Life is Hard. Wear a Helmet.

Life is Hard. Wear a Helmet

Virginia State Constitution: Article 1; Section 13
That a well regulated militia, composed of the body of the people, trained to arms, is the proper, natural, and safe defense of a free state, therefore, the right of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed; that standing armies, in time of peace, should be avoided as dangerous to liberty; and that in all cases the military should be under strict subordination to, and governed by, the civil power.

Alabama State Constitution: Article 1: Section 26
That every Citizen has a right to bear arms in defense of himself and the State.

Monday, October 10, 2016

Too Long in the Wasteland

I remember those early mornings.
Jogging around the perimeter of the compound in....Saudi? Yeah...jogging around the perimeter in Saudi, my feet slapping and crunching on the road bed.

The camel spiders would be out, enjoying the cool air before the sun came up and they scrambled back into hiding for the day. They would be scattered all over the sand, but they tended to stay off the crushed gravel of the perimeter road. Maybe it retained too much heat.

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And those other early mornings, in England.

The cold and damp would drop on you like a weight as you came out of the house. I would make my way through the fog to the car and get in as quickly as I could and fire up the heater.

The damp would soak into me over time. Eventually, England became the only place where I learned to walk around in the rain, no matter how hard it was...and completely ignore it.

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The early mornings in Manila come back to me with the most clarity. Walking on those sidewalks that were actually covers over the sewer lines.

Between each square of cement that made up the sidewalk, there was a small vent slot to keep gasses from building up. When you first arrive in the city, the smell hits you like a fist, but after you've been there for a while you get used to it. It becomes simply a backdrop to everything else.

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Now I can't seem to slow down.

My early mornings are spent in a hotel (or at home if I'm lucky) pounding down my three cups while I dig through my emails and rush to get out the door to whatever project I have on the top of my list for that day.

Got to take a break soon.

Why is it that when I think of getting away from it all I think of going back to Manila?

Maybe there's something about the honesty of the smell of human shit that keeps everyone focused on what's important.

Maybe I'm only thinking that because I actually stayed up and wasted my time watching the presidential debate last night.

We're fucked.

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