[blacksheepace]

Good Afternoon Quiet Professionals, SF Candidates, Assets, and anyone else fortunate enough to have stumbled upon this site through whatever means,

My name is Idris and I've been lurking for the better part of the summer and it'll probably be a few more months of reading before I post again since I'd rather not become one of The Reaper's examples. Here's my story, apologize in advance if it's a bit longer than the norm:

I started out as a child with a borderline unhealthy obsession with guns, ammunition, and all things tactical. I also realized I had an innate desire to teach and spread knowledge to younger children before I actually had any to pass down. My only real desire at that age was to go to military school and later join the army. My uncle, who was like the father I was missing during those years, served in the 80s and I remember staying up late just looking at his yearbook night after night, always going straight to the weapons section. Unfortunately enough for me my mother didn't remotely share my fascination and absolutely refused to see it in a positive light: understandable given her urban upbringing. "Guns are bad," she always said, I had to trick my great-grandmother into buying me my first super soaker when I was 9. A friend of my mother's later bought me an air rifle which I didn't shoot (with her permission, anyway) for almost 3 years.

By middle school all I watched were movies about war and army life. I finally convinced my mom to let me join a local Boy Scout troop because I knew it could be my only opportunity to go camping and shooting with some regularity. I was two weeks away from being an Eagle Scout before aging out (12 Ps). I can honestly say, almost 6 years later, I miss carrying heavy loads over rough terrain for long periods of time. I miss being loaded down with essential equipment. I miss getting caught in the rain.

In high school I joined my school's NJROTC unit, however, I left after my sophomore year since I no longer thought I would actually join the military. That, and the majority of the other cadets fit the "negative" stereotypes to a T and I didn't really want to associate with them anymore. By my first semester out I missed damn near everything about it. The uniform, the opportunity to miss school for special activities, but above all else I missed being a part of an organization full of individuals dedicated to their task no matter what anyone else had to say about it.

In college I opted out of ROTC and have thought about it, literally every single day, for the past 5 years. I've been sullenly pursuing a career in finance and banking and I'm finally ready to admit I really don't like working with numbers very much.

What I DO like is helping people grow by giving them the tools to help themselves and being surrounded by people who take their jobs and lives extremely seriously and simply do not know the meaning of the word "quit" and instead demand excellence, at all times, from themselves and their comrades. I also like feeling important. It's been years since I've felt the sense of importance that only comes from knowing your life isn't one that can be lived by just anyone and I have no one to blame for that but myself.

Now, at 23, I am finally realizing that this is my calling, to separate myself from the average man, to obliterate the physical and mental limitations I have set for myself in the past, and to tackle face-to-face the numerous human rights violations occurring in our world, knowing my story may never be told. I'd much rather rather read about the exploits of the men my team and I trained to conquer their oppressors than my own. In fact I prefer it that way. I don't want to be labeled as a hero only to be held to impossibly high standards of perfection by the general public. I just want to die knowing that I have held nothing back and lived a noble life. I want my future wife and children to know that their husband and father gave his all and then some in the name of freedom, not from behind the comfort of a desk or on the streets raising money, but actually went to hell to help put out the fires, came home, regrouped, and did it again.

Again, I apologize for the length of this intro. Outside of this forum, only 2 people know of my plans to enlist next summer. Neither knows, nor would truly comprehend, the depth of my decision. I had to get this off my chest.

No regrets.