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The Beaches of Normandy
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I’ve been reflecting on the results of one of those faux online Myers-Briggs tests, the ones that explain why you’d prefer not to talk to your barber or meet new people. The results were predictable. I am apparently a cold-hearted introvert who feels nothing—nothing!—for other people. And I guess this rings true. When I stormed the beaches at Normandy, I just killed, killed, killed, and felt absolutely nothing. My friends say “don’t worry, it was WWII, and you were doing your duty.” I have to keep reminding them that it was 2005.