| Darkly dreaming Daniel |
[09 Aug 2008|12:39pm] |
Three and a half years, huh?
I've been meaning to update this forever, but honestly, I simply never bothered getting to it. Plus there's maybe two people that would give a damn that I'm not in contact with in other ways. But this has been a day for fixing procrastination's mistakes, so here goes.
Where to start? Where have I been?
Oh god. I'm embarassed to realise the reason I stopped writing this (not to mention doing a lot of other things) was....World of Warcraft. Yeah, I was that guy. My housemate introduced it to me one night and I basically didn't stop playing for 2 years. All seems so distant now. Who needs a life when Alterac Valley needs defending from the elves and gnomes?
The Army thing fell by the wayside a few months later too. Honestly WoW wouldnt have helped there either, but mainly I was just burned out on the bullshit and repetition. I needed a break, and by the time I was ready to give it another go, I had a job that conflicted too much.
Eventually I got out of the rut and into a 'good' job. I worked for Telstra for 2 years. It was office and computer work - hooking up telephone lines electronically, basically. Well paid, easy, interesting at first, and comfortable as the grave. It took me a while to realise I was going stir crazy behind the numbness of 9 to 5 life.
I took 2 holidays during that time. One was to the good ol' United States of America. Yes, my love-hate relationship with our dwindling overlords continues, so now I have personal observations to put it in perspective. I was mainly in Colorado and I....rather liked the place. I saw snow for the first time in my life! The land itself is beautiful, I still get a hankering for it every now and then. Its fair to say America confounded some expectations.
I've now met Tempestuous and Magiklabyrinth (however you link their LJs, Rachel and Sarah) and they're just as....remarkable human beings as I always knew they would be :P I offered to visit Rai, but I'm fairly sure I heard her screaming in fear from over here. I'm glad I've met some wonderful people in my otherwise wasted years online, and all have been in person just as good as advertised online.
Speaking of women, I was mainly involved with one for the last few years, but now I'm not, and now I think about it, that's all I want to say about that.
Telstra pissed me off more and more once I got back from the States, so thanks to Simon's helping hand I now have a new job in the same company as him. It's been a month or two now and I'm really liking it so far. I do a lot of flying and dirt road driving and some talking, and every so often I walk into the bush to stick posts into the ground, at a far better wage than it has any right to be. It's a better lifestyle than it sounds :P A lot more dynamic and diverse than sitting behind a desk at Telstra. Fingers crossed, I'll be content here for a fair while to come.
My family and friends go well, though too many of the latter I've lost touch with. My little sister had a baby, and far too many people are parents, married, divorced, or seperated. One day I might take those plunges into the 'real adult world' but for now - I'm just grateful I havent.
Well that's about it. Man, who was I three and a half years ago? What kind of Daniel Oliver didn't know Tyrion Lannister, or Chief Tyrol, or Dexter Morgan? :P How many brain cells have I donated to Mr Jack Daniels since then? How many girls have come to regret knowing me? (yeah yeah, not many at all.) How did I play a WoW Priest that long, and how badly did I lose the plot during some of those Army exercises? I guess its all piss in the wind, because I'm genuinely pretty happy with myself right now.
Anyway, hope this reaches at least one person who gives a fuck :)
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[01 May 2005|01:14pm] |
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It was my 24th birthday yesterday. Woot
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[10 Feb 2005|11:32pm] |
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I've dug back a year or two and made some Memories, so everyone can relive the magic all over again! I'm particularly proud of The Corn-Holing of Humanity , my first foray into the world of screenplays. You know, at the time it crossed my mind it was simply an immature, pointless bit of snuff, but viewed in retrospect, I do now think my attempt at 'the most politically incorrect play ever' did come within stabbing distance of 'the best play ever.' Yeah, so it's not the most august of creative writing categories. I've seen The Sound of Music!
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| For my fellow nerds! |
[03 Feb 2005|12:37am] |
Day of Defeat! Ph3ar my haxor skills!
