Music and homework

Is it possible to dream music? I stare wide eyed at the ceiling some nights with invisible song lyrics flying past my eyes, a melody in my head and a rhythm in my heart. I can hear all the different parts of the song but I can never seem to play them when I want to. Its like the music man inside of me is trapped. I sat down and starting doing a rough recording last night. I can't seem to make my voice do on a mic what it does when I'm playing live. It is strange. I would have finished recording the song but I had another engagement to attend to. Scott and I are doing a song for the singles ward talent show. It is going to be EPPIC! If only he could decide on a part for the solo we would be set.

My recording sessions were doing great while school was out. I actually had time to write, record, and edit; but now all I have time for is work and school. I am only taking 12 credit hours. I should be able to keep up with this kind of thing. I guess some things just have to wait for the right time. Hopefully I will have some time to record this weekend, assuming I get done with my homework. I want to give away a few CD's with my songs on it at the talent show. Maybe I would be able to build a better fan base.

Update on life

I've been really bad at updating blogs. I update this almost as much as I write in my journal. I guess keeping records of things was never really my strong suite.

I currently work as the day shift supervisor of security at The Gateway. It has its ups and downs. I like the work but am not a huge fan of the hours I have. I wish I could have a more normal schedule. I work Thursday-Sunday and don't have much time to be able to make it to church. Fortunately I was able to go last Sunday and even taught the Sunday School lesson. I think it went well. There was a lot of material to cover in a short amount of time. I didn't even get to lightly brush some of the topics.

My best friend Scott Fisher bought a house finally and we are currently waiting for the people living in it to move out so we can start the long process of painting, carpeting, cleaning, and moving in. I can't wait to finally move out. It is something I've wanted to do since I got home from my mission. Once you live out on your own its very hard to go back to living with parents. I am grateful they let me for a while though so I could save up some money so I won't be scraping by and barely making ends meet while I live with Scott.

I've been writing a lot of songs lately. I have enough good ones I would like to at some point professionally record a full CD. I already have the CD title picked out and everything. The songs touch on deep personal subjects to me. They talk of love and loss and even death. It isn't mainstream music that someone could just turn the radio on and hear. It is music someone needs to search for and enjoy in their own private way. The songs are personal enough that I can put my whole heart into them but aren't so specific that others can't relate to them.

I'm still in the Army National Guard and am enjoying my time with fellow comrades and still despising the way the government runs things. The motto of the armed forces is still and will always be Hurry up and Wait. Its a wonder we win wars.

That's all for now. Hopefully someone reads this at some point. Leave a comment if you want...that way I'll know you were here.

Army Life Part 3

Basic Training

When most people think of basic training, they think of a bunch of new soldiers dressed in their brand new uniforms getting off of a bus and immediately being yelled at by a bunch of drill sergeants. All of us had thought that would be our fate, in fact, some of us hoped for it. I knew I was looking forward to trying to keep a straight face while a drill sergeant acted his best to look pissed off at the new group of privates he would have to lead. I was so hoping that it would be like the movies. It wasn’t. Talk about boring. We piled on to a bus first thing Monday morning and nervously waited for it to arrive at our basic training area. When the bus arrived, there weren’t even any drill sergeants around. No one was yelling at us to get off the bus, no one was there to make us feel dumb. I was disappointed. Instead, they were all lined up in the area where the company was supposed to form up. We ran over to our spot thinking that if we didn’t that we would get dropped and have to do pushups. Instead of getting dropped and yelled at, we were told to take off all our patches (name tag, US ARMY tag, American flag, etc.) and remove any watches and dog tags we had. After removing all those items we placed them in our patrol caps on top of our duffel bags that we removed from the bus. After doing all of this, we were told to follow the drill sergeants. I started to look around me, and it turned out that we were standing outside of a big obstacle course. The drill sergeants started running and we followed them. We jumped over hurdles, and walked on balance beams. We even had to go across monkey bars. That was an experience all in its own. I got to go first at least. It took me a few seconds to cross all of them. Some people couldn’t make it all the way and had to start again. Some people couldn’t even hang from the monkey bars. What a joke! We also had to climb a rather large cargo net and then climb down the other side. It was a fairly simple task yet it took some people a long time to do it. One person even cried when she got to the top. It wouldn’t have killed her if she had fallen. There was shredded rubber underneath incase she fell, and it was only about 20 feet high. By the time we finished, most people were out of breath. It was pathetic. After we got done we had to put all our patches and dog tags back on and grab our duffel bags. In addition to having duffel bags, we had backpacks and a laundry bag filled with all of our stuff. If the backpack was black or green then we could wear it on our back. If it wasn’t black or green, we had to carry it in our right hand and hold our duffel bag in our left. My bags were heavy but it wasn’t that bad. We marched about a mile while carrying all our stuff. There was one person there that was dying all the way to the company area. I rolled my eyes most of the time when she came into my view. Her name was Specialist Eversole. Eversole only had to carry a duffel bag because she had a green backpack she could wear. She would constantly drop her bag as she walked down the hill to the company area. She was sweating like crazy and looked like she was going to pass out. The drill sergeants found their target.

