Twas round mid day and sweltering
When I stepped up to the wheel.
With candor I approached the box
Where an unknown presence I did feel.
Emerged a squat creature
Who cast steely gaze.
The sexless turgid went by Dawn
And had eyes alight with craze.
It announced, “Today, you shall work in a pit
Where trampolines are rampant.”
It was my task to harness children
And bounce them where the sky was lambent.
Off to my post I did make haste
Because my knees were shaking.
The scrooge’s words did chill my soul
But necessary was the money I’d be making.
The sun beat down and clocks ticked on
And soon my back was scorched.
Sweating and parched I was granted a break
To alleviate my thirst.
In my madness I juggled my phone
The screen cracked upon cracked pavement,
And without any lunch I returned to my chair
To offer myself personal debasement.
Time drizzled and darkness crept,
But I fixed on the glowing spin.
With a blistered back I saw beauty
And tired limbs were ignored by my shit-eating grin.
The next day I returned and it was much of the same
But fortune had wheeled in my favor.
Later that week I would operate the beast
That carried entire families in her chambers.
Dawn the crook-pated sent me away,
And it was under Henrik I was guided this day.
Resembling a goblin from Gringotts, he did,
And in the operator’s booth is where I undid.
The space was squashed sized like a closet
And his breath hit me like water from faucet.
Hearing his instructions filled me with trauma
Because this room was a garbage-stench sauna.
Quickly I caught on so that he would leave
And after work off my body a film I would cleave.
Monday, April 16, 2012
Friday, April 13, 2012
Uncomfortable moment #1
A pair of tan hands clip their swollen, red-cigar fingers maniacally along the keyboard—the same pair of tan hands which appear older than they are, clip along the qwerty while a pair of exhausted bloodshot eyes demands and expects them to perform outrageously above their capabilities. “Think of something”, the pair of menacing eyes are attached to a shrewd, puckered face that whips the fingers raw with expectation. “You’ve earned an undergrad in English. You should be able to write something worth reading.” Fingers will not dance along to a Fox Trot when the mind knows perfectly well they are contemptible idiots whom could not hack a Texas two-step. The mind knows that the degree they all received in English Literature is disgraced by their deplorable grammar and continuity in vagueness and casual tone. Those debased mitt hands took a beginners piano class for an elective and squashed their sausage fingers along the ivories turning Mozart into monstrous. Now, they tinkle the keyboard and the cryptic muscle spasms cosplay as productive typing but results in a fecal text that is figurative scatology discoveries. Burning eyes, foul breath, and a curved spine. The ability to sit and stare for hours and the habit of typing whilst forgetting to send cognitive thought to those bloated carrot fingers. Thank you university.
Here, in the now.
I like when things are broken – bent, rotten, deteriorating, or incomplete. The beauty of impermanence: wabi-sabi. Whenever I catch tale of a friend, unfriend, or potential friend doing what they love or just doing in general I tend to become stricken with a haphazard feeling. Something a little bit fantastic. Perhaps the tale involves this person creating cakes, necklaces or stories but it could also be mastering a field or studying the unknown. There is a part of me that clutches on to their brilliance. I want to ride their coat tails of application or effort and wind up in their life. I apply my ‘I could see myself entertaining mild success in this vocation!’ type thinking—the rarely effective vapid inspiration has left me with a bit more foresight currently. But I go back to what I know incomplete things. My interest is in a little bit of everything but no grasp of anything. And so I write improper sentences and terrible things because I think it is just amusing enough to cause some sort of joy or disturbance. Enjoy my musings and unfinished thoughts.
Well, well, well... Well!
Well, because of unfortunate family news I have crossed the world and am back in Canada!
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Out and about.
Well, time has passed and it has been almost a fortnight since my last post! Things in the hostel tend to be of a bit more vulgar nature so I was hesitant to relay the happenings to my family and actually a bit embarrassed to even convey some of the things to my friends, but not for any outrageous reason. My family and friends have seen most facets of me, and then their own share of things that would make my small adventure seem very tame but the relation of an episode from easy-flexible conversation to steadfast mode of print can sometimes unnerve a person with intimacy. With that in mind and being mindful not to delve into my discoveries and explanation of situations with anything more than that of the explication of events let me continue to share my experiences.
