I have been completely consumed by rage. Everyday it's the same fucking routine that consists of waking up at ungodly hours (usually between 0300 to 0500) to first wait for roughly an hour or so until someone "in charge" shows up and then run for excessive periods of time, and sometimes with random shit, like 80 lbs packs for example. People all around go down, get hurt, and no one "in charge" seems to give a fuck. Anyone seriously injured is looked at as weak, or just hamming it up. It doesn't matter if they're in a cast, or have received serious mortal wounds, they are looked at as "soft" and often suffer constant ridicule and undesirable duties or menial tasks because of it like sitting for hours on end sorting through trash to find recyclables or cleaning out rest room facilities. After said running is completed, we are given roughly 30 minutes to go clean and eat before having to show up to work, where we will stand in a formation for another hour or so before someone "in charge" shows up. Mind you, we lived in cramped rooms roughly 3 or 4 to a room, and are expected to maintain our living quarters is as if it were a museum. So that's 30 minutes for 3 men to shower, ensure the room is in good order, and attempt to get to the mess hall to eat, presuming the line permits it, as everyone eats at said mess hall because we have had money taken out of our pay to eat there. Needless to say people seldom have time to eat there because it's a race between you and your roommates and about 90 other people or so from you platoon who are trying to meet the same deadlines racing you. You know what, fuck this, I could go on bitching but at the rate I'm at now it would take a solid hour or so to finish griping about all the injustices that have fallen upon myself and my fellow Marines. An hour which I don't have because I have to go to seep at a half way decent hour so I can begin the same vicious cycle. In summation though, fuck the military.