Don't fear death...just avoid the hell out of it... THE STORY OF MY ATTACK

Some of you may or may not know of the recent events that took place to me on the night of St. Patrick's. For those of you who know...here are the details. For those of you who know nothing...don't be shocked my life is a flurry of unbelieveable events. I don't wish it any different. Why? Every experience gives me a greater empathy and understanding of things I thought I never would or could know. Like with all experiences difficult, or sad, it makes you truely apprieciate the days that don't have anything like what I am about to tell you happen to anyone you know. REMEMBER: Every day is a day you never get back. It may or may not be your last. Don't go out without knowing that you did everything you could to be the best you you know how, tell those around you that you love them, especially days you are angry. This could have been you, your story, it could be your last story...it nearly was mine.

HIS NAME IS CAMERON EVANS. And the hate in his eyes is burned in my mind.

The guy was nuts. I began to learn that as the night progressed. He was a new guy on security, 38 days on. I began talking to him at the begining of the night. Thats when the wierdness began.

Earlier that day I was at a party with a bunch of firefighters. They were swimming, laying out, and then everyone went inside and had BarBQ. I left and went and emailed people. When I returned outside I only found Aaron sitting on his porch smoking a cig. I joined him and we sat and talked for an hour or two. WE saw Marty's old roomate Jason and he came by, "Hey I'm having a BarBQ and you two are welcome to stop over. Its small and invite only." With this comment I was interested. I hadn't really been social since I came back from Xmas break. I go to the gym, read, cook, email, and go to the gym. So, I figured it was time to climb out of my cave and interact again. Jason's girlfriend was there along with a large # of women which is rare for any get together. It was quite nice. Enter Cameron.

About 5'10 200lbs and in good shape, he had the midwestern boy ruggish good looks and a welcoming smile. Cameron Evans came from Tulsa, OK. He was a carpenter there since getting out of the Army 3 years ago. He asked questions about becoming a firefighter, we talked about carpentry unions and how WI's was taken over by Chicago, and how being a firefighter was a great deal.

We spent plenty of time talking and him flirting, but when there are 8 guys for every woman here, its a normal thing. You learn to get used to it, you grow to expect it, and every night many of us fall asleep hating it. I never had attention like this back home, it makes me uncomfortable here. I never knew how bad it would get, it was never like this when Marty was here and if it did I had blinders on, I barely saw it.

The first time I knew something was a little off was when I went back to my house the first time to get something to drink...he asked if he could come with. I saw no danger in that. We stood at my house, talking for sometime. He told me about his time in the infantry, fighting the Iraq war. He showed me the scars, where the schrapnel still was. I heard about his 7 friends who lost their lives. There was something vulnerable about him, something that interested me. He kissed me and the first time was sudden and unexpected but not threatening. We walked back to the party and I mingled away from him, chatting with friends, making new ones. It was refreshing to have other women to talk to.

As the night went on I returned to my house once again to retreive CD's. Again he asked if he could come with me and hey, I like someone to talk to, you all know I rarely shut up. So there we were, me picking out CD's and he becoming obsessed without my knowledge. When I stood up with my selection in hand he grabbed my face, solidly, with both hands, grinding his thumbs against my cheeks. He pulled me to him and began kissing me, harder, faster, obsessed. I treid pulling away but he just held tighter. I writhed my body away from his to pull my face back with it and once finally away I said, "What the hell are you doing?"

"I love you!" He grabbed me again. I starined my neck back, head turned to the side to keep any distance I could. "I love you!" He said again. You don't love me, you can't, this is wierd. "But, I love you, I love you...." Thats all he kept saying. I kept trying to be as polite as the situation could call for but got away waled to the door quickly and stammered. Let's go. I walked back to the party thoughly bewildered that this guy in just an hour had gone from what seemed harmless to very wierd. Back at the party he continued to try to kiss me and again I'd pull away and tell him to stop. Then he would, embarrassed, and I would go and talk to my friends. But, they all saw. It was getting wierd. I managed to avoid him the rest of the night minus the occasional brushing of my arm with his hand as he would walk by, eyeing me when I was with others.

