The Battleground

I fly like paper
I get high like planes -- Paper Planes, M.I.A.

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I find it odd that the local popular coffee-locale is the current battleground in the war waged between the Pious and the Gay. Perhaps not openly, and perhaps not even openly to either faction, though it remains quite obvious to the workers and "conscientious" observers that the two side vie laudably for space both inside and out; and the glares and side-ways glances from one front line to the next shout the subconscious feeling loudly.

Other than the war in Morality, there is the war in my own life of duty. I've a lot to do on my plate, and I've recently come by the time to do it, by way of quitting my serving job. Sure, I know what you're thinking, and believe you me, I'm thinking the same thing as well. However, and quite unexpectedly I might add, I've recently been conscripted to create several articles of clothing for those very same Neutrals at the coffee locale. I'm content with that. Therefore, not working as much, and deciding what I get to do with all the unadulterated free time I am now allotted, is something I'm feel I'm growing quite enamored with. I should hate to lose it so quickly. Though I mustn't complain, should it ever occur, for it is as they say: "Like sand through the hourglass". Or, do they say that?

True enough, I'll soon find myself picking up more hours in the long run, looking to turn my golden time into some form of splendor more profitable, especially when it comes time to pay the bills.

So good night from me, and a good night, indeed.