mychai's Diaryland Diary

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MEPS pt. 5 --OR-- "Welcome to the military, kid" pt. 2

Well, it's official. I'm in.

I have signed on the proverbial dotted line. (And, surprisingly enough, it is an actual dotted line.) I got sworn in during a relatively somber and well-done ceremony.

I am no longer owner of my own skin.

Ever do something -- like jump off a cliff, for instance -- and think just as you stepped off, "Damn. I'm not so sure that was the best idea." I got that feeling as soon as I saw my name on said dotted line. It's more of a hollow feeling.

Like "oops."

But I'm sure it will all be good. I hardly ever mention religious ideas on here. You know... about as much as I mention them in real life. Surprisingly enough, I am quite spiritual. I just direct my spirituality internally as much as a lot of people direct it externally. But this is one of the things that I feel is right. I have faith that it is going to work out for the best.


Now, that being said...

I'm a bit -- nay, a LOT -- pissed off. Mostly at myself. Mostly at the idiot I was several years ago. Why, you ask?

Because one stupid mistake I made about six years ago kept me from getting the job I most wanted from any job the Air Force offers.

I'm speaking of a bill I didn't pay when I first moved up here many years ago. I simply didn't have the money, and the bill went into collections.

One. Lousy. Bill.

This affected my security clearance enough so that I couldn't take the linguistics job. You know... the one where I would spend a year in Monterey, California. Where the average summer temperature is 70?

I sure hope God wasn't listening to my internal dialogue when I was told all of this. If so, he got an earfull. Oh, well. God made dirt, so dirt don't hurt.

I thought about just saying, "Forget the whole thing. I'll find a job on my own." But I felt I have gone this far, and I have a lot invested in this whole Air Force bid. So, I continued on with all of the final processing.

It ended up that I took a job as a meteorologist.

And I am a bit ashamed, to be honest. I'm sure it will be a great job, but I... I... I dunno. I just feel like I lost out on something good because I fucked up.

Which is exactly what happened.


But, on the good side...

I will have only 17 weeks of tech school, compared with the nearly 68 weeks as a linguist. And tech school will be located in beautiful Keesler AFB in Biloxi, Mississippi.

A mere hour from Momma's good home cookin'.

And there's a good chance I will be stationed there as well. But for at least 17 weeks, I'll be surrounded by casinos, motorcycles, and incredible polymer scientists named Lisa.

So, that's not all too bad.

Oh. And I don't ship out until May 27 of next year. This means I can finish this whole year of school. Which means I will have less than 20 hours of school left before I graduate. Which means I'll be an officer within a year.

Which means MONEY. Loads and loads of money!

Ok. Not that much. But still... people will have to salute me and call me sir. Which is better than money.

...

Yeah. You're right. Not really.

11:19 p.m. - Thurs., Sept. 26, 2002

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