My new employer is gonna try to sponsor me for a green card, so I've gotten a lot of homework from the immigration lawyers to make this happen. Putting together a CV, documenting everything on it, soliciting letters from employers in just the right way, etc. It's like, everything I do at work, I'm thinking, I should be using this time to do green card stuff. But the green card stuff is so boring (and depressing -- what if it doesn't work, can't afford to get my hopes up when they've been dashed so many times before).
I wonder what my life would be like -- what I'd be like -- if I hadn't been dealing with this huge psychological hit all these years. And yet... maybe this time it will work. It would be awesome. And it would certainly take a lot of pressure off my dating life.
Monday, September 24, 2007
Friday, September 21, 2007
Mission Statement
So where am I taking this blog now that I'm back from Iraq? Good question.
My rate of posting has obviously trailed off precipitously since I left "The Big Dirty." Most of this has to do with how busy I've been transitioning out of one job and into another. Plus I haven't actually spent any weekends at home, having gone to NY for the US Open finals and to Miami for a friend's much-belated 30th birthday party.
It's also partly due to my trying to figure out what I want to write about here. Clearly I'm not devoted to Iraq 24-7 any more. Nor is there any reason for me to post constitutional/legal stuff here -- because I should save that for op-eds and other writing/research that I do in my new career as a recovering lawyer (and even the Cato blog).
So I think I'll stick to what I had in mind when I first envisioned blogging many months ago: This blog will be devoted to my observations from living in Purple America. Purple America, of course, is a state of mind, and represents the confluence of seemingly incongruous cultural and political affinities. My tastes and values reflect that. And that's what I'll be writing about.
My rate of posting has obviously trailed off precipitously since I left "The Big Dirty." Most of this has to do with how busy I've been transitioning out of one job and into another. Plus I haven't actually spent any weekends at home, having gone to NY for the US Open finals and to Miami for a friend's much-belated 30th birthday party.
It's also partly due to my trying to figure out what I want to write about here. Clearly I'm not devoted to Iraq 24-7 any more. Nor is there any reason for me to post constitutional/legal stuff here -- because I should save that for op-eds and other writing/research that I do in my new career as a recovering lawyer (and even the Cato blog).
So I think I'll stick to what I had in mind when I first envisioned blogging many months ago: This blog will be devoted to my observations from living in Purple America. Purple America, of course, is a state of mind, and represents the confluence of seemingly incongruous cultural and political affinities. My tastes and values reflect that. And that's what I'll be writing about.
Beer and Pizza
About half and hour ago I got back from Cato's weekly Friday happy hour. The media people run it and, apparently, there's always a theme. Tonight's theme was "back to school."
That is, back to college. So there was beer and pizza and wings. And wine for some reason (did girls drink that in college?). Unfortunately, I arrived 10 whole minutes after the thing started -- had been reading the recently released transcript of the Khalid Sheikh Mohammed testimony -- so there were but a few slices left, and almost nothing that wasn't vegetarian. (Why do people always order too much vegetarian? Why is it always us carnivores who are left with nothing appetizing to eat? But I digress...)
A few Coronas and some scintillating conversations in various languages later, I returned to my office to provide you, dear reader, with this (and the previous) blogpost.
That is, back to college. So there was beer and pizza and wings. And wine for some reason (did girls drink that in college?). Unfortunately, I arrived 10 whole minutes after the thing started -- had been reading the recently released transcript of the Khalid Sheikh Mohammed testimony -- so there were but a few slices left, and almost nothing that wasn't vegetarian. (Why do people always order too much vegetarian? Why is it always us carnivores who are left with nothing appetizing to eat? But I digress...)
A few Coronas and some scintillating conversations in various languages later, I returned to my office to provide you, dear reader, with this (and the previous) blogpost.
The Trip Home Part III
[More on the never-ending journey -- which it seemed like, given all the sleeping in hangars, tents, and planes, plus showering and changing socks once in five days, etc.]
There had been an issue earlier regarding my need to have my passport stamped because I was coming in on a new visa so I could work at Cato. Fort Benning doesn't typically do immigration paperwork, other than stamping diplomatic/government passports for visiting dignitaries/military officers, so they were gonna call in a DHS official specially for me, but now that I was on the R&R flight to Atlanta that would not be necessary.
Instead I breezed through customs, thanks in no small part to my "handler," and proceeded to the Avis rental counter (Hertz was out of cars if you can believe it) to get a ride to go to Benning and drop off my army-issued protective gear.