Damn, I rock. Yesterday's record was 19. There's nothing more satisfying than meeting the dull skull of a sniper to the moderately sharp edge of your gardening implements. The skull loses. The skull has NO GAME. I oWnz0r it. I rock the MP-44 too, but that's just because I'm so damn manly. These guys were going 'Zoid, you're a champion!' but I just put my shovel upside their head.
Simon, I'll bet you a beer you can't beat that :)
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[02 Feb 2005|11:05pm] |
Hmmmm.
The Army is putting me in a gas chamber next weekend.
And I might be boarding illegal immigrant boats, deploying to Malaysia, or going to Aceh to help the tsunami relief, this year.
Fun times :)
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[24 Jan 2005|03:07pm] |
'RE Bogan Party!
Tuesday 25 January
Venus Envy Live
$8 Tooheys New Jugs All Day
Best Bogan Fashions'
All right, who's coming to the RE tomorrow?!?
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[21 Jan 2005|01:20am] |
Somebody give me something to write about?
And not the usual silly suggestions. You know who you are!
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[09 Jan 2005|01:05pm] |
Australia raised $15million in tsunami relief raised in 3 hours last night. I gotta say, that's pretty damn impressive.
Well, I guess I have to update this thing sometime. It's been a fairly crazy few weeks. Matt is back in Brisbane, which of course means Piss Week once more - Piss Month really. We've shattered all previous records, and generally had a huge blast. Went to Byron Bay to see the hippies, went to Laser Force, a party, some movies, and a lot of pubs. Drank, then drank, then drank some more.
I'm starting to suspect that the alcohol just isn't as fun as it used to be though. I guess alcoholism, like everything else, is subject to the laws of diminishing returns. If nothing else, repeatedly spending $200 a night on booze is not conducive to either healthy wallets or long life. Also, large chunks of two nights are completely missing from my memory - which never used to happen - and we seem to be getting kicked out of places with some regularity. So maybe it's time to find something else to do.
What the hell do ordinary people do for fun, anyway? I'm drawing a blank.
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[01 Jan 2005|02:30pm] |
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It's 2.30pm, and I'm pissed off my TIT.
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[29 Dec 2004|09:53pm] |
Sooner or later, every man meets his Destiny - in a public toilet cubicle, in the dead of night.
See, I've always had this idea whenever I'm locked into a small room that it won't unlocked. It finally happened at the Indooroopilly Hotel (The Indro 'Ho for short, sometimes the Indro Escort in light of its renovations) about a week ago. The lock got jammed and I just couldn't open it. Luckily, there was about a foot of space between ceiling and cubicle wall, so I slid out with some funky ninja skills I learnt rock climbing. The other patrons seemed quite amused, but I was proud. Another demon conquered!
Matt and Simon decided later that night that cubicle lock was too dangerous, so they kicked the door a few times until it burst open. It was still broken when we went back there a few nights ago. I wanted to tell Simon this when I saw, but he mysteriously piked out that night and hasn't either contacted us or responded to our messages in two days while we tried to organise a trip to Coolum, again proving his sense of reliability is worth the paper its printed on. Cunt.
Incidentally, who COULD resist a bottle of something called 'Grunters original WIPEOUT', a rich blend of the finest Australian Rum and Coconut flavours, priced at less than half a bottle of Malibu? I bought two bottles, plus the four more well-known subtle, sophisticated delights for the refined palette that constituted our home supplies for Tuesday - Thursday. The girl at the liquor store pulled faces and waves me off it frantically, but I figured she just wanted it all to herself.
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[15 Dec 2004|08:39pm] |
Ok, the Ex ended without many further dramas. Finished up for the year last night, and I'm now gearing down for Christmas, which I expect I'll stay here in Brisbane for, though Cairns with mates or Sydney with family as possibilities.
Return of the King Extended edition is great. All three extended editions add hugely to the movies. That said, the continual favouritism annoys me. Faramir is continually dumped on in the original versions. Even extended, Theoden still comes across as a waste of space. And as for the dwarf and the elf pairing...Gimli is always played for laughs even at terribly inappopriate times. As if you'd even give shit to a nasty bearded dude with a battle axe. Nothing says 'I owNz0r you!' like a battle axe (see also, 'flamethrower', 'cape worn in pub'). Just carrying one is the equivalent to walking around headbutting everyone that crosses your path. And Gay Elf really gets on my nerves. Why does the biggest girly-boy in history get made into a superhero when about all he does in the books is get horny over a seagull? Let's face it, all elves are crap, except Liv Tyler who is actually God himself post-op.
