In the middle of the night last night, I began to wonder if becoming a Foreign Service Officer was right for me. I began to have doubts.
Why, you ask? Is it that possible threat that you face, bombs exploding, being caught in a war zone, being kidnapped or killed?
Nope.
Is it that you would have little control over your life, down to even what furniture you have, being thrown into the winds on someone else's command?
Not really.
Or, could it possibly be the job itself, having to defend policies you don't agree with, dealing with insane managers, insane employees, and being thrown in to tasks that you have little experience or preparation for.
Not so much.
It is the heat. Or the possibility of heat.
Siberia I can handle. Antartica even. But the Sahara? I might go insane.
This all comes up because we are having a heatwave in Seattle. Seattle, where it constantly rains, and so no one has an air conditioner. Including myself. I found myself at 1 am, sticking my head in the freezer, returning to my warm bed with two fans propped up to cover me, laying with a ziplock bag of ice cubes in rotating sections of my body. I checked, and it was 80 degrees. At one in the morning.
I began to feel like I couldn't breath. I worried that I was about to pass out. And I was lying down. I thought maybe I would die. The thoughts in my head just made things worse, and I could feel my temperature rising in my panic. Back to head in freezer.
And I thought, could I really handle Iraq? The Congo? Hell, even DC? This puts all my plans into jeopardy. Hell, throw a bomb at me, as long as I can sleep in an air conditioned apartment, or walk home in the rain! But dear god, keep me away from the desert. And what if I end up in an arid country where I have to wear a headscarf, or dress modestly? Just the idea makes the thought of becoming a nudist quite tempting. Even if I did have to look at scary, naked middle aged pot bellies. And other furry creature appendages.
If Global Warming goes in to full effect, I am SCREWED.
Why, you ask? Is it that possible threat that you face, bombs exploding, being caught in a war zone, being kidnapped or killed?
Nope.
Is it that you would have little control over your life, down to even what furniture you have, being thrown into the winds on someone else's command?
Not really.
Or, could it possibly be the job itself, having to defend policies you don't agree with, dealing with insane managers, insane employees, and being thrown in to tasks that you have little experience or preparation for.
Not so much.
It is the heat. Or the possibility of heat.
Siberia I can handle. Antartica even. But the Sahara? I might go insane.
This all comes up because we are having a heatwave in Seattle. Seattle, where it constantly rains, and so no one has an air conditioner. Including myself. I found myself at 1 am, sticking my head in the freezer, returning to my warm bed with two fans propped up to cover me, laying with a ziplock bag of ice cubes in rotating sections of my body. I checked, and it was 80 degrees. At one in the morning.
I began to feel like I couldn't breath. I worried that I was about to pass out. And I was lying down. I thought maybe I would die. The thoughts in my head just made things worse, and I could feel my temperature rising in my panic. Back to head in freezer.
And I thought, could I really handle Iraq? The Congo? Hell, even DC? This puts all my plans into jeopardy. Hell, throw a bomb at me, as long as I can sleep in an air conditioned apartment, or walk home in the rain! But dear god, keep me away from the desert. And what if I end up in an arid country where I have to wear a headscarf, or dress modestly? Just the idea makes the thought of becoming a nudist quite tempting. Even if I did have to look at scary, naked middle aged pot bellies. And other furry creature appendages.
If Global Warming goes in to full effect, I am SCREWED.
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