It was an honor to be asked by Troy to speak at the Alpharetta Group and I accepted months ago and simply forgot that he’d even asked. When I spoke to him a couple of days ago I thought for sure it would be a breeze, no worries. But when I got there , a few small adjustments made a huge difference. The biggest thing was that it’s done at a freakin podium. I’d never done that before. I’ve always shared my story at 8111, well over the course of the last 4.5 years anyway, sitting down, relaxed, usually with someone even sitting next to you so you’re not entirely swamped with attention. But I’ve for damn sure never done it, standing at a podium the whole time, and when I saw that set up, man I have to admit it was a bit nerve-wracking.
The maelstrom of emotions was only added to when I saw the sponsor of a friend who hasn’t spoken to me in many moons, and as she sat down and looked over at me, I wondered what had happened. Again. She left moments afterwards, leaving me to create a myriad of reasons why, and wondering if I did owe another round of amends and to whom exactly. Who knows.
So the show must go on and I actually think I told my story better than I have at any other time in the past. I almost choked up twice, as always when I tell about my Dad killing himself, and then again when I talk about stealing my moms opiates, I don’t seem to be bulletproof to talking about those things as of yet, but it’s all good, I almost cried again when I talked about being finally relieved of the burden to drink and drug and what a miracle it really is. All in all it was one of my best stories ever.
I’m still on the job hunt, still considering the Army, even though flight is totally out due to the heart murmur. I wish I knew if Infantry was still an option considering the Hep C, as someone mentioned to me they wouldn’t allow you on the frontlines, in case your bones might become Hep C infected shrapnel, but that seems pretty far-fetched. I guess there is only one way to find out.
Most people think I’m crazy to be 33 and considering the Army, but I run across men who understand. Talked to Allen last night, who was the first guy I’d spoken to about Hep C early on and who I’d thought was saying the phrase Hippopotamus Sea, and he’s in his sixties, selling cars now a days. Working 6 days a week 12 hour days, and he told me if he was young enough he would join the Army for sure. 20 years and you can retire. Full benefits, college paid for, health insurance. There is very little security in ANY industry out there, from cars to telecom, to technology, all the safe havens of careers are being shredded, and even the post office is looking at closing. And they haven’t even begun addressing budget issues. Of course, the military isn’t safe either, they could easily change the terms of pay at any given moment, but still, there is a relative safety and job security there…if you live. And furthermore, as a writer it would give me the details, experience, and depth of a real witness to history. I’ve been told I have a voice, and being positioned somewhere to really experience history, could give me the chance to really write and be heard. Of course going to war isn’t a prerequisite for a writer, but I guess it never hurts. Well so long as you survive that is.
It’s a lot to consider, and maybe even just purely romantic. They may say, you’re too damn old, with too many injuries. Guess I’ll have to fill out the paperwork to find out.
JB Smiths Blog - Author @ books4free.com 