So I’m at Mob station, getting ready to head to the sandbox. I’m excited—about getting over there and past this bullshit, but also about coming home at the end of it and doing the things I want to do.
I’m doing my best to “Let Silence Reign” in that situation; Buttercup is… well, to be honest, I don’t really know where her heart is, and anything I say would likely be too bitter and hurtful to do any good. Silence is golden; but sometimes it is also holy. I did remove her from my Facebook friends, and I suppose I ought to explain that. I wasn’t because I was angry at her, or I hated her, or I never wanted to talk to her again. It was because when I would log on after several days offline, there would be her face and her name sitting there on my home page—each one like a knife twist in my heart. So I removed her from my friends.
I miss her. But not like the “I’ve been rejected forever” type of missing. More like “My friend died awhile ago” type. And I’m sure she would say the same, that she isn’t the woman that I once loved (as if love was confined to a certain moment, and not an aging, growing thing as well!) and that that person was dead. My response to that would be that my Savior can raise the dead—it’s his speciality.
Been reading Boston’s Gun Bible. Man, what a great book. Seriously. I can’t wait to get home and build my .308 AR-15. Boston has a great chapter on how Liberty types are often all talk. Its great. His basic argument is that if you don’t own a battle rifle and practice with it often, you don’t take liberty seriously. Here’s a quote:
“On April 19, 1775, the Minutemen of Lexington and Concord didn’t stand around quoting Locke to the Redcoats. They didn’t sit there and shout “No initiation of force!” No, they shot them—well and often—all twenty miles back to Boston.”