Believe Me
I walked to work this morning, the first time in a week. Let's see if we can't make it twice tomorrow. I think god wants me to walk for a while, the more the better. Do you get messages from god? What sort of mood is she in when she talks to you? It's sometimes hard to tell, what with all the wind and the lightening popping in the background.
What?
Well, it's Tuesday. What do you write on a Tuesday? The day went quickly as I'm now on a late schedule, nine in the morning to five-thirty in the afternoon and believe me, for the sake of my sanity I get in at nine and I leave at five. Um, five-thirty. This is not the definition of a good soldier, but it is the definition of a soldier who is trying not to descend from moderate into terminal burn out. I'm good at what I do - not great, there were times and places I've been great, but these days there are lots of people who are better - still I crank it out pretty good over seven and a half hours and I keep it to seven and a half. Eight, eight and a half hours at my pace for as long as we've been under the fucking gun would make me crazy. Crazier. Believe me.
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