I'm tired. Got about three hours sleep on Simon's couch last night after a biggish night with a few army boys. We have to go to the Paddo again soon. The girl in the gravity-challenged green top will be waiting for me :)
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[10 Dec 2004|06:50pm] |
- I went into the woods because I wished to live deliberately
Henry David Thoreau, 'Walden.'
- Life's short and hard like a body-building elf,
So save the planet and kill yourself,
Bloodhound Gang, 'Lift your Head up High and Blow Your Brains Out.'
So close...so close...to over...
It's been the hardest two weeks of my life.
This Exercise has crystallised everything that is wrong with the Reserves. My faith in the Army, already rather precarious, has been shattered into little pieces. Never in my life have I seen so many heartless, dangerous, elitist, and above all STUPID activity.
In short then, we were deployed to Shoalwater Bay these last two weeks. The temperature stayed at about a steady 40 degrees during the day (well over 100F). We'd wake up at 4.30am. By 7, it was uncomfortably warm. By 9, it was an inferno. The heat didn't about until about 5pm, two hours before sunset.
The first three days, we dug into a defensive position on a high ridge comprised entirely of clay and rock. Two Engineers with a Bobcat eventually carved out the basic outline of our trenches (2 blokes consistutes "lavish support" to 9RQR) but there was literally never a minute to relax with the million and one tasks associated with preparing a defensive position. I think we got 4 hours sleep the first three days. The second night, sleep was allocated in 2 20-minute blocks. Otherwise, you dig.
"Hurry up boys, the Battalion owns you now" came a call from Company Headquarters during one work party, neatly setting the mood of the whole Exercise.
Officer bullshit was epidemic right from the start. The 'iron-clad' agreement that absolutely nothing would be done between 1100-1300 was broken the first two days as timetables were continually trended into less and less time, tasks were expanded, and the officers continued to display a stunning ignorance of the conditions under which we toiled.
While we sucked down upwards of 12 litres of water a day and tried not to collapse (all of which we had to carry up to our own position), Company Headquarters squatted in their custom-made pit and were served gourmet drinks by our resident asshole-licking signalman Jonesy.
Things didn't improve on the Offensive stage of the Exercise. Basically, we patrolled from A to B with our packs on (total weight upwards of 30kg per man), every now and then conducting attacks on an elusive and highly skilled enemy. I suffered especially from the marches, to the stage my Corporal fussed over me like a hen when I was well past the stage of even knowing my own condition. Nobody was in much better state.
This continued for days. One day our 'treat' came in the form of operating off Engineer-run boats. The bay was absolutely stunning to eyes that had lived a lifetime in a world of the shitty endless brown and light green of dusty Australian bush, but essentially changed nothing. We woke up at 2 in the morning, were subject to one solitary and sharp downturn in temperature and absolutely drenched in a sudden squall that left even the cyborg-like Lt. Sarlin curled up in the foetal position shivering, nearly unresponsive. From heat stroke to hypothermia in one night. The boats ran out of petrol, got delayed and lost, to the point we missed the right tide to deposit us at our drop-off point. We waded hundreds of meters to shore in about a foot of water and three feet of mud in full gear, before immediately commencing a land patrol, culminating in an attack of an enemy position that lasted an hour.
Noon siesta? Gone. Artillery support? Gone. Engineer support? 2 blokes and a bobcat. Sleep? You dont need sleep. Barbed wire and defensive position stores? A few hundred meters away - carry it with the hands God Gave You. Water? Yeah, there's shitloads, but the way you guys suck it down like there's no tomorrow, you better be carrying a shitload with you at all times.
We averaged 3 hours of sleep a night - the entire time. We were never offically given more than 4.5 hours sleep a night, but by the end staying awake for your entire sentry duty was impossible, giving you maybe another half hour or so. Sometimes it was just an hour a night.
