Unending Blur-icity

So it was finally the Duff's turn at the controls of the real aircraft. After many hours of practice in the simulators, it was his chance to fly some sectors on the old but still powerful Learjet 45. Sure some things were wonky like the airconditioning and anti-ice, but the engines buckled in and pushed everyone into their seats at the appropriate times. The Duff found himself enjoying the speed, the clouds and the idle banter with the instructor beside him, sharing war stories of life on the line.

The downside was the preparation required going into every flight. He had to wake up at 3.30, set off for the school at 4.30, and prepare the flight plans, fuel, weight and balances, weather and all by 6.00. It was a massive undertaking that took some practice but the flight the next day was much smoother. He also had to prepare and familiarise himself with the routes, approaches and aerodromes along the way. Quite a bit for a lazy bugger like him.

Therefore, it meant late nights prior to the flights, many short naps and practically non-existent deep sleeps in the wee hours of the morning. The stupor he was in caused him to hit his head twice in two days on the edges found on the ceiling of the cabin. Massive bumps that hurt to the touch reminded him of his clumsy childhood and each time he rubbed his scalp, he smiled to himself like a silly old fool.

What was to happen on the subsequent evening took the cake though. He had fallen asleep after a quick snack of instant noodles after the second flight, all the weariness of the preceding days bearing down upon him like an avalanche of sledgehammers. When he awoke, he first saw the faint light peering through his garage room door. He panicked at first, and grabbed for his mobile phone to check the time. The first impression was that it was dawn. He had a simulator session the next morning at 6 as well. "Damn!" He said to himself, when he saw that it was already 6.07. He slept through the night! The fatigue was getting to him. The sense of dread and a rush of adrenaline washed over him as the dashed for his uniform. "Double Damn!" The uniform wasn't ironed yet, and he grabbed the old uniform he had just worn on the second flight, stinking of hours-old perspiration. He guessed that it would fit his own body odour as he hadn't bathed since the flight anyways. The sounds in the kitchen must be made by his buddy. Got to hurry now! His hair was still immaculately in place, held in by the industrial strength hair wax that is the Duff's staple. At least that was one thing going for him.

In the midst of buttoning his shirt, afixing his wings and zipping up his trousers, he stops suddenly as awareness and a greater sense of calm broke through the clouds. "Triple Damn! It was 6pm, not 6am!" Phew. Another crisis averted, albeit one created wholly in his head. He had thought he was done for, as his career was one hellbent on punctuality amongst many other qualities. Missing a session would be the death knell.

He laughed, deep and loud. Those 2 bumps must have caused some short circuits in his head. He emerged from the garage, hoping the sounds of his scampering around hadn't been noticed by his housemates. A quick peek out proved that to be the case, and his recovers nicely to visit the bathroom and helped out in the kitchen to make DINNER.

Such is life. Ups and Downs and All Arounds. One really has to laugh at oneself sometimes.

2010

The New Year.

A certain nice ring to it, isn't there? 2010. Rolls off the tongue, glides into the ears, skims off your skin and tears into your consciousness. It smells of spring, of fresh starts and new cycles. So much to work towards, so much to begin on, so many lists to come up with and to the plans to finish them. So many open doors, so much promise.

The Duff had always enjoyed the start of new years. Some were held with dread that soon passed once familiar faces were once again reacquainted with in class. Some were otherwise eagerly anticipated as the year would usually contain some special dates, and half written chapters that would be closed with the surest certainty of the next sunrise.

The coming year though is one of those that lay ahead with an echoing emptiness waiting to once again be filled by memories filtered through his experience. Tabula Rasa. Once again, targets and lists. Once again, a breaking down of limitations, and fulfillments of various endeavours. Surely a dead end to some, unavoidably dangling threads would be left, but these are NOT to stop him from beginning them, lest the wallet threatens to disavow his freedom and quiet desires.

