Movin on up...
I helped my friend move out today. It is strange, leaving. I'm begining to realize that who I have been for the last five years--a cadet--is suddenly, in ten days, not going to be who I am am longer. It's a strange feeling when your identity changes.
Moving out is strange in itself. I remember moving in. The rooms were empty, the surroundings were new and unusual. There were lots of bags (blue, green, brown mesh, white mesh, yellow mesh) none of which I knew the purpose of but now seem so obvious. There were more things with my name on it than I think I'd ever seen before (stamps, name tapes, name tags, t-shirts and pants) and rules that were strange even to someone who had been in the army like myself (where to walk, how to hold your hands, awkward hanger spacing that was unlike anything I'd learned in the Army). I didn't mind, and it all seemed like an adventure, and I knew--or hoped--it all had a purpose. I hoped that in four years, I would be ready to be an officer, that I would be as smart, as fit, as in charge and self-confident and self-aware as MAJ Outzen, the officer who inspired me to come here.
Four years later, I'm moving out. I'm packing my bags, taking my final tests and saying my last goodbyes to people I've lived with and gone through some of the hardest times of my life with (both here, West Point difficulties, and at home, the family difficulties my friends here have helped me through).
The thing about gaining knowledge or experience is that, once you've gained it, you just know how much more you don't know. I'm sure I'm more competent than when I came, and I'm sure I'm more confident and knowledgable (for anyone who knows me, fitness, unfortunately, is where I've failed)...but, I can't help but walk away thinking, "so...that was it?" Which isn't to say it was easy, or not worth it, because it was. But I'm sure most of you know the same feeling. Difficult tasks, once accomplished, don't seem nearly as difficult. Likewise, once you've grown, all you can really see is how much further you have to go still.
Moving out is strange in itself. I remember moving in. The rooms were empty, the surroundings were new and unusual. There were lots of bags (blue, green, brown mesh, white mesh, yellow mesh) none of which I knew the purpose of but now seem so obvious. There were more things with my name on it than I think I'd ever seen before (stamps, name tapes, name tags, t-shirts and pants) and rules that were strange even to someone who had been in the army like myself (where to walk, how to hold your hands, awkward hanger spacing that was unlike anything I'd learned in the Army). I didn't mind, and it all seemed like an adventure, and I knew--or hoped--it all had a purpose. I hoped that in four years, I would be ready to be an officer, that I would be as smart, as fit, as in charge and self-confident and self-aware as MAJ Outzen, the officer who inspired me to come here.
Four years later, I'm moving out. I'm packing my bags, taking my final tests and saying my last goodbyes to people I've lived with and gone through some of the hardest times of my life with (both here, West Point difficulties, and at home, the family difficulties my friends here have helped me through).
The thing about gaining knowledge or experience is that, once you've gained it, you just know how much more you don't know. I'm sure I'm more competent than when I came, and I'm sure I'm more confident and knowledgable (for anyone who knows me, fitness, unfortunately, is where I've failed)...but, I can't help but walk away thinking, "so...that was it?" Which isn't to say it was easy, or not worth it, because it was. But I'm sure most of you know the same feeling. Difficult tasks, once accomplished, don't seem nearly as difficult. Likewise, once you've grown, all you can really see is how much further you have to go still.
posted by Adam at 6:24 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home