Who wants flowers when you're dead? Nobody.
Seventy-third Entry. Light's out.
18 SEP 03 | 2100 - Thursday

Lights out. Everyone complains that they don't get enough sleep during Basic. They spend at least half the day fighting to keep their eyelids open. It's lights out and for the nest hour, 4th bay is going to be a roar of talking and laughter of the day's experience. Jokes about the size of my head, comments at how they miss sex and freedom and everything civilian that was never appreciated before. A sealed bag of dried apricots becomes a blessed gift form above...

We have been here for 3 weeks as of today. Three weeks is a long time, but here it feels like a day. Maybe two days. We have conquered Victory Tower, got used to all the PT, conquered the bayonet assault course, and so much more. The bayonet assault course was just today and tomorrow I get gassed with my other platoon soldiers. I can hardly wait, actually. It's something guaranteed to be so unbearably painful that how could I not want to endure it and come out as a champion. Besides, I have to make up somehow for being beaten so badly by Munoz-the thirty-one-year old retired boxer from Chihuahua, Mexico-in the Pugil Pit. I could state all the highly valid excuses for why I lost, but there is only one reason. I was not the best. I will be, though. soon enough. Don't worry, I'll make it all up and then some. Just a matter of time, practice, and desire.

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Flashes of High School
Summer of Change
No Brass, No ammo
Lost in Translation

Last Five

And that's that.
Referenced #2
To write them.
Heart vs mind.