Eversole is one of those people that one might ask God why he allowed her to live for such a long time on this earth. She supposedly had a master degree in some type of science, and was apparently very smart. Unfortunately for her, she lacked everything else vital to life. I am still wondering to this day how she arrived at MEPS to get processed and then somehow survived the plane ride to South Carolina. If a butterfly flew past, she would stare at it and watch it like a 4 year old might do. Simple commands confused her. If a drill sergeant would give a command that was slightly more than simple, she would look at him the way a cow might look at an oncoming train.

We did eventually arrive at the company area. We formed up and checked to make sure everyone arrived alive. We were then told to quickly find our official army green duffel bag. We brought it back to our formation area and were then told to dump it out. Once again we were having a shake-down. They sorted out anything that they considered contraband and threw it away. Anything that was not considered contraband, but was not basic training approved, went into a personal belonging pile. We then put all our personal belongings into our personal bag and locked it into a storage closet. During this same time, we were allowed to make one call on our cell phone to anyone we wanted. The call would be 3 minutes long. I called home but no one answered. Oh well, I’ll just write them later, I thought. We were then handed a plastic sandwich bag and told to write our name on it. We then put our cell phone into the bag and it went into a locked office. We wouldn’t see that again until family day after 10 weeks of training.

Army life part 2

Re-read the last paragraph of part one. More has been added.

After finishing breakfast, we were told to form up outside again. It was now around 0530 and still dark. We still couldn’t form up by last name in alphabetical order. Once again, the air was filled with obscenities and rapid fire insults. Finally we were in alphabetical order and ready to start the day. We were escorted through various buildings until we finally arrived at a large hall. We filled out some more paper work and then were taken to get haircuts. I was bald at the time and didn’t need one. Did this mean I could move onto the next station for further processing into the army? Of course not! It just meant I had the opportunity of waiting for 59 other soldiers to get their haircuts and come out and sit on the bench I was waiting on. After about an hour of waiting we were taken into another room to get our money card so we could buy some supplies. It was the army’s way of giving us a pay advance so we could have soap and tooth paste and shaving cream. Once we received this card, we were taken back to the area where we had received our haircuts. The barber wanted money! Everyone who got their hair cut had to cough up five bucks! I’m glad I shaved my head before I left. I honestly couldn’t believe that a mandatory haircut was costing these people money. Five bucks later we were taken to another building where we would be issued our military attire. This includes the Army Combat Uniform, boots, belt, under garments, shirts, and socks. The place where these clothes are issued is in a cave in the building we were in.

We were taken to a room with no windows once again. Civilians are the ones responsible for making sure we were issued everything accordingly. These civilians are the type that can’t get a normal job. They are missing most of their teeth, smell like dipping tobacco, and look like they haven’t bathed in a while. Of course they had to flash their coffee stained three toothed smile at us as we passed. I guess they get their pleasure by seeing new soldiers about to wet themselves from fear of the unknown. We were issued our clothing, tried it on, and then shoved it into the green duffel bag they issued us. We then proceeded to get our boots. The people who size our boots are from a different region of hell than most demons come from. They snarl at you when you tell them it doesn’t fit right. They look at you like you are stupid and then ask you if you know where your toes end. After giving them a prompt “yes” and telling them you need a bigger size, they roll their eyes and then tell you that the boots are supposed to fit snug. Unless you ask if your toes are supposed to be bent in the toe while walking they won’t give in to your cries. I was sized as a 9.5 boot when my foot was measured by the “professional”. I had been in the army for six months by this point and knew that wasn’t my boot size. I went up to a size 10.5 and finally found a fit. It was ridiculous and the boot lady argued with me the whole time telling me that they were going to be too big. I might add here that I never once got a blister from my boots that were allegedly too big. Other people suffered the fate from the wrath of the demons and had many blisters because they had “snug” fitting boots. I’m sure the boot ladies worked for the devil for many years in order to get that position.

