Rascaldees
Banned Member
Howdy. Just realized I haven't done one of these. My name is Tucker. I'll respond to Rascaldees, Rascal, Rasc, Tucker, Tuck and probably a few other names. I don't use my first name. If you can figure out what it is you'll get a cookie or something.
Anyways, so Introductions? I guess I'll just share my life story. Why not, right?
I was born in Virginia near Langley Airforce Base as the bastard child of an NCO and some random farm boy. My biological father never took responsibility for me. My adopted father did; an officer in the Airforce. God bless the good old USA.
Anyways. I don't have much memory of times before when I was young. Most people don't. I do remember that my life hasn't been the easiest.
When I was six, I was molested. It's an irrelevant point I suppose. I was too young to understand and now too old to remember most of the details suppressed or repressed. I was nine when my great grandmother died while I held her hand. She died of pneumonia. It wasn't pretty to say the least. Her final moments were full of hallucinations and she was definitely frightened. It wasn't long after that my adoptive father and my mother divorced. I am still not sure to this day if these events are related and I won't ask because it's not my business.
I'll never forget her though. She taught me how to sew, to crochet and was teaching me to knit before she met with God. She was a kind and gentle woman raised in a very different time. I can't say she was perfect but I can say without a doubt that she's upstairs with the big man knitting.
Both of these events were unpleasant to say the least. I was already a reclusive child by the time she died. That only made the situation deteriorate further.
I didn't have an easy school life. I have been bullied and considered an outcast since I entered school. I've had very few friends through life. But... my bullies and I were raised in a different generation. Fighting was to be expected among boys to a degree. I don't regret it. It made me tough. Fighting bigger children, often outnumbered, will do that.
I was eleven when my uncle, a North Carolina State Trooper, was killed in a motor cycle accident. He was my grandmother's only son and her youngest child. And he was my best friend. I learned quickly that parents should never have to bury their children. It's not natural.
School life got harder after that. I didn't really have anyone to talk to. My brother (I am the eldest child of six children) was starying to get picked on. So I took the road less traveled and put myself between him and the same people that ruthlessly preyed on those weaker and less fortunate than themselves. It cost me. A lot. There are many days where I've asked myself if it was the right decision or if it would have been better to keep my head low. There are many more days where I wear it as a badge of honor. I don't think I would have done things differently if I could go back... but I'm also not like most people.
My enemies finally stopped fighting me physically when I started to fight dirty. Dirty in the sense of picking up improvised weapons like bricks, rocks, wooden boards, branches and anything else that had a decent heft and could be swung or thrown. They were, unfortunately, relentless in their mocking but it was arguably better than being beaten. Until this point in my life I was getting hit so badly that child protective services were routinely showing up to my doorstep thinking our mother was abusing us.
I won't bore anyone with the details of high school. Suffice to say, I shot up from barely five feet tall to six foot one over the course of the summer and at that time people had already learned I was not going to take physical abuse.
I was seventeen when I graduated high school with honors. I enlisted into the US Army on the same day (after convincing my mother that I was going to enlist at eighteen anyways if she didn't sign the paperwork allowing me to enlist early).
Basic training was... new. I was still a social outsider but thijgs were arguably easier as well. I did my job, others did theirs. That was all that was required. I graduated in the top tenth percentile of my class and was immediately shipped out.
Eventually I ended up in Fort Irwin, California. Google will reveal it as the National Training Center. Ironically, it was in garrison that I was injured during my military service rather than any combat action. I permanently broke my spine. My doctor said I was lucky that I wasn't confined to a wheel chair but that my spine would never heal properly. To this day my spine still suffers from chronic pain and an inability to properly align itself. I wanted to stay in the military but unfortunately doing so required a fully intact spine.
I was discharged from military service and immediately set out for college. That road has been more than a little complicated. College isn't like other schools and the methods of teaching since I was discharged from military service have drastically changed. I got by... but I definitely wasn't the best anymore.
Eventually I took a break from college and instead took up service once more as a security guard. When the company closed down I took up service to the state as a police officer; hoping to follow in my uncle's footsteps and become a State Trooper and eventually SWAT. Unfortunately, I have also come to hate beaurecrats. I did not enjoy being a cop. I got out after a few months.
From there I decided that it would be best to find a career which I enjoyed while also being one that would easily pay the bills. From that, I went back to college and became an engineer in the field of mechatronics. Additionally, I decided to finally finish development on the table top game I had built. I currently work both fields.
I met my wife online. Ironically we used to live within twenty minutes of one another but had simply never met before. After over a year of correspondence we decided to meet in person.
It was at that time that I learned of her mother's abuse. I told her she was leaving that same day. We had just come back from the gun range and I have to say I probably looked terrifying. I sat in my car, shotgun in my lap loaded and ready to fire at a moment's notice.
Things from there haven't been easy either. But they are definitely a life worth living and something go be proud of.
I know there are people that will refute this story. I don't care. I have told it as it has unfolded. There are many chapters of my life that aren't yet written. And there are many days left ahead of me. My mother taught me some things above all else: loyalty, honesty, duty and respect. I know I'm not the most perfect human being that ever existed and I'm far from perfect at always upholding those values.
