I remember sitting at one of the desks at the very front of the class. For some reason the teacher’s desk is on a little elevation, as if that gives him more leverage over the rowdy teens before him. As usual I have no clue whatsoever as to what is happening on the blackboard. I always zoned out during mathematics, since I didn’t get it anyway. Sensing I wasn’t paying attention, the teacher calls on me to solve the equation on the board. I blankly stare at the numbers and letters on the board, as if the both of us don’t know I won’t be able to do it.
“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…
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
For the last three hours, I’ve been sitting with my knees lodged to the seat in front of me, in a Jetstar Airbus A320. The same type of aircraft Emma and I flew to Bali last time.
Lately it feels like every time I turn a corner, expecting to see the home stretch, all I see is another corner. For instance the guy who bought my house, who found out he can’t actually pay for it. Which means I have to keep paying a mortgage for a house I don’t use anymore. And really wanted to get rid of by now.
It’s a scorching 32°C right now, even though it’s late in the afternoon and the sun is already setting in the distance. It’s not so bad if you’re out and about with a slight breeze and some occasional shade, but sitting on the balcony is, on certain days, quite the exercise. Still, I’m a bit disappointed I’ll have to miss out on the hottest months of summer.More