We received a few other things such as eye protection, a stencil to put your name on things, and instructions on how to close your duffel bag (the army is made for idiots.) We were then taken to the little store to buy supplies that we would need (little did we know that we would be spending several hundred dollars there). We had a list that we had to follow so we would be ready for basic training. We had to buy spandex for our PT (physical fitness) shorts, combination locks, a hygiene bag, flip flops, a flashlight with a red lens, batteries, paper, pens, towels, wash cloths, and running shoes. The running shoes came as a shock. They weren’t even all that great and still cost 80 bucks. I learned a marching cadence a while back that mentioned that the army gives a hundred dollars and takes back 99. In no time the evil civilians had our money in their pockets again and we were left broke and shocked. We drudgingly went outside to where we had placed our duffel bags and waited for everyone to finish. The drill sergeant then marched us back to our bay to drop our things off in our locker. By now it was lunch time. We had lunch and then who knows what we did afterwards. Based on my memory I believe we filled out more paperwork and waited around some more.

The next day we woke up bright and early again and cussed at each other while we tried to be in formation by 4:15 in the A.M. This time we were dressed in our army combat uniforms and boots. We were starting to look like soldiers. It was freezing outside, so we had fleece caps on, and our jacket that was issued to us. We also had our retarded green gloves they issued us. They were leather and not designed for cold weather. We were still cold. We were then escorted into the army chapel (a big room with lots of seats arranged like a high school assembly hall). We filled out some more paper work and were then told to take off our tops. We removed the outer top and were left sitting in our tan army shirt. We were given alcohol swabs and then told to wipe down both shoulders and our triceps. Today was immunization day! Yay for needles! We were then escorted back into that God forsaken room with no windows and the rubber floor. This time the devil had brought his torture devices with him. I’ve been poked with needles in the past and normally don’t have huge issues with them. The difference between the civilian world and the Army is how the needles are inserted. In the civilian world you get to sit down while getting poked and you are warned about the injection as well as the needle is pulled out slowly to prevent bleeding. In the army you stand in an assembly line and walk past the various stations and get poked as fast and deep as physically possible. This usually amounts to blood rolling down one’s arm and onto the rubber floor. Drill sergeants and staff sergeants alike hate it when blood gets on their floor. They yell at the bleeders to grab gauze (about the size of a quarter), and then proceed to the next station where they poke you again and cause bleeding. It is a never ending battle. Several people almost fainted because of the shots. I, however, did not faint. We then stood in a line behind a computer and told the person our social security number (which has been told so much since I’ve been in the army that I think the world may know what it is better than me) so that she could record that we got poked by Hell’s minions with needles entirely too long for the required task.

Getting injected by needles takes a lot longer than one might think. While I was in a platoon of about 60 soldiers, I was in a company of around 300 soldiers. All of us went through everything mentioned prior to this moment at or around the same time. This is why it takes so long to do everything.

After we got shots we were sent back to our barracks/bay for clean up time. They call it bay maintenance. All this really entails is five guys cleaning and a hundred others lying around on their bunks. Some may read and ask why no one else was helping out. Well, in the army you are issued a mop, a bucket, a broom, a trash can, a rag, and that’s about it. How well can 100 soldiers clean with only 5 items? This meant it was nap time for me. I cleaned the day before so figured I could get out of it this time. I slept for a couple hours. Later on it was lunch time and we were taken by a sergeant to the anti-dining dining facility. We entered hell’s kitchen again and proceeded to stand at attention and parade rest until it was time to actually choose our food. Thankfully the army boils all their food and you can swallow it with little to no chewing. After choking down my food I went outside to stand in formation. Of course I wouldn’t want to let any down and make them think that we changed our attitude today, we swore at each other as we got into formation. We were later marched back to our barracks by a drill sergeant.