But you wanted an introduction. This is it... plus a bit extra to go beyond the call of duty.
Anyways, so Introductions? I guess I'll just share my life story. Why not, right?
I was born in Virginia near Langley Airforce Base as the bastard child of an NCO and some random farm boy. My biological father never took responsibility for me. My adopted father did; an officer in the Airforce. God bless the good old USA.
Anyways. I don't have much memory of times before when I was young. Most people don't. I do remember that my life hasn't been the easiest.
When I was six, I was molested. It's an irrelevant point I suppose. I was too young to understand and now too old to remember most of the details suppressed or repressed. I was nine when my great grandmother died while I held her hand. She died of pneumonia. It wasn't pretty to say the least. Her final moments were full of hallucinations and she was definitely frightened. It wasn't long after that my adoptive father and my mother divorced. I am still not sure to this day if these events are related and I won't ask because it's not my business.
I'll never forget her though. She taught me how to sew, to crochet and was teaching me to knit before she met with God. She was a kind and gentle woman raised in a very different time. I can't say she was perfect but I can say without a doubt that she's upstairs with the big man knitting.
Both of these events were unpleasant to say the least. I was already a reclusive child by the time she died. That only made the situation deteriorate further.
I didn't have an easy school life. I have been bullied and considered an outcast since I entered school. I've had very few friends through life. But... my bullies and I were raised in a different generation. Fighting was to be expected among boys to a degree. I don't regret it. It made me tough. Fighting bigger children, often outnumbered, will do that.
I was eleven when my uncle, a North Carolina State Trooper, was killed in a motor cycle accident. He was my grandmother's only son and her youngest child. And he was my best friend. I learned quickly that parents should never have to bury their children. It's not natural.
School life got harder after that. I didn't really have anyone to talk to. My brother (I am the eldest child of six children) was starying to get picked on. So I took the road less traveled and put myself between him and the same people that ruthlessly preyed on those weaker and less fortunate than themselves. It cost me. A lot. There are many days where I've asked myself if it was the right decision or if it would have been better to keep my head low. There are many more days where I wear it as a badge of honor. I don't think I would have done things differently if I could go back... but I'm also not like most people.
My enemies finally stopped fighting me physically when I started to fight dirty. Dirty in the sense of picking up improvised weapons like bricks, rocks, wooden boards, branches and anything else that had a decent heft and could be swung or thrown. They were, unfortunately, relentless in their mocking but it was arguably better than being beaten. Until this point in my life I was getting hit so badly that child protective services were routinely showing up to my doorstep thinking our mother was abusing us.
I won't bore anyone with the details of high school. Suffice to say, I shot up from barely five feet tall to six foot one over the course of the summer and at that time people had already learned I was not going to take physical abuse.
I was seventeen when I graduated high school with honors. I enlisted into the US Army on the same day (after convincing my mother that I was going to enlist at eighteen anyways if she didn't sign the paperwork allowing me to enlist early).
Basic training was... new. I was still a social outsider but thijgs were arguably easier as well. I did my job, others did theirs. That was all that was required. I graduated in the top tenth percentile of my class and was immediately shipped out.
Eventually I ended up in Fort Irwin, California. Google will reveal it as the National Training Center. Ironically, it was in garrison that I was injured during my military service rather than any combat action. I permanently broke my spine. My doctor said I was lucky that I wasn't confined to a wheel chair but that my spine would never heal properly. To this day my spine still suffers from chronic pain and an inability to properly align itself. I wanted to stay in the military but unfortunately doing so required a fully intact spine.
I was discharged from military service and immediately set out for college. That road has been more than a little complicated. College isn't like other schools and the methods of teaching since I was discharged from military service have drastically changed. I got by... but I definitely wasn't the best anymore.
Eventually I took a break from college and instead took up service once more as a security guard. When the company closed down I took up service to the state as a police officer; hoping to follow in my uncle's footsteps and become a State Trooper and eventually SWAT. Unfortunately, I have also come to hate beaurecrats. I did not enjoy being a cop. I got out after a few months.
From there I decided that it would be best to find a career which I enjoyed while also being one that would easily pay the bills. From that, I went back to college and became an engineer in the field of mechatronics. Additionally, I decided to finally finish development on the table top game I had built. I currently work both fields.
I met my wife online. Ironically we used to live within twenty minutes of one another but had simply never met before. After over a year of correspondence we decided to meet in person.
It was at that time that I learned of her mother's abuse. I told her she was leaving that same day. We had just come back from the gun range and I have to say I probably looked terrifying. I sat in my car, shotgun in my lap loaded and ready to fire at a moment's notice.
Things from there haven't been easy either. But they are definitely a life worth living and something go be proud of.
I know there are people that will refute this story. I don't care. I have told it as it has unfolded. There are many chapters of my life that aren't yet written. And there are many days left ahead of me. My mother taught me some things above all else: loyalty, honesty, duty and respect. I know I'm not the most perfect human being that ever existed and I'm far from perfect at always upholding those values.
But you wanted an introduction. This is it... plus a bit extra to go beyond the call of duty.
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