Of Moose and Milk

Smooth sailing from here on ?
April 19, 2010, 8:38 pm
Filed under: School | Tags: , , , ,

Warning: preposterous acronyms below.

So, I received word this week that I have passed the EPSAT (Engineering and Physical Sciences Aptitude Test), which I wrote as part of the application process for the CCGC OCTP (Canadian Coast Guard College Officer Cadet Training Program). I have been scheduled for an INTERVIEW (that’s not an acronym, I’m just being outlandish) at the CCGC in Westmount on May 29th at 10:00 am sharp. It’s the final step in the application process, and as you can imagine, I’m rather nervous; the state of my prospective career in the Coast Guard is hanging by this thread of interviewy scariness. If I nail it like the old sea dog I know I can be, I’ll be in (assuming I pass a basic medical and receive my “Level 2 (Secret)” security clearance, both of which should not be an issue unless they manage to uncover that Cuban refugee I helped smuggle over the border back in ’67); however, if I go down in a blaze of landlubbering glory, it’s quite unlikely that I’ll make it into the course this year, and will be left with the unfortunate reality that I placed all of my eggs in one big, scary, somewhat unreliable basket, and got the shit end of the stick.

Normally, of course, this wouldn’t bother me; interviews are my bag, and I’ve been on a streak of fairly good luck for the last little while. But strangely, that’s just the problem; throughout my teenage years, strings of good luck have been consistently followed by bouts of inescapable, incredibly unpleasant bad luck, and I can’t shake the feeling that I’m about due to commit another bunch of minor fuckups. I’m aware that if I psyche myself out too much about this, it will undoubtedly have negative consequences, just the same as walking in cocky would – however, this has slid beyond that “keep you on your toes” type of nervousness into a full-blown, can’t sleep at night, bite your nails and shit your pants fear of failure, and it’s quite unsettling. I just cannot handle the idea that my “flawless” Coast Guard plan, which I feel represents the perfect career for a fellow like myself, might not work out. I’m usually fairly good at simply holding on for dear life and letting the raging river of my existence drag me along to wherever it may take me; but in this case, I’m going to work my fat ass off to make things happen exactly how I want them to. Being concerned about being concerned makes me … concernicus.

… oh, and hungry – I could really use a cheeseburger.