"Thank you for your service," I heard from an early-40s soccer mom type as I exited the Avis counter with my rental car keys. I was in uniform, you see -- not having had a chance to change and, in any event, still being in transit till I got home later that day -- and naturally the untrained eye wouldn't pick up the civilian designation on my rank badge. I didn't know how to respond, so I smirked sheepishly like a teenager commended on some achievement. ("Aw shucks ma'am it was nothing.") After that I was prepared, responding to every such entreaty -- and there were several -- with "my honor, ma'am/sir." (Not worth explaining that I wasn't actually in the army, etc.)
Similarly, when an hour later, on the interstate near Columbus, Ga., a copper flagged me for going 81 in a 55 zone (I honestly thought it was 70), it was probably my uniform that got him to downgrade it to 65 -- but who knows really how they exercise their discretion -- saving me points and notification to the DC authorities.
Anyhow, I got back to Benning, navigated the bureaucracy to be able to drop off my body armor and helmet -- normally one would have to wait to make formation at 0730 the next morning to accomplish this task, but, of course, I was a VIP -- had lunch with the lieutenant who had previously been my escort, and drove back up to Atlanta to catch my flight home to DC.
At the airport the security guys waived me to the first class lane, and I mentioned that I wasn't actually in the Army. "Well," the senior one said, "you're in uniform, you're comin' from Iraq, and you look beat, so go on right ahead." Fantastic.
I came home, again uneventfully, took a shower and went to bed. It was good to be back from Iraq!
There had been an issue earlier regarding my need to have my passport stamped because I was coming in on a new visa so I could work at Cato. Fort Benning doesn't typically do immigration paperwork, other than stamping diplomatic/government passports for visiting dignitaries/military officers, so they were gonna call in a DHS official specially for me, but now that I was on the R&R flight to Atlanta that would not be necessary.
Instead I breezed through customs, thanks in no small part to my "handler," and proceeded to the Avis rental counter (Hertz was out of cars if you can believe it) to get a ride to go to Benning and drop off my army-issued protective gear.
"Thank you for your service," I heard from an early-40s soccer mom type as I exited the Avis counter with my rental car keys. I was in uniform, you see -- not having had a chance to change and, in any event, still being in transit till I got home later that day -- and naturally the untrained eye wouldn't pick up the civilian designation on my rank badge. I didn't know how to respond, so I smirked sheepishly like a teenager commended on some achievement. ("Aw shucks ma'am it was nothing.") After that I was prepared, responding to every such entreaty -- and there were several -- with "my honor, ma'am/sir." (Not worth explaining that I wasn't actually in the army, etc.)
Similarly, when an hour later, on the interstate near Columbus, Ga., a copper flagged me for going 81 in a 55 zone (I honestly thought it was 70), it was probably my uniform that got him to downgrade it to 65 -- but who knows really how they exercise their discretion -- saving me points and notification to the DC authorities.
Anyhow, I got back to Benning, navigated the bureaucracy to be able to drop off my body armor and helmet -- normally one would have to wait to make formation at 0730 the next morning to accomplish this task, but, of course, I was a VIP -- had lunch with the lieutenant who had previously been my escort, and drove back up to Atlanta to catch my flight home to DC.
At the airport the security guys waived me to the first class lane, and I mentioned that I wasn't actually in the Army. "Well," the senior one said, "you're in uniform, you're comin' from Iraq, and you look beat, so go on right ahead." Fantastic.
I came home, again uneventfully, took a shower and went to bed. It was good to be back from Iraq!
Thursday, September 20, 2007
The Greatest Love of All
On Tuesday night I attended the premiere of this year's Latin American Film Festival, the 18th Annual such event in DC. The event started with a reception in the atrium of the Inter-American Development Bank (IADB) and continued with the screening of the award-winning Brazilian film, O Maior Amor do Mundo ("The Greatest Love of All").
This sweet movie tells of a middle-aged professor who makes a triumphant return to Rio while battling terminal brain cancer. He ends up on a journey through time and urbanity to find out about (and find) the mother who abandoned him at birth. The acting is just right, the cinematography stark. I recommend it.
This sweet movie tells of a middle-aged professor who makes a triumphant return to Rio while battling terminal brain cancer. He ends up on a journey through time and urbanity to find out about (and find) the mother who abandoned him at birth. The acting is just right, the cinematography stark. I recommend it.
The Trip Home Part II
Almost three weeks have passed since I returned from Iraq and I still haven't finished telling the tale of my trip back. As you can imagine, catching up on being away for two months, not to mention changing jobs and careers, has taken up what would other be prime blogging time. Even as bloggable material has never been better.
