The sweatiness of my soul

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I’m sitting here in my hotel room on the fourth floor of the Holiday Inn Suites. The view is high and far. Thunder rolls in, as does the dust that the wind stirs up. I look out the window as far as I can see. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Tomorrow I swear into the United States Army. My recruiter drove me down from O-town to Salt Lake, and at 4:45 AM tomorrow I begin processing. Uncle Sam didn’t pinch pennies on picking a place for us to stay over night. I’m not really a connoisseur of hotels, but, respective to my budget, this is nicer than most I’ve seen.

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” may not be apt. I’m enlisting four ranks up (thanks to my bachelor’s) and doing satellite communications (a well-paid job in the civilian sector). I just don’t know what comes after this. It’s that sense of emboldenment and risk that comes when you’re committing to a life-changing decision. The last time I felt this way was when I entered the Missionary Training Center for my mission. The two experiences have formality, and brick and mortar establishments dedicated to your processing. There’s decorum. There’s a uniform. There’s distinction.

This is adventure. And it’s what I live for.

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