My Blog

The great thing about living in a free country is choice. You get to choose what to eat, where you want to work, what classes you want to take and much more. However, as GW pointed out in MGS2, humanity has snubbed it's ability to choose and instead become a society of imitators and lemmings. In other words, we take that choice, load it into our Tek9s and shoot ourselves in the foot with it. Most of us probably don't deserve it. The American party system is a good example of this phenomenon. I had the same choices everyone else did coming out of high school and I decided to do what most people did... My foot still fucking hurts as a result.

• Travel the world. Specifically, I wanted to live in Japan, Korea and backpack throughout Europe at least once.
• Work in the game industry. Blizzard would be my dream job.
• Get in shape. Not necessarily Abercrombie and Fitch model good, but at least not fat.

That's a pretty lofty list by any measure. The odd part is that some of them can be accomplished different ways and some are mutually exclusive. Perhaps if I had actually written this crap down way-back-when I might have noticed that. Fast forward to today.

As I type this, I am in the Community Activity Center (CAC or 'cack') at Kunsan AB, located in the modern heart and soul of gaming: the Republic of South Korea. I'm in the best shape I've been in my entire life and are actively pursuing getting better. As of now, I'm putting my goal of working in the game industry on the back burner because of the low demand for game workers. Instead, I'm refocusing on getting a degree in electrical engineering. It's interesting the difference nine years and a dose of reality will do for you.

It goes without saying that the military isn't for everyone. I can say this because I'm a very critical thinker and like to explore all the possible permutations of an idea before I write about it. People often label me indecisive or overly analytical because of this quirk. I kind of hold a point-counter-point with myself before I make even the tiniest decisions. Because of this, I think I've lead a very boring life. Being like that tends to steer you away from a lot of fun situations like getting drunk and passing out or meeting new people. On the other hand, it also keeps you very much alive and disease-free.

On the flip side of the whole coin, I occasionally have the tendency to make extremely unwise decisions off the cuff. For example, I recently spent over $400 in one night at a strip club. My rationalization was: I might as well try it once. Was it in any way worth it? Hells no. Was it a good time? Sure was. I could think of much better ways to spend $400 bucks though. See? I'm doing it again.

Come around the bend, I made an extremely unwise decision to pursue my dream of being a game programmer when I attended Full Sail Real World Education in 2001. The industry was already saturated with 22 year old bachelor's degrees pounding down their doors on the way in. Knowing as much as I do about the game industry, I should have known this. Unfortunately for me, I was young and idealistic at the time. I had this stupid idea in my head that, with a modicum of effort, could break into the industry and get my dream job. I must reiterate: Reality is a harsh and cruel mistress.

Left with a pile of college bills and a mall retail income, I was forced to do what many in my position do: Join up. Hence after two years of weight loss and DoD paperwork, I finally entered the Air Force's Basic Military Training on August 28th, 2006. This is the story thus far.

Lackland AFB, Texas - Not far outside San Antonio

The yelling begins. After a brief yet deceptively relaxing flight across the United States, I land in Texas and proceed across the terminal to the USO 'reception' area for new recruits. I use the quotes because it isn't so much of a reception area as it is a herd of apprehensive teens that don't really have any clue what they've gotten themselves in to. I join said herd and almost instantaneously an angry looking brunette in fatigues, or as I would later learn they would be called, a Battle Dress Uniform (BDU), proceeds to enunciate loudly and authoritatively:

"Get those bags lined up straight," the Staff Seargent barks, "Stand up straight! If I hear you talking, I'll have your ass on a platter before you even get to BMT." My first lawful order. Yay.

Some of us nervously comply, alternately unsure if what we're doing is right or, for some of us, if we're going to comply, just to "see what happens." I quickly make the decision to do the former. As we shift our bags around to something resembling a formation on the floor, more and more recruits pile in. Soon, what was once a small, unorganized gaggle outside the USO is now formed into several lines of luggage and people stretching all the way down the curved airport hallway. Even though we don't even realize it, BMT has already started me along my crossing into the blue.

After about an hour of waiting patiently and, at least somewhat, quietly, they begin to herd us by the row onto a green school bus. Chatter is apparently allowed on the bus (some Mexican is driving it) however it remains strangely muted. As we lumber towards Lackland, the neon blur that makes up the beating heart of Texas passes slowly by in the distance. Some of us are engaged in conversation, myself included. I should use the term 'engaged' loosely. A nervous energy permeates the stale air of the bus as I wonder, as I'm sure we all are, what we're in for next. Although I'm gingerly conversing with the person in front of me, we don't get past the usual introductions and backgrounds before barbwire fencing and a sign proclaiming "Lackland Air Force Base - Gateway to the Air Force" looms large in front of us. The bus proceeds past the gate over to the processing building, lovingly known by, like most things in the military, a number. In this case, the number is 5725.

As the bus pulls into it's parking spot, the air brake barely has time to hiss before I meet my first Training Instructor.