This weekend has been most excellent. Rob flew in Friday night around 11:45 pm, right about the time Ray (my friend SFC Smith from way back) drove up from the city. We cracked a few beers and finished watching Die Hard 4, while bullshitting, er, sharing informative and mostly accurate narratives from our shared, collective experiences...

Woke up the next morning and had a lot of nervous energy so I made coffee, pancakes, homemade rolls, scrambled eggs, and even bacon, given Rob's and Ray's non-vegetarian tendencies. Rob helped me shave my beret, which I had "forgotten" to do, given that he is good at squaring away headgear, and I usually manage to put holes in it if left to my own devices. Round about that time, I put on my Class A uniform, made sure the various shiny bits were on straight, and headed off to Siena.

I'm sure the ceremony was wonderful. I sang the National Anthem with a friend of mine. We all stood and recited the oath of office (protect and defend against all enemies foreign and domestic, basically until we die, since officer commissions are a lifetime appointment), and we listened to a rousing speech by a Colonel who works for a unit that doesn't really have a name/designation, but he told a good war story. (See above). Given my alphabetical seniority, I ended up going out first. My parents and Rob came up to pin me, then SFC Smith came up and gave me my first salute, after which I gave him a silver dollar.

The ceremony being over, I looked at my watch and saw there was no way to make my actual school commencement. My friends and I had reservations at Buca di Beppe (have no idea if I'm spelling that right, but not for a few hours, so my Dad, Liz, Rob and I headed down for a walk along the Hudson River, while my Mom and Chris stayed at the apartment to watch Frisco Kid, an early Harrison Ford/Gene Wilder movie that is very funny and I recommend to anyone (if you're in the Albany area you can borrow it.) We went out to dinner, had an absolutely wonderful time, came home and that is the story of how I become second lieutenant Brune.

I'm just about done with the lit review, about to head into the research update and analysis. Hitting the hard part right about now, reading things like
http://usacac.leavenworth.army.mil/CAC/milreview/English/MayJun08/SeibEngMayJun08.pdf
and
http://ics.leeds.ac.uk/papers/vp01.cfm?outfit=pmt&folder=1087&paper=2800
and basically a bunch of links from
http://ics.leeds.ac.uk/papers/vf01.cfm?folder=1087&outfit=pmt

Reading primary sources in terrorism manifestoes makes me sick. When I finish this write up, I'm heading to the store for a six pack.

I don't know what it is, but I'm finding it hard to concentrate as I work on my last research project. Maybe it is because I really want to do well on it, because it's on a topic that I hope to study further on, and I would also like to possibly submit it for publication. Maybe it is because the topic is something I feel quite strongly about, namely treating terrorist propaganda for what it is and recognizing that in an era when all Al Qaeda has to do to get on TV is send out a press release, then academic scholars probably shouldn't be writing stuff that claims they don't have avenues for getting coverage. (Yes, some researchers think that the lack of competing perspectives from terrorists is a sign of the military-media-commmercial-government hegemony that spews propaganda. I can only wish it was that easy.)

I'm not saying we should ignore inquiry into how the government deals with the media, and investigate complete and total failures of the news media to live up to its responsibilities, but I would also like to point out that Al Qaeda no longer has to fly planes into buildings in order to generate worldwide press coverage that often presents the information with no contextualizing or even a competing Western perspective. There's something wrong with this picture when a terrorist like Bin Laden is afforded the same authority and credibility as the duly elected leaders of nation-states.

So, all of these thoughts are making my head hurt, and I am doing my best to address competing perspectives and situate my project within a framework that takes into account the studies that have come before, whether I agree with their ideological foundations or not. But I think that after I complete this project, I will indulge in some right-wing confirmation biasing and read the collected works of Vince Flynn. Or watch Live Free or Die Hard. Heh heh.

I'm so lurker.

( Which Shakespeare Play Am I? )

If no one tells me that I need to be here at this time, obviously I'm not going to be there. And no, it's not my fault if someone can't figure out how to get in touch with me. I realize it's very difficult, given that I only have one phone that only has voicemail and picture/text messaging, two email addresses, one blog, one Facebook page, AIM up on my computer all day, and I live ten whole minutes away. But please, do make the effort.

The exterminator came by today. The maintenance guy who came by yesterday apparently wasn't authorized to set little traps or poison. He did however come on in and take a look at Exhibit A, which were the droppings I had found in my cast-iron pans (which pains me to no end because now I have to scrub and scrub to disinfect and will probably scrub out all of the seasoning it took several months to cook in... but I digress.) He had picked up a few in his hand, looked at them, and offered the opinion that they didn't look like mice, but he would set some traps.
Fast forward to the exterminator, a nice guy who came on in and introduced himself. He took a look around my miniscule kitchen, determined that I like to cook, and started a conversation about how he was learning to cook, and had recently learned to make alfredo. Huh. He, too, took a look at the droppings, and offered the opinion that they did not look like mouse droppings. While sharing my recipe for escarole and beans (saute olive oil, add chopped garlic, add cannelini beans, add escarole until wilted, serve as a side dish or main course), I prodded him on what they did look like. He was strangely hesitant to say (although he assured me, probably not cockroach or any other insect unless it was a GIANT MUTANT insect, phew) but he did let slip that they were BIGGER than typical mouse droppings.
So, the good news is, apparently I don't have typical mice. The bad news is, I possibly have giant, mutant mice. Hmm.
But, he set out about five of those sticky traps and now I'm waiting to see what happens. It's quite possible that the creatures I have living in the walls might laugh at the traps and I'll walk into the kitchen in the morning to find them in pieces draped artistically around the baker's rack and all of my olive oil absconded into the night. In the meantime, the only thing I feel comfortable eating is microwave popcorn.