Sometimes drill sergeants like to stand on a soap box and think of as many things to say as possible that a private will laugh at. Why you ask? So he can yell at them for laughing while at the position of breath and blink…err….I mean attention. He decided that he was sick of people cussing and swearing because we were too stupid to line up in a formation. He chose to assign someone from each platoon as a guide. In order to choose a good leader he had to observe each of us and ask silly questions. He asked who had been in the ROTC program. A few people raised their hand. He asked them a few questions which most answered correctly. There was one however who didn’t know the difference between his right and left. The drill sergeant proceeded to tell him that he was more screwed up than a football bat and had more holes in his head than a waffle ball. This of course got a laugh out of the group and then got us yelled at again. He told us not to laugh and then proceeded to drill the private. The private was then asked if he was smarter than a 5^th grader. Once again we laughed. We were starting to figure out the system though. They can’t smoke us until we pass our medical inspection. Oh the things we could get away with were slowly starting to come to our minds. The more we screwed off the madder the drill sergeant got. He couldn’t touch us though and we knew it. Eventually he gave up talking to us and dismissed us to our bay. We had to be back later around 2030 for bed check formation.

Once it was established that the drill sergeants were under our control, gangs began to form. My platoon was no longer the 61^st platoon in alpha company. We were now 61^st for life. Even though we would only be in this platoon for about five days. A private named Harris took it upon himself to become our fearless leader. He was usually the one yelling at other platoons and telling the entire company to shut the F up. He liked to take his shirt off and walk around the bay strutting his stuff. He was of African American decent. He was as black as they come and looked like a gorilla when he walked. He was a former drug dealer and was good at it. He wanted to leave that life and make a change. I highly doubt that though. I didn’t let him boss me around and I think he actually respected me for it. He of course always in passing would say “Hey Cebrowski, F*** you.” This of course was followed by a smile and a crap eating grin. I never took him seriously. He never threatened me or anything either.

2030 rolled around and it was time for formation. Cuss cuss, swear swear, shut up, attention, parade rest, attention, right face, left face, right race, count off, and a few commands later and we were done for the night. I talked with my friend on my cell phone for a little bit and decided I had better get to bed. The next morning we almost filed into formation like a group of soldiers should. There was still swearing of course. We were told that we would be passing off our medical requirements today. I was dreading it. I knew they were going to draw my blood, and I don’t do well with that. We were taken once again to the chapel and given our medical records with explicit instructions to not touch anything. We then were escorted to the medical facility around the corner. We filed in keeping our mouths shut. There was a group of benches right as one walks into the facility. We filed into the benches and were told to sit shoulder to shoulder 9 soldiers to a bench.

We were then told to fill out some information in the packet that we weren’t supposed to open. It was real simple stuff again like our SSN and a signature. People still managed to mess it up. They told us that in this building we would have our ears checked, our vision checked, our blood drawn, and X-rays for our teeth would be done as well. I am not exactly sure why they needed this again. We had done ears and vision and blood work when we enlisted. It seemed rather redundant. The only thing we truly needed was an X-ray of our teeth.

Before we could do any of this though we had to be issued appropriate ear plugs. They were weird looking. Almost like a spiral made of plastic that was supposed to cork screw the wax out of your ear. We were given explicate directions on how to put them in and how they should feel. We were then told to try them on. You have to load them into a handle and then pull your ear back in order to seat them correctly. The closest description of how it felt would be to compare it to sticking your finger much further up your nose than God had intended. Once I popped my ear cherry, I noticed how well they worked. I felt like I was in a sound proof room. The instructor kept talking to us but no one could hear anything. These would later be the end of some of my hearing in my left ear. That is for a later time though.

The weather in South Carolina is unpredictable. In the morning it is cold enough to give you frostbite, and in the afternoon it will give you heatstroke. We had not yet been issued canteens, and as a direct result we were starting to see some heat casualties. We couldn’t possible drink enough water with as many people as we had and only one drinking fountain. Oh well, I guess we work until we drop. I got my eyes checked. I could hardly read anything. He asked if I wore glasses. I told him no. He asked if I wanted glasses. I told him no. He said ok, and then wrote down that I had 20/20 vision. Works for me I guess.

The next stop for me was the hearing test. I usually passed these just fine and had nothing to fear. However, much like the dining hall line, we had to stand at an uncomfortable parade rest while in line. I started to lock my knees. I also looked up at the 2^nd guy in front of me and noticed how bad the barber had cut his hair. He had some big moles and the razor basically ripped them off. Even a day later he still had some dried blood on them. I then started to think about how the blood test was after the hearing test, and I couldn’t take it anymore. The lack of water, the locked knees, and the thought of blood and needles was too much. I simply told the person in front of me and the person in back of me that I was about to pass out. They thought I was joking…ha ha…the joke was on them. The next thing I know they were calling for a drill sergeant and I was being carried by several of the sergeants to a bed to lie in. I blacked out, but I didn’t drop my medical folder. Hooah! They gave me some water and soon I was back in line waiting to have my ears tested. After that I went to the room to get my blood drawn.

