For those of you not in the know, and for those of you who don't actually care, I just wanted to announce that after five long and painful years full of deserts, early-morning Physical Training, and having to wear the same outfit everyday, I'm finally out of the army. Yes, it's true. I'm out, free, excaped, liberated, just plain gone!
"But wait," you might be saying to yourself, "what kind of sick, twisted, pinko-commie pervert would be happy to leave the fine institution of the American military (motto: A tradition of heritage)? Has Joshua dropped the ball in doing his duty protecting this country from threats both domestic and abroad? What happens if Canada finally invades? What will we do? Has the whole world gone mad?! I'm so disillusioned!"
To which I say, firstly, don't talk to yourself so much. And secondly, yes to questions two and five.
For you see, some dream of joining the military. They go through life surrounded by the wonderful majesty that is only available because of the sacrifice of soldiers, (you know, stuff like drive-thru liquor stores. Who's the genius who came up with that idea and doesn't see the inherent conflict of interests in that concept!) and looking up to service members as heroes and idols. Then, when they finally graduate high school (or get their Good Enough Diploma) they rush off to join the army and serve a life filled with honor, discipline and military something-or-other.
I fall into that group of people who think the exact opposite. From the minute I joined I couldn't wait to get out and be free to do the things I like to do, like...watch t.v., ummmm, sit on my ass and do nothing and refer to people by their first name!
Oh and if you're wondering what my motivation was for joining the army in the first place, please feel free to refer to "It takes a helping hand" May 26th. It explains what little options I had other than living in a cardboard box for the rest of my life and enjoying long theological discussions with imaginary beings from other dimensions.
So, anyway, I have a wee small problem. After five years of planning and hoping and enacting secret, arcane occult rituals, I didn't actually take the time to figure out what I'm actually going to do when I get out!
Which means that I'm open to suggestions on what I should do with myself, if anybody's got 'em. At this point beggars can't be choosers, so a brainstorming session is just what I need. Oh, and if anybody in the D.C. area has any need for a sarcastic writer, hit me up. I'm more fun to be around than a smallpox infection!
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