He wore a red polka dotted long sleeve shirt.

Another week has ended. Even more insect bites, but then again it goes with the job. If i was any fairer, the bites would appear as red polka dots on my skin. Anyway always wanted a polka dotted Vespa, but that's besides the point.

Going overseas next week, so I'm trying to make the best of my time left here. Woke up relatively early for a Saturday, and did some shopping. Window shopping to be exact. Made a trip to my audio shop but there was nothing new for me. Perhaps when I tune up my car into a track car I'll change my subs.

"Soldiers don't die. They just fade away."
I was thinking. Why do we work so hard? Does society remember us? As we wrinkle up into some forgotten prune, will the youngsters even know what we "unksters" have done for them? Or do we just fade into oblivion? When the time comes we'll just be referred to as the old generation, and that's it. The old generation.

So back to the question. Why do we work so hard? When we're lying on our death bed are we going to say that we wished we had spent more time at work? No. I guess I've figured out the answer. We work to obtain things that make our lives worth living for. To buy the fuel that drives us on. Life itself probably stinks on it's own. Faith in God makes it better. But we are all weak.

I probably sound incoherent. Mixed up. Whatever..