Update of Future Plans
This is just an update. The flames of my most recent conflagration have since extinguished themselves, my anger is now little more than a smoldering heap of ashes with which I shall endeavor to fertilize a new crop of hopes and dreams.
As luck would have it, it seems some people were ineligible, and I may have actually been given the Morocco class after all, by default of course, but this makes the victory no less sweet. If it goes through, it will be an amazing experience, I may even get to stay with a Moroccan family. The dates for the class are 21 June-31 July. I will probably (not guaranteed though) come home for week before or after this. This will be a whirlwind tour as I wish to see as many people as possible. I am currently studying for my Sgt exam as well as my DLPT (annual language test).
I recently realized that I need to pass this Sgt thing, as it will allow me to exact certain changes, to increase my monthly salary by a not inconsiderable amount, and most important it will keep certain people off my ass, inspiration enough in and of itself. True, this new rank will bring with it a significant increase in responsibility, but this is inevitable even without the rank. I want to see what great mysteries lie beyond the golden doors of Sergeant-hood (well...). To this end I have begun reading the dreaded PFE. I may very well not make it again this year, but I am not overly concerned (this could very well be the mantra for my life).
I am undecided as to what course I shall take during after these next three years, though I have not dismissed entirely the possibility of seeking employment with the NSA. The job will be similar (better), and more focused, and I will not have to deal with the same massive amount of Administrative and Military demands. I have come to accept that anything beyond mono-tasking is, for me, not a realistic aspiration (though I am remarkable in this capacity) and I am ok with that. The retirement will transfer, if that is still a concern. Additionally, I intend to obtain my associates degree from D.LI. (got the paperwork yesterday) and my Baccalaureate (some odd, hybrid liberal arts thing probably) from somewhere. Education beyond this seems futile, for me at least, as I despise going to school. I am considering a wide array of possible future career paths, including working to further womens rights in particularly dreary and unsavory places, so who knows where I will end up. Having recently discovered an activity I love more than life, I have rediscovered that indestructible sense of optimism for the future.
I was unable to secure a refresher class this year, so I am attending classes in my off time. A new program has been implemented, whereby hourly classes are offered to military personnel who need help with language training. I attended three today and found them tremendously beneficial (not least because I think I am in love with the new Iraqi teacher (from Iraq), whose enthusiasm, intelligence, and self-depreciating humor are irresistible- to say nothing of her obvious physical beauty- and she speaks Aramaic which is quite interesting in and of itself- hey, I can dream...dammit). Ordinarily I am rather averse to the organized classroom setting, though as these are not mandatory and are generally attended by sub-two linguists who do not really want to be there (making me one of the abler ones in class for a change), I do not seem to mind them so much. These factors actually help to make me look motivated, and at times something vaguely resembling cheerful. The only downside to this is that we move at the pace of the slowest common denominator, meaning that we get about one two-level passage done in an hour, causing me to want to throw myself out the window out of sheer boredom.
On a down note, we were all herded into our pen for our monthly morale-boost, and I was forced once again to listen to that "Boot in Your Ass" country song, while simultaneously having my attention focused on a rather enormous screen depicting large objects being turned into smaller objects by massive bombardments of various types of bombs conducted by various types of aircraft (all interspersed with a vibrant array of jingoistic symbols). I have been informed that this is why we (AF people) exist, though I am uncertain as to whether they mean the dropping of the bombs or the watching of this insipid, heavy-handed, propaganda-laden film and listening to this revolting, kitschy, barely literate hillbilly song. I think any red-blooded American up to the age (and/or I.Q.) of say, fifteen, would have found this quite stirring. For my part, I become slightly nauseous at even the faint suggestion that I might have to hear this song again, and I think at the very least this Keith fellow needs a lyricist, at worst he is using up valuable oxygen and might be better employed as a Soil-Relocation Technician. It is now official, I hate this song more than I hate anything else in this world (including Wal-mart). I turned and articulated to the airman beside me that I sincerely wished to put out my own eyes (and ears) to end the agony, but he just drooled on my shoulder and upped his medication.