Ah well, when I started this thing I promised myself that I would not let it make me feel guilty about not writing. My other writing tasks (professional work, op-eds, a book proposal, etc.) already do enough of that and I don't want this to become another concern in the back of my mind. Nevertheless, when I have something to say in this space, I'll say it.
So, about the trip home... Kuwait is basically worse than Iraq if you don't count the security risk. It's a few degrees hotter, a few grains sandier, and just generally more austere. My billet was the upper bunk -- with no sheets -- of a super-air-conditioned tent that sleeps 16. There are hundreds of these tents sprawling across the desert at Ali Al Salem Airbase. Actually, "sprawl" is the wrong term, because it would not be possible to lay them out in a more orderly grid.
Beside the rows of tents are trailers containing showers and bathrooms, segregated by sex. Behind all the trailers are the MWR facilities (two gyms, a basketball court, a beach volleyball court, two recreation rooms with multiple movie/video game consoles) and outdoor "mall." The latter is pretty impressive, housing not only a McDonald's, KFC, and Green Beans Coffee, but a jewelry store, Middle Eastern bazaar, laundry/dry cleaner, and a couple of other establishments I'm forgetting. All the comforts of home, more or less. Then beside that complex is the DFAC. Standard fare there, just like Baghdad.
After passing out on my bunk (and somehow not freezing to death), I awoke in time to make the 0900 stand-by manifest for the R&R flight. They found me a seat! Which meant I had exactly four hours to PT, eat, re-pack my gear, and show up in the "big tent" to begin the travel process to Atlanta. All this I did, and began reading Randy Barnett's Restoring the Lost Constitution.
The remaining process was drawn-out but fairly painless. Scanning out my CAC card, unpacking and re-packing both my duffels (security check), sitting down to read and watch a movie on the big-screen TV in a "departure lounge," and then making the final formation of my "army career," as the chaplain wished us godspeed and we boarded a series of buses that would take us to Kuwait International Airport (about 75 minutes away).
We boarded a "World Airlines" jet, which seemed to have the same interior design and features as the ATA plane I came in on, and were wheels up in no time. After a brief layover in Leipzig (my first time in the former East Germany), we uneventfully arrived in Atlanta airport.
Ah well, when I started this thing I promised myself that I would not let it make me feel guilty about not writing. My other writing tasks (professional work, op-eds, a book proposal, etc.) already do enough of that and I don't want this to become another concern in the back of my mind. Nevertheless, when I have something to say in this space, I'll say it.
So, about the trip home... Kuwait is basically worse than Iraq if you don't count the security risk. It's a few degrees hotter, a few grains sandier, and just generally more austere. My billet was the upper bunk -- with no sheets -- of a super-air-conditioned tent that sleeps 16. There are hundreds of these tents sprawling across the desert at Ali Al Salem Airbase. Actually, "sprawl" is the wrong term, because it would not be possible to lay them out in a more orderly grid.
Beside the rows of tents are trailers containing showers and bathrooms, segregated by sex. Behind all the trailers are the MWR facilities (two gyms, a basketball court, a beach volleyball court, two recreation rooms with multiple movie/video game consoles) and outdoor "mall." The latter is pretty impressive, housing not only a McDonald's, KFC, and Green Beans Coffee, but a jewelry store, Middle Eastern bazaar, laundry/dry cleaner, and a couple of other establishments I'm forgetting. All the comforts of home, more or less. Then beside that complex is the DFAC. Standard fare there, just like Baghdad.
After passing out on my bunk (and somehow not freezing to death), I awoke in time to make the 0900 stand-by manifest for the R&R flight. They found me a seat! Which meant I had exactly four hours to PT, eat, re-pack my gear, and show up in the "big tent" to begin the travel process to Atlanta. All this I did, and began reading Randy Barnett's Restoring the Lost Constitution.
The remaining process was drawn-out but fairly painless. Scanning out my CAC card, unpacking and re-packing both my duffels (security check), sitting down to read and watch a movie on the big-screen TV in a "departure lounge," and then making the final formation of my "army career," as the chaplain wished us godspeed and we boarded a series of buses that would take us to Kuwait International Airport (about 75 minutes away).