I really hate needles in my vein. I don’t care if they are in my shoulder, but in my vein is somehow very disturbing to me. Not just that, but I don’t like to be touched at all on that part of my arm, for any reason. I got to the front of the line and was strapped into a chair. I told the lady that I was going to pass out and she said she would keep me awake. She was quite good actually, and I only started to feel dizzy toward the end. She saw this and made me smell the ammonia thing she had about 12 times. I made it though and survived to tell the story. This concluded the events for the day. Thank goodness.

The rest of the time while we were at reception, we watched a lot of boring power point presentations illustrating the rules of training, and how to manage our finances. We eventually got to meet our potential drill sergeants for basic training. Some of them were scary and said that their sole goal in life was to put us in a hospital. That made me feel lovely inside. We also got to meet the First Sergeant of the company we would belong to. He was cool. He talked a lot about weapons. He also told us that two of us in the group of about 250 would have the opportunity to fire an Anti-tank rocket if we shot really really well. I wondered who would be the one to shoot that rocket.

On Sunday, we finally found out the name of at least one of our drill sergeants. His name was Drill Sergeant Osborn. He was way relaxed and cool. He didn’t treat us like idiots because he knew we hadn’t learned anything yet. He was patient and fun. He told us exactly what we needed to do on Monday when we would ship to the Basic Training side of the fort. He prepared us for success. I hoped that the rest of our drill sergeants would be like him. He got some information from us and made us fill out some papers in a folder he issued us. When we were done he took us to chow. When we finished we formed up outside and were told to pack our things and bring our bags downstairs. Finally we were almost out of hell. Reception prior to Basic training is the longest and worst part of basic training ever.

We got back to the bay that night and there had been a little too much excitement and testosterone building up. I made my final phone call to my friends and settled into bed. A few minutes later I heard a lot of yelling and then stomping. Then I heard punches. We turned the lights on and saw blood covering the floor. Some of the people on the other end of the bay got into a fight and decided to take it out on each other. A private notified one of the night sergeants and he came up to talk to us. We had now cleared medical. Our power was gone. I will never forget the words he said as soon as he saw the blood. FRONT LEANING REST POSITION MOVE! We all just sat there stunned that we were about to get dropped. We all got down into a push-up position and waited for the count to begin. He just held us there. He started to walk down the aisle and asked what happened. No one moved or responded. ONE! We lowered our bodies towards the ground. He held us there. If you don’t know how miserable this position is, go and try it. You won’t last long. I don’t care who you are.
“Somebody better start talking. I don’t like to smoke you guys, but I will tonight if I have to. I can make 10 pushups last all night. TWO!”

We pushed up, sweat starting to form on our brows. How long would it take for someone to answer? I would have responded, but I didn’t see it, didn’t have names, and didn’t want to be beat for turning anyone in later.
“THREE! Is anybody ready to talk yet? Can you feel the burn? How are you going to basic training tomorrow if you can’t move your arms? You’re all in for a rude awakening when you get there. FOUR!”
I was wishing someone would speak up. We had been in this position for four minutes already and the situation wasn’t getting any better. I couldn’t help but be reminded of the movie Full Metal Jacket as I was pushing. A smile started to come across my face and my resolve to endure the smoking came back. This sergeant couldn’t smoke me! He couldn’t smoke a rock! I pushed up and called the count. We successfully completed one pushup. He then sped the count up and we knocked out a few more. He slowed down a bit and had us in the down position when a private couldn’t take it anymore. “Pansy!” I thought.
“Sergeant, a few of us were having a pushup competition and one of the private’s arms gave out and he knocked his nose on the ground.”

Wow, this should be fun I thought.
“Shut off the lights, go to bed, and stop trying to fight each other!” The sergeant said. “All it would have taken was a f****** answer. Next time an NCO asks what happened, tell him something! Get this cleaned up and get into bed.”
He walked away and we were left to ourselves. The room was much warmer now, and everyone was covered in sweat. The rest of the night went fairly uninterrupted. Basic training here I come…

Army life part 1

It seems like my life revolves around self checkout terminals. All I do every single day is stand out in front of four fully automated machines while I wait for some ignorant person to screw something up. It wasn’t always like this of course. I’ve had my sense of adventure and interesting jobs too.

