8.9.03

Battalion PT is kind of fun, when we go running outside and people stare at this gaggle of identically-dressed idiots shouting cadence with our senior chiefs. 4th Class got chewed out by the Master Chief when PT was through, because we still have a few rough edges when it comes to military protocol. They stay on our six pretty tight, but the cause is just. I know I have a tendancy to slide if someone isn't pushing me, and I fully expect that the academic rigour I push through these next few years will be harsher than anything I've done before. And that, of course, is half the reason I joined in the first place.

The other half? Pressing the button that sends $250,000 worth of electronic death into the homes of our enemies (provided the intel is good).

Speaking of academic rigours, it will be "rigorous" indeed to sit through a full semester of bloviation from my history teacher. Right now we're learning about the origins of WWII, and his grandstanding is insufferable. He treats the class like an audience, pasuing for dramatic effect and painfully enunciating parts of sentences. For. No. Good. Reason. Besides that it makes him sound serious.

And he works from notes that are obviously ten years old. I could take those notes and in a week do a better job of teaching than he is. Bah!

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