He is still in Brisbane. Maroochydore to be exact. An hour's worth of driving from Brisbane proper. A quiet hamlet, full of retirees and ignorant Aussies (always shouting japanese at him while driving by). Friendly and helpful ones too, to be fair (invited to x'mas party, but politely declined). Beautiful beaches (gold coast, surfer's paradise, noosa, mooloolaba and mudjimba), sea turtles (he saw one at night at the beach, awesome!), birds (they are everywhere), lizards (them too!), foxes (he saw one crossing a highway late at night) and frogs (after a storm, they were abundantly squashed on many a road). Theme parks (Dreamworld, Sea World, Movieworld, Wet n' Wild) and thrill rides (Lethal Weapon, Superman, Giant Drop, etc.), dolphins (always deviously smiling) and penguins (still wearing a tux in the hot weather). Bikinis (he likes) and bodyboards (he so wanted to buy), tanned curves (he likey more!) and washboards (he envies). Business jets (flying one) and summer holiday-makers (surrounded by them), tough simulator instructors (love/hate relationships) and dusty garages (living out of one). Heat waves and thunderstorms (every other day), 3D movie (AVATAR kicks ass!!!) and cooking (helping out whenever he can).

And that's his life these past 2 months. He can't wait to get back home, to once again start another chapter. To fill it with the pitfalls and perils, the trials and tribulations, the triumphs and the achievements that only hard living can bring.

Own it. Do it. Follow your bliss. Ain't that The Truth?

Deadweight

Have you ever felt the weight of all your failures bearing down upon you? The Duff thinks it feels like a boxer who'd been knocked down upon the canvas, and while the referee is busy ogling the Fixer's wife, the opponent takes a step closer and kicks the loser in the balls.

And twists his foot.

Its true. The Duff had another one of those days, where the shit hit the fan at a diarrhetic ballet of equal consistency. The pile up was unsightly and his stress rose with it in a direct, voluminous ratio. Moments of sanity and laughter punctuated by more issues that had to be handled, managed, solved, and worst of all, put off for a later date.

And he doesn't have much time left on his favourite island in the world. He's leaving in a week's time, once again for that other island down under, where the water in the bowl spins in an unsightly direction and has a knack of producing surprisingly gorgeous people with amazing liver function.

All the crap did give him more impetus to work his ass off in the gym. It also galvanised his resolve to shoot the shit outta all the zombies. Nothing like a double tap to the head from distance. Bloody zombies. What would we do without them?

He wishes he has been able to throw his boomerang though (nope, no euphemisms here. Literally a boomerang. And yes, it does return). He hasn't had any practice in a long time. Somehow he felt that throwing a stick would help calm him down, or at least act as an avenue to vent.

He'll find more violent hobbies in the future. He has it all planned out. After the next 3 months down under, he'd return to begin the rest of his life. And oh, what an act it will be.

Project Phoenix to continue, in spite of the shit.Perhaps he should take up boxing after all.

Invictus by William Ernest Henley (1875)

OUT of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my SOUL.

Full Slate

The Duff is once again in a funk. He'd been staying on the path for the last 2 months, gently treading on the straight and clear, bathed in the euphoria of accomplishments that boosted his ego and self worth to a level he hadn't experienced in many a season.

He'd finally escaped from sleepytown. He misses the flying, but not the stagnant, putrid feeling of imprisonment. His return was almost akin to the proverbial hero's welcome. His parents, recently retired, were an instant source of comfort, satisfaction and anchor. Finally, something tangible to focus upon, for his efforts to be geared towards. The want to provide a stellar lifestyle for them is a major reminder to push himself.

An intense study course back at work occupied the first month. Constant meet ups with old friends were enjoyable, although the feeling of being so far behind them started being a point of contention in his soul. More than ever, the desire to excel is reignited to phosphorescence.

Now on the cusp of the next stage of his training, an intense review of his path is sorely required. Being told by the company that he isn't cut out for the job was a major bummer and buzzkill. Should that dull his drive, or push him to work harder? He found the wind taken out of his solar sails, feeling an animosity to the company which he was just starting to build some loyalty towards.

It was however, a great reminder of his initial decision to walk down this path. A simple plan to gain more ammo. He realised that what he was doing all along was steering away from the path, or rather, walking parallel to the original plan. He was letting vital skills he had attained atrophy.

Therefore, he has initiated Project Phoenix. A return to THE PLAN. It will be a shock and awe tactic, a multi-pronged return to the perpetual beta, to the way of the Truth.

14 Months

The Duff enters his fourteenth month of exile furtively, almost unknowingly. It crept up on him, clawing his back with its prong-shaped talons of hate, poisoning his soul with dejection and desolation. And thus he is nursing himself with a cup of warm green tea, soothing his itchy emphysemaic throat and firing up his fever. He thought he could make it through the tenure down under without a bout of sickness, but as many wise men had said before, "Shit Happens."

