slyfry

Not entirely sure where I go from here. My enlistment in the United States Marine Corps is nearly done, only a little over a month left. In a year or so I go to college, I don't want to wait that long, but I have to get surgery on my spine, and between time in the hospital and time in rehabilitation, going to school this semester is not going to happen. On the bright side of things, I'll be getting paid disability the entire time, and I will (when I go to college) have all my school paid for, so I won't be in debt. Also, I will have plenty of time to write over the next year, which is good. Not entirely sure what I'm going to major in, I've never bought into that "follow your heart" crap, so I definitely will not major in English or history, as they are not marketable skills, unless you want to be a teacher (underpaid and over appreciated), which does not appeal to me. I do still want to write novels, but since I want to write science fiction, I think it would be better to study engineering, so that I can have a good job and be more knowledgeable in the field of science. During my paid year off I think I'm going to try visiting a foreign country that is not a war zone, as I'm sick of being shot at.

I don't know what lies ahead... it bothers me. I can take steps to build the future I want to live in, but I can't know if they will pay off. There are too many factors, chaos theory and what not. A butterfly flaps its wings and my novel does not get published. Whatever... all I can really do is keep writing regardless of what happens and hope for the best. At any rate, here is an old Latin poem translated to English that adequately conveys my thoughts.

"O Fortuna" from the Carmina Burana


O Fortune,
variable
as the moon,
always dost thou
wax and wane.
Detestable life,
first dost thou mistreat us,
and then, whimsically,
thou heedest our desires.
As the sun melts the ice,
so dost thou dissolve
both poverty and power.

Monstrous
and empty fate,
thou, turning wheel,
art mean,
voiding
good health at thy will.
Veiled
in obscurity,
thou dost attack
me also.
To thy cruel pleasure
I bare my back.

Thou dost withdraw
my health and virtue;
thou dost threaten
my emotion
and weakness
with torture.
At this hour,
therefore, let us
pluck the strings without
delay.
Let us mourn together,
for fate crushes the brave.

Given that I wish to be a writer, I suppose I ought to start setting other outrageous goals. So by the end of this year I will have written 500 poems and have posted them on deviant art. This goal is most likely an unattainable figure, given that I tend to lose interest in things rather quickly, and that I have been mostly talk for a good portion of my life. Luckily for me poetry is just written speech.

All work I put out today is likely to be short, it's all being done on a tablet.

...