I'm lost. I can't convey just how much of an atrocity Exercise Albert has been. Don't think for a second it's just the physical labour thing. That's just a granted in the Infantry, albeit pretty excessive here, for Reserves of our level of expericene at least. It's the feeling of being...owned. Fucking chattel, to the useless motherfuckers above you that cruise in LandRover convoy, enjoy the gourmet drinks, and get the WOUNDED and MEDICALLY INCAPICATED guys to stand guard over the radios so they could get a good night's sleep.
My rage is black and deep. Disciplinary measures aside, I would have happily taken a metal stake to over half my chain of command today. And this from the guy that hasn't gotten into a real fight in almost a decade. It bubbles, perculates from me. I know I can restrain something that crass, but I am worried my mouth will be my undoing again. It first came to the boil on Day 2, in a pretty minor way, when already half the Company was talking resignations and transfers. Corporal Fearn handled it deftly, and I've been under control.
But, FUCK IT, I was born a free man, to a free society.
'You can't tell people about this shit,' I told Simon this afternoon. 'There's just no frame of reference in civilian life to compare it to. The only comparision I can think of is a negro plantation in the American South.'
'Yeah,' he replied. 'Except they got to sing when they were in chains.'
He had literally stolen the next words out of my mouth.
The Battalion does NOT own us.
Anyway, we got back to base at 5am this morning. We've been given the night off, after a day of frantic effort. Tomorrow we're doing drill and dress rehearsals for the Battalion Commanders farewell. Yes, the man at the top of our little chain is to be honoured for all this. The self-masturbatory nature of it all overwhelms me with disgust. But, by lunchtime Sunday, it will be all over. I haven't really scratched the surface here, but I won't go on.
God Save the Queen, because nothing will save the Ninth Battalion.
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[26 Nov 2004|05:57pm] |
It's that time again! I'm off to Shoalwater for two weeks to practice the arcane arts we refer to as 'Killing Cunts and Blowing Shit Up.' One week of defensive operations (ie lots of digging) and a week on the attack, supported by artillery and engineers.
Engineer support = flamethrower teams.
Hell yeah.
Unfortunately, I'll be under a Corporal that gives me shivers (no, not that kind) and the most hideous excuse for a Second-in-command ever to grace this dodgy excuse for a Battalion, so we'll see if I come out with no further degredation to my sanity. Or lengthening of my charge sheet.
Stay well and safe, everyone.
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[23 Nov 2004|01:38am] |
I must admit, sometimes I'm quite proud that Brent, for example, can idly ask 'so how many people did you piss off last night?', obviously settling back for a long and exhaustive response.
For my money, the best from the other night was that dumb bint that actually got all offended and left in a huff because I was comparing the Abbos to the Ewoks. Meh, anyone that can't see what an advanced species the Ewoks are isn't worth my time.
I'm also proud of how much shit I gave that bouncer, but I have a hazy idea that he actually outwitted me every step of the conversation. I can't remember any of it though. Oh well.
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[17 Nov 2004|10:38pm] |
Ladies and gentlemen, uh, we've just lost the picture, but what we've seen speaks for itself. The Corvair spacecraft has apparently been taken over - 'conquered,' if you will - by a master race of giant space ants. It's difficult to tell from this vantage point whether they will consume the captive Earthmen or merely enslave them. One thing is for certain, there is no stopping them - the ants will soon be here.
And I for one welcome our new insect overlords. I'd like to remind them that as a trusted LJ personality I can be helpful in rounding up others to toil in their underground sugar caves.
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[14 Nov 2004|02:54pm] |
I just watched House of 1000 Corpses.
Theresa, I am never listening to your opinion on anything again. Ever!
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[11 Nov 2004|09:21pm] |
I just came out of my room, and I heard the kid down the street on his horn playing 'the Last Post.' It was just so beautiful.
The moment was a bit spoiled by the fact I was already halfway through taking a piss, but still.
A joyous and peaceful Rememberance Day to all. Lest we forget.
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thebadpaladin's journal
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