Thursday, March 29, 2007

Why the FBI?

I don't remember my father ever telling me that I owed my life to my country. I don't remember being forced to stand at attention and salute the flag when the national anthem was sung. I don't even remember learning the words to the Pledge of Allegience. It seems like I've always had a deep-rooted sense of loyalty and duty to my country. Growing up, it would anger me when people would slouch or talk or wear their hat during the national anthem. As a child I knew that America was the greatest nation on the earth, and if she ever needed me, I would do my utmost to protect her.
My father served in the U.S. Air Force for 16 years; and though I have always been immensely proud of his service, the plan for my life did not include military duty. I was going to go to college to become an intellectual. I was thankful for the men and women who had fought for my freedom, but I was also content to live my life a safe distance behind the line that their sacrifices had drawn. My patriotism had somehow become...intangible.
In the fall of 2005, I went to Washington D.C. on business. I worked long hours through the week, but was given free time on the weekends to travel and sight-see. I remember standing outside the Washington Monument gazing at the Capitol, the Lincoln Memorial, and the WWII memorial—I realized that it took more than the dedication of our founding fathers to build this city. And it took more than their devotion to forge our country. Freedom is not bought by mere words or good intentions. It is purchased only with sacrifice, commitment, and blood.
Standing there on that crisp November morning, staring at the Washington Monument climbing high and strong against the pale blue backdrop, I wondered where I had been on September 11th, 2001? Where had I been while my fellow Americans died in the Gulf War? Where had I been while countless soldiers had shipped off to Iraq? And then it struck me that I had been here…saluting my flag, cursing our enemies, and thanking our soldiers. I had been here. Very safe, and very comfortable.
The following spring I applied for the FBI. Hopefully, I’ll undergo Phase II testing in June.

Thursday, March 15, 2007

bugs...

There are few things that can creep me out like the feeling of a bug/animal on/in/around my face/head. Once, when I was about 10, I was working in the yard when I heard a buzzing sound and felt a bug fly into my ear. I dropped whatever I was holding and reflexively smacked my ear so hard that I not only knocked my guest further down the canal, but I knocked it out as well. I ran inside in panic mode and told my dad, who laughed at me as I nervously danced around. He then took me into the kitchen, grabbed a straw, stuck one end into my ear, and blew a few times. A few seconds later I heard a little buzz and felt the bug fly out. Weird.
A couple of years later, while taking a nap one lazy summer afternoon, I felt something on my face. It took me a minute or two to fully wake up, and when I did, I realized that a fly had been scrounging around on my lip. Nice.
A few more years passed and our family was watching a little toy poodle for some friends of ours. It usually would sleep on the floor of my room. One night I was dreaming that I was eating something, but it felt really strange on my palate. As I slowly rose to consciousness, I opened my eyes to find that disgusting little mutt licking the inside of my mouth! I threw the dog across the room and rushed into the bathroom where I spent a good 15 minutes brushing and gargling with Listerine. Sick.