Well, what a year this is. Not two months ago, I expressed the following sentiment: "Don't see myself going active ever again, however, as I really enjoy not wearing a uniform every day. Funerals got a bit too much to handle, too. No more combat arms for me." Funny, then, that I'm now in the process of going back in.
Lying to oneself is a familiar game, I suppose, and nobody who really knows me is surprised at all by the revelation. One of my closest friends likes to point out that I never should have gotten out, since my conscience doesn't handle "not being there" very well. But, seriously, how the Hell was I supposed to know that at the time? It's not like I had a wealth of experience to draw from prior to the first time I joined the military... which was pretty much straight out of high school.
I'm fairly amused by the reactions of friends and family alike. Many former Army supervisors and subordinates responded to the news with unexpected encouragement. I hesitate to claim that I was usually among the best at my job, but quite a few will claim that for me despite my personal misgivings. Still, I wasn't the best soldier as far as adhering to the system goes, and even I'm not so blasé as to not feel a bit flattered by the response.
Naturally, my film/TV industry buddies are against the idea, as are many of my writers. There are a few with the misconception that I'm some artistic talent going to waste, but, let's be real... have I really written or produced anything worth a shit? As far as my writers, yes, there has been quite a bit headway in getting them published, but I'm pretty sure their fear in my returning to uniform lies in the idea that I won't be able to edit and distribute their writing. Sure, I won't be doing it 24 hours a day, but I'll still be around. Red pen and harsh criticism shall be standing by, I assure you.
All that stated, even I'm a big flabbergasted by the relative abandon with which I'm once again pursuing a military career. I'm doing everything I can to clear waivers (I need one for my age... go figure... and one for my oft-broken foot) and am trying to shed as many emotional attachments to my civilian existence as possible. One thing I did know when I got out the Army the first time was that I don't suffer deployment well if my mind is elsewhere.
And therein exists the problem. I have five wonderful pets, and leaving them (even if temporarily) is going to suck. But some things must be done, however undesirable.
There I go again... lying to myself. I'll be able to handle the pets; I've done that before. It's the woman I've been waiting for my entire life that's fucking things up.