I remember one occasion in my past life when I worked as a concession stand clerk. I stocked the shelves and ran the register, made the smoothies and prepped the hot dogs. The hours weren’t bad either. Who can beat 11:00 in the morning to start a shift? It really wasn’t that great of a concession stand. My co-workers and I actually called it a snack shack. It was a shack that sat behind the local swimming people in a small Utah town. It had all the things a teenager could want in life at the time: freedom away from adults, a radio with included CD player, free time to read or play cards, and good company. The opening shift wasn’t so bad after the mid shift arrived at noon. At least then I had company. I even got to the point that I knew my customers by name and what they were going to order. The season pass holders for the pool almost always bought the same items with minor changes. It was a great job at the time but it just didn’t have the hours I needed.

A few months later and I found myself pushing shopping carts into the local grocery store in the heat of a late summer. The job gave me a one dollar an hour pay increase and about 8 more hours a week of work. Unfortunately, it didn’t have the same fun factor as my previous job. I usually pushed shopping carts for five or six hours a day while also cleaning up after cashiers and dirty customers. I eventually became a cashier because of all my hard work and effort. The job became monotonous after a while and I grew tired of the same thing every day. After about two and a half years I came to the decision that I either had to get out now or I would be doomed to stay in that career forever. I was good in school, but I hated it with a passion. I needed a change and I needed it immediately.

Just shy of my 19^th birthday I decided I would try preaching the gospel. I filled out my paper work for the church I belong to, got my medical records updated, and eagerly awaited for my mission call. Several weeks after handing in my paper work I received the notice that I would be serving a mission in Mexico City. It would be two years long and after those two years I would return home and report.

I packed my bags and arrived at the training center on my report date, June 29^th. I worked hard and changed many people’s lives. This of course had a large impact on my life. It increased my desire to serve and created in me a higher discipline. It also allowed me to learn Spanish fluently. This would be a big advantage to me later in life.

When I arrived back home I once again had no guidance or direction in life. I hung out with my older brother a lot at the car customizing shop he owned. I learned a lot from him and he may never understand how much his companionship meant to me while I transitioned from not having direction to finding a steady job.

I eventually found myself a decent paying job at American Express. I even had a cool sounding title, Customer Care Professional. The people were great, the pay and vacation was nice, but the customers drove me crazy. It wasn’t even the customers so much as it was trying to fix their problems over the phone. I like face to face transactions, and being on a phone eight hours a day isn’t the most fun thing I could think of doing at a job. Needless to say I quit there after about 6 months.

My life was doomed, or so I thought. The economy was failing, jobs were running out, and gas prices were hitting all time highs. Lucky for me I received a job offer from a past employer. Yes, I went back to the job I tried to run from by serving a mission. It’s funny how the world moves us back and forth. This time I decided to set my own terms. I made sure I could pick whatever days off I needed and the hours I wanted to work. I also set my pay before returning. They were desperate for a good cashier and didn’t want to spend the money training a new one. Once again I went back to the monotonous job I had before, along with the attitude driven customers.

The unique difference I had this time around was the fact that I spoke and understood Spanish fluently. One day while I was speaking to a Hispanic customer, one of my co-workers overheard it and was astonished. She asked why a man with my talent was working in a grocery store. She suggested I join the army.

Throughout my life I have thought of joining the army many times. The thought of being blown up has usually been enough to keep me out of it. However, upon hearing this suggestion I couldn’t help but consider it a possibility. It would provide action and adventure to a man with no direction.

Don’t get me wrong now. I did have some higher education under my belt with the plan of graduating with a degree in Spanish teaching. I just wasn’t in a hurry to get there.

Anyway, with a push in the right direction I found myself walking into a National Guard recruiting office. I decided on the National Guard because hey, let’s face it, if it gets old and boring at least I’ll only worry about it one weekend a month instead of 3 years straight.

Upon walking in I told the recruiter what I wanted to do and that I needed to do it quickly. I wanted to be an interrogator in a foreign language. He asked if I knew anything about the ASVAB test. I said no, but that I was willing to take it. I went in a day or two later at around eight in the morning and waited for him to show up to take me to the testing center. It soon became a long day. The test took several hours and being that I hadn’t had a whole lot of schooling in the last five years, I got a headache from digging deep into my brain to find the answers.

