although rumination is for pussies

Gah more than anything else I don’t like what the army’s making me. It’s making me normal – and I mean this with no – little – sense of elitism or condescension. I’m growing up too fast and there’s something to this when more than a few people tell you that. The army doesn’t make one outright dreary; that wouldn’t be subtle enough. It makes one literal. Words that once possessed multiple meanings (so one could let the meanings waft around in layers, each duly picked out when desired – like Lyra and her truth-meter) now mean only the one thing. In a mission, ambiguity is liability, so everything only ever means what it means. There’s no room for facetiousness. There’s the luxury of (choreographed) introspection, but even the conclusions are provided for us.

I only vaguely remember what school was – a highly artificial environment as well, no doubt, but in there I remember there was always passion for the things I was doing. I toiled hard not (merely) to escape consequences but because I genuinely thought the things I was doing was making me a better person. A more… appreciative person. Now I can run faster, do more pullups (ok actually no I still do around the same), last for days in the sun with 20kg on my back and a helmet on my head… but I think I lost something and I desperately wish I can get it back again, when this is all over