Watching the Baghdad Bowl

It's a couple of hours before the SuperBowl, which doesn't even remotely interest me. I'm grading papers at Reckers, and getting ready to write a paper (just a shorty...5 pages on a theological document for Tuesday) when I heard the words "Baghdad Bowl." My ears pinged, as they do routinely when I hear anything about Iraq, and what I saw was kind of amazing: a dusty field, "ARMY" painted in one endzone, and a bunch of guys in black and white, wearing flags and running down the field as though their lives depend on it. Which they do, I guess, on a regular basis.

Standing along the sidelines were men and women in digital BDUs, yelling their heads off over a football game. I'm a little choked up, actually (no real surprise there) because, in the middle of hell on earth, they can take the time to play a game. And they were there without body armor. They were smiling. I felt a little voyeuristic, watching their game, because it was a chance for them to blow off steam, and I--who have absolutely no idea of the kind of things they need to forget--am getting sappy about it. Who the hell am I, to watch their game?

One thing is true, though: it's good that things keep going here. I don't mean that we're ignoring anything--we're all still very aware of the war, particularly after the State of the Union and the plan for a troop surge, but it's import to them that things remain normal here: that we still have the Super Bowl, the Kentucky Derby, Survivor. Stupid, everyday stuff that, if nothing else, marks time until they can come home.

On a more different note--and no, I am not claiming to be a military genius, or even to fully understand what's going on, so don't go ape on me if you disagree... you're welcome to advise/inform/disagree, of course, just do so nicely--what, exactly, is the point of moving Gen. Petreus out to Iraq in a move to "win hearts and souls" if we're not going to back his plan fully? Or even kinda-sorta? I mean, granted, his plan calls for 20 soldiers/ 1000 Iraqis (according to his dissertation, which was about how to undermine an insurgency) , which means we'd need another 100k soldiers rather than the 21k Mr. Bush asked for, but at least the 21k is something, and the difference in approach is what opponents of the war have wanted. So, what to you do when the man offers a new plan and wants to see it through? Vote no confidence. Exactly what I'd do.

Song of the moment: the effing Superbowl Shuffle, which is on repeat.

Nesting

No, no worries, I'm not preggers or anything, nor am I suddenly turning into a pheasant. I am, however, once again ensconced in my very own upstairs room with one last day before classes begin. I should (as I always should when I blog...hence the absence of entries from the December break) be reading, this time for Milty. You may know him as Milton; we have the kind of relationship in which I can call him whatever I want and it's not a problem because he's very dead. Anyway, prior to class at 11 tomorrow I should have about 50 pages read. The goal is to actually get that done. But until I feel properly motivated by fear and/or an actual desire to read his ranting about how he's not Satan, despite what his critics may think, I am nesting.

I am sitting here in the darkened room, amid the bjillion pillows on my bed, watching the stupidest movie ever: "Save the Last Dance, 2". Apparently the first one was "Save the Second to Last Dance", despite all vidence to the contrary. I am also knitting (or will be, once I stop typing). I have just decided that today I will do all the other things that I will not have time to do the closer we get to graduation.

Also, holy crap is it natural to be typing again. I haven't in quite some time. I mean, I have but not this way, the way I do when I'm writing poetry or ranting, when my fingers just take over and go, and I don't hate what comes out. It's like, in having my latop out, my hands have come home. I love it.

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Song of the Moment: All I Wanna Do ~ Sheryl Crow