WWYD?

Yes everyone, it's been a while since I've posted. My apologies for that. It's my last semester of school, and who knew 15 credits would be this much work? Fifteen is the minimum here, and it's not like I'm taking any enormously hard classes compared to some of the others (EE, thermo, physics, etc.). I think I just managed to get two of the history profs who just love to assign ridiculous amounts of reading. Between that, the battalion staff position, and the band, it's busy busy busy. Or maybe it's because I'm a second-semester senior who just wants out. And here's me considering taking on IFS (Introductory Flight Screening...basically the prerequisite for heading down to flight school this summer) so I don't have to stick around after graduation. I went to lunch with the two people I'm planning on rooming with down in Pensacola, so we could try to hammer out what details we could until orders come down in February. We're looking to rent a small condo close to the base. Sally and I can cook, and Reeve has said he won't mind cleaning; I think we'll be well set up for the few weeks we're there. Apparently we'll only be in Pensacola for 15 weeks if we get the platform we want -- otherwise it's only 30 weeks or so (+/- depending on the flight schedule).

Well, that's it for the school update for this post. I wish I could say I had a witty or deep observation, but I'd be lying to you. Honestly, there's not a whole lot going on at the moment that's worth posting about: nothing deeply personal has happened since the incident in December when my heart was used as a scratching post for someone who chose to lead me on, willfully ignorant of the effect she was having on me. That was fun. Now she's started talking to me again, which is interesting in and of itself: she knows what she did, and got angry because she didn't think she'd done anything. If anything, it was both of us, but that's a separate discussion.

Now, I'm just kind of coasting: I'll be out of this area within six months or so, so part of me wants to just say "There's no point in trying to start something, since we both know it'll end bittersweet at best, bitter at worst." That's the part of me that knows I'm not a frivolous person, and don't start something lightly just for the sake of convenience. Then there's the part of me that's the hopeless romantic (and it's a rather sizeable portion, believe you me) that just wants to throw caution to the winds and damn the consequences.

Typical Cancer, that's me. Very home-bodied and romantic. Well, if you put any credit in that sort of thing.

Before I go, I'm just going to ask a question of you, my readers. But first, I'm going to toss something out there about myself: I know I want a family, and I know I could make a damn good husband and father (I also know I'd be the one scaring the hell out of a daughter's prospective boyfriend, but that's more of a humorous aside than anything else). Suburban housing might be all right while I'm in the service (not much choice otherwise), but at some point in life I'd like to live out in the country. Preferably somewhere with mountains. The Shenandoah Valley would be nice (since I do so love Virginia) but so would the Wyoming/Idaho/Montana area. Every time I go out to that area it just feels right. This is coming from someone who grew up in the ever-expanding sprawl of DC. Occasional visits to places like New York and Philly are nice, but I am not a city person.

I've been told that I'm one of the odd ones for knowing what I want out of life. Granted, it's the simple things, but I've never been a complicated person. What you see is what you get. I like to think it's a nice change of pace from the modern world, when everyone wants to have their cake and eat it too; they get caught up in the trappings of today's high-speed society and forget what should be most important: basic values like love (real love, not the junk that covers the popular yellow journalism rags you see at supermarket checkout lines), family, respect, and the worth of a hard day's work. To most, that's old-fashioned; to me, it's ideal.

So I'm going to ask you, my readers: what do you want out of life? Ask yourselves, ask your friends, ask a stranger sitting next to you on the bus. Don't worry if you don't know. You're all about the same age as me, and I already know I'm the anomaly when it comes to this. Far be it from me to tell you how to live your lives; that's yours and yours alone, especially in these, your prime years.

What Would You Do?

--Mr. NFO 2009

(comment if you like; I love hearing from you guys)