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Sunday, January 15, 2006


FTX barely ended a few weeks ago, and now we're having BPT (Battalion Proficiency Test). This time it's going to be one more day/night, with all the signs of a real tough outfield. Nobody's particularly looking forward to tomorrow. Nobody sane, that is. Even Cal's long lasting euphoria over camou cream has somewhat diminish to the extent where he simply sits, and sulks. I had my reservations about outfield.. and regretably they remain.

So much for optimism ahead of the real thing. The India fiasco still bothers me like a hotcake in the afternoon; hotcakes are for breakfast only, yet I hate to waste good food. The India trip isn't that horribly attractive by any means.. it's just that I feel peeved about not being required to go. I notice that's the case with many things in my life. Miscellaneous objects here and there which I don't really want, but distresses me tremendously when I can't get it. See, it doesn't really matter if I have it anot, but I must have the means to get it. The possiblity must exist. Success is secondary, achievability is everything. The only thing. But I digress. Right now outfield irks me.

Outfield checklist:

- TV
- Radio
- Icebox
- Ribena
- Insect spray

.. and a whole host of illegal items. Should make us comfortable, though I hope we don't end up sick eating tuna.

Oh ya, and I'm a SERGEANT now. >>>


I remember that night. The bus ride from some place which I've never been before. It was drizzling slightly, but it didn't matter; we were sheltered all the way. And we chattered away, everything, from hobbies, to courses in University, even to my field camp in BMT. One hour it was, yet I didn't feel any presence of time. In truth, I thought I was in a dream. Frankly, I think I was. But all the things we touched on, all the little bit and pieces of information we touched on, it really didn't matter.

As in, it really didn't mean anything.

_'Jx]- faded at 5:24 PM