Move ships, review hangar, reprocess salvage and crap loot…. When does anyone have time to fight this damn war? For every couple of kills there’s so much to do and let’s not forget about the constant training. It’s a wonder I get any sleep at all.
oh…
I left the log on. Right then…
Personal Log: 051220091650
“First entry.” *mumbles* …I suppose I should say something about myself
Thorvik! My name is Thorvik. I was “born” (as they say) on Stardate 052920080200. For those of you who don’t know what I mean is that I entered into the quasi-immortal life of being a pod pilot /capsuleer. I graduated from the Republic Military School with all the expectations of a young pilot with a degree in ‘Special Forces’. HA!
What they taught me was basic (to say the least) and would now fill less than .00000000000001 m3 in my cargohold. And SPECIAL FORCES? LOL. After nearly a year in space I think this is about as funny as things go. The only “Special Forces” I was qualified to do as my Reaper left the loading dock was mining and even then had I known then what I know now, I would have soiled my pod!
Never really thought of keeping a log as my life is somewhat uninteresting, or at least it seems so from my perspective.
As mentioned, I became a pod pilot nearly a year ago once I became aware. Funny word that is: “Aware” – having or showing knowledge or understanding or realization or perception. I seem to have moments of awareness alot. Awareness is sometimes fleeting and sometimes it hits like a Cruise Missile.
My life prior to entering into RMS still is nothing but fleeting images, loud explosions, and a series of faces that run through my memory like some mythological Minmatar creature on boosters (scary and yet distant). I remember and yet I don’t. Somehow I ended up in space with electronics attached to my cerebral cortex and enrolled in a military school. I suppose that would sound normal to some and a bit odd to others but I really don’t know how I feel about it. It just is.
What little of my life I remember is very much a blur. Many around me have stories from slave labour camps or they tell tales of their life in their villages. I sometimes dream of Following graduation, I hung around near the station for a week or so, much like a baby bird (strange… I remember birds) unsure or unaware of what could happen should I leave. I ran out of these missions that my counselor suggested I do following my graduation from RMS and needed to spread my wings.
Where did I end up? I have no idea. I floated around and did random missions going from station to station being very careful not to fall off into the abyss (Low Security Space). There are pirates!!! (lol) there and I have had a few pirates attack me during some of my missions but I heard very bad things happen in Low Sec so I stayed away. *shakes head* I had no idea. I really had no friggin clue. I was a confused kid. A carebear with a military education and a very enigmatic diploma title from one of the Republic’s finest military academies.
A frightened child with no idea of where I was or where I was going.
Was I, Am I ‘aware’ ? No, yes. maybe?
Lessons learned during the first few weeks….. I should have stuck with my rifter and not wasted my money in Rens on booze, women, fancy mods and useless crap. T1 all the way until I had enough skills to lvl IV to even deserve to fly anything with the T2 designation.
thorvik