beginning's ending

I was a Chinese Linguist in the United States Air Force. The past tense indicator “was” is a recent development, by the way. I never defined myself by that title, however. I never WAS a Chinese linguist in the strictest sense of the word. I was more like a person who occasionally performed the duties of a Chinese linguist for the military. Our career field was unique in that I don’t think there were many of us who defined themselves by their position. Perhaps it was the banal nature of our daily tasks or simply the lassitude that comes naturally towards any monotonous task, but unlike many others in the armed forces, there was very little job related self-identification. We were the Chair Force and took no offense at that observation. According to the unwritten speech mask used by almost every 0-3+ officer intent on pumping out a shotgun round of esprit de corps into our apathetic faces, Air Force Chinese linguists were the elite, the intelligentsia, and the sedentary jet-set of the military. “Top One Percent” was another catch phrase I often heard bandied about; too important to go to war, too valuable to attrite. I used to joke that we were the top one percent of the bottom one percent of society. I stopped using that particular joke however, not because it was too harsh a critique of the military, but because it was far too forgiving of society.

Anyway, while I may never have identified as an airman or a linguist, it was certainly a suitably impressive and wonderfully convenient explanation when inevitably asked “what do you do?” Linguist was my usual reply. The definition of linguist in the Air Force however doesn’t really jibe with that in the civilian world. A civilian classification as a linguist implies some sort of scholarship; it describes one who not only learns languages, but studies them. We in the Air Force simply learn and apply. Any further study of phonemic or morphemic idiosyncrasies is purely a personal pursuit. So my generic answer may have been a bit misleading in some cases, since I would often leave off the Air Force part unless pressed. I was never, and still am not, in any way ashamed of my military service. I am not a proponent of The War or of any war. I am neither a blind patriot nor a 9/11 avenger. What I am is an opportunist, and what I saw in the military was a chance to finish my college degree, to learn a language, and to save enough money so that after my six years were up I’d have enough of a cash buffer to keep my head above water until I figured out what to do next. The Air Force gave me all that and more. The “more” including the chance to live in California for two years and Hawaii for three, and the chance to meet some of the best friends I have ever had. So no, I’m not ashamed of my time in the military, but I never was one to advertise my erstwhile affiliation. There are many stereotypes of people in the military; occasionally, and even often, they are true, as some stereotypes are wont to be. For better or for worse, I fit none of them, and so I usually opted to omit the military part for expediency’s sake. On the other hand, I would get a brief burst of vindicated pride whenever I was told “You’re so unlike all the other military people I’ve ever met.” Perhaps it’s a part of the human condition to depend so strongly on the approval of others. That’s probably why we rail so hard against it. One of the hazards of being an overly sentient social animal, I suppose. In any case, the best I can probably do is to make the group whose approval I’d like as small as possible, and in that I think I’ve achieved a moderate degree of success.

So now after 6 years I am truly neither linguist nor airman. So the question lingers: “what do you do?”
“I’m starting a business with a fellow former linguist.”
“I’m moving to China.”
“I’m a writer.”
“I’m a turgid couch cushion turgidity tester.”

“I’m a nomad.”

What do I say now? For the first time in years that particular truth is completely up to me with no mindlessly convenient answer. I am free to be whoever I want…just as soon as I figure out who that is.

In the meantime, just don’t ask me what I do for money.