I’ve heard if you like your job 51% of the time you’re doing pretty good. Well, for me, I like - actually love - my job about 60% of the time, so I guess that means I’m doing real good. I get to do something different every day (almost), I get to travel the world, I get to be on tv - which is something everybody secretly desires (I’ve learned this by sticking a camera in many faces), but I also have to deal with nonsense every once in a while, and that’s where the 40% comes in. Take last week for example…

Last Thursday afternoon, as I was packing my stuff to go home for a long four day weekend, I got pulled into my boss’ office and experienced a moment from Office Space: “Umm, yeah…I’m gonna need you to come in tomorrow…,” except it went: “Umm, yeah…I’m gonna need you to go home and pack your stuff, we’re sending you into a hurricane.”

Now, this is my job so I can’t complain too much. One of the reasons I love what I do is the opportunity to travel and experience different things. A part of me was even excited. I hadn’t done the traveling news stuff in a while, so I was kind of anxious to feel the “go-go-go” rush of it all. Plus, I had never been to mississippi, so why not? (there are many reasons why not, humidity for one). But another part of me was a bit unsure. I had never been in a hurricane before. All I know of hurricanes is what I see on the news and to be honest, I didn’t want any part of it.

But I went; I spent two days in Mississippi and spent most of the time trying to keep my shirt separated from my body or watching the news from under my covers, listening to all twenty news anchors tell me the storm was conveniently heading right towards me. So they moved us - I think that’s why - to Baton Rouge, where as the hurricane approached I cuddled up on a floor in a big conference room. We were then forced into “lock down mode” in an old convention center to wait out the storm, which wasn’t that bad anyways.

The second half of the story - similar to the first - is long and boring. A bit of destruction, power lines down everywhere, trees ripped up from the ground, and of course no power. The last three nights we were without power, which meant no restaurants were open, which meant no food, except MRE’s and/or crackers. Yummy. The worst part of it all however, was we were without stories, news stories that is.

A week spent in this nonsense and we had three stories. It wasn’t for lack of trying - we called at least 20 people a day, the problem was everybody had a different answer or a different direction for us to run. We also had three or four different people to answer to, none of which knew what they wanted. Talk about a headache.

Anyways, this is all to tell you that I got home yesterday and after unpacking went to the pool to relax and catch some rays. I forgot to put sunscreen on my face, and since I don’t wear sunglasses unless I’m driving, I burnt my eyelids. It actually looks quite funny.

I can’t remember a time in my life that I’ve sat down and actually watched a lot of the Olympics. I know I’ve seen a few events, but it has never been something I made sure I was tuned in for. I think that might change this year. Actually, I know it. I am going to watch these Olympics. As much as I can.

Perhaps it’s because I have a new HDTV and the Olympics are better when I feel like I’m in the pool or on the court with the competitors. Perhaps it’s because I sat down and watched the opening ceremonies and was blown away by the presentation and entrance of all the countries (a few of which, I had no idea existed). Or perhaps it’s because I got all excited and proud when the American team entered the stadium. I felt like cheering out loud, but didn’t want to be as rude as the family living above me.

I’m not sure how much I’ll be able to watch live - I’ll probably be able to catch a bit as I eat breakfast in the mornings - but I’ll definitely be watching them in the evenings when I can. I hope you are able to do the same.

So, this is the week I’ve decided to get sick. I say “decided” because I like to feel as if I had a say in the matter. I didn’t. To be honest, I’m actually quite surprised this is the first time I’ve been sick since I’ve been here. In case you didn’t know: I’m allergic to dust, and this place is like the Times Square of dust mites. So the fact that this is the first time I’ve gotten sick since I’ve been here is amazing in itself (if you could see the bathrooms you’d be even more shocked).

I’m not totally out of it. I can still get around; I’m still working. I just use nose spray a lot and have kleenex with me all the time. Plus I sound funny when I talk. The worst part is sleeping. When your nose is all stuffed up you’re forced to sleep with your mouth open, which means when I wake up my mouth feels like a vaccuum bag. Who knows what crawls in there. I spend most of the night trying to get whatever it is down. It’s hard to swallow on a dry throat.

