So today, I wake up, hungover, an hour and a half from home...I drink a wine cooler, pack my things, and make the trek back to Tulsa. I realize I'm supposed to get in touch with my recruiter.
Maybe I should have forgotten all together, but I was being optimistic. I know that I've been a hellion in the past, but hell, doesn't everyone deserve a second chance? I want to enlist...I really do...I've always wanted to enlist, but in the shuffle and hustle of my younger years, I neglected to see the importance of acting. I've talked to the Marine Corps, the Air Force, Navy, Army, and lastly, today's meeting, the National Guard.
I arrive in the office. The Sgt. takes one look at me and informs me that if I can't drop fifty pounds in three months, then I am wasting my time and his. As he pulls up my arrest record, I sit there, praying that just this once someone will look at my accomplishments instead of my failures. He shakes his head and let's me know that there is no way in hell that I will ever be able to serve my country.
I didn't freak out. I didn't cry. I walked, head down, to my car and searched for some support. I texted my best friends, I called Marcus, I even called my grandparents. The phones rang and the texts went unanswered.
So I drove...And drove...and decided to shop, but walking into the store, one thought crossed my mind: So it goes...
So I went. And I made sure that I would always remember that no matter what happens, life will continue. And that no matter what changes I make, it will always go. I can't change the past, but I can direct my future.
For some reason, this tattoo hurt less than the rest. Like I was meant to have it. As if maybe, the pain was dulled so I would know that I was doing the right thing.
I love it. It makes me happy. I am proud to have something that makes sense to me. Something that I don't mind explaining... I am proud.
www.dafont.com/font.php?file=traveling_typewrite&page=1&nb_ppp_old=10&text=So+it+goes...&nb_ppp=10&psize=m&classt=alpha
