The Sleeping Giant

I wake up with a snort and realise I had been snoring, my eyes are blood shot, my eye lids are heavy and want to stay down. I look around, there are people surrounding me I don’t know, some lay sprawled, some lay in the fatal position, its 5:30am and Im wondering where the hell I am, I stumble out of my slumber and bounced off walls as I walk.

Welcome to my Monday as I catch the train.

Public transport, you just gotta love it like a pimp that it is. You hate it but you need to get your daily fix of travel time.

Let’s begin with my job interview at Hardies, I have a habit of showing up early for everything, so me being me, I planned to be at Hardies 30min before interview time, Cheepo rail would not hear of this.

Interview 10am, check
Train station by 8:30am, check
Train delay by 45min, check
Cheepo rail cancels my stop, check
Arrival at Hardies closest train station at 9:55am, Check
Running around in circles in panic while getting lost, Check
Getting the job after being 15min late, Priceless


My 2nd rant is about other people on the train, particularly old Asian people and school kids.

As usual im waiting at the front door of the train when some old Asian guy wacks me in the legs from behind with an old-man trolley, I turn around and glare at him.
Again he hits me in the back of the legs; it was not like he was trying to get out as the doors were not open yet.

I turn around to face him and yell “Daah!!!”, now for you people not in the know, screaming this is equal to a war cry, it promotes fights, the old man backed off very quickly.

Not 1 min later this old Asian lady bumps into me and exclaims that she’s trying to get out, to which I reply, me and the rest of the foot soldiers are trying to get out too.
The doors open and she rams her way past my flank, to which I subtly stick my foot out, she trips and rolls across the platform.

I snicker under my breath as I walk away.

Now its time for the school kids, the insignificant ants of our society, I could crush them like bugs.

The schoolies like to line up in front of the train doors, they block the exit and storm onto the train, this is an invitation for me to go charging back, much like a rugby game I body slam my opponent, possibly spear tackling them.

Think of it this way, im 22 at this point and have grown as much as I should, I am now twice the size of any of these punks and use this to my advantage, I snap, crackle and pop their pubescent asses.

Nothing is more of a motivator then shoulder barging dozens of kids on your way to work.

A lesson learned is a lesson in pain.

Blue Teeth

The Bluetooth revolution is upon us, no longer is technology used by a minority, therein lays the biggest problem, Bluetooth ear pieces are now worn as some sort of fashion statement.

I was at a site meeting recently, and 5 managers showed up, each in black suits, Bluetooth and carrying something to make them look important.

Ill digress for a moment, here’s a tip, if you want to look important, carry a airport style suit case behind you everywhere you go, you know, the ones with wheels and a carry handle, it makes you look like your going on an important business meeting, possibly company funded but in actuality your carrying spare underwear for those bad days at work.

OK, now back to the Men in Black, never mind the fact that these men and women look like CIA or Secret Service but do you really need to have a bright flashing blue light popping up on the side of your head every few seconds when talking to me, I mean really, you wear hands free because you have no free hands, I don’t feel the need for you to write notes while scratching your ass.

The other thing about the Fab 5 is that they seemed to walk in a line, possible in order of importance or perhaps they drew straws before they got there.

“OK Bill, it’s your turn to be in the back today”, “Oh man, that sucks and blows”

How many flashy blue lights do I need to see before I have an epileptic attack, it is not Close encounters of the third kind, we are not communicating via disco light anymore.
As I stare into the blank abyss of the blue light I wonder if it is actually Morse code and the guy is telling me a German U-boat is coming.

Besides the “wanker” factor of wearing it these guys seem to be enjoying themselves, I was waiting for one of them to drop to the ground a start screaming,

“Gilligan’s down, Gilligan’s down”

I also caught a glimpse in the corner of my eye of one of them speaking into his wrist and muttering “the eagle has left the nest”.

Now what sparked this topic is 2 people I saw when shopping yesterday, the first one being a 10yr old boy with an ear piece on, I really wanted to chase him down and ask him why, the answer I imagined myself hearing was “I need to make time so I can spend time in my sand box” or quite possibly he’s expecting a phone call while on the wiggles ride.

