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08/10/2005: "Brat Camp"
Well, the dentist appointment didn't go so well. On top of the work I mentioned that needed to be done, it appears that I have advanced gum disease. Apparently, it's genetic, so that explains how, even though I brush twice a day and floss daily, I still ended up with it.
So I had to make several appointments to get this fixed. The first one, on August 30th, will be for "scaling" the left side of my mouth, a procedure where the separate the gums from the teeth and then scrape out the bacteria and crap from inside. This is an excruciating procedure--I've had it done before. Couldn't eat for days. They are also removing my wisdom tooth during this time. The second appointment, in September, will be for scaling my right side. Then more appointments for the root canal and crowns. Joy.
Have a mentioned how much I hate dentists? 
Tonight is a new episode of Brat Camp, a show I swore I wouldn't watch because angry teens really piss me off, but because of a cable problem, the network airing the first episode was the ONLY station I had, so I was forced to watch it. (Yes, I could have turned off the TV, but I was writing and needed the TV on.)
Turns out that the show is really good. I want to slap the kids more often than not, but watching them build their confidence, watching them succeed when they thought they couldn't, brings back memories of my own major challenges. Namely, Air Force Basic Training.
Before Basic, I never truly challenged myself. Things either came easily to me, or if they were too hard, I quit. But you can't quit Basic. Once you're there, you're stuck. The only way to get out is on a medical/mental discharge.
I was in a "flight" of 50 girls, all living in one large dorm bay. I saw some of them get out on medical/mental discharges. These were mostly girls who had given up, who were too wimpy to continue. They complained of horrible medical symptoms that kept them from marching. They made themselves throw up so they'd be too weak to do the physical stuff. Many of these were people who I often wonder even made it through life afterwards. Certainly some of the medical complaints were legitimate, but others...not so much.
One of the big incentives for doing well was that if you failed any portion of Basic, the Air Force would wash you back to a flight that wasn't as far into the program for you. I couldn't imagine anything worse. Each day was hell, and hell if I was going to get washed back and have to spend an extra week or two at Basic Training. *shudder*
Some of the things we did seemed impossible. I was in great physical shape, but I can't run. I've never been able to run. Yet we were expected to run two miles every morning before breakfast (yes, I know, that's easy compared to some of the other services, but there's a reason I didn't join those ones!) We were expected to march hundreds of collective miles with 50 pounds of gear on our backs (during the Texas summer, mind you.) We were expected to complete an obstacle course in a set amount of time, and we could only fail one obstacle (my failure was one of the water obstacles, and let me tell you, falling into a muddy pit of water full of snakes and bugs up to your neck is no fun.)
There were days I wanted to give up. There were days I wanted to beat the screeching TI to a pulp. But I didn't. Every day I prayed I'd make it through until bedtime, and every night I'd feel good that I made it through the day and that I was one day closer to graduation.
I remember one girl who slept a few cots down from me, and every night she'd cry herself to sleep. She'd cry for her "mommy" until everyone wanted to beat her. We didn't think she'd make it. But gradually, the crying jags were shorter. Then they didn't happen every night. Eventually, that girl toughened up, and on graduation day, she was smiling the biggest. That girl will probably never forget her accomplishment.
Neither will I. I didn't think I'd make it. I did things that I thought were physically and mentally impossible. And when I graduated, the confidence I found in myself cannot be measured. I wouldn't give up that experience for anything, because it truly made me who I am. I found myself and the person I can be in Air Force Basic Training.
To this day, if something seems impossible to me, I realize that if I made it through Basic, I can make it through anything.
I apply this reasoning to everything, but most often to writing. I always reach a point in my manuscripts where things just aren't working. Where I'm sick of the story and want to give up. But dammit, I walked a hundred miles with a pack of gear that weighed half as much as I do on my back, with my feet bleeding from blisters. I ate stuff I'd rather not identify. I ran when I've never been able to. I scrubbed several flights of stairs with a toothbrush. I think I mowed all of Lackland Air Force Base in 100 degree temperatures while wearing a suit of armor. And after all that, I graduated from one of the military's most difficult technical schools (gotta give props to Sylvia, though--linguistics school in one of the very few schools that are more difficult than the meteorology school.)
So yeah, I can finish a book. And every time I start to give into that fear I was talking about, I remember what I've done in my life and know that as difficult as writing a book is, as long as I've got discipline, I can finish it.
And those kids from Brat Camp? Every time they rappel down the side of a mountain while sobbing in fear, every time they start a fire using two sticks, every time they hike for miles in a blizzard while carrying 40 pounds of gear, they realize that they can achieve whatever they put their minds to.
Hopefully they will carry that knowledge away from the camp, just as I did with Basic Training.
Okay, I'm done rambling now! 
Now, I'm grateful he did. I have serious issues with authority. It would not have been pretty.