We boarded a "World Airlines" jet, which seemed to have the same interior design and features as the ATA plane I came in on, and were wheels up in no time. After a brief layover in Leipzig (my first time in the former East Germany), we uneventfully arrived in Atlanta airport.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
An Alternative History of the Global War on Terror
On Monday I went to AEI's first Bradley Lecture of the season, where Lynne Olson gave a talk on her book, Troublesome Young Men, about the backbenchers' rebellion that ousted Neville Chamberlain and installed Winston Churchill as PM in May 1940.
Equally interestingly, earlier that day Newt Gingrich gave a fascinating speech with his vision of what the last six years might have looked like had the administration (and rest of the government and country) taken the Islamofascist threat as seriously as is deserves to be taken. The above link has video, audio, and an as-prepared draft of the speech. Ah, Newt, if only your style of governance had been a little smarter -- you coulda still been the Speaker during 9/11.
Equally interestingly, earlier that day Newt Gingrich gave a fascinating speech with his vision of what the last six years might have looked like had the administration (and rest of the government and country) taken the Islamofascist threat as seriously as is deserves to be taken. The above link has video, audio, and an as-prepared draft of the speech. Ah, Newt, if only your style of governance had been a little smarter -- you coulda still been the Speaker during 9/11.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Petraeus/Crocker Testimony
Today is my second day at my new job at Cato. Yesterday I was too busy getting settled and such to follow the big hearings on the Hill but today I'm happy as a clam with live streaming video on cnn.com. (I brought in the TV I had in my old office, but the cable connection in my office is covered so i haven't been able to hook up yet.)
It's a unique feeling to have witnessed some of the lead-up and prep for this testimony during my time in Iraq -- and now to see the results. I feel privileged, humbled, and a part of history.
It's a unique feeling to have witnessed some of the lead-up and prep for this testimony during my time in Iraq -- and now to see the results. I feel privileged, humbled, and a part of history.
Dinner at Dino's
Last night I met a friend -- a reporter planning to embed in Iraq at some point -- for dinner at Dino, the famous Cleveland Park eatery. It was really nice. Because we met right at 7:30, we were able to order the three-courses-for-$24 deal (good Sun-Thurs if you order before 7:30). I had this bulgur wheat and bean salad, followed by lamb pasta. Scrumptious. And some nice Malbec, with ants crawling across the bottle ("Hormigas"). Cheese in lieu of dessert as third course. Wonderful. This type of food, combined with the PT regime I've combined since returning from Iraq, has me feeling quite healthy.
Friday, September 7, 2007
The Trip Home Part I
It has now been a week since I arrived back in the good ol' U.S. of A. At this time last week I was hurtling in my rental car from Atlanta airport to Fort Benning, where I would spend all of three hours (turning in my body armor and having lunch with my escort from that first week at Benning).
The journey began late Tuesday night, August 28. I was told to show up at the Rhino station an hour ahead of "manifest call," which was supposed to be at midnight. (Rhinos are those armor-plated RVs that lumber down the road in convoys with support from Humvees.) So, after having one final cigar with my boss, I took my duffels (with the aid of a naval petty officer and Aussie sergeant), and walked over. At midnight they took down our names, eventually filling seven Rhinos.
Then we waited. And waited. At one point I caught myself watching most of "Turner & Hooch," the Tom Hanks/canine comedy from the 80s on the TV conveniently set up there for all of us "loiterers" at the "bus station." Finally at about 2:30am we boarded the Rhinos and set off for Camp Victory, whence I would be whisked to BIAP (Baghdad International Airport, pronounced "bi-op").
The trio down Route Irish (named after Notre Dame) was uneventful except for two rounds of tracer fire that were shot been the lead Humvee and first Rhino. Well, not exactly between, more like over. It was odd, and a bit frightening, but in the end did not seem aimed. After picking up my bags at our destination -- all passengers formed bucket-brigades to get them off the tractor-trailer -- I was taken to BIAP for some more waiting.
It turns out the first formation was at 10:35am, so I had a long and fitful night of "sleep" on the airport gate-style chairs set up in a hangar-style tent (which was air conditioned, thank God). After showing up at formation, I managed to grab a standby seat on a flight that would be departing "sometime after 1." So I went over to the DFAC, had my last meal in Iraq, then came back and... waited.
At 3:15 they called our flight, so we put on our body armor and marched over and onto the C-130. This flight was manned by a Japanese crew for some reason, and said crew didn't like people have ammunition magazines on them. So everyone, including and especially soldiers, surrendered their ammo into a sort of lost and found box for safekeeping.
As expected, it was HOT in the plane, and it seemed that everything I was wearing was soon drenched in sweat. The flight down to Kuwait was uneventful -- though this was about 24 hours after the Congressional delegation, flying the same route, was fired upon.
