53 : muse_diaries Entry 4
"What every man needs, regardless of his job or the kind of work he is doing, is a vision of what his place is and may be. He needs an objective and a purpose. He needs a feeling and a belief that he has some worthwhile thing to do. What this is no one can tell him. It must be his own creation. Its success will be measured by the nature of his vision, what he has done to equip himself, and how well he has performed along the line of its development." - Joseph Morrell Dodge
I'm sitting in my living room at a quarter after one in the morning, alone, and all I can feel right now is a restlessness. A desire to do something. A need to remind myself that I'm still alive. I know now that no ordinary ambition will ever satisfy me. Maybe it never has; I'm not really sure.
My template for my entire career was my father, and my father was never really an ambitious man. When he died, he was a supervising investigator for the Baltimore office of the Department of Justice. He had been with the DOJ his entire life. They had offered him other positions, higher positions, but he had no real interest in anything that he didn't feel would make a considerable difference in the world. As he once explained it to me, after turning down a chance to be in charge of another field office in San Antonio, he didn't want to be too far removed from the real work. He didn't want to be that guy answering phones and ordering other people around. And he certainly didn't want to uproot his entire family to do it. My father went out only one step higher than a standard investigator, but he had the respect given to people several levels above him on the food chain, because of his honest dedication to what he did. I took that to heart.
I've always been a competitive person, but mostly only with myself and only when it makes me better to do so. I've pushed myself to be the best athlete because I knew it would make me faster, stronger, and smarter, and it would also make my team better. All the same I had no desire to become an Olympic athlete when I knew that the only reason I was in it was because I was good at it. The spot belonged to someone who really wanted to be there. I've only done what will best prepare me for my ultimate goal, and that was to make a difference in this world, just like my father. I busted my ass through the police academy and while I wasn't one of the best students? I gave it everything I had. I've never been the best but I am always the one who leaves it all on the table and that's good enough for me.
I joined the Baltimore City Police Department in 1992. I wanted to be a detective because it was what my father had done, the chance to really exercise my brain and tenacity. I became a detective in 1995. Over the two years I worked Fugitive, I had ambitions toward a transfer to Homicide, because Homicide is the elite of the detective bureau. I wanted to be on the top of my game, take on the greatest challenge that was available to me. I wasn't doing it for my own advancement; I was doing it because there was something bigger out there and I was going to go after the biggest evil I could find. It was the same way when I joined the Bureau and took my assignment to Criminal Investigations. I take enjoyment in laying everything on the line, physically and mentally. The adrenaline in my veins, the knowledge that I'm truly putting myself to the test, is something I thrive on. I don't fear putting myself in the line of fire, or confronting a suspect, or a high speed pursuit; in fact, I relish it because the world is pushing back as hard as I am pushing it.
I'm sure right now I seem like a psychopath who thrives on danger, but it's not like that. Not to me. It's not about the thrill, it's about what that means. I'm back in the same division I worked eleven years ago, with the same partner. My life is actually pretty good and I'm not looking to screw it up by purposely getting into a fight. What keeps me going is knowing that I'm really fighting for something.
As much as I hate to admit it, my assignment to the X-Files gave me that in a much clearer way than I ever expected. Working CID, I had my truly life-changing moments. I once had a gun barrel screwed in my ear; I had my couple of car chases; I had suspects that ran and interrogations that got rough. But most cops, in fact most agents too, hardly draw their weapons. You learn to take your victories where you can find them. The X-Files were never like that. I took my life in my hands every day. I never knew what was going to happen to me. Standing in that Boston subway, next to my partner, knowing we had no idea what we were infected with and it had already killed four people? I was scared out of my mind. I owe Agent Scully for figuring that one out. I survived a lot. It scared the hell out of me and it almost broke me. But at the same time, I know I helped. Probably not much, but...I helped. I really fought for something, physically and mentally. And I'm proud of that. More proud of it than anything else.
See, I really stood for something. So did everyone else. Myself and John, Mulder and Scully, even Monica. We really believed in what we were doing and we risked a lot to get it done. Did we always win? No. Did it come with a price? Yes. There was a lot left unfinished. But to be in a room with people who really believe in something, to go out and fight for a cause knowing you're changing something, somehow? That is an amazing feeling. I owe Agent Scully and Agent Mulder for allowing me to be a part of it. However small. It opened my eyes to something.
