||[Apr. 27th, 2004|11:28 pm]
|||||Brad Paisley - "You'll Never Leave Harlan Alive"||]|
I’m sitting here trying to think of the best way to kick this journal off, but all I can focus on is why I’ve even begun to write in the first place. To me, the thought of an online journal brings back pretty horrible memories from high school, where hilarity and petty drama stemmed from the over-analysis of journal entries. However, after spending a month or two living vicariously through the livejournal entries of my friends at ‘normal college’, I’m convinced that writing might be good for me.
I say ‘normal college’ because the last 10 months of my life have been anything but. While most people my age spent their senior summer on road trips, at crazy parties, or by the beach, I was crawling through mud and ripping apart a stuffed dummy with a bayonet. While the majority of my classmates around the country slept in, partied late, and wore jeans, I’ve woken up at 0600 everyday, worked late, and worn the same damn blues week after week. Along the way, I’ve picked up more than your fair share of cadet cynicism. Some of the things I have to do here sound absolutely riduculus if I would spell them out one by one, but I’ve become so used to it all that it doesn’t really register anymore. For example, if you spent the whole summer not being able to go to the bathroom by yourself, or your entire first semester of college running to class with your backpack in your left hand, wouldn’t you be a little bitter? Personally, I don’t even think twice about it. That’s how indoctrinated I’ve become, living with so many standards and rules. Of course, if you adapt and learn to take it all in stride, you’ll spend every minute of every day complaining about your life. I don’t know about your schedule, but I’m only able to spare two hours a day to bitch about my life.
I figure I’ve got a couple entries to catch everyone up on more of the day to day hilarity here at America’s Institution of the Best and Brightest, so I’ll jump back to the most important event of late. Two weekends ago our class was ‘Recognized’, which basically means that while I’m still a 4 degree (freshman), I’m not a sub-human subservient underling. Well, mostly. Anyway, I can now wear civies (civilian clothes) when I leave the base, and I can visit other squads (go to other dorms and floors not my own), among other things. I’m not sure how I feel about completing this year. It was supposed to be the toughest year of my life, and looking back, I can think of so many times that rate as more than enough to convince me that it really was the toughest, but something doesn’t quite feel right. I’m not sitting here with this huge extended sigh of relief, and I don’t feel like a huge weight has been lifted off my chest. Should I? Maybe I’ve just gotten good at forgetting some of the worst stuff that we went through. Sometimes this place can get to you.
It’s time for today’s moment of Academy brilliance. The United States Air Force pays a 43 year old man a full Colonel’s salary to walk around lunch tables and ensure that Cadets have their napkins in the proper place on their lap, and that they do not have their elbows on the table. To commit either one of these two deadly sins of dining would result in a special remedial training session in etiquette on Saturdays. Talk about a waste of taxpayer money.
I’ve got a lot of stuff to rant about, and I’m sure I’ll get to it all in time. Girls, uniforms, morning formation, school, passes, owning a car, random room inspections, etc. I’ll be sure to get to all of them.
So I’ve started. The real test of time is how long I can keep this up. In a place where time is my most valuable resource, the competition can get thick.