As luck would have it, it seems some people were ineligible, and I may have actually been given the Morocco class after all, by default of course, but this makes the victory no less sweet. If it goes through, it will be an amazing experience, I may even get to stay with a Moroccan family. The dates for the class are 21 June-31 July. I will probably (not guaranteed though) come home for week before or after this. This will be a whirlwind tour as I wish to see as many people as possible. I am currently studying for my Sgt exam as well as my DLPT (annual language test).
I recently realized that I need to pass this Sgt thing, as it will allow me to exact certain changes, to increase my monthly salary by a not inconsiderable amount, and most important it will keep certain people off my ass, inspiration enough in and of itself. True, this new rank will bring with it a significant increase in responsibility, but this is inevitable even without the rank. I want to see what great mysteries lie beyond the golden doors of Sergeant-hood (well...). To this end I have begun reading the dreaded PFE. I may very well not make it again this year, but I am not overly concerned (this could very well be the mantra for my life).
I am undecided as to what course I shall take during after these next three years, though I have not dismissed entirely the possibility of seeking employment with the NSA. The job will be similar (better), and more focused, and I will not have to deal with the same massive amount of Administrative and Military demands. I have come to accept that anything beyond mono-tasking is, for me, not a realistic aspiration (though I am remarkable in this capacity) and I am ok with that. The retirement will transfer, if that is still a concern. Additionally, I intend to obtain my associates degree from D.LI. (got the paperwork yesterday) and my Baccalaureate (some odd, hybrid liberal arts thing probably) from somewhere. Education beyond this seems futile, for me at least, as I despise going to school. I am considering a wide array of possible future career paths, including working to further womens rights in particularly dreary and unsavory places, so who knows where I will end up. Having recently discovered an activity I love more than life, I have rediscovered that indestructible sense of optimism for the future.
I was unable to secure a refresher class this year, so I am attending classes in my off time. A new program has been implemented, whereby hourly classes are offered to military personnel who need help with language training. I attended three today and found them tremendously beneficial (not least because I think I am in love with the new Iraqi teacher (from Iraq), whose enthusiasm, intelligence, and self-depreciating humor are irresistible- to say nothing of her obvious physical beauty- and she speaks Aramaic which is quite interesting in and of itself- hey, I can dream...dammit). Ordinarily I am rather averse to the organized classroom setting, though as these are not mandatory and are generally attended by sub-two linguists who do not really want to be there (making me one of the abler ones in class for a change), I do not seem to mind them so much. These factors actually help to make me look motivated, and at times something vaguely resembling cheerful. The only downside to this is that we move at the pace of the slowest common denominator, meaning that we get about one two-level passage done in an hour, causing me to want to throw myself out the window out of sheer boredom.
On a down note, we were all herded into our pen for our monthly morale-boost, and I was forced once again to listen to that "Boot in Your Ass" country song, while simultaneously having my attention focused on a rather enormous screen depicting large objects being turned into smaller objects by massive bombardments of various types of bombs conducted by various types of aircraft (all interspersed with a vibrant array of jingoistic symbols). I have been informed that this is why we (AF people) exist, though I am uncertain as to whether they mean the dropping of the bombs or the watching of this insipid, heavy-handed, propaganda-laden film and listening to this revolting, kitschy, barely literate hillbilly song. I think any red-blooded American up to the age (and/or I.Q.) of say, fifteen, would have found this quite stirring. For my part, I become slightly nauseous at even the faint suggestion that I might have to hear this song again, and I think at the very least this Keith fellow needs a lyricist, at worst he is using up valuable oxygen and might be better employed as a Soil-Relocation Technician. It is now official, I hate this song more than I hate anything else in this world (including Wal-mart). I turned and articulated to the airman beside me that I sincerely wished to put out my own eyes (and ears) to end the agony, but he just drooled on my shoulder and upped his medication.
posted by Joel Hardin | 7:10 AM
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