Upon arrival at Ali al Salem Airbase in Kuwait, I couldn't believe that it was somehow hotter and brighter than Iraq. Nevertheless, I was able to quickly shed my body armor, pack it into my spare duffel, and leave all that by the bunk I was assigned in another large air conditioned tent (capacity: 16 bunks). I found out that the "Freedom Flight" to Benning on which I was booked wouldn't be leaving till Saturday Sept.1, but that if I showed up the next morning (Aug.30) at 9, I could maybe get a standby seat on the "R&R" (because soldiers were going home for 15 or 18 days of R&R) flight to Atlanta. This I planned to do. After a quick shower and some food (and a change into shorts from my ACUs!) I felt like a new man.
The journey began late Tuesday night, August 28. I was told to show up at the Rhino station an hour ahead of "manifest call," which was supposed to be at midnight. (Rhinos are those armor-plated RVs that lumber down the road in convoys with support from Humvees.) So, after having one final cigar with my boss, I took my duffels (with the aid of a naval petty officer and Aussie sergeant), and walked over. At midnight they took down our names, eventually filling seven Rhinos.
Then we waited. And waited. At one point I caught myself watching most of "Turner & Hooch," the Tom Hanks/canine comedy from the 80s on the TV conveniently set up there for all of us "loiterers" at the "bus station." Finally at about 2:30am we boarded the Rhinos and set off for Camp Victory, whence I would be whisked to BIAP (Baghdad International Airport, pronounced "bi-op").
The trio down Route Irish (named after Notre Dame) was uneventful except for two rounds of tracer fire that were shot been the lead Humvee and first Rhino. Well, not exactly between, more like over. It was odd, and a bit frightening, but in the end did not seem aimed. After picking up my bags at our destination -- all passengers formed bucket-brigades to get them off the tractor-trailer -- I was taken to BIAP for some more waiting.
It turns out the first formation was at 10:35am, so I had a long and fitful night of "sleep" on the airport gate-style chairs set up in a hangar-style tent (which was air conditioned, thank God). After showing up at formation, I managed to grab a standby seat on a flight that would be departing "sometime after 1." So I went over to the DFAC, had my last meal in Iraq, then came back and... waited.
At 3:15 they called our flight, so we put on our body armor and marched over and onto the C-130. This flight was manned by a Japanese crew for some reason, and said crew didn't like people have ammunition magazines on them. So everyone, including and especially soldiers, surrendered their ammo into a sort of lost and found box for safekeeping.
As expected, it was HOT in the plane, and it seemed that everything I was wearing was soon drenched in sweat. The flight down to Kuwait was uneventful -- though this was about 24 hours after the Congressional delegation, flying the same route, was fired upon.
Upon arrival at Ali al Salem Airbase in Kuwait, I couldn't believe that it was somehow hotter and brighter than Iraq. Nevertheless, I was able to quickly shed my body armor, pack it into my spare duffel, and leave all that by the bunk I was assigned in another large air conditioned tent (capacity: 16 bunks). I found out that the "Freedom Flight" to Benning on which I was booked wouldn't be leaving till Saturday Sept.1, but that if I showed up the next morning (Aug.30) at 9, I could maybe get a standby seat on the "R&R" (because soldiers were going home for 15 or 18 days of R&R) flight to Atlanta. This I planned to do. After a quick shower and some food (and a change into shorts from my ACUs!) I felt like a new man.
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
Also, The Sky Is Blue
An apparently serious article -- on CNN.com, not The Onion -- reports that men place a high value on good looks when choosing a mate.
Gosh I hope that study wasn't funded with taxpayer money.
Gosh I hope that study wasn't funded with taxpayer money.
Best. Law Firm Recruiting Site. Ever.
I've heard of Choate, Hall & Stewart, but only obliquely because their only office is in Boston. Nevertheless, they've come up with the best recruiting presentation I've ever seen -- better than I imagined possible. Almost makes me regret my imminent departure from legal practice and want to apply for a job there. Almost.
Saturday, September 1, 2007
TCS Column: What A Civilian Reserve Corps Would Look Like
With my last article filed from Baghdad, I shockingly argue for the creation of a new governmental entity. It must have been heat stroke -- or actually just the least worst option.
There's No Place Like Home
Sorry for the lack of blogging this week; Tuesday was my last day of work and Tuesday night I started the long journey home -- which actually took less time than I thought it would so I got in last night. Blogging will resume shortly.
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