Eventually the test ended and I was brought back outside to the waiting room to sit and wonder how I did. When my recruiter showed up to take me home they handed me an envelope. He told me to open it and tell him what the score was. I opened it up and saw that I had scored an 88. It was high enough to do whatever career I wanted in the military. I decided to stick with my guns and become a human intelligence collector.

With some further paper work and a medical exam I arrived to the day that I could sign my contract and become official. The day I went into the MEPS building was the day that would change my life forever. They told me my basic training date would be March 3, 2010. I was in shock. That was still six months away. I signed up the first week of September and had dropped my school classes so I could ship immediately to basic training. Oh well. This gave me six months to save money so I wouldn’t have to worry about bills while I was gone.

Finally the long awaited day arrived. I checked in at MEPS and had another medical review to make sure I hadn’t destroyed my body while I was gone. It took almost 6 hours to have them look at me for 10 minutes. It was pathetic. Hurry up and wait would become my slogan in my army career. After all the fuss at MEPS (Military Entrance and Processing Station) , I was driven back to the hotel where my mother was waiting for me so she could take me home for one last time to see my friends and have dinner with the family.

I spent my last few hours hanging out with Brittney, Matt, Amanda, Scott, and my family. I thought that going away would be harder than it was. I guess someone with a cold heart can hold his emotions in better. When I went to Mexico for two years it was a lot more difficult. The tears were flowing and I had a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach just before heading to Mexico. This time there was nothing. Oh well.

After hanging with family and friends, I was driven back to my hotel where I went to sleep and awaited my future. I woke up bright and early the next morning around 4:45 a.m. We were loaded on a shuttle and taken to the airport. I honestly thought the airport was further away, but we arrived in like five minutes. They dropped us off and we went and got our electronic tickets printed out.

The plane ride was nice I think. I actually fell asleep and stayed that way with the exception of getting a drink on the plane. After we arrived to Atlanta we boarded our next plane and I slept for another hour. We finally arrived after almost 5 hours in Columbia, South Carolina. They had a nice waiting area just for future soldiers and we hung out there for about twenty minutes. This of course was after we grabbed a bite to eat. The shuttle to take us to Ft. Jackson arrived and we boarded with nervousness. I might add that I obviously wasn’t alone and was flying with other future comrades in arms. We arrived at the reception area of Ft. Jackson and waited for someone to tell us what to do.

A sergeant got onto the bus and told us to get off and file into a room that he lead us to. We stood standing behind some really long tables that were full of books and paper work. We were told to take our seats and not touch anything until told to do so. The sergeant left and a specialist came in and dictated to us step by step what we needed to do. Some people had problems following simple directions. Others were trying to predict what the next order would be and would then get yelled at for anticipating the command. I think some people began to wonder what on earth they had gotten themselves into.

We finished our simple paper work and were then escorted into another room. We were told to start studying one of the books we got and were instructed it was an inspectionable item and that it was to remain on our person at all times. Essentially it was the basic training manual. We had no tables and no chairs. Just a floor made out of rubber. We were instructed to line up in the squares leaving one space between each person and to then sit down and read. We sat there for a couple of hours while we waited for the next group to arrive.

Now, for anyone who doesn’t know what it’s like to sit on a floor for several hours, I don’t recommend it. Especially if it is in a room that has no windows, with around 30 other people who are scared out of their mind. People start to fidget and get quite restless after about 15 minutes. The army doesn’t like to let anyone know what is going on until the army itself knows what is going on. This of course means that no one knows what is going on. This includes privates, drill sergeants, staff sergeants, sergeant majors, and just about anyone else you can think of. While sitting in this room with no windows, I would often look up from my book and stare at the clock and watch it tick on. One hour would go by and then another and then another. Occasionally my focus would be shifted from the clock to the doorway where I could hear people talking and moving around. Sometimes I was even lucky enough to have more people join my misery in the room. As more people got dropped off the room began to stink. Nervous stomachs and a room full of people makes for a flagellant time. Legs also are almost completely numb due to the fact that we have to remain seated in our 2 FT by 2 FT square. The only way we can even get up is if we are going to the bathroom. Going to the bathroom requires talking to the person to your left or your right because you always need a battle buddy when you go somewhere.

