'At the crossroads of my life
I came upon a dark wood,'
I'm sitting in a third-floor mod in Meaford, ON, full of bland mess-hall food and listening to an arrangement of music ticking back and forth between The Black Angels and P. W. Long, with Francoise Hardis thrown in every now and then just to add a few new dimensions to the ambiance. I'm rooted to my chair and so weighed down by the lack of things to do I'm beginning to feel the cafadre I remember feeling on the hotter days in Kandahar, Afghanistan. Land Force Central Area Training-Center Meaford (LFCA TC) isn't the kind of place you can easily find on a map - a small pimple of dormitories, classrooms, and office buildings orbiting the Georgian Bay and the unlucky recipient of all its crazy weather patterns. It isn't unlike most Canadian Forces Bases, to be honest, only that it is located in that region of Ontario dominated principally by small townships, antique stores, and church picnics where the tallest buildings are WAL*MARTs and most of the kids seem to think they are either gangsters or MMA fighters from Huntington Beach, all of whom look and act like fucking clowns.
I'm employed currently in an instructor position for the Basic Military courses running here throughout the summer, teaching infantry fundamentals and trying not to notice how much hotter the female candidates are than I remember from my training years back. In past instances, sequestered in this armpit over a weekend, I would start drinking at noon and wind up going bananas at Bananas Beach Bar in Wasaga, but as I am trying to cut down on that particular vice (amongst others) I am coming to full appreciate just how fucking boring these little towns can be. Petawawa, at the very least, is paradise for the outdoors-man (and Ottawa is so close-by). I think my brain is cooking out of my skull from boredom, and here I am.
I span up another blog because I kind of wanted to focus on literary aspirations, away from the direction my sister blog had taken (which haphazardly cataloged my more debauched escapades and darker moods). The last school year has been tumultuous and unpleasant (romantic upsides notwithstanding), in that terrifying way I'm sure life seems to most people my age. I failed or withdrew from most of my classes at Carleton (which left a sucked-dry feeling in my gut) due principally from lack-of or waning interest, doing nothing for my post-secondary education but sinking me further in debt. I've come to realize that I've come to realize nothing, really - I'm still suspended in a confusing maelstrom without direction in regards to my future aspirations. I clocked As in both my Creative Writing courses, in a rock-star kind of way. I dropped most classes to soldier with the Camerons (and earn enough bank to pay for rent, and groceries). I just can't seem to come to terms with what I want to do with my life. Write? Police? Paramedic? Soldier? Teach? It'll come to me I suppose, and I'm not the first underachiever to spend nights in the dark pulling out his hair. I can't decide whether I want to enroll in Fall classes this September. In terms of military careerism, you can only get so far as a Reservist - and I'll just chew the insides of my mouth on that one, for now.
I'm considering going through with a Commonwealth Transfer to the Royal Parachute Regiment in the UK, for a 4-year contract. So I can travel and see the English military at its finest. Just waiting for my sweetheart to finish her last few years of University (being far more organized than I am). I'm also more recently considering some Private Military work, having met a fellow Corporal who spent some time in Africa doing the same. I miss the adrenaline high and the sleepless numb of the operational tempo, and I'm getting a taste of it working long days here as an instructor, although it has substantially less bite.
I'll keep threading water, I guess. In the meantime, I'll use this blog to review books and music I find particularly spellbinding, tell stories, write excerpts, and just plug World-Wide into the Web.
"Oh, be joyful
'cause that shit spreads"
- Matthew Good
I came upon a dark wood,'
I'm sitting in a third-floor mod in Meaford, ON, full of bland mess-hall food and listening to an arrangement of music ticking back and forth between The Black Angels and P. W. Long, with Francoise Hardis thrown in every now and then just to add a few new dimensions to the ambiance. I'm rooted to my chair and so weighed down by the lack of things to do I'm beginning to feel the cafadre I remember feeling on the hotter days in Kandahar, Afghanistan. Land Force Central Area Training-Center Meaford (LFCA TC) isn't the kind of place you can easily find on a map - a small pimple of dormitories, classrooms, and office buildings orbiting the Georgian Bay and the unlucky recipient of all its crazy weather patterns. It isn't unlike most Canadian Forces Bases, to be honest, only that it is located in that region of Ontario dominated principally by small townships, antique stores, and church picnics where the tallest buildings are WAL*MARTs and most of the kids seem to think they are either gangsters or MMA fighters from Huntington Beach, all of whom look and act like fucking clowns.
I'm employed currently in an instructor position for the Basic Military courses running here throughout the summer, teaching infantry fundamentals and trying not to notice how much hotter the female candidates are than I remember from my training years back. In past instances, sequestered in this armpit over a weekend, I would start drinking at noon and wind up going bananas at Bananas Beach Bar in Wasaga, but as I am trying to cut down on that particular vice (amongst others) I am coming to full appreciate just how fucking boring these little towns can be. Petawawa, at the very least, is paradise for the outdoors-man (and Ottawa is so close-by). I think my brain is cooking out of my skull from boredom, and here I am.
I span up another blog because I kind of wanted to focus on literary aspirations, away from the direction my sister blog had taken (which haphazardly cataloged my more debauched escapades and darker moods). The last school year has been tumultuous and unpleasant (romantic upsides notwithstanding), in that terrifying way I'm sure life seems to most people my age. I failed or withdrew from most of my classes at Carleton (which left a sucked-dry feeling in my gut) due principally from lack-of or waning interest, doing nothing for my post-secondary education but sinking me further in debt. I've come to realize that I've come to realize nothing, really - I'm still suspended in a confusing maelstrom without direction in regards to my future aspirations. I clocked As in both my Creative Writing courses, in a rock-star kind of way. I dropped most classes to soldier with the Camerons (and earn enough bank to pay for rent, and groceries). I just can't seem to come to terms with what I want to do with my life. Write? Police? Paramedic? Soldier? Teach? It'll come to me I suppose, and I'm not the first underachiever to spend nights in the dark pulling out his hair. I can't decide whether I want to enroll in Fall classes this September. In terms of military careerism, you can only get so far as a Reservist - and I'll just chew the insides of my mouth on that one, for now.
I'm considering going through with a Commonwealth Transfer to the Royal Parachute Regiment in the UK, for a 4-year contract. So I can travel and see the English military at its finest. Just waiting for my sweetheart to finish her last few years of University (being far more organized than I am). I'm also more recently considering some Private Military work, having met a fellow Corporal who spent some time in Africa doing the same. I miss the adrenaline high and the sleepless numb of the operational tempo, and I'm getting a taste of it working long days here as an instructor, although it has substantially less bite.
I'll keep threading water, I guess. In the meantime, I'll use this blog to review books and music I find particularly spellbinding, tell stories, write excerpts, and just plug World-Wide into the Web.
"Oh, be joyful
'cause that shit spreads"
- Matthew Good
No comments:
Post a Comment