Catchphrase for V -- and coundown time

I dunno if you're allowed to "win" more than once, but what the hell.

Your pain does not make you special.


I've started counting the days until I leave, literally. 32. I ship out Oct 2nd. (and my b-day is a week later, that's going to be "fun.")

I'm not worried anymore. Maybe writing had a cathartic effect. Yeah, I'll blame it on that. And I gave my notice at the mcjob. I've changed subtly -- I roll out of bed and I want to go for a run, I want to do 50 push-ups in a minute, I want to recite my 11 general orders in phonetic alphabet.

Sweet zombie jesus, I'm crazy...

Dream a dream

There is a certain doubt, internally, when I consider my fitness for the Navy. I've had three brothers go to boot camp, but none have graduated. This, by itself, gives me more pause than mother's passive-aggressive campaign to convince me to believe I will fail. Granted, this was a different time -- these brothers are all 30+ now, and they enlisted in the late 80s. Still, I wonder what was so irreconcilable with who they are and military life. I'm more anxious about this than anything else.

Family lore has it that they couldn't shoot. I... don't believe this. All of them have better eyesight than I do, and in arcade games, I usually hit what I'm aiming at 50% of the time. Not exactly the best indicator of my shooting ability, but I've never shot a real gun before. Although one of my brothers has admitted to doing "something" to an Army captain that made his separation more expedient.

I'll probably be fine. I try not to think about this too often, still it's kinda worrying.