Iraq Taking a Mental Toll, Growing Weary

Sept 30, 2003

I am emerging from several weeks of deep depression. I’m laying in my bed listening to BBC trying to drown out Quintin Terentino’s “Reservoir Dogs” being watched by my roommates – another mindless movie lacking even the slightest eloquence, but overflowing with profanity and violence. My generation is shit – absolute shit. Masses of mindless youth. I don’t belong here. I don’t understand it. Anyways – I am not going to write much today.
The birthday package that I sent you has not arrived yet. It has been over a month. My journal from Italy to July is in that box. So are 6 hours of video – where I did skits and funny shows for you. Also all the pictures I took since coming to Iraq. I can’t believe it. I’m broken over it. Then, over 20 pages of front and back (so actually 40 pages) letters, a card of 4 pages of art and poetry, a large picture I drew you, one purse, 2 shirts from Tariq’s mom that were very nice, 2 plates in bronze, cakes, Iraqi passport, coins, money, a multinational adapter for our travel. The art, the poems, the letter were all so important. My journal too – I can’t believe it’s gone. Hopefully it will get to you. I am so upset about it Nora – it makes me sick. I love you. I am going to try to sleep.