That’s the only bad news I have to report. Everything else is going smooth, it’s exciting even. The good news is I am no longer stressed out and, so far, the month of May has gone by pretty fast. I have a little over a month and a half and I’ll be out of here.

Other good news to report:

- I am completely out of debt…and actually the dollar signs in black are starting to pile up nicely. Which means Steph and I should be able to have a nice Honeymoon in Hawaii without going back into debt…which is the goal.

- We have an apartment reserved for when I get back. It is in the same complex I lived before, which is a very nice place. It’s a two bedroom, spacious apartment where I’ll be living alone for a few months until after the wedding. Then it will become a much better place to be. They have a pretty cool swimming pool, so I’m pretty stoked about it.

- I started my 20th book since I’ve been here. My goal was to read 12, so I think I’m doing alright. Middlesex (the 19th) was the best one I’ve read so far. It’s an amazing book and I’d recommend it to anyone.

So things are on the up and up. Now if I can just get rid of this cold and get out of this dust hole I’ll be alright.

I was thinking today about how, as humans, we can adapt to any situation. It’s not something we’d like to do; at first we’d hate it, even be scared of it, but after a while we’d deal with it, survive in it, even thrive in it. Maybe it’s because I’m reading a book about a boy having to go through a similar situation, but for a while I was mesmerized by this idea. Then I realized that I myself am dealing with the same thing, although admittedly on a much smaller scale.

When I first got here I hated this place, it wasn’t comfortable….but now, unfortunately or not, I’m accustomed to living here. Whereas before I lived in an apartment, slept in my own bedroom on a queen sized bed, used a private indoor bathroom two feet from my room, drove anywhere I wanted to in my own vehicle, and spent as much time as I could with a beautiful woman by my side…now I live in an 8×6 plywood room, sleep in a sleeping bag, use a public toilet two blocks from my room, have to walk everywhere, and spend all my time with guys who are just as ugly as me. That’s just the way it is. Oh, and I also now eat with plastic silverware and wear nothing but a military uniform everyday. My point is, if there is one, that I used to hate this place, heck I still kind of do, but now I’m used to it. It is what it is. I am accustomed.

I don’t know if that’s a good thing or bad thing. I admittedly can’t wait to get out of here, so I can’t say I enjoy it. I can say, however, that it’s getting easier…and even better: it’s almost over.

The last few nights I’ve had a recurring scary dream. I suppose you could even call it a nightmare, or a night terror; the fear I feel when I wake up is that real.

It always starts out the same. I’m in some random place, passing the time with friends when all of the sudden I feel the urge to use the restroom. I make my way to a bathroom, sometimes on the run, desperately looking for any place to pee. And when I find it…I go. I pee in my dream. And then I wake up.

This is serious, waking up in your bed after dreaming you just went to the bathroom is the scariest thing you will ever wake up to. Can you imagine my horror? My “check” in and around my sleeping bag? It’s frightening, I promise.

I guess that’s what happens when you spend half the night “holding it”. You have to walk half a block to use the bathroom around here. Given the choice between waking up, putting on shoes, and walking in the cold to the port-a-potty or just staying in bed and hoping for the best…I always choose the latter. I choose sleep. I choose dreams. Dreams where I pee.

In case you’re wondering, no, I have not wet my bed…yet. Although if I don’t stop drinking water…who knows. Now, that’s scary.

So, today was my first chance to go ‘outside’ the gate here in Afghanistan. I can’t really say much other than it was definitely interesting. I’ve never been to a place where the term “3rd World Country” is actually an understatement. I’ve never heard of the term 4th world, but if there is one, that’s Afghanistan.

We passed through villages where houses were made out of rock or bad firewood. The majority of kids don’t go to school, so they have nothing to do but roam. I saw six year olds holding on to one year olds: babies babysitting babies. All the kids want stuff, which wasn’t surprising. They’ll ask for anything, and take anything and consider it treasure. I gave away pens, and the kids wanted more pens. Pens. I’ve never looked at a pen as something valuable, but I suppose when you have nothing at all, a pen becomes something.

