Writing and Reading

The decision has been made. My life has been decided by one man–Mr. Surgeon General, regarding the United States Navy. Prepare yourselves, people. This is most definitely a…

RANTING.

Definitely an unforgivable one. I don’t care. I’m sitting with two Saints as I write this: Saint Fury and Saint Agony. They look at me blankly as if they don’t care. And I want to saw their heads off and pour turpentine inside their spinal cavities, light a match and then roast marshmallows over their carcasses. You want to know why? You really want to know why?

Well, let’s see–how shall I start?–okay–it’s simple.

I saw the opthamologist who basically–in a very big, bloated wrinkly nutshell–gave my eyes a good clean bill of health. Contacts correct my vision successfully, and there are no abnormalities to worry about. Textbook. Textbook eyes. Very simple. My vision’s stable. Everything works out perfectly.

So the Surgeon General then had to give me the final approval after receiving my waiver from the opthamologist. Again, simple. Textbook. It was all downhill from there. You’d think it’s an easy approval, with a waiver that says “no problems” on it. You’d think that one particular man (or woman: I have to admit, I don’t know who the Surgeon General is) would have the mind and heart to believe, to have faith, to grant a dream, to grant a way out of darkness that prevents me from living, from even breathing, to start over in life. You’d think this one man would look at my heart and say…. “He’s a patriot and deserves to serve his country, he has desire, he has passion, he has need, he has a SON whom he loves”.

You’d think those would be things that would matter. You’d think that probably the most important characteristics, at least to me, about our brave armed forces–is that they have desire. And honor. And they have treasures in life to fight for. It’s not a game, it’s not just a ‘job’, it’s not a routine, it doesn’t mean they’re more special than we are, us citizens who work our asses off 24/7 in everyday life–no, what they do is a commitment, duty, a promise to serve. They have the most integrity anyone could ever see. They are our sentinels.

Well, the Surgeon General turned me down.

Apparently whether or not I can read six letters across the wall matters more than commitment, duty and all of that italics bullshit. I guess it matters more that I’m a ‘perfect’ human being–because that’s what it’s about–perfection. It doesn’t seem to matter that I have the desire, the need, the passion, the dream. Ever since I was little–to be able to serve in something noble, something true. Something with beauty. No, I was turned down from that dream, I was turned down from turning around my life–

BECAUSE MY VISION

IS TOO DAMN BLURRY FOR THEM!

Here, give me a damn rifle, put me on a ship. Right fuckin’ now. I’ve got contacts on. Show me that any other man can serve better than me because he doesn’t need contacts in his eyes. My vision’s 20/20. I’m no different. Show me how it’s a detriment to the armed forces that every morning I have to literally walk to the bathroom, open up my lens cases and slap those suckers into my eyes–a minute’s time, tops, no big deal. I’m a hazard! My eyes are a hazard because I spend that very little time with soft contact lenses in the morning in the place I’d live with accommodations for my son that they would grant me under the Navy with the salary they’ve offered me and my skills I’d provide as shown by my ASVAB test results–I mean, seriously, you turn me down? Over one fuckin’ lens prescription point? I failed my physical because of that–and even with a waiver, it didn’t matter?

Fuck the world. Fuck those who take advantage of others in ways that can only be described as shameful. The world can go to Hell. Everything’s based on numbers, statistics, paperwork, blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah. NOTHING is based on truth, desire, hope, dreams, passion. There’s no room for it. There’s no love for it. None of it exists here. Those are beauties reserved for God–and the world is a python that chokes it out of all of us.

Do I sound pissed? I’m sorry. Deal with it.

Am I going to give up? Hell no. My only course of action now is to get Lasik surgery, improving my eyesight. Because that’s REALLY what matters, what’s important. That I make the cut. I have to wait six months before trying again at the MEPS center in Lansing, but I WILL pass my physical again, and I WILL pass my vision test. Since that’s what matters. I’ll play their fucking game. But one thing I won’t do–is accept a “NO” answer.

Oh, yeah, can’t forget–yeah, I’m fuckin’ going to be here still writing. Hopefully, you will all keep reading. Because right now, that’s all I have left….