Upon graduating high school, I searched myself and asked the most cliche question of all time, "What do I want to do with my life?" I investigated and tried numerous jobs, and also attempted school. I came to the conclusion that school is most enjoyable when not attended and work is pleasurable as long as there is no work involved. This is a paradox to which no man has the answer. I realized that like everyone else, who doesn't win the lottery, I had to work hard to be successful. In fact, I wasn't enthused about the day to day grind of work. Therefore, I decided to take an alternate route to the sought after road to success. I decided that I would join the United Stated Marine Corps in hopes that it would forge me into a disciplined and determined human being.
             Upon arriving at boot camp I discovered that the mythical nostalgia associated with drill instructors did not do justice to the men who stood before me. I then became used to daily life as an endless string of profanity and degrading remarks. Their authoritative nature demanded a type of fear and respect that made the learning curve mandatory. I was quickly educated in the daily life of a new recruit. My days were filled with the fine art of polishing buckles and other ornamental items such as door knobs. We recruits made this chore such a habit that the door knobs were rubbed thin. I pondered many countless hours over the mentality of the drill instructors. I asked myself, "Why did they seem so cruel?" I slowly began to notice a developing organization in our mechanized lives.
             The change became more evident as the weeks passed by. I rapidly began to adapt to the recruit lifestyle; until a radical experience tested my will to continue the journey. The test came in form of an injury which would push my mental fortitude to the limit. A partially torn rotator cuff now stood in my way of completing my rigorous training. The time
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