I stood in a group talking and like lightning striking but a block away it happened. A fight broke out. Cameron flashed across the room at Jason because of something in a conversation I never became privy to. They flung against the wall, punching, nostrils flarred. They smashed a table, Cameron biting, they broke glass and were both bleeding from ther hands and their faces sprayed with blood.

Jason's friends grabbed his arms and with him held back and those being the only two males there, besides two puny Kuwaitis, Cameron continued punching Jason as he stood their defensiveless. I knew I might get hit, pushed down, mistaken for someone trying to fight him but out of fear for Jason and a strange pity for Cameron, I grabbed him and pulled him away. He fought to continue his barrage on Jason's face he tried to push for a second and then turned...on me.

At that instant Jason tried to kick Cameron away with all his might and ended up kicking me in the head. Thats when my memory becomes porous with the slight details alluding me. But, I will not forget being hit and covering my head from the blows I was flung on my back on the couch with him, his knees pressing in my pelvis, his hands squeezing my throat. I can't breathe. The feeling is unbelievable. First thought, this isn't real. Second thought, get the fuck off of me you asshole!

Jason stood, pressed against the wall by his friends as he screamed, "Look at the girl, look at the girl." He saw the whole thing. That was the first time he attacked me in that room. I don't know who pulled him off me. But it wasn't long until the second flash happened. He fought his way back to me, I still laying on the couch in shock. This time ontop of me screaming, "Take my elbow Bitch!" This is when I think he broke my nose. I was told he pounded me in the face with his elbow 4 or 5 times before they got him away from me again.

With my eyes blurred with tears and my shouts coming between the pants of panic they kicked him out of the house. With me head a mess, my face throbbing, and the fresh feeling of fingers around my throat. I just wanted to go home. Why me? I was embarrassed. If not for his impetuous attempts over and over again to kiss me, then by the beating I had just received. I just wanted to go home. I don't like seeming vulnerable, I hate crying infront of strangers, and I was pissed I had dressed up that night.

It was no mistake, he knew who I was. He didn't hit me accident. It was full on intent. I should have asked to be walked home. I should have asked for help. But you know me, proud, strong...stubborn.

Outside no one was around. I sobbed my way back to my porch and pulled the sliding glass door open. There he was again, behind me, what was he waiting for? I Yelled at him to leave, and a few explicatives followed. I went into my house and as I began to shut the door... he threw his arm in the gap between the two, his body followed... (to be continued)

Like sand through the hourglass...

so is my patience with this place.

I have lately been picked on...alot. Not in a joking way, not in a silly friendly way, but in a manner filled with the insecurity of others and ignorance enough to smother any intrest left to be here. As the people I have cared for have left so too has my passion lost its fuel to burn here. Friends move out, friends move away, friends move home, friends move on...

I am left with just my smoldering self, no flame exists. Just heat enough to recognise that at one time...the passion was strong. But, don't count me out. I am still dangerous, and brilliant...in the right situation. It could be more fuel in the form of progress here, perhaps the fresh air of a new friend, it could be the chemical reaction with another to cause a re-ignition...but I am still warm, alone.

Other captains have tried to "teach me lessons" or make me do thing because of "the principal" of things. But, they don't understand me, what I do, how I help, what my role is, or who I am...cause they never cared. All they see now is Meghan w/o Marty. When I was Meghan with Marty no one gave me undue trouble. I mean, I had Capt numb nuts for 6 mos. but no one gave me a hard time. But now, I am more active in the department, more vocal, burning with emptiness from what my life was to now is... I have done more good. And have been subject to more intolerance.

Let me give examples as my bland decriptions of how I feel don't convey whats going on...a finger painting holds no candle to the Mona Lisa...even if the finger painting has eyebrows.

I was yelled as presumtiously after confronting a captain who had singled me out to not get a car because (to make a long story short) I was not a team player. What he saw was me taking off in a car one morning, by myself after work. "That sneaky broad!" he must have thought. "How selfish, I'll teach her a lesson". While minutes before I was approached by a guy on the other shift who asked me if I would do just that...it seems someone had spilled booze inside the car the night before and it reeked, he and I agreed, no wanted anyone else getting in trouble. I was asked not to tell my shiftmates either. So there she was...that bitch...taking off alone in a car, only to go home and clean it for two hours to save the hide of an unknown co worker. I got no thanks...just warm glares on the back of my neck for a week...but never in the face.