The second person was a guy in his 50s, drunk, 5 0’clock shadow, ripped cloths and quite possible homeless but no, look Bluetooth headset, even the homeless have a sense of style. “I need all my hands for the trolley, mate, its not as easy as it looks you knows”

Indeed, trolleys require skill, patience and a daredevil attitude.

Lesson learned, the homeless require wireless too.

Redav's Testimony

Lets take a break from Rice for the moment and you can listen to Redav

If you had asked me what church, soccer and saviour meant to me 15 years ago, I’d have said boring, everything and my father. Come Sunday mum would wake my siblings and I for church and I used every excuse in the book to be late. In fact each Sunday I religiously tried to avoid church and as mum can confirm, a hyperactive little Cookie and sitting still in Sunday school just didn’t work.

For me church was all about singing old, slow hymns and being able to resite the creeds and prayers word for word. After a while, soccer moved from Saturday to Sunday and my dad, who was my saviour, would take me away to heavenly green soccer fields. So I was off the hook.

Most of my childhood was filled with soccer and friends. Whilst I didn’t fall into to the traps of teenage drinking, sex or drugs, I wasn’t living a life pleasing to God. In fact, soccer had become my god. Club and school games, representative teams, carnivals and training filled my life and I loved it. At that point in time, I acknowledged God but didn’t have any time for Him.

A friend once said that my nick name Cookie came from being hard on the outside and soft on the inside but through high school it was a different story. I was hard both inside and out as I let nothing in and even less out. All I cared about was playing soccer.

The irony is that I followed soccer away from church but it was through soccer that Jesus found me. I left school with few friends and started doing my own thing. One day I found out that one of the guys had broken his back. I visited him a bit and the following year we played soccer for the same church. It worked out well as others in the team were from our school team and I was happy that I could play soccer with friends again.

After training one night, my mate Tim asked me if I would come to his church as they had a guest speaker that Sunday talking about creation / evolution. I said yes and he picked me up. It was a lot different to what I was used to and proved to be an interesting night. I continued to go after that even if sometimes it was just to be social.

Over a year or so I watched the evening service grow from fifty to over a hundred people, which was great, but I wasn’t growing. The only growth I could feel was in questions like I believed in God and Jesus, but did I have faith? I called myself a Christian, but did I follow Christ? Shortly after I went to a Convention in Warwick with Tim and his family. Camping in the cold at Easter with friends sounded like fun.

And fun it was. There were plenty of people, soccer, cards and listening to speakers. Unfortunately, I had to leave early due to a family wedding and on the way home I heard Bon Jovi’s new song, ‘It’s My Life’ and I was stoked. Those who know me know I’m a big Bon Jovi fan and I was thrilled to hear their new song. I liked it, but something dawned on me - it wasn’t really my life.

The wedding went well but throughout the day, all I wanted to do was go back to Warwick. Once the newly weds had left the reception, I drove back. I got some funny looks when I returned but I think they could sense what I felt. These people already had something that I’d only just realised and I wanted to be around them and learn more.

A while ago Billy spoke of a transformation to Christianity being likened to baking a cake. To him there wasn’t a specific point where things changed; it was more like an ongoing event. In my case, stuff was there but I had missed an important ingredient. I knew God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Spirit, I knew Jesus had died for our sins and I knew that there was a gap between us and Him but through my arrogance, I hadn’t handed myself over to God. With that realisation, my heart softened, I accepted what He had done for me and Jesus revealed himself to me.

Since then Christian Youth Camps, Pathways to Purpose and Beach Missions have reinforced one thing; there’s nothing I can do to save myself, it is what Jesus has done for me.

Whilst I don’t really have a favourite passage, I have found Psalm 126 verse five profoundly encouraging; “Those who sow in tears will reap with songs of joy”. Jesus never said that walking in the light was easy but those words help when I’m faced with opposition.

