Yet another rough day at work. At least I was sitting down most of the day, driving the console. But there are just so many things happening constantly at work, sometimes it's just really overwhelming. Detail after detail after detail, each detail needing an action, whether a word written down, a button pushed, a phone call made... on and on and on. Someone recently said something about how the older we get, the more we enjoy serene, peaceful days. Conversely, that means that we must hate the opposite... the constant clamor for our attention... no... the *demand* for our attention. Makes me tired. Not really physically tired, like I was yesterday, but mentally exhausted. O'man! I have the feeling that I've written this before, in exactly the same way using the same words. Anyhoo. Beautiful day, I think it got up to 86°F, setting a record, and another record due to be broken tomorrow. Yeah, Kansas! Southerly winds up to 30 MPH kickin' in from Texas, I bet. Still feeling weirded out from Apocalypse Now. It's like I have a different vision of the world now... kinda like I actually *was* in 'nam, and not just scared shitless that I would be sent there. Anyway, like I was there, and now I'm having flashbacks of things that didn't happen to me, but that had happened to other guys who told me about them. There was a lot of that going around when I was in. Talking, I mean. I spent a lotta time listening. To true stories, mostly. But some of the best ones were made up, the third-hand stories... One thing that was believable, though... the dope and booze stories. And the ones about the guys who didn't care, didn't care about their buddies, about their families, about the country. They cared once, and then they had to shoot someone, or their buddies got killed beside them, or the willies finally got to them, and they didn't care if they lived or died. I helped take care of some of them, and a coupla them were my friends. And Georgia was just as much a foreign land to this Kansas kid as Viet Nam would have been. Different dangers, for sure, but still, really foreign. Most of the guys that went to 'nam survived. Most were completely unharmed, in fact. Physically, anyway. But throughout the years, the screaming meemies have got a lot of them. Which reminds me... one of the agencies told me that they are one of three preferred contractors with the VA system, which means that anywhere that there's a VA, I could go. Trouble with that is... the pay sucks, comparatively. But there are lots of VA hospitals out there, and i would get a preference, being a vet. Heh. Another problem with VA hospitals is that the care in general sucks, and I wouldn't particularly want to work in those conditions. Of course, I don't know that for sure.... I haven't been making any calls the last coupla days, but I have had some calls coming in... a guy today wanted me to consider some permanent positions, sorry, Charlie. Not enough money, not enough fun. I'm in this for the fun and the romance and the money. Even if the job is in Sacremento or Palm Beach. Whoa, back and forth here... the news, the news, the news. Everywhere, always, the news about the fu*&#^% war, and how well we're doing. Or not. And yes, I am happy happy happy that the cute girl from West Virginia is rescued, but where's the black girl from, what is it, Georgia? Karen wants to go where there is a beach. Therefore, *I* want to go where there is a beach. Are there beaches in Wisconsin? I am kinda worried about what she is gonna do while I'm working, y'know? She's talked about volunteering at the hospital that I'm working at, I don't know if she'll really like that or not. It's a good way to meet people, though. I definitely don't want Karen to get bored, heh. In the Mail: On the shelf:
I can't remember their names, and I just barely remember their faces. It was, after all, the sixties.