It must be the air on the ground, for he hasn't danced amongst the clouds for quite some days now. It also doesn't help that his room-mate had moved out, and in the process given new life to a year's worth of cosmic soot into the small room's aneurysmic circulation. It also followed a stretch of sloth where he stopped jogging for 4 days, and filled those 4 days with junk food, beer, sleep and facebook games. It was a perfect storm of sorts.

And all this free time stems from him waiting for his final flight test. A long queue, a smorgasboard of ridiculous reasons and of course the balmy weather that drifts away at the most inopportune time. His luck seems to have never clicked here. Could the magnetic difference with his yin and yang? Could his chinese compass needle have dipped?

The Duff tries to always look on the brighter side of things, that the glass is not half empty but full of dark matter *snigger*. He has finally resolved the issue of selling his car. While it worked perfectly before, now it practically drives itself. Again, a confluence of misfortune has perturbed him and his friends unendingly, with vehicle inspections (and exchanges with an obnoxious racist), trips to the mechanic(a friendly yet disappointingly careless operator) and a nail-scratching-on-blackboard level of experience when dealing with the new buyers. Never had The Duff met a more irritatingly penny-pinching excuse of a man. The whole experience left him with a tangy taste of bile in the mouth.

And thus, when he went out to the movies yesterday, he borrowed another car instead of using his (co-)owned mode of transport. This other car belonged to a friend, and it requires a push start everytime. While it started nicely twice during that evening, it refused to do so at a petrol station, the last start up that we required. The Duff, being the OX OF A MAN that he is volunteered to do the pushing instead. After 8 ATTEMPTS, his heart almost exploded. A better comedic act was never on display. 2 funny looking men pushing a car all around a petrol station. It finally started on a last ditch attempt. Boy was the Duff relieved, for his buttocks and thighs were aching like there's no tomorrow, and his heart was exploding in his chest. If he was to have flown the next day, he would surely have failed the sortie.

The Duff learnt today that his ex-boss has cancer and is closing down his company. While he was hardly in my good books, I found myself still managing to feel sad over this situation. As harsh an impression I had of him, no one should ever have to suffer this fate. The Duff wishes him all the best, and that his religious beliefs hold him over this predicament in as comfortable a manner as possible.

The Duff wonders if its this softness of heart that prevents him from leading the crowd. The apathy to the sometimes devious acts of others, the inability to crush others under his heel. While he understands that this is a large aspect of his personality, and he is rather comfortable, even satisfied at times, with his core values, is this empathy really worth having? Could the ultimate zen masters be the largest pussies?

What is the Truth?

Playlist: Cranberries, Damien Rice, Coldplay, Keane, Green Day
Movies: Closer, Public Enemies, My Sister's Keeper, Red Cliff

3 to goooooooo

The Duff has hopefully only 3 more flights before the big flight home. He has thoroughly enjoyed the last 13 months in flight school. Making great friends, exercising more often than ever, eating lots and some flying on the side is a very simple endeavour.

Sure there were times when he felt depressed or stressed due to his flying, or from situations arising from home, but they were always managed. Therein lies his strength, his ability to cope and analyse complications, coming up with solutions.

Sadly this comes far short from making up for his faults. His laziness, his lack of social skills, his 2 left feet and short attention spans for starters. Once again, the immediate gratification and payoff from his other silly activities contribute to most of these failings. Gaming, sleeping, hiding in the room and reading brings him much joy, but perhaps depriving him of other forms.

Some say knowing is half the battle. Well, the Duff then has started the other half of the battle. He has come up with a plan for the rest of his life using gaming principles. Certainly sounds silly, but he is from the apex of the gaming generation, and while he surely isn't as hardcore as some gamers are, he is hoping that he at least has enough ideas to push these plans through. His method is simple.

Set long term goals. Hard ones. Goals that if he was on his death-bed, he can say out loud with pride that he had accomplished them. Then, set intermediate goals that would help him reach the end goals. And then another layer back, and another and so on. The first goal though, would be so simple, its almost laughable. However, the entire aim is to get the journey started. To take the first step. Finishing will come in due course.

And with any game, there should be contingencies, and parallel avenues which make the entire plan interesting. His original plans from his adolescence have failed miserably for they came without contingencies. He's hoping that this time round, there is a way out, or at least around, insurmountable odds. Like his upcoming flight test. Everything for now hinges on this path being followed through. His starting token.

Problem solving. Character improvement. Obtaining loot and experience.
Game on!