Next, I drove in to work and it was a great morning. My routine of getting to work an hour & 1/2 early to do 1 hour of cardio wakes me up, gets me in a good mood, and makes me feel better about myself. But that spirit died 5 min after role call. I was told by three different captains (too many chiefs, too few indians) to go wash the car. I remember it being clean this morning when I got in it at the gym. Wow, I feel bad, so I thought. I walked up to the captain taking the car home (let me paint a pic for you...this guy has tatoos to his wrists, pierced ears, is just fugly, and is about 75 lbs over weight, when we go to the gym, he goes to the library, welcome to the world of Chad). I hold the keys out to give them to him, he scoffs,"I don't want them". "Do you really want your car washed, Chad?" As I walk up I see 6 dead bug spots on it. I think its a joke, or the asshole who confronted me earlier was just being a prick. He's the one who habded me the keys to go wash it, he had no reason to have the keys, he had nothing to do with the car. I come to find out there was some pow wow about taming the rebellious girl. Yeah, piss off. Anyways, I pick up the 100ft of hose I just recently purchased for the FD and the $25 nozzle and begin to sing out loud, "I am washing a clean car, with my own hose and nozzle...and everyone thinks this is fine. You all stand around me as I'm washing and scrubbing oh what a good girl am I?" Then my hero, captain, friend Phil comes up as they all stand around and says why is she washing a clean car. Chad the piece of white trash...did I mention his collection of Nazi memorobilia or the confederate flag tatoos??? say, "It's about the principle." They stare, I scrub, I splash they stare and what could be going through their heads as Phil tells me he's going to wash the car...out of principle. "Meghan, go check your pack, this is stupid I'll finish." So I turn over my tools and go on with my regular shift work. I can see out the truck window now, their faces, gnarled. "What the fuck, where's she going? Phil, why isn't she washing the car?" I can read these things darting off their lips as the pressure bell on my airpack rings out in opposition. As Phil points out their idocracy the crowd disperses, they get in their cars, and they leave.

Assholes!I may have not taken my hose off the wall and put it back in my room and asked them what do you want me to wash your car with...but I did sneak back later and steal back my $25 nozzle!

But today, and everyday, maybe to escape more crap, maybe to say thanks to Phil. I come in, I smile, I lend them towels, I share my food, I pull extra work...but you better bet your ass I write down everything they do that is wrong. Date, time, who, what, where, why, how...the pen will always be mightier than the hose!

Comments

I love them, but get so few. SO feel free to leave 'em. Heck I'm not asking for your money...yet. Thanks mom. Your comments help me step back and take another look at the rat race in my head. Loves!

When you look out at the world you see your hands...never your own face.

So, the time to come home gets closer and closer. I can feel it, like an ache when it rains. Its not always there…but when it is its strong. There’s something immediately exciting about being far from family and friends. Its intrigues them, its new to you. Around every corner life remains unpredictable. Its scary and dangerous, exciting and new. Some people you meet you love and others…? Well, eventually, no matter where you go, it becomes familiar, predictable, and to some that’s addicting. I have seen many a men come here, leave families and life behind, and pretend that whats here is real only till they go home. Its kinda like going to Vegas or Spring Break for some. But, I like my reality, my life.

So what once was a shiny silver bracelet which amazed the crowds has now dulled and tarnished and is almost a disgrace. The bracelet is now worn and sometimes jagged, scratching, irritating the skin beneath and everytime you look around you see it. You walk around unable to see your own face, all you see are your hands…and your bracelet.

So its time for my departure from here. That which was once was a land of intriguing sites, sounds, and people is nothing more than the desert that it is. The smiles on peoples faces I used to smile back at, I recognize as fake. The trust I have in those around me slips through my fingers. But the faith I have in myself remains strong because I know, when I come home, I am a better me. Stronger, smarter, more loving and able to be loved…the harsh winds of Kuwait have not destroyed me rather has taken off many of my sharp edges and carved a better person, friend, sister, woman…and the only thing I can think about at night before I fall asleep is…coming back to all of you.

Beep beep beep beep... UPDATE!!!!!!

