Loose Change

Today I paid my medical bills, did a load of laundry, mailed packages, fought with the Auto-port about their shitty warranty for tires (my quality "firestone" tire burst on a Pozzuoli road a couple of months back. Apparently I don't get the warranty unless I somehow manage to drive the burst tire the 30 km onto the base),  transferred power of attorney to Eve so she could sell my car, and I bought a $54 bottle of perfume with the quarters I'd collected from the various change-jars in my house.
Just stood there.
At the check-out in the NEX.
And counted stack after stack of quarters while the clerk patiently stood by with a calculator.

This is what my life and brain have degenerated into. I don't write papers. I don't build programs. I don't talk about anything that matters. I can't even support the programs I've built. There are hundreds of ideas I will never be able to manifest. I am bursting with the need to create and fix. I am pregnant with ideas and solutions and I can't do a damn thing with them. The fuckers actually stopped me. So I count quarters.

I don't have programs in Africa anymore. People who give a shit are trying to keep them on life-support. I saw Red at the Gym and he said, "You've brought such innovative and creative solutions here. The way you think is like nothing else."
I said, "Thanks for saying that."
And because he meant it and because it was so kind, and because I've given my blood and vomit for this Command and its mission, I started to cry.
He said, "Things will get better."
I said, "I don't think things will get better."
Because people are people and they will still do the same damn cowardly fucked-up things they always do. And I am me and I will always try to fix things and find solutions and call people out on their bullshit and insist on ethical and brave behavior. And people love the status quo and feeling good, rather than actually doing good. And they like their European travel and their satisfactory home lives and feeling like there is order in the universe.  I will always make them uncomfortable because I don't believe in lies.

There was no Wardroom Farewell for me. There will be no signed plaque with tacky pictures of Naples. There will be no exit interview with the Admiral where I can tell him what is working and what is jacked-up. There will be no conversation with a single damned person in Leadership where they can tell me, "we can't talk about this sticky business with the Dutch, but we can tell you that you've done a bang-up job of analysis for us."
I requested a meeting with the Admiral who said he was unavailable, and then with JD who wrote that it wouldn't be "productive" for us to meet. What, exactly, were we supposed to produce? Perhaps a smidge of professionalism and respect?

Tonight, Jason tried to reassure me that he - and people who understand what I've been doing - will try to keep it up. Apparently, when Byron told the team that I was gone because "a line had been crossed" (please tell me which line that was. Was that when the Dutch Intel boys decided to intercept my phone calls, or when Sjors decided to finally tell me he was married, or when the bastards decided to tell lies about me) Jason asked him, "who will analyze the exercises for us?"
And Byron said, "That's the job of our assessments division"
Which was, as Jason knew, a bad answer and something of a joke if it wasn't so tragic.

But Tony and Jason brought their families for pizza tonight at Eve's invitation. They were so kind and respectful of my work. I couldn't have asked for two better men to be there. I have worked closely with both of them. I have given them my best effort when they needed it. No matter what they hear from anyone else, they will trust in my work and my professionalism. They will not support the rumor mill.

I suppose the only people whose opinion matters to me are the men and women who already know and respect me.

With the quarters gone, I used the loose euro coins to buy everyone gelato.