good enough to change my situation. When I think the truth is, that the army makes no sense. And some people have managed to work through the mess of a system and finagle their way into a job. And some havent. Maybe its a personality thing, maybe its just the luck of the draw, maybe I need to put my ambitious yelling self in charge even if it does make me sort of miserable. I dont really know. I know there needs to be a balance between "seeing how things work themselves out" and "taking charge of my life", but it can be a really fine line to walk sometimes.

So Im trying, so you know. And I do appreciate the support.