What is my future? Will I go to Georgia (USA)?

1:03 PM 12/13/2014

I’m not sure what I will end up doing in reality. Jesse just went through MEPS, and I don’t remember exactly what it stands for, but it’s some part of the military entrance process. I think that’s almost what the acronym is – googling – station is the last word. Military entrance processing station.

He passed the physical tests and whatever other stuff they had to do to him, so he is officially in. Because of the insanity of the Denialville universe that I live in, I am actually kind of happy about this, because Jesse himself is happy about it, and anything that makes Jesse happy kind of makes me happy too. I just want to keep him alive and out of despair, and, perversely, the military is doing that for him, by giving him hope, even if it is a false and deceitful hope that leads to death and disability.

Even if he doesn’t go into combat, he will probably still have to get a lot of vaccinations, and vaccinations, all by themselves, cause many chronic illnesses, seizure disorders, chronic fatigue, neurological disorders, and so on. Getting a whole bunch of vaccinations is just as harmful for members of the military as it is for civilians, and I already oppose vaccinations for civilians.

In Denialville, I can fantasize, along with Jesse, that the military is just a really cool lifestyle where you learn a lot of skills and improve your job options for the future, and you get to travel a lot. There are grains of truth in that.

So he is going to boot camp on January 19th, which is barely any time from now.

And he actually said he wanted me to come along with him to Georgia, where he will be staying for the next few months, maybe 15 weeks, he said. I am always surprised when Jesse shows that he wants me to be with him and stay with him. It surprises me again and again, every time.

I’m not sure if I will be able to rouse up whatever I need to do and to gather and to save in order to suddenly move out of here in the middle of January, without a car and without any money saved. It will be complicated to move somewhere without a car, and I’d also prefer to take my cats instead of giving them away to somebody else. My poor cats. I hate the way cats are treated. But that’s a big rant for some other day.

I hate it the most that the girl declawed and ‘deballed’ Jacob. I think of it every time I see him trying to scratch his claws by grabbing the edges of flattened cardboard boxes on the floor, I think of it when he argues with the other cats and has no choice but to *bite* them because he has no claws, I think of it when he takes a swat at another cat with his soft useless little fingerless paws, I think of it when I see him running fast and it looks like he’s limping on his front paws because of their unnatural shape that can’t hold as much weight, I think of it every time I see how fat he is because of being neutered, and it’s a double curse, because he’s fat, and has amputated front toes, which have to bear all that heavy weight.

I asked Mary Jo about it, and she said yes, she thought it was indeed done by Tabitha, the girl who gave them to me – she had it done to Jacob, but then decided not to do it to Max. It was like she learned from experience how horrible it was. She also had a Boxer dog cooped up in this very bedroom, and gave it away, because, derp de derr, it was a cute widdlepuppy, but, uh-oh, it grew up to be a big noisy dog that barked, ran around, and ripped things and broke things because it was locked in a room by itself all day. Surprise surprise!

But how come I was never that stupid? I had four stray cats several years ago – my then-boyfriend was taking care of them, but they were sort of mine as well. I was the one who brought them in. There was a male who was neutered who had actually belonged to a neighbor, but she was neglecting him, so we took him. There was another little black stray male, and a stray female who was – what’s the word for ‘spotted with many colors?’ Oh, calico – she was a calico. There was another stray male with a classic tabby pattern.

I didn’t do a damn thing to any of them. I didn’t get them
vaccinated, I didn’t de-ball them or amputate their uteruses, I didn’t declaw them. I just let them be, and they were fine and wonderful. I was just never stupid enough to do those things to them in the first place. I didn’t even have to do it once and then regret it.

So… Jesse is really serious – he wanted me to come along with him to Georgia, even if it is only for a few months. And part of me would really like to go. I’ve hated State College, but got stuck here because of the disasters of my life. Out of all the places I’ve lived in my life, I think I’ve lived here the longest, yet hated this place the most. I was born in Philadelphia, we lived in Haddonfield NJ when I was an infant, we moved to Greensburg PA until I was about 8 (so I might have lived there about 7 years at most), and then we moved to West Virginia, where I lived from age 8 to the year when I dropped out of college – 1983 to 1997 maybe. I lived in Shepherdstown during college, but still went home. So that was about 14 years living there in WV. I didn’t hate living in WV. It wasn’t perfect, but I loved a lot of things about it, and also, back then, I was not being electronically tortured 24/7, so I was much happier in general. I’ve been here in State College since 1997, and this is 2014 – 17 years of hating this place and staying here for no reason other than just because this is where I happened to ‘land’ when I got thrown out of my parents’ house and stayed with my brother.

I do not know where Jesse will go after he gets out of boot camp in Georgia. I don’t know if he has to come back here, or has to go somewhere else. It could be good for me to get out of town and change my life, even though I won’t make progress financially. Just changing the scenery can fix a lot of problems, for me. It gives me hope, it gives me strength, it makes me feel flexible and makes me feel like I am able to cope with anything. I have a nomadic spirit in me that has never been satisfied. I love to travel and see new places. I love to see the new types of plants, the new color of the soil, the new types of hills and mountains, the new rivers, the new animals, the new people. Every little thing is different, even if you only go a few hundred miles in any direction. The only thing that doesn’t change is the soul-murdering matrix surrounding my body and destroying me, which is unavoidable and universal. Some aspects of the attacks change when I travel, but it does not completely stop happening. When I travel, I learn which differences matter. I learn that it’s possible to do this or that thing differently, and maybe I like one way better than the other way, but never knew it was an option before. I could benefit from this.

However, the logistics of getting myself down there, finding a place to live (even if I camp), bringing my stuff down, and then moving again when Jesse finishes boot camp – I’m not sure I can do that *quickly* enough. I can do it, I just might not be able to do it all at once in a hurry by waving my magic wand.

So I will have to think about this.

But, as I said, I am always honored and shocked and surprised when Jesse is serious about taking me with him. I’m always assuming that sooner or later he is just going to not care anymore. But he has a difficult life too. He has a lot of problems. It’s not easy for him to make friends and keep them. He’s dated a few other people, but the relationships were unstable and ended quickly. I have stayed with him the longest, by my understanding (although I don’t know any details for sure).

I have to think about all this, but I will probably postpone it until right around the time when he’s leaving, which will break my denial and make me realize, ‘Hey! Jesse is going to be gone for months and months! You’d better do something!’ I don’t know what I will do for real. I’ve never done anything like this before.

Denialville: nobody ever dies in the military, nobody ever gets chronic illnesses and injuries that ruin their life, nobody ever commits murder and then regrets it, nobody ever takes psychiatric drugs to cope with war and then commits suicide or goes crazy – those things don’t exist. The military is all just a big adventure and a great job.

I did try to tell him, in the beginning, about all those dangers of the military, but he feels that this is the only option for his life, because he can’t keep a job. I’d prefer to look for other options, but I’m too busy struggling with my own life, and he doesn’t want me controlling him, he wants to do whatever he wants to do.

He’s inviting me to come along with him, and I could, and it would not be easy. It can give me an excuse to leave this town that I’ve always hated anyway, although, surely it is inevitable that after I leave I’ll be saying, ‘I miss State College with its low crime rate, I miss State College with its mix of educated people, etc….’

I do not know my future.

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