Data Log Entry: 21840309
0300 hours
Commander Shepard here, sorry it has been so long since I have written in my personal journal. Other life factors have been keeping me very busy. It seems like ages ago that I last entered my last log.
Well, besides a new stiff right shoulder from falling about six feet in a mining cavern, and a nice gash across my left hand from a cowardly batarian who absolutely refused to acknowledge he had lost, I am holding up pretty well. And since this is my personal journal, I would like to take a moment to bitch about why it is that every time you have a nasty slice on your hand, your hand mysteriously finds every edge and corner to scrap itself against, all on its own? Anyone reading this has the answer, I would greatly appreciate it. Just send a corresponding email to my address. Which means if you are already reading my journal, then you already have my email address, as you were clever enough to break into my personal journal in the first place.
Ok, I am starting to sound a little loopy now. It is 0315 in the morning. Shocker, I can't sleep again, so I am taking this opportunity to catch up on paperwork. I'm not sure why they still call it that, as a piece of paper hasn't been used by the military in decades. I guess the grueling task of "official processing" needed a slang term and paperwork did the trick.
Well it is late enough I guess. I will try to get some shut eye if possible. If not, I guess I will be counting the welds on the ceiling above my bed for the umpteenth time.
Commander Shepard – 3rd Fleet Alliance Out
SR1 Normandy – Frigate Class