“PNR?! What the hell does PNR mean?” I grab the scribble paper that has been left on my desk. I make a quick estimation of questions that could be wrong. If I submit now, that’ll be a 70-75% grade. Dammit, I wanted to do better this time. Still, if I submit now, provided I’m not oblivious to other questions I answered wrong, that should be enough to pass. Barely though…More
My eyes look at the clock on the dashboard, as they often tend to do while driving this bit of freeway. Normally I’m curious to see if I’m still on schedule to arrive on time for class. But last Saturday I was more concerned with arriving at Jandakot ridiculously early, since I forgot to factor in the absence of other commuters on the Kwinana freeway.More
I remember rainy days, that never seemed to end. In a way some never did and just continued raining on into the next day, or even the day after that. Light drizzle, or maybe just enough rain to make you soaking wet yet, simultaneously making you look ridiculous for caring an umbrella. They seem so far away and so long ago.More
As the minute hand on my watch slowly makes another round, more and more people enter through the sliding doors of the Medicare centre. Last time I was here they were still on strike, proof that one can cross the earth, but government bureaucracy will be the same all over.
I’m the fourteenth person to take a seat in the waiting area. Small chairs arranged like the interior of an airplane, in the colour green one normally associates with spinach-baby-vomit. I wouldn’t necessarily say unfitting.More
When was the last time I was on a Dutch train? It must be over a year ago by now. I’m seated on my suitcase next to the train doors, no sense in looking for a seat with this big green bastard. Besides, the airport isn’t far, so I might as well just enjoy the flower fields whizzing by from this spot. And as I start to wonder why it has been so long ago that I found myself on a train, I suddenly have the stark realisation I just put my fate, of arriving at the airport in time, in the incapable hands of the Dutch Railway services…
How often have I been complaining about not being able to do anything? I hope not too often, although we all know I probably did. Well, today was time for a little satisfaction. A very glorious victory in my everlasting battle with “lists”.More
The days slowly started to drift into a seemingly motionless blur of time. My aversion of lists was not quenched on account of nothing happening. Not a single box got ticked, and my hands were bound in terms of remedying that. On the morning of the 22nd March I woke as usual, by the rising sun burning through the mist, looking for my weary eyes. One missed call by an unknown number from Perth. Not inclined to start the day with more hassles, I decided to take a shower first.More