Hostel day one. Well, my first day at the hostel I spent writing my first blog entry! I unpacked some of my things into the six-bed female dorm room and introduced myself to the ladies whom were around. The question, ”How long have you been in Fremantle?” Or, “How long have you been at this hostel?” Were met with answers that really took me by surprise: “five months,” “three months,” “a month and a half,” and “a year.” I had booked myself into a working hostel. I was a bit excited. I thought, how wonderful people literally call this place their home. Everyone was friendly enough and some even invited me to have a drink with them downstairs in the evening. I was very thrilled. Out on my own, meeting new people, doing the hostel thing! Evening rolled around and I was eager to meet up with the girls to go down to the backyard for a drink. Discovering they had already gone down another girl and I headed down to join them. The table was a bit chillier than I had expected. There was courtesy extended: “would you like us to deal you into our hand”—and there was an indifference that I was unaccustomed to hearing laced into casual conversation. I must admit though after a year of living in the same transient setting the whole “I’m on this adventure alone” story may have been worn a bit thin. The group had known each other for a long time and I was happy enough to be included – I was sure time in the hostel would be the glue I needed for some new friends. The drinking games seemed a bit of an initiation and some I was familiar with, but there was one foreign game that had purely diabolical intent. I don’t know it by name but the premise is to whisper a question—this is the surely evil part—which must reveal something terrible (true or untrue) about a person at the table. To explain how it goes: about eight of us, maybe ten are sitting in a circle and then one person, whispers to the next, a secret question. The second person must say aloud the name of someone sitting at the table. The person announced is supposedly whom they think best fits the answer to the question. The person who is called has a few options now: they can take one drink then the game moves along, or they can take three drinks and find out what sort of defamatory quality they seemed the best candidate to befit—usually people choose the latter. I went to bed earlier than everyone it was my first night and I had enough of my wits to know when to call it a night.
The following days I visited the Shipwreck Galleries, the Western Australia Maritime Museum, and the Fremantle Prison (on the World Heritage List)—all of this while diligently handing out resumes. I stumbled into the Shipwreck Galleries with fervor for some sort of intellectual stimuli. I was craving history! I walked into the building and enthusiastically questioned the attendant at the front. He was very informative and asked if I would like a tour of the gallery, an informative guide to some of the highlights at their gallery. I thought, “What luck!” A free private tour! After I had accepted the generous offer and he began showing me to some of the displays I found his company a little uncomfortable. He seemed to be having some sort of nervous social problem and it became apparent that this was perhaps his first tour. I should have spared both of us and politely declined to continue but I was a bit perplexed with how to bow out without being abrupt and so the awkward tour continued. It was half way through the gallery that he conveyed the source of his nervous nature. He abruptly ceased talking about Dutch explorer Dirk Hartog’s expedition to Western Australia and asked whether or not after the tour if we, him and I, could remain friends and he could possibly visit me in Canada sometime! I paused and—I am not sure where I found the strength—thanked him for the tour but said I would like to finish browsing the rest of the gallery on my own. Then I speedily looked at a couple other displays and headed out the door.
The next day I headed to the Western Australian Maritime Museum and was happy to find they had the actual body of a mega-mouth shark on display inside of some sort of liquid preservative. I had never heard of a mega-mouth shark but according to the information provided it is very rare. My enjoyment of the maritime museum was cut short because my tour guide from the Shipwreck gallery was also working the museum floor and took it upon himself to do a little light stalking while I perused the various rooms. I think this was the day I wrote various postcards so if I seemed a little homesick this was why, nothing like being run out of a museum to make you feel the need for familiarity and comfort.
I am very happy though and was even then! There was still so much to see and experience. The Fremantle Prison (closed since 1991) offers a variety of tours for the public and I was quite pleased to attend one entitled ‘Torch Light Tour’. I was immediately dissatisfied when at the beginning of the tour I was handed a flashlight, but then I felt like an idiot. What kind of loon would imagine that a tour would actually be conducted with an open flame and a jumbled motley bunch of tourists? However, dissatisfaction aside the tour turned out to be a real treat! I laughed so many times. The guide was extremely comedic and played up the role of a rough and tough Australian. He lightly demeaned us as inadequate to be attending the tour as he could not see any one brave enough to stand up to the ghosts we were bound to encounter. After a few anecdotes the tour brought us to the bottom level of the prison and had us stand in the middle of an open area so we could look up to see the cells at the top. There was netting above our heads that he informed us it was to prevent suicides within the prison. He then started telling us a ghostly encounter experienced by some of the current staff when a shriek rang out and a body hit the net! I screamed and grabbed an unfortunate man to my left! I apologized but I was irrevocably embarrassed. The tour continued on to the solitary confinement part of the prison where the guide emphasized the disturbing psychological affects of being contained there. Halfway through the guide’s explanation a forgotten inmate emerged from one of the rooms and nagged us for making too much noise and that he would like a bit of peace and quiet but here we were disturbing his solace. The tour was very exciting and I enjoyed it thoroughly. I still had a smile as I headed back to the hostel.
