Annoyance

One of the saddest things these days is that I cannot think of anything other then the army to write about. Pity Im not one of those authors/people who can think of their little "escape-realms" or come up with worlds with which to run away from their problems (think Bridge To Terabithia).

A common thing you hear morons (girls mostly) yakking about is that serving NS turns you into a man, and that the whole NS jazz is a good idea because of that. Id bet my life half of them dont know what being a man entails. Probably if the subject matter starts smiling less, talking less, looks serious more often and develops a deeper voice, he'd fit the bill.

Yeah, they can talk all the shit they want about how it helps us (because somehow they are fit to judge whats good for us), but at the end of the day, they dont go through what we go through, so all the shit they talk about will remain as that: Shit.

One can hardly condemn them for not understanding, because after all, all they hear are anecdotes and rumours. But one cannot help but chide them for judging what they dont understand.

*****************

Two words: Live Firing.

Thats the most bloody fun thing Ive done in a while. I wouldnt say its exciting cuz its not exactly heart thumping action, but rather, is something like the concentration of archery and the bang of air rifle.

I have people telling me how they hate going to the range cuz that means cleaning the rifle later. But cleaning the rifle is cleaning the rifle, and shooting is shooting. Its just the aftermath of shooting that sucks. Its just like sex. You like the sex, but you hate the pregnancy afterwards.

But I gotta admit, I really abhor the procedures and cock shit SAF makes us go through. I hate every moment up till I hear "Firers, hundred meters, snap target, watch..... your..... front."

Then Time slows to a crawl and I can hear the exhalations of my breath. The edges of the target sharpen out like a razor, and my heartbeat slows despite the instinctive urge to rush. I feel the cold and unfeeling touch of my trigger against my finger. And yet, and yet this ebony weapon of death doesnt feel as so. It seems to meld into me, and as I look through the crosshairs of the scope, I wonder if Im looking through my own eyes.

Its there, right where I want it to be. Gently, as lovers do, I squeeze Her.

And the world shakes for our orgasmic cries reverberate throughout for miles on.

Heh, and thats only one shot.

=D