I’ve never been a fan of public speaking and I’ll admit that it has held be back from being baptised - but no longer. Here I am putting my hand up for Christ. Why? It’s obedience and I want to follow His will. For me part of it is also thanks. I’m thankful for my upbringing where seeds had been planted, I’m thankful for Tim and his family for their wisdom and encouragement, I’m thankful for my friends and the blessings bestowed upon me by being a part of their lives and most importantly I’m thankful for Jesus’ sacrifice and promised salvation.

Thank you for reading

By REDAV

Where are my spoon engines?

People often ask me, “Why didn’t you just quit if you hated the job so much?” Devils ISP was not a place I could just leave, I might have had to leave a finger, Yakuza style.

“I like the tuna here” is a response I would normally give.

Confusion is always a good reaction.

I actually got myself into quite pickle, rent was high and I had a loan for a car I didn’t even pick, so couldn’t just pick up and leave.

There was also the problem of 2 weeks notice, quitting outright would mean I wouldn’t get my annual leave, so when I eventually left I took the cash and I took the respect, to some people that’s more important.

Now the car that gets me from A to B is quite a 10sec warrior, it’s a Toyota Rav4.
4WD, 2LT 90kw engine, convertible top and if required - overnight parts from Japan.

I learnt to drive manual in this car, problem is that I went to the Need for Speed school of driving, for one thing I redline the engine before I shift and 2 I make whoosh whoosh noises as I change gears, it drives cookie mad.

I also have this niggling problem where I turn corners too fast with 2 lateral Gs pushing against me, I end up holding onto the door and turning with one hand, this is known as the God-Arm technique, but what is really happening is im holding on for dear life and I hope my arm can turn the wheel.

The God-Arm only appears because of a technique called God-Foot, otherwise known as the super-late-braking technique; thank God I don’t own a RWD car.

The RAV is quite a beast as ive beaten many Falcadores off the line in street light racing, I should avoid the whole 5000rpm GTR launches as the clutch has now given out, the car is now powered by hopes and dreams.

I hope to fix my baby real soon. Im lucky that 100 shot of NOS didn’t blow the welds on the intake.

Lesson learned, note-to-self purchase replacement piston rings I just fried.

Numb3rz

Stats, ive got them coming out all 6 orifices.

At Devils ISP, everything was stats, everything was measured, fart for too long and your manager would probably ask you why your wasting company seconds with personal matters.

One single idea led to the destruction of us all, micro management, everything had to be broken down into itty bitty little pieces, much like Chinese food, fundamental question had to be asked about what we sweat shop.. herrrm I mean employees do with our time.

•How long does it take to pee, why can’t it be done at the desk?

•The phone monkey blinks 20times per min, we need to reduce that to 15 for efficiency.

•Phone monkey hasn’t been working for 0.0067* sec, give him a call and berate him for being lazy.

•Were giving phone monkey a zero for his evaluation because he didn’t pat his head while rubbing his stomach when doing the greeting.

•Make the customer feel loved by annoying them with a 20min intro greeting.

Here’s some numbers for the damn management to think about:

I had a Pentium III that was 800 MHz, with 256MB RAM, running Windows 2000, that took 15min to turn on and wasted 4 hours of my day loading corporate applications,.

My 10min breaks were not long enough to do a number 2, I could not go pee because I only had 2 breaks and I needed those to do the above mentioned number 2, we had to work an extra 1 minute everyday because management decided logging out 59seconds to early is bad for business.

Not to mention the 2.5hours it took to travel 1 way to the building, I can complain, the 5 hours I lost out of my day was used to read books, Da Vinci Code was finished in 6 days, HP and the half-blood prince was done in 7 days, while the entire Chronicles of Narnia took 14 days.

Oh one more thing, if I don’t pick up a phone call within 15 seconds I get in trouble, yet when the water breaks it takes 4 days for the service guy to appear, when the 2 microwaves broke it took 3 weeks for them to be replaced.

Management don’t answer to nobody but their salaries.

Lesson learned: You’ve got 6 orifices (sometimes 7) and I know where id like to stick your stats.