It's that sense of accomplishment, of belonging, that I find myself missing. I know it's gone and that it's not coming back.
Muse: Stark Patrick
Fandom: The X-Files (OC)
Words: 1100
I'm sitting in my living room at a quarter after one in the morning, alone, and all I can feel right now is a restlessness. A desire to do something. A need to remind myself that I'm still alive. I know now that no ordinary ambition will ever satisfy me. Maybe it never has; I'm not really sure.
My template for my entire career was my father, and my father was never really an ambitious man. When he died, he was a supervising investigator for the Baltimore office of the Department of Justice. He had been with the DOJ his entire life. They had offered him other positions, higher positions, but he had no real interest in anything that he didn't feel would make a considerable difference in the world. As he once explained it to me, after turning down a chance to be in charge of another field office in San Antonio, he didn't want to be too far removed from the real work. He didn't want to be that guy answering phones and ordering other people around. And he certainly didn't want to uproot his entire family to do it. My father went out only one step higher than a standard investigator, but he had the respect given to people several levels above him on the food chain, because of his honest dedication to what he did. I took that to heart.
I've always been a competitive person, but mostly only with myself and only when it makes me better to do so. I've pushed myself to be the best athlete because I knew it would make me faster, stronger, and smarter, and it would also make my team better. All the same I had no desire to become an Olympic athlete when I knew that the only reason I was in it was because I was good at it. The spot belonged to someone who really wanted to be there. I've only done what will best prepare me for my ultimate goal, and that was to make a difference in this world, just like my father. I busted my ass through the police academy and while I wasn't one of the best students? I gave it everything I had. I've never been the best but I am always the one who leaves it all on the table and that's good enough for me.
I joined the Baltimore City Police Department in 1992. I wanted to be a detective because it was what my father had done, the chance to really exercise my brain and tenacity. I became a detective in 1995. Over the two years I worked Fugitive, I had ambitions toward a transfer to Homicide, because Homicide is the elite of the detective bureau. I wanted to be on the top of my game, take on the greatest challenge that was available to me. I wasn't doing it for my own advancement; I was doing it because there was something bigger out there and I was going to go after the biggest evil I could find. It was the same way when I joined the Bureau and took my assignment to Criminal Investigations. I take enjoyment in laying everything on the line, physically and mentally. The adrenaline in my veins, the knowledge that I'm truly putting myself to the test, is something I thrive on. I don't fear putting myself in the line of fire, or confronting a suspect, or a high speed pursuit; in fact, I relish it because the world is pushing back as hard as I am pushing it.
I'm sure right now I seem like a psychopath who thrives on danger, but it's not like that. Not to me. It's not about the thrill, it's about what that means. I'm back in the same division I worked eleven years ago, with the same partner. My life is actually pretty good and I'm not looking to screw it up by purposely getting into a fight. What keeps me going is knowing that I'm really fighting for something.
As much as I hate to admit it, my assignment to the X-Files gave me that in a much clearer way than I ever expected. Working CID, I had my truly life-changing moments. I once had a gun barrel screwed in my ear; I had my couple of car chases; I had suspects that ran and interrogations that got rough. But most cops, in fact most agents too, hardly draw their weapons. You learn to take your victories where you can find them. The X-Files were never like that. I took my life in my hands every day. I never knew what was going to happen to me. Standing in that Boston subway, next to my partner, knowing we had no idea what we were infected with and it had already killed four people? I was scared out of my mind. I owe Agent Scully for figuring that one out. I survived a lot. It scared the hell out of me and it almost broke me. But at the same time, I know I helped. Probably not much, but...I helped. I really fought for something, physically and mentally. And I'm proud of that. More proud of it than anything else.
See, I really stood for something. So did everyone else. Myself and John, Mulder and Scully, even Monica. We really believed in what we were doing and we risked a lot to get it done. Did we always win? No. Did it come with a price? Yes. There was a lot left unfinished. But to be in a room with people who really believe in something, to go out and fight for a cause knowing you're changing something, somehow? That is an amazing feeling. I owe Agent Scully and Agent Mulder for allowing me to be a part of it. However small. It opened my eyes to something.
It's that sense of accomplishment, of belonging, that I find myself missing. I know it's gone and that it's not coming back.
Muse: Stark Patrick
Fandom: The X-Files (OC)
Words: 1100