On a side note, I’m not even quite sure myself why they insist on us having a battle buddy everywhere we go. I mean…they are going to give us a weapon, they are going to let us play with explosives, and they are going to let us march into battle to die…so therein lies the question. Why can’t I go to the bathroom on my own? Anyway, back to where I was.

Finally it was around 2300 hour’s Eastern Time when a drill sergeant entered the room and made us stand on our feet. It was hilarious to watch people try to stand at the position of attention after just having sat for four hours straight. People’s legs began to buckle from the get go and soon people were falling over. They caught themselves before they completely fell of course. This caused the drill sergeant to yell at them and give them a five minute lecture on not locking their legs. Apparently he forgot that we had been sitting cross-legged for several hours. Anyway, he had us dump our entire personal bag onto the floor and we began to sort our items. Most items people brought were considered contraband and had to go into the trash can. Items such as tobacco were the first of these to go. Some things included knives, condoms, prescription drugs, and other misc. items. We finished around midnight and were taken to another room where we stood in yet another line in order to receive our physical fitness uniforms (after all, we did need something to wear in the morning. I mean, it’s not like we can walk around in civilian clothes for one more day.)

By now we had been up quite a while. Most of us were starting to get headaches from staying awake for so long and not being able to sit on something comfortable and close our eyes while we rested. Shutting your eyes when you’re not in bed is illegal in the army. If you are caught sleeping you will be stood up next to a wall, publicly embarrassed, and then shot at by a firing squad. Ok, maybe the firing squad is a bit of a stretch. They actually can’t use physical correction while in reception mode. This, however, means that the drill sergeants are Jedi Masters at public humiliation. If they can’t teach you by the sweat of your brow, they’ll teach you by how red they can make your face. They can go so far as to make a person completely speechless. Words are unable to form in their mouth and if words can come out they are usually filled with stupidity which only fuels the Jedi Master’s fire. I’ve watched many privates completely lock up and actually begin to sweat because a drill sergeant was yelling at them for piddly mistakes. The only way to counter the drill sergeant is to pretend they are yelling at someone else. I used a different approach however. I put on an invisibility cloak so no one could see me the entire time. Later down the road I would make a name for myself and defend the title of moron with lots of pride and a full ego.

Where was I? Oh yeah… We had been up for hours and were slowly becoming a mass of delusional privates. They took us to where our bunks would be for the next week and issued us sheets. We then crashed into bed only to be woken four hours later and made to stand in formation.

Privates are morons. We are dumb. We are stupid. We fart. We yell. We laugh. We fall. We can’t count. We can’t read. We can’t do much of anything. It’s a good thing most of us were already potty trained or we would be in real bad shape. Formation while in reception consists of sixty people lining up in four lines in alphabetical order. By the way, we don’t have a list or name tags. Good luck getting 60 people to cooperate through an alphabetizing process without a proper leader. Mostly the morning air was filled with “Shut the F*** up”, “Get in the F****** line”, which were then followed by other looks and comments related to “Kiss my A**”. This is how every morning started up until we left reception. Even after four days of doing the same formation in the same order, people were still screwing up. Anyway, we stood in formation and were taken to breakfast. Everywhere else in the world we would call it a cafeteria. However, the army is obsessed with acronyms, and likes to make simple things extremely complicated. We called the chow hall a DFAC. This is short for dining facility. I’m not however quite sure it deserves the word “dine” in the title. In order to eat in the dining facility, one must enter in the right side entrance doors. After entering, you turn right and wind your way around the line area. If for some reason you should come to a stop, you must go to the position of attention, and then snap to parade rest. This is done by bringing your feet together and looking straight forward. Your fingers should remain curled and at your side along the seam of your pants. This is the position of attention. There is no talking, moving, biting your lip, humming, sniffing, scratching, or anything else that involves something other than blinking and breathing. Parade Rest is achieved by spreading your legs shoulder width apart by moving your left leg only. Then bringing your hands up behind your back and placed in the small of your back with your right hand on top and the left hand under it. The fingers should be extended and joined. In the chow line there must always be two lines, one on the left and one on the right. They are slightly staggered. You must also be as the drill sergeants say…nut to butt. This means you are standing very close to the person in front of you. You are to eat as fast as humanly possible without talking. If you’re talking, you’re wrong. If you have time to talk, it means food isn’t in your mouth which means you must be done. If you talk you are kicked out. The food isn’t all that bad, but I still wouldn’t call it dining out.