One of the sad things I noticed was the way kids are treated by the adults and the way little girls are treated by the little boys. As we were hanging out with some of the kids, an older gentleman came to ’shoo’ them away so they would stop begging for stuff. The gentleman chased the kids away and once they got to a certain point he picked up rocks and threw them at the kids. He threw rocks at kids! And from what I’m told, that’s normal.

Also, women are treated poorly here, even from a young age. The boys literally beat up on the girls. If a girl is given something that a boy wants he isn’t afraid to beat her up for it. Although, at a young age, a girl is willing to fight back, which was a good thing. Today a boy tried to wrestle a girl and take away her dollar and a bottle of water, but the girl fought back. I think she won. She left with the dollar anyways.

The best part was the kids. The little girls were really cute and funny. I’m sure if I had to deal with their begging everyday it might get old, but today it was just fun. The girls were laughing and joking and having a good time. It’s sad to think of what will happen to them in the years to come.

Overall, today’s trip outside the gate made me realize how lucky I am to be an American. I could use the term thankful, which I am, but lucky seems to work better. Somebody in my lineage, a long time ago, decided to move to America and start their family there, and because of that I am fortunate to have all the things I have: freedom, money, opportunity, equality. It’s not like we can decide to be from somewhere, we just are. Sometimes it’s easy to forget that. And for that I consider myself lucky.

“If I say little about my own sense of insufficiency, do me the justice to believe, that it is not because I am not well aware of it.” J.C. Ryle

I like it when people like me. Is that such a problem? I’m a people pleaser…or at least I try to be. I like to be the good guy, the fun guy, the fun-ny guy. I want every body to say, “Hey, you know that Lee guy? He’s a hoot. What a guy!” Of course this desire to please people does not bode well when it comes to talking to people about religion, about God, Christianity.

I’ve never been one to walk up to people and shout, “You’re going to hell!” I’m not a fan of that approach, and I certainly don’t think it works. In fact, and this could be a bad thing, I usually don’t even bring up the subject of religion to someone who is…well, going to hell. That almost sounds rude, uncalled for, but that is my belief right? If you believe in a Heaven you have to believe in a Hell. My point is, I just don’t like pointing it out to people that they, if there is a God, which I believe there to be, are going to hell. Instead I just smile, be friendly, and let them know why I am smiling: God is good. God is great. I love blueberry pancakes.

But sometimes I do think it’s necessary to say something, especially to those who believe they are not going to Hell: fellow Christians. I’m just not sure how. Every time I try, I come off as a judgmental fool and that’s honestly not my attempt. It’s funny, because the reason I don’t talk much to non-Christians is because I’m afraid they’ll beat me up, but I’m afraid talking to fellow Christians might have the same, undesired, effect. The thing is: Christians don’t like you to point out what they’re doing wrong. Trust me, I know. I am one. Tell me what I’m doing wrong and I most likely will disagree. It has to do with pride. We all have it. But sometimes God puts it on my heart to speak up, to say something, and I want to. But how do I do it? I mean, and be the cool guy?

I see things like fellow Christians swearing, or getting drunk and partying, or talking about women in such unhealthy ways and I want to say something like, “Hey man…as Christians, we shouldn’t be doing that.” But isn’t that judgmental? Yes. Does it still need to be said? Yes. Will they still like me if I say it? No. Uh-oh.

I imagine the usual response would be, “Well, you’re not perfect!” And that’s true. I’m not…far from it to be exact. And the fact that I would be judgmentally pointing that stuff out goes to show how less than perfect I am, but I try. I constantly pray that God can steer me in the right direction, away from sin, so that one day I can be…well, a little less-less than perfect.

I want to “Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it.” (Matthew 7:13-14)

I fear that “a few” is far less than we think. And the only reason I want to say anything is because I want others to understand.

“Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only he who does the will of my Father who is in heaven. Many will say to me on that day, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and in your name drive out demons and perform many miracles?’ Then I will tell them plainly, ‘I never knew you. Away from me, you evildoers!’ (Matthew 7:21-23)

They need to understand. Heck, some of them are my friends, my family, people I care about. I just don’t know how to get that point across.

Perhaps I should just keep my mouth shut, let God do all the work. I heard He’s pretty good at that kind of stuff. Plus, I’m scared that if I ever decided to run my mouth I wouldn’t have any friends. Nobody would like me. We can’t have that now, can we?

