When I was 18, I was stuck in rural Alabama. I don’t know why I didn’t fit there, but I didn’t, and my situation wasn’t going very well. I was starting to have a breakdown and so I drove an hour to an Army recruitment office and joined without telling anyone first. When you are in a pit, you grab the first rope.
People told me I made a mistake – that it would be too hard for me. I did it anyway and it woke me up. I went from living in the middle of nowhere to living in California, going to SF or Santa Cruz every chance I got, to living in South Korea with my roommate from Guam. I met my first (semi-)out queer people. I partied with a bunch of Korean soldiers and accidentally got a room in something called a “love hotel.”
I also made a lot of mistakes, dozens upon dozens, and didn’t take the time to see that I was a part of a system of violence and power. I started to realize that later and have particularly become aware of it while on my path to faith. I still struggle with it – I am a committed pacifist but I am proud of my service.
I’m taking the day off tomorrow. I’m looking forward to the three-day weekend; I hope to spend some time writing and thinking.