Eddie's journal, March 5th, 2010 9.53am

pre-enlistment plan, phase 1, movement A:

its official. i failed my pilot compass test.

so now will have to wait for my WSO FTR.

did apply for C3 and UAV.


will have to see how it goes.
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pre-enlistment plan, phase 1, movement B:

so i have finally gotten the campfire committee moving.

the force needed is huge.

but the inertial of the committee is also hard to overcome.

momentum now lies with the new appointed chairman.

and momentum seems to be losing to friction now.
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pre-enlistment plan, phase 2:

today finished a 4D3N chalet.

a big thank you to all who came.
and a big question mark for all those who said coming but didn't show, didn't call, didn't sms.

and some that i expected to come.


no matter. its over. can make up for it though. when i am able to book out on weekends.
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pre-enlistment plan, penultimate phase:

its clear to me now.

thanks for helping me to clear things.

you haven hurt me. no not so easily. merely rejected.

why?

cos I'm not sure if i can take hurt anymore.

there is no room in me for hurt anymore.

so for now i cant take the hurt, i cant take the sad, i cant take the hate.

they will remain in me for too long. far too long.

so I'll have rejected instead of hurt, depressed instead of sad, anger instead of hate.

just the good, the bad and the ugly.

and then I'll keep functioning, keep fighting.

cos there are things that still needs me functioning to progress.

till we meet again. by then I'll know where to shove my feelings into.
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pre-enlistment plan, final phase:

the warrior coughs up a mouthful of blood and spit onto the ground.

his scared armour hanging uselessly on his beaten body.

slowly he starts to rip it off, the broken armour offering not more protection than his own skin.
encumbering him, denying him speed and alacrity.

stabbing his sword into the earth, he begins taking the scrap metal off him.

tearing off his mail gloves, broken gauntlets, chipped and faded pauldrons , cracked gorget the warrior rids himself of the dead weight, slowing him down dragging his feet.

he turns and eyes his sword, he would allow himself to discard his armour but his honor would now allow him to leave his sword behind.

for the sword is honor, without it he might as well die.

the monster looms over him as he withdrew his sword from the ground.

his clan might not remember him as the warrior for fighting till his last breath, but he isn't here for the glory.

he just wants to delay the monster long enough till the village can muster more warriors to fight back.

his honor demands he stand and fight, even if broken and torn as long as he still draws breathe he will have to fight.

and fight he will.

he has lived by the sword, and now in what might be the last moments of his life, his mind in great clarity, he would gladly die by the sword.
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suddenly the skies dont seem so blue blue anymore...

or was that just a passing cloud?