Ok, so to my readers who have been with me this whole journey, I thank you, and to you new readers who I tend to pick up like a snowball down a hill does occasionally gets some yellow snow, thanks for joining and welcome.

Kathy, the woman from Whales (I can't help but think of the word "San Diego" when I write Whales, Anchorman) has found her diamond! Phewww! We were all holding our breaths Kath, way to go!

My front tooth has gotten very self conscious about her new look and has decided to do something cosmetically to enhance herself. She is now got herself a porclein crown, she was too proud to wait to gt back to the states, but I say, "hey you only get one chance to make a first impression Darla!" Thats what I've named my front right tooth. She's pretty, not that she wasn't before, but now she can go out in the world and just live it up without a care. o more worries that she wasn't as bright and flawless as the other girls..er teeth. Ok thats it.

Welome new reader Erin. Meet the rest of the gang who you'll...never meet.
Casey, Keara, Neil, Jan, Meghan (PS you know her), Erika, Lauren, Steve 1, Steve 2, Patrick, Doug (he is my blog's biggest fan 2005, the rest of you keep your eyes peeled for the MeghaninKuwait blog biggest fan competition 2006..there are fabulous prizes to be had...I am serious!), Uncle John, Teeza stops by now and again, Monkey???do you read this???, Uncle Tim, Debbie, Lisa,Nora Cay, Steph, Moni, Bridget, Baxter bark twice if you are in Milwaukee, and if I forgot anyone please let me know...I am sure I did. I know some people have had friends of friends start reading this, which is flattering and scary all rolled up into one deliscious finger food. I'd like to say hi to you also.

Ok, to the gym with you thighs!

The single life here is like living in a field of icebergs.

So,

Everyone says that being alone and getting back to independant is good. Maybe that's true when you are in your own country. Maybe its true period. But I don't like it. You know me, I like having someone to share everything with. Its like that silly question, "If a tree falls in the woods, and no one is around to hear it...does it make a sound?"



The answer is no. Yes, the tree falls, and causes sound waves. But, in order for sound waves to become sound they have to be perceived by a hearing organism.



So, if Meghan is in the world and becomes this better person and grows, changes, and improves who she is, but noone is around to watch it happen then does the next person ever know that it happened? No, they see the end product like the man walking in the woods sees a fallen tree. That still doesn't let him hear it.



I'm not making any sounds right now. That bothers me some.

Dating here is like living on a field of Icebergs. Yes, there are plenty, and yes they are evrywhere, but not one is grounded. They all have way more under the surface than above. Half the time you can't see them coming. They destroy things in their path and don' have any regret...they are on their way, have no way of steering themselves in the direction they want to go, hell, who's ever met an iceberg that cared where it went. It just keeps going until one day when its been around so long that it is worn into a lack of existence...and no one even remembers it was around. Now there's just more space or other icebergs to haphazardly exist.

I am looking for an island, my rock. Something grounded, knows where it belongs, has nothing to hide, and is flurishing, on many levels. I just hope this boat of mine lasts until I can spot land.

That gives, "Land Ho!" a whole new meaning.

Those CPR dummy babies aren't as innocent as they look...

Ok, fantastic... most people have nightmares that their teeth are falling out. I truely live that nightmare. Yesterday when teaching a CPR class I was hit in the mouth by a CPR baby dummy. I got a fat lip, a few tars in the eye but no big deal. Hell I did it to myself, luckilly no one saw. It was momentarilly embarrassing until I noticed I was alone.

The next day at the gym I bit my nail for some strange reason and *click*. No, if had fake nails on I would have figured that what the chip in my mouth was. But, I wasn't that lucky. I had broken my front right tooth in half. Boy, that is a hot look or me. One of the girls here said it gave my face some character, YEAH, it gave my face the character of some redneck woman from as small town in south east America who can't afford dental work cause her 7 shoeless babies are going hungrey.

That's not the "character" I was ever looking for. So I have an appointment on Sunday..that's right I get to be Sally Mae Bubba Bertha Greenjeans for the next couple of days. Oh well, I have no one to impress here.

So, I hope you all get a good laugh. If a picture is worth a 1000 words then the pic in your mind of what I look like is PRICELESS!