I don’t understand that song anymore, it’s driving me crazy. Seriously, the lyrics are confusing.

“A beautiful sight, we’re happy tonight, walking in a winter wonderland.” What??

Even more confusing is the last part:

“We’ll frolic and play, the Eskimo way, walking in a winter wonderland.”

When I hear that, I picture two people having the time of their lives frolicking through the snow, maybe throwing a few snowballs at each other, just to keep the laughter rolling. But that isn’t what it’s really like when you’re walking in a winter wonderland.

In a real winter wonderland, you can’t “frolic”…you have to walk gingerly, every step is a precise placement of the foot because you know one wrong move means your rear end is going to forcefully meet the ground below.

Case in point:

The last few days there has been a lot of snow here, and a lot of cold weather. Which, to me, means this base has turned into what the song so glowingly calls a Winter Wonderland.

Yesterday, there I am trying to walk through this wonderland, taking every step as slow as I can, my arms straight out at my sides as if I’m about to take off on flight, and then it happens:

Uh Oh! Woah! Crap! %&#*! BAM! My rear end says hello to the pavement.

Of course, first thing I do, before I even think about getting up, is look around to see if anybody noticed. And, of course, here comes my witness. He offers the obligatory, “Are you alright?” And then just to rub it in says, “Man, that could happen to anybody around here.” What he’s really thinking is, “What a loser…”

And so I make my way to my feet and slowly continue on to my location, all the while doing my best to continue on as if I find it funny. But, it’s not. There really is nothing funny, or fun, about walking around in a Winter Wonderland.

It’s been like this for a few days now and I honestly can’t wait for the sun to melt everything away. I’m looking forward to taking a few fearless steps, walking in a Winter Wonderland is just not fun.

That song is a lie. I hate that song.

Yesterday was Sunday.

Yesterday was my day off.

I woke up around 10:30.

I read a book, in my bed, until 12:30.

I ate a bowl of cereal.

I read some more.

I took a nap.

I read.

I played Guitar Hero.

I took a nap.

I ate dinner.

I read.

I called Steph*

I read.

I went to bed.

I’m not sure if that’s what God meant when He said Sunday shall be a day of rest, but around here there isn’t much else to do when you’re not working.

I can’t wait until next Sunday.

*highlight of my day.

I’m here, and I’m settled. That’s the big news for this blog post. I know I haven’t written anything for almost a month, but to be honest I didn’t really care to. I had bigger, better things to do, like, for example, spend time with Stephanie and just forget about the outside world for the two weeks that I was home. Unfortunately, those two weeks are over, as in long gone.

Now, finally, I’m here in Afghanistan settled into my fancy little tree-fort of a room. I say finally because since New Years Day I’ve been slowly making my way to this point and I can only take so many days and nights of traveling and living out of…not a suitcase…but 4 big duffel bags.

Last Tuesday I left San Antonio and since then I’ve experienced a night in a crap hotel room in Baltimore (totally my fault), a ten hour layover in Turkey, a 36 hour stopover in Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan where the temperature was somewhere around, oh I’d say 10 degrees, and where I enjoyed a night in a big tent with 150 bunk beds…all of them full. When I finally made it here to Afghanistan on Sunday I was put into a room where I had to wait a few days before moving into my permanent room. Tonight I can finally write and say I’m here, and I’m settled.

I am living in a plywood hut that has eight separate plyrooms. Ooh, I just made up that word. The plywood rooms give it the tree-hut feel, but to be honest it’s better than I expected. I have a place to hang my clothes and a place to put my books. I even have a small TV, and an, albeit slow, internet connection. I plan on doing my best to make it feel like home.

The job is cool. Much busier, and much better, than what I was doing in San Antonio. I’m glad that is the case. I think it will help the time go by a little faster. As much as I complain, I think this is all pretty cool. It’s an experience more than anything and besides missing Stephanie more than is healthy, it’s not that bad.

I’ll try to update this more often now that I’m settled and have an internet connection. The next six months I plan to read, write, and get ready for the next big adventure in my life: marriage. Oh yes folks, I’m still getting married. She has not, as many people might have hoped, changed her mind. Thankfully.