On Friday night I attended, with lovely welsh girl, the opening of a photography festival called FotoFreo. We did not stay for long just enough time to enjoy some of the photos, not enjoy some of the photos and enjoy our free drink—to be honest I think the free drink was the highlight of that event. One of the photo exhibits featured was a project of a man whose life ambition was to take photos with famous people and that is what the exhibit was: him and hundreds of famous celebrities and of course he was there to answer any questions.
After a hot tip from one of the girls at the hostel I delivered my resume to a Ferris wheel looking for help, stay tuned for my little adventures.
Hostel day one. Well, my first day at the hostel I spent writing my first blog entry! I unpacked some of my things into the six-bed female dorm room and introduced myself to the ladies whom were around. The question, ”How long have you been in Fremantle?” Or, “How long have you been at this hostel?” Were met with answers that really took me by surprise: “five months,” “three months,” “a month and a half,” and “a year.” I had booked myself into a working hostel. I was a bit excited. I thought, how wonderful people literally call this place their home. Everyone was friendly enough and some even invited me to have a drink with them downstairs in the evening. I was very thrilled. Out on my own, meeting new people, doing the hostel thing! Evening rolled around and I was eager to meet up with the girls to go down to the backyard for a drink. Discovering they had already gone down another girl and I headed down to join them. The table was a bit chillier than I had expected. There was courtesy extended: “would you like us to deal you into our hand”—and there was an indifference that I was unaccustomed to hearing laced into casual conversation. I must admit though after a year of living in the same transient setting the whole “I’m on this adventure alone” story may have been worn a bit thin. The group had known each other for a long time and I was happy enough to be included – I was sure time in the hostel would be the glue I needed for some new friends. The drinking games seemed a bit of an initiation and some I was familiar with, but there was one foreign game that had purely diabolical intent. I don’t know it by name but the premise is to whisper a question—this is the surely evil part—which must reveal something terrible (true or untrue) about a person at the table. To explain how it goes: about eight of us, maybe ten are sitting in a circle and then one person, whispers to the next, a secret question. The second person must say aloud the name of someone sitting at the table. The person announced is supposedly whom they think best fits the answer to the question. The person who is called has a few options now: they can take one drink then the game moves along, or they can take three drinks and find out what sort of defamatory quality they seemed the best candidate to befit—usually people choose the latter. I went to bed earlier than everyone it was my first night and I had enough of my wits to know when to call it a night.
The following days I visited the Shipwreck Galleries, the Western Australia Maritime Museum, and the Fremantle Prison (on the World Heritage List)—all of this while diligently handing out resumes. I stumbled into the Shipwreck Galleries with fervor for some sort of intellectual stimuli. I was craving history! I walked into the building and enthusiastically questioned the attendant at the front. He was very informative and asked if I would like a tour of the gallery, an informative guide to some of the highlights at their gallery. I thought, “What luck!” A free private tour! After I had accepted the generous offer and he began showing me to some of the displays I found his company a little uncomfortable. He seemed to be having some sort of nervous social problem and it became apparent that this was perhaps his first tour. I should have spared both of us and politely declined to continue but I was a bit perplexed with how to bow out without being abrupt and so the awkward tour continued. It was half way through the gallery that he conveyed the source of his nervous nature. He abruptly ceased talking about Dutch explorer Dirk Hartog’s expedition to Western Australia and asked whether or not after the tour if we, him and I, could remain friends and he could possibly visit me in Canada sometime! I paused and—I am not sure where I found the strength—thanked him for the tour but said I would like to finish browsing the rest of the gallery on my own. Then I speedily looked at a couple other displays and headed out the door.
The next day I headed to the Western Australian Maritime Museum and was happy to find they had the actual body of a mega-mouth shark on display inside of some sort of liquid preservative. I had never heard of a mega-mouth shark but according to the information provided it is very rare. My enjoyment of the maritime museum was cut short because my tour guide from the Shipwreck gallery was also working the museum floor and took it upon himself to do a little light stalking while I perused the various rooms. I think this was the day I wrote various postcards so if I seemed a little homesick this was why, nothing like being run out of a museum to make you feel the need for familiarity and comfort.
I am very happy though and was even then! There was still so much to see and experience. The Fremantle Prison (closed since 1991) offers a variety of tours for the public and I was quite pleased to attend one entitled ‘Torch Light Tour’. I was immediately dissatisfied when at the beginning of the tour I was handed a flashlight, but then I felt like an idiot. What kind of loon would imagine that a tour would actually be conducted with an open flame and a jumbled motley bunch of tourists? However, dissatisfaction aside the tour turned out to be a real treat! I laughed so many times. The guide was extremely comedic and played up the role of a rough and tough Australian. He lightly demeaned us as inadequate to be attending the tour as he could not see any one brave enough to stand up to the ghosts we were bound to encounter. After a few anecdotes the tour brought us to the bottom level of the prison and had us stand in the middle of an open area so we could look up to see the cells at the top. There was netting above our heads that he informed us it was to prevent suicides within the prison. He then started telling us a ghostly encounter experienced by some of the current staff when a shriek rang out and a body hit the net! I screamed and grabbed an unfortunate man to my left! I apologized but I was irrevocably embarrassed. The tour continued on to the solitary confinement part of the prison where the guide emphasized the disturbing psychological affects of being contained there. Halfway through the guide’s explanation a forgotten inmate emerged from one of the rooms and nagged us for making too much noise and that he would like a bit of peace and quiet but here we were disturbing his solace. The tour was very exciting and I enjoyed it thoroughly. I still had a smile as I headed back to the hostel.