I am in love...

So yeah, this story gave me some flashbacks. When I was at Q-West, there was an interpreter at the Iraqi NCO Academy. He was a young kid by the name of "Fifty" who spoke great English and got to know a lot of the soldiers on a friendly basis. I interviewed him for a story in a series that I did on the Academy, and he talked about not wanting to go home on his inter-cycle break because the insurgents had figured out who he was, and he was afraid his family would be targeted. He spoke frankly that one time, but mostly he talked about music, joked around, tried to learn how to salsa dance at Latin night, and hoped to eventually come to the U.S.

Officers battle visa hurdles for Iraq aides

But when they start hanging out and pooping in the olive oil ... it's time to go. No one messes with this woman's olive oil!!

We are each other's angels
And we meet when it is time,
We keep each other going
We show each other signs.
(We Are Each Other's Angels)

There's a line around your smile
It traces where it appears
You don't see it very often
Cause it's almost always here.
And the little girl inside
Remembers what's for real
...
You don't need me
I don't need you
Cause you got everything
And I got everything too
But put our souls together
It's bigger than the parts-
Complementary, independent hears.
(The No-Dependent Song)

I got me a fearless heart
Strong enough to get you through the scary part
It's been broken many times before
But a fearless heart just comes back for more...
(Fearless Heart)

This paper involves the social nature of the Internet. Which is funny, because lately I've been feeling highly misanthropic. Oh well.

It is a beautiful day. I'm going to go for a run and panic about the two papers due very soon.

I'm trolling through the 70+ emails accumulated from having been away from the Internet for five days. (Five days!! I'm having withdrawal!!) Of all the topics I could be reading, this is the one that pops out at me (excuse the pun, plz):

Soldiers Say PRN Ban May Hurt Morale

Ha ha.

All joking aside, and I'll post more about my Atlanta trip later, I am proud to be the wife of newly-commissioned 2LT Robert A. Coombs, future armor officer of America! :-)

Had a pretty cool weekend. Started off by showing up to the Joint Service Awards Ceremony. My dad surprised me by driving up, which given that's a two and a half hour drive, was quite a surprise! Still, he was there to see me receive an award and also a presentational sabre, which is kind of the coolest thing ever. (Yeah, the Army gave me a sword. Heh heh.) We went out to lunch with a friend of mine and her friend who is prior service combat arms, and is now at West Point. But, I got to spend some time with my dad, and I had a good time.

Today was a pretty lazy day. Didn't do anything, really, not even pack for my trip. Although I pack pretty quickly, so I'll be in bed soon. I probably won't be posting too much for the next week, but when I come back I'll have lots of pictures and stuff.

Catch ya on the flip side!

...f*ng civilians.

I'm sorry if the civilians in the government, as well as the vast majority of the American public do not realize it, but women are already in combat. Trying to take us out of it would leave you a. severely undermanned, b. unable to be effective in areas where you need women to accompany missions in order to interact with female local civilians, c. a huge waste of time. Might as well get cracking on conforming Army policy and doctrine to fit the fight.

If you don't like it, don't get involved in counterinsurgencies overseas. Also, tough shit. Also, kiss my ass.

ALSO - a woman earns the Silver Star for gallantry in combat ... kind of throws your arguments against women in combat out the window, huh? Why must you continue to deny reality? Jerks.

I went down to Jersey last night to pick up some stuff, including the dress I'm wearing to Rob's formal on Tuesday night, which I had forgotten the last two times I've been down. Oy. Also, I cleaned a lot of stuff out of my apartment (although not nearly enough) and brought down bags of clothes to be donated and my kitchen garden, since I'm leaving soon, and I would rather my little plants get a nice home.

As I walked up the path to the front door, I stopped in my tracks. A wafting smell, like sweet honey wine, emanated from my mother's apple trees - the two gargantuan monsters that were supposed to be "dwarf" apple trees. They are in full bloom, and quite beautiful.

This morning, I hauled out the EOS10D, that ancient yet still functional beast, and began shooting away. After taking about 25 shots, I went to view them on the digital viewfinder. All I got with this message: "No CF card."

AARRRRGGGHHHH.

Headed back to the car, popped in a CF card, took some pics FOR REAL THIS TIME, headed home. I'll put them up soon for your viewing pleasure.