Terra Firma

On familiar ground once again, even for just a short while. Cleared my review sorties and my subsequent prog cx again, with the same instructor who failed me the first time round. It was such a relief to get over this hurdle, albeit a small one. Circuit work ahead, and that's the major obstacle. I'm going to be expected to land the aircraft myself within 6 sorties, 6 hours of flying and I'm expected to be able to land by myself. Tall order, but then again, this is my life. Make the cut, or get the chop.

Came home yesterday, flew through all that weather and witnessed superior skills by the SQ pilot who had to navigate and land through the tropical thunderstorm yesterday. Cloud cover was present and at several flight levels, going as low as A030 I think. It was cats and dogs as he came in on the runway, with extra speed to counter the headwind I guess. He put her down fast, was a greaser landing, so smooth I didn't feel the touchdown, then pushed out the brakes fast. Impressive landing, here's to hoping I can do as I've witnessed.

Home now, all I can do over the next 10 days is catch up on food, life and love. I'm always working against the 4th dimension, time, in my line of work. Even having a break means having to put it to a timetable. Just hope to enjoy Christmas as it should be, with loved ones and a hearty meal. Let us enjoy the audacity of hope for a while longer, and see how far it brings us.

Don

Prog Cx

It's hard to face failure. I'm not ready to go home, don't know what I'll do if I can't make it as a pilot. How can one accept that his one dream in life is not something he can achieve? It's like in that scene in Serenity, when the Operative has seen the truth behind the Alliance, found out the conspiracy behind the Miranda massacre, seen that his 'world without sin' is but a living nightmare, and his famous last words to Malcolm,"There is nothing left to see". A man without a dream, without the one thing which keeps him wanting to breathe, from one moment to the next, has nothing left. He is nothing.

Failing my check ride brought that image in my mind, it's like having front row seats to my own funeral. Knowing how screwed up I was when I was up in the air, making the mistakes that even rookies wouldn't, I don't know what the hell I was doing here. I had gone up more than enough times, practiced my sortie both on and off the ground, and still I was making the errors that I had done previously. What was I thinking? Worse still, my first review flight went worse than my test, and I think the senior instructor who took me was stretching his vocabulary trying to find euphemisms to soften the blow to me. But it didn't take away the truth that I screwed up again, and worse than before.

My next review is on Monday, and this one is make or break. Shape up, or ship out. Everyone's trying to help me out, including the instructors, but it still boils down to me. Because I am in control of the aircraft, and I must fly her. I will, or I will come home. Then again, where is home when there is no longer any heart, no longer any man left.
A man needs no home when he has nothing left.