I Sing This Song

To all the world, I sing this song:

Of a life full of tragedies,
perspectives seemed just
a young boy without a purpose,
a life not blossomed.

Oh, how sparse this life,
it's wishes unfulfilled
left breathing in cold air,
a life of running.

You Can't Go Home, Again (first post)

Methodically smoking my cigarette, with my breath I breathe in the day...

So begins this first post, in that one sentence, I think, all of the exhaustion and overwhelming frustrations can be captured. Or moreso, it can be thought of as a sigh of relief toward a new day--welcoming in new challenges. With that being said, I ask myself, Where do I begin?

...Nine months ago...

The person I was then seems so different from the person I am now, almost another lifetime. It seemed a whirlwind of emotions that were so easily vented through long nights of partying. I had one thing in mind and that was escaping myself. I had a plan at the time, it was one that had been in the making for years. That plan consisted of enlisting in the Air Force and from there working as Cyber Specialist, going to college for Neuroscience and Behavioral Science. You see, I want to be a neuropsychiatrist with a particular interest in Robotics.

So to abide with my plan, I had enlisted as Active in the United States Air Force. I was so excited to leave my town--proving it was not only myself that I was hoping to escape, but this place. All I had to do was wait to leave. So, I worked at Burger King. After only two weeks, and an obvious lack of well-developed management, being thrown around on their schedule as if I were someone with no life (which is the norm for the washed up in my town), I turned in my resignation. With my comical sarcasm, I declared, "This is Burger King and I'm not having it my way, so..."

I kept the hat.

I left my washed up town, and myself, two weeks later--headed for Basic Military Training. I don't think I had prepared myself for the experience I was soon to go through. Stepping off of that bus was, well, an experience. TI hats screaming and frantic glances shared. Well, they don't call the first week 'Hell Week' for nothing. Let's just say I blocked out that week. With the wonders of neuroplasticity that occurs within the brain, to compensate for fear or survival, I had adapted to the live I had to live for the next two months in only a week and a half. There were times when it was obvious myself and the members of my flight had become "complacent" in our training and we had to pay for it.

Anyways, I'm going to fast forward over graduation week and some of technical school (which I'll come back to in a later blog) and get more to the point. I think I'll pick up after my failing a commercial certification a second time. Yes, that's a more fitting place to continue. Well, after talking with my commander and being base restricted for a total of 15 days, during all in which I had studied and studied, I had begun talking to the more compassionate parent in my family--my mom. We had talked about the very real possibility that I may fail again and that if a reclass wasn't possible it would be a discharge. At that time, that option was entirely too frightening. However, we also discussed the proposition of a reclass. From my perspective, after having failed twice and extremely nervous of failing a third, I explained to her on numerous occasions that the only way I would be willing to accept a reclass in the career field would be if I was 100% certain that it would in fact be a job I would excell in. Having said that, let me continue with the following details.

I tested again, so many days later, and during that test my mind was focused on the information I had been acquiring since early September. Mind you, we are now in November. I had even helped, with the advice of another girl who had failed twice and was taking the course a third time with me, my second and my third class pass. But when it came to the very moment of testing, the moment of submitting my answers, a voice somewhere in the depth of my mind, somewhere that had been pushed aside to so wholly concern myself with nothing more than this certification, asked, "Do you really want this--to pass?" Having questioned myself, the railing that was my determination was finally unhinged. I looked around the room at the others who, the majority testing for the first time, nervously stared at their screen and would periodically tap at the mouse. I could do nothing but sigh, less confident in myself and my test then ever before, and submit. My results, well, they were worse than the first and second time. Much to my dismay, I bowed my head and almost chuckled. Despite having failed, I was finally finished with this course--as a failure.

There were conversations among some of the other students, mostly those whom had never taken the time to get to know me, that after having caught wind that I had failed three times, which was rare in itself, that I had deliberately chosen this. I couldn't help but laugh at that. Mostly, they hadn't known that I had questioned myself in the same way. Did I want to fail? Surely, I hadn't. But...

Well, to skip over some, I had to talk with my commander again. I placed my decision on the table, that I would accept a discharge over blindly accepting some random career and having to sit on my ass for the next few months. His words were truly touching. I had never been shed light onto in that manner--almost glorified. Rather, I wanted him to scream at me and make me choose the reclassification. But, instead, he made his peace and I had mine. I walked out of his office and into the men's latrine and sobbed.

Thus my outprocessing had begun--my separation from the United States Air Force. It was truly bittersweet. I had all of my things packed and was ready to go. As I was leaving, the looks on some of the people faces were those of people who had seen me for the person I had strived to be, someone "stellar." The most befitting thing is I had bumped into the Red Rope that had overseen my own Airman Leadership as a Green Rope. He had been handed a pretty difficult situation to overcome (again, I will touch on this subject when I come back to my time in the Air Force at a later time) but I didn't doubt him. I had begun to look up to this person as a brother of sorts. We shook hands and I was gone.

I had lied to my friend back home, the one person who made coming home seem so welcoming, and told him that I was stuck at my base. Shortly after arriving home, he concluded that I had been lying and told me to get my butt over there. I was so excited to see Jake. He was my best friend and had been just shortly after meeting him almost a year ago. You see, in my conquest to escape from myself, he did help in that. We would party together and just... escape. Well, coming home I had this quiet fear that things wouldn't be the same--that I wouldn't be the same. Meeting again was great! We shared quite a few hugs and laughed at some memories but then we seemingly feel into ourselves again so easily. But there was a nagging thought that something was different. I don't think it was evident in that first night, however in the nights that followed it was. I say nights because, to my annoyance, that is when we would get together. Never would be at any hour of the day, it was always at night. Had my friend become a vampire!?

I kid, I kid.

Coming back home, there was one morning when I slept in, something I hadn't been able to do except for on the weekends, and when my eyes opened to the scene of a cluttered, unpacked, room I wondered if I would look at a clock or calender and see that it was still April and nothing had changed--that everything had been some fantastic dream. Much to my appreciation, they hadn't been. I had met the most amazing people and gone through a short-lived adventure that had truly altered my perceptions and forced me to grow up, standing on my two feet that made them that much stronger.

I had had a plan when I accepted my fates, the discharge and coming home. I knew what I was going to feel, though I wouldn't embrace it. I walked away from a a road that would have taken me to a place where I wouldn't have been living comfortably but wouldn't be inspired to be the person I am--the type of guy who wants to help others and be revolutionary. Part of that plan was to go back and enlist as a reservist and go to college for Behavioral Science and then get into medical school. The job I intended to get would be under medical supervision. I will conclude this in more detail in a later post, as this is to summarize the past month of being back home and dealing with it. After that month had past, amazing things have unfolded, a subtle way of the universe acknowledging my decision and that it was right.

So, with that being said, I leave you, reader, with an image of the person I am, or at least intend to be:  A person who is compassionate to the world and it's many views, who thoroughly thinks things through before making a decision--though having a quite frequent tendency to be indecisive--, is understanding and puts trust out before him before distrust, as if my left foot before my right in marching. Yet, though knowing who I am, I find that I still don't know who I truly am and that in this beautiful journey that is my life, I've made mistake and prospered from thus, I am continuously discovering new concepts laid out before my very perceptions.

I am Richard Helgeson, an Airman and student.

This is detailed accounts of my own ideas and perceptions as I travel backward, with eyes closed, through life. With that, I thank you for reading my words and accompanying me on this journey.