I am totally built this way.
Something is seriously wrong with me. Or God is HILARIOUS.
I always run away (run away might not be the best word, but...) when my life seems nicely set up. My apartment is wonderfully set up. I live 15 minutes from the biggest, most involved city in the country, but I live in a nice, comfortable, low-stress area (this is ideal to me). I've got the ideal roommate, who I can live with perfectly, and has become a really good friend. I was going to get involved in his Viola de Gamba (it's a family of string instruments) group, so I would have something outside of work to work on (as well as learning another instrument). Even as far as work goes, I could have been looking at other positions within the company to transfer to that would work better for me (my boss' boss came to me on my last day and said, "I always wondered what you were doing here. You seem way overqualified for this type of work."), or even switching to another job entirely. Really, changing jobs is not nearly as big of an issue as I've made it out to be. And additionally...
Well, I had an amazing date last night. Amazing. I am currently dating a wonderful, sane woman, who is intelligent, ambitious, has self-focus, is an opera singer, knows and appreciates drum corps, has a strong appreciation for courtesy and etiquette (and follows it herself), and has the type of approach to a romantic relationship that I do, and we have connected pretty solidly. I mean, hell, she's a Taurus even, for God's sake.
And so my life is exactly what I could have hoped for when I moved over here. And now I'm leaving.
OF COURSE I'm leaving. If I were less intelligent, less ambitious... if I could accept a life of slowly working my way up a corporate ladder, scraping together dollars for nice dinners, opera, and vacations back to the west coast before eventually moving back, then I would call this an ideal life, and exactly what I would hope for from it. If I were not so absolutely conceited as to think I should expect more from my future than that, it would be perfect. But I am not built that way.
Instead, I need to leave. just. as. it. gets. good. There's got to be some literary device for this. Or God has to have an amazing sense of humor to add this in here at the end.
So let's have it, God. When I get asked the big question, of where I'd prefer to be stationed (usually out of five options, I believe, or something), I will choose Boston, Seattle, Portland, a high-endurance cutter, or a wildcard (figure it out while I'm there, probably somewhere warm). And I'll submit the application for the PPEP and if I get that, and manage to audition into the School of Music at UW and get into UW itself, then I will do that (unless I am doing something particularly awesome while enlisted). I always, always trust that I am going to be taken care of, and regardless my life will turn out awesome, so go for it, God. Highlight the path, and I'll walk that way. I am having difficulty, though, not feeling the loss of the options I don't get to have (I do understand, however, you can't lose something you never had). This is a first for me, and I get why people have such difficulty making decisions, and regret after they do.
I have another date this Saturday, and probably Friday. Friday we'll probably have the big dinner, so that Saturday we can have the whole day to explore New York. Otherwise we'll just explore NYC Saturday and head back relatively early for dinner. By the way, Mom, the Christmas present you gave me will probably go toward the dinner and the exploration, since it will most definitely be fun, and will probably be expensive. I WILL TELL YOU ALL ABOUT IT.
Still no word on when I'll be heading back to Washington. Nothing definite, that is. I plan on calling tomorrow to check up. It would be SO FREAKING COOL if they told me tomorrow, "oh, we already got it figured out, you're set to sign and do the oath tomorrow," as then I could get a ticket to fly back on Sunday. That is, however, VERY unlikely.
I always run away (run away might not be the best word, but...) when my life seems nicely set up. My apartment is wonderfully set up. I live 15 minutes from the biggest, most involved city in the country, but I live in a nice, comfortable, low-stress area (this is ideal to me). I've got the ideal roommate, who I can live with perfectly, and has become a really good friend. I was going to get involved in his Viola de Gamba (it's a family of string instruments) group, so I would have something outside of work to work on (as well as learning another instrument). Even as far as work goes, I could have been looking at other positions within the company to transfer to that would work better for me (my boss' boss came to me on my last day and said, "I always wondered what you were doing here. You seem way overqualified for this type of work."), or even switching to another job entirely. Really, changing jobs is not nearly as big of an issue as I've made it out to be. And additionally...
Well, I had an amazing date last night. Amazing. I am currently dating a wonderful, sane woman, who is intelligent, ambitious, has self-focus, is an opera singer, knows and appreciates drum corps, has a strong appreciation for courtesy and etiquette (and follows it herself), and has the type of approach to a romantic relationship that I do, and we have connected pretty solidly. I mean, hell, she's a Taurus even, for God's sake.
And so my life is exactly what I could have hoped for when I moved over here. And now I'm leaving.
OF COURSE I'm leaving. If I were less intelligent, less ambitious... if I could accept a life of slowly working my way up a corporate ladder, scraping together dollars for nice dinners, opera, and vacations back to the west coast before eventually moving back, then I would call this an ideal life, and exactly what I would hope for from it. If I were not so absolutely conceited as to think I should expect more from my future than that, it would be perfect. But I am not built that way.
Instead, I need to leave. just. as. it. gets. good. There's got to be some literary device for this. Or God has to have an amazing sense of humor to add this in here at the end.
So let's have it, God. When I get asked the big question, of where I'd prefer to be stationed (usually out of five options, I believe, or something), I will choose Boston, Seattle, Portland, a high-endurance cutter, or a wildcard (figure it out while I'm there, probably somewhere warm). And I'll submit the application for the PPEP and if I get that, and manage to audition into the School of Music at UW and get into UW itself, then I will do that (unless I am doing something particularly awesome while enlisted). I always, always trust that I am going to be taken care of, and regardless my life will turn out awesome, so go for it, God. Highlight the path, and I'll walk that way. I am having difficulty, though, not feeling the loss of the options I don't get to have (I do understand, however, you can't lose something you never had). This is a first for me, and I get why people have such difficulty making decisions, and regret after they do.
I have another date this Saturday, and probably Friday. Friday we'll probably have the big dinner, so that Saturday we can have the whole day to explore New York. Otherwise we'll just explore NYC Saturday and head back relatively early for dinner. By the way, Mom, the Christmas present you gave me will probably go toward the dinner and the exploration, since it will most definitely be fun, and will probably be expensive. I WILL TELL YOU ALL ABOUT IT.
Still no word on when I'll be heading back to Washington. Nothing definite, that is. I plan on calling tomorrow to check up. It would be SO FREAKING COOL if they told me tomorrow, "oh, we already got it figured out, you're set to sign and do the oath tomorrow," as then I could get a ticket to fly back on Sunday. That is, however, VERY unlikely.