Who wants flowers when you're dead? Nobody.
Ninety-first Entry. Taxes are rough.
01 OCT 03 | 2113 - Wednesday

Fuck you. Fuck all you civilians that complain about the government taking money out of your paycheck. Here I am, a soldier in the US Army, ready to defend the nation and its government. So what happens? The government fucks me royally.

I got my LES (Leave and Earnings Statement) today, and a lot of us were looking forward to getting them. When we got them, we wished we hadn't. My total entitlements are a whopping $1,739.58. Actually that isn't bad for a month and a half of pure fun. However, my total deductions are a "kick-in-the-balls"-ing $1,385.81. Damn! That's more than half of my check, obviously. I only hope those deductions won't be consistent.

Seriously, people complain all the time about bad Uncle Sam fucks them and here I am working for hem and taking it worse than almost everyone. It's too typical. Too unsurprising. Too natural. Oh well, that's just how it is. At least I'm having fun.

Thirteen. That number is a constant in my life. It appears directly or indirectly in so many of the event of my life. Indirectly- I was born at 5:08 a.m. (5 + 8 = 13) and weighed in at 6 pounds, 7 ounces (6 + 7 = 13). More direct- the butt stock number on my rifle is 4-213. Today, at the pre-qualification range, I was assigned to lane 13. On that range, how many targets did I hit in the prone? Yup, you guessed it, 13.

These are are extremely mild, mundane events and hardly enough to convince anyone of some sort of phenomenon with the number 13, but when it occurs as frequent as it does with me...you become a believer.

At any rate, more pre-qual tomorrow. I want to be good and I need sleep for that. So, goodnight.

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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.