Man alive! Lately, FadeIn seems to have taken on an almost mean tone. What's going on here? I feel like I've been one cantankerous bastard, making fun of the poor little movies and picking dumb little diaryland fights and such.

I've got to push out the jive, and bring in the love.

There are several possible explanations for my crankiness: 1) Little to no nookie as of late 2) The dreadful state of my finances, or 3) My seeming inability to find a full time gig that doesn't involve yelling at 15 year olds who are wandering high school hallways without a pass.

Actually, I haven't had to yell at any kids yet. As I am doing clerical work in the counseler's office, though, I'd really enjoy it if some kid walked in and decided to seek counsel from me. I'd say "Man, you aren't going to need geometry when you get out of here. Just skip seventh period." Or, possibly "The Army could use a man like you, son." Or "If you just bring a gun to school, I'm sure they'll all leave you alone."

You know. I just want to help.

Mentioning the army reminds me of this time when I was a teenager. Inexplicably, my mom encouraged me to go meet with a Marine recruiter and see what military life was all about. This is when I was fifteen, so it must have been around 1990 or so. I'm not quite sure why she thought this was a good idea. I think it was more a matter of exploring every possible option than it was the idea that the military was my only option. My mom is odd that way. She often tries to get me to attend 'open-houses' and walk through buildings she has no remote intention of buying. That's the way she is.

Anyway, I went to meet the recruiter, and he sat me down in a room and made me take a pen and pencil test. A lot of the questions had to do with how much fuel could fit in bombers and amounts of ammo in guns and such. I remember getting 49 out of 50 correct, and the one I missed happened to be the last question, which I would have gotten right except for having made a stupid mistake. This greatly impressed the recruiter, who told me that the test scores were among the bet he'd ever seen.

I should stress here that this test was nothing. I'm not bragging, I'm just saying that an eighth grader with ADD and a Gameboy could have got a similar score.

So, the test is over, and I'm in the recruiters office. He's kissing my ass, probably because, for once, he's got an All-American looking white boy in his office who isn't a fuck up who also just rocked the hell out of the U.S. Kill Test. He told me that I have a future in military intelligence, if I wanted it. He asked me for my impressions of the military, and what I said next was very much something a 15 year old boy would say:

"I don't really want to be a Marine. I don't like how they cut your hair and take away your individuality. I don't wanna conform like that."

The recruiter was taken aback. He quietly explained that the point of everyone getting the same haircut was not to take away your individuality. I nodded. After a few awkward moments of silence, the conversation was pretty much over.

So, that was the last of my flirtation with the military. Still, though, what the recruiter said was pretty interesting.

"You have a future in military intelligence."

I file papers in a public high school office right now.

I could have been a spy.

Crap.