(no subject)
After months of wasted time and false hopes, I've finally burst through the placenta of government red tape, exited the womb of the military bureaucracy, and come screaming into the world of the Delayed Entry Program. And if that's not a fitting analogy as to my situation, then I don't know what is. I could've worked in something about a doctor spanking me and having to get a physical, but I'm too classy for that.
On Wednesday I signed the papers that told me when I was leaving. I signed for the ship date of February 6, but I was told that it could get moved to February 13 or 20, depending on if I get the job I applied for. If I had a choice, I'd love to leave on February 20, mainly because that would put me in the same company I was in last time (Echo Co). And I'd also graduate on May 19, the same day that my high school graduation happened. But even though it's not completely resolved as to when I'm leaving, it feels so good to finally have things in order and to have a specific timetable of what I'm going to be doing. Everything is finally coming together.
And another thing that's great is that I don't have to go to stupid Jackson anymore. Well, I do, but only to go through the MEPS as a jumpoff point when I leave. Wednesday marked the fourth time that I had been to that place. The first time I joined the Marines I went through New Orleans, and I only had to go there twice: Once to do the physical, and another time to sign the papers. But if I had to go to a MEPS four times, I'm glad it was Jackson. The atmosphere there is about a thousand times better than in New Orleans. In New Orleans, the staff was lazy and uncourteous. And the hotel was seedy, like the kind of place you'd go to kill a hooker. The MEPS in Jackson was clean, the staff was relatively prompt and informative and kind, and the hotel was nice.
In fact, I was in that hotel on Tuesday night, and for lack of better things to do, I watched American Idol for the first time. And I'm so ashamed to admit this, because I am not a fan of reality shows of any kind, but I actually liked it. I didn't care at all about the talented people, of course, but what I loved was how Simon Cowell trashed those people who needed to be taken down a peg. If I'm a judge on that show, and I haven't made at least one contestant cry by the end of the day, then I have failed.
So I should know tomorrow what job I've been assigned and on which day I'm leaving. And rest assured that as soon as I find out, you people will be the fourth or fifth to know.
On Wednesday I signed the papers that told me when I was leaving. I signed for the ship date of February 6, but I was told that it could get moved to February 13 or 20, depending on if I get the job I applied for. If I had a choice, I'd love to leave on February 20, mainly because that would put me in the same company I was in last time (Echo Co). And I'd also graduate on May 19, the same day that my high school graduation happened. But even though it's not completely resolved as to when I'm leaving, it feels so good to finally have things in order and to have a specific timetable of what I'm going to be doing. Everything is finally coming together.
And another thing that's great is that I don't have to go to stupid Jackson anymore. Well, I do, but only to go through the MEPS as a jumpoff point when I leave. Wednesday marked the fourth time that I had been to that place. The first time I joined the Marines I went through New Orleans, and I only had to go there twice: Once to do the physical, and another time to sign the papers. But if I had to go to a MEPS four times, I'm glad it was Jackson. The atmosphere there is about a thousand times better than in New Orleans. In New Orleans, the staff was lazy and uncourteous. And the hotel was seedy, like the kind of place you'd go to kill a hooker. The MEPS in Jackson was clean, the staff was relatively prompt and informative and kind, and the hotel was nice.
In fact, I was in that hotel on Tuesday night, and for lack of better things to do, I watched American Idol for the first time. And I'm so ashamed to admit this, because I am not a fan of reality shows of any kind, but I actually liked it. I didn't care at all about the talented people, of course, but what I loved was how Simon Cowell trashed those people who needed to be taken down a peg. If I'm a judge on that show, and I haven't made at least one contestant cry by the end of the day, then I have failed.
So I should know tomorrow what job I've been assigned and on which day I'm leaving. And rest assured that as soon as I find out, you people will be the fourth or fifth to know.