*fanning*
She's safe, though. Unless a chick showed me the Restraining Order she had against a dude/brawd, I wouldn't poach a servicemanperson's woman. S/He's out there being shot at by [whatever we're labeling our non-American opponents this year]. S/He won't have to worry about me poaching the cooch whilst doing so.
DA/DT
I had other considerations of life, liberty and the pursuit of happyness(sic). But, unless I put them down right when I'm having them, then *poof* they vanish into the æther.
Back to the grind…
I'm going back to training tonight. My trusty steed had some issues. I had my radiator and my starter replaced, one right after the other, in the last six weeks. I couldn't make that trek the way I normally would. *psy* As a consequence, this is going to h-u-r-t. I have to tone my muscles back up AND lose the gut I put on. Somewhere along the way, I lost that drive that I had to get back to class in the first place. I don't know what's going on with me with that.
It's an odd moment to look at your life and have the self-realization that you've actually been depressed. Am I still depressed? Will I be able to dig myself out of the hole I put myself into? I was off for a week and a half, grew a beard…hair was woolly. As I got ready for work today, I ended up doing a self-assessment whilst shaving my head and face.
Maybe that's the issue with me. Women sense depression like dogs sense fear, don't they? LoL@that.
Meh! Whutiver! Doesn't really matter, does it? I'm both amused and appalled at myself slipping into/being in this state with all of this proclaimed & diagnosed self-awareness that I'm supposed to possess.
Love! Hate! Sex! Pain!
…makes me wanna have a knockdown, drag-out, superhero/Saiyan fightsmashbrawl with a brawd the way Will Smith & whatsherface did in Hancock.
…anyway.
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