| | What is your biggest fear? .........What is your greatest fear?
And would you answer the two questions differently?
You know how every kid has one recurring nightmare that haunts himorher through hisorher childhood? (Childhood being the period in life, I guess, when you don't have to feel guilt for defaulting to a masculine singular third-person pronoun.) According to the number of times I've dreamt of a specific fear, my worst fear is Captain Hook. I have no idea why he would ever want to kidnap me specifically, or why he would use "bubblegum, bubblegum in a dish" to pick his victim, but what makes him a truly bad man is how he cheats at the game in order to screw me over. I almost wish I were still afraid of Captain Hook. Which is worse: evil or confusion?
Of course, my biggest fear is something along the lines of global warming, terrorism, and imperialist corruption leading to the realization of every prophecy in Revelation. (Minus the stars falling out of the sky I guess - I'm not quite sure how greenhouse gases or evil men - or women - would manage that one. Perhaps the prophecy was referring to all the space colonies science fiction says we were supposed to have built by 2011.)
My greatest fear right now, due to immediate relevance, is losing myself to the Army. There was always something about military personnel I didn't really like, no matter what branch they served. Nothing that made them bad people - it is still nearly impossible not to feel respect and almost awe for the idea of a soldier. But I always had this sense that the military had somehow given them blinders to wear - and the sense that they felt the blinders distinguished them from the poor, misguided, but very nice people around them. Some branches seem to be worse than others, and in the end it all depends on the specific unit, but the people always seem extraordinarily focused on time, appearance, and order in every little corner of life - to the neglect of people, joy, and real life - whatever the hell that is.
My family grew up with our noses in books, but they gave us a sense that somehow something important is going on at any given time that could turn into a great story later. They gave all of us kids, probably to our own disadvantage, a philosophy that souls should remain forever young, and the belief that the moment our sense of humor, weirdness, and random adventure dies - well, the rest of our body and mind might as well follow to the depths of Hades, too. But I don't think I'm the only one from our family to be wondering right now whether the philosophy is true or relevant at all - and even if it is, wondering whether it's possible for such a philosophy to survive life in "The Real World." Or more accurately, whether it is possible for a person with such a philosophy to survive.
18 months since I signed the papers. I worked so hard to get into the Army - the initial 4-mile walk to the recruiting station, so much paperwork, losing a couple points of body fat percentage (according to Army methods of measurement which have been proven irrelevant and inaccurate, and have now been traded for other methods which no one has any way to prove are actually any better). I was so convinced it was the right decision. I've had my chances to get out. I could leave now. But everybody has their price. Mine is negative money. They could offer $300,000 bonuses I could pass up easily - new cars, fancy houses, a harem of dark-eyed Brazilian men - it's the negative money that gets me. The idea that if I leave, I have $30,000 to pay. School loans - offering bright, new futures full of shiny dreams limited to anything that can pay the monthly bills.
I didn't want my life crammed into a sardine can of marketable skills. So in pursuit of absolute freedom, I enroll for the sector of society with fewer individual rights than any authoritarian dictatorial regime in history. And I stay there. It's a brilliant plan, really - as long as I can come out the other side still as a person and not another little unit in a school of fish. That's the feeling - waterboarding. They're trying to make us grow gills (if we weren't born as the type of person to crave ultimate discipline and authoritarian figures in our lives), so they hold our heads under pointless rules (mostly to do with punctuality, never speaking to people too many ranks above you, and forever and always, appearance) with threats of push-ups and exercises learned from retarded monkeys on lsd, duty from 6 in the morning until 10 or later at night for as long as your sergeants feel you need it, or even taking your rank and half your paycheck. Where else can they take your pay for being late? ("Late" usually meaning "less than 10 minutes early.") Where else is it a cardinal offense to wander in just-on-time even once to any of the three "work calls" every weekday or the occasional weekend guard shift?
But - you get used to it after a while. You hold your breath and deal with it because life stays easier that way. You paste your 5 or 6 patches on your uniform every single morning, double check your black-ink pens and slew of "inspectable items," and gear up a little extra pep for your voice when you answer the inevitable morning "How's it going?" from every senior NCO. I think it's a security thing - like with sorority girls. They feel so much better about themselves if we give the impression we'd like to be them someday. If cars could run on envy like sergeants and socialites, America would be the top energy producer in the world.
And then you catch yourself joining the ranks just a bit. You feel bad for "letting your sergeants down." You spend extra free time reshaping and reshaping your beret - spend money on serious pens that fit into your uniform better.... and then you feel the condescension as another soldier scurries into the back of the formation a couple seconds too late.
The only breaths of air I've had from this waterboarding are my family and old friends. Here's to hoping it's enough to get me through with gills small enough to discard later.
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| | Posted 10/14/2007 7:50 PM - 14 Views - 2 eProps - 1 Comment
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