On Friday night I attended, with lovely welsh girl, the opening of a photography festival called FotoFreo. We did not stay for long just enough time to enjoy some of the photos, not enjoy some of the photos and enjoy our free drink—to be honest I think the free drink was the highlight of that event. One of the photo exhibits featured was a project of a man whose life ambition was to take photos with famous people and that is what the exhibit was: him and hundreds of famous celebrities and of course he was there to answer any questions.
After a hot tip from one of the girls at the hostel I delivered my resume to a Ferris wheel looking for help, stay tuned for my little adventures.
Sunday, March 11, 2012
Hostel Homestead
It's around 10 in the morning and I am all settled in my new home away from home - well, for at least a week - that's all a could afford up front! Lots of things have happened: last week when James and I were packing up to fly out the anxiety and nervous tension of preparing to leave our home for a foreign place gave me the sensation of a rabble of butterflies swarming in my stomach. I thought I would try and drown them so I began drinking heaps and liters of water to no avail. However, before we left for the airport we met up with Jenny and Bram for mochas; now, I am not sure if it was the mochas or kind and knowledgeable words from friends but the task of 36 hour travel time seemed to become once again exciting and the butterflies perished.
We flew from Victoria to Seattle, to Los Angeles, to Sidney and finally to Perth. After checking in at our hotel (James' company put us up for a few nights) we were ready to hit the streets! We met up with a new friend, for me, and an old friend, for James, and shared the glory that is Victoria Bitters! Haha. The beverage lead James and I to a necessary nap then it was off to "two-for-one" pizza with Jesse and his gang. Now, James and I were faced with a bit of culture shock because this pizza joint seemed to us to resemble a club in design and in clientele. Beautiful, fit people enjoying delicious (but a tad dimensionally challenged) pizza. The stress of travel, lack of sleep and unfamiliarity started to affect my mental capabilities and I very embarrassingly confused the Victorian period for the 1900s. I felt impressively like a dunce and was happy to dive into bed around 10:30pm. The faux pas was I'm sure forgotten because last night when I met up with the same group my name and impression seemed a little fleeting as I was obliged to reintroduce myself. My reputation regarding knowledge of the proper Victorian period was restored.
The evening with new acquaintances also provided an opportunity to obtain knowledge about the ins and outs of procuring the proper means to be employable. A bank account, a mobile phone and a tax file number were of necessity and all three require an address which is not a post box. Lifting one from James' lovely friend from University I have been able to obtain two of the three and am in the 28 day waiting period for my tax file number (I would recommend to anyone thinking about coming to do this prior and have it mailed to someone in Aus).
Moving along, Thursday was arranged as an introduction to the city of Perth and James and I toured along with a wonderfully knowledgeable and personable lady. We went to many of the suburbs and were able to step onto the sand (finally!) of a couple beaches. One in Cottesloe, and as luck would have it a sculpture on the beach event was happening. It had a very island feel! Creative people designing beautiful art and showing it on a gorgeous beach. The second was in Scarborough (pronounced, "SCAHR-Brah") and it was beautiful too but had slightly larger waves. The evening was followed by dinner out with the family of James' work associate. They were lovely people with the cutest daughters! James' tackled, at dinner, an Australian fish called the Barramundi - we were told it is a sneaky fish to catch which I quite liked. James thought its flavour was comparable to a giant herring. The dinner lead to an early night for us once again.
Friday or INTERVIEW day(!) was finally upon us! The reason we trekked all the way across the world (or partly since I have really taken this trip into my own hands and stamped it a bit brighter with my own aims than James did). Things went well and celebratory drinks drove us into a much earlier night, like 8:30ish.
Our final day together we decided we would hike up to Kings Park - the view looks out over Perth and it is said to be a romantic spot. Our canoodling was to be put on hold though. Unfortunately we took a bit of a detour and ended up sweating and climbing treacherous stairs in the ferocious Australian heat. There were a few crazies (whom self professed their lack of sense when they passed us - James was nice enough to slow his pace to my crawl - that to walk up and down and up and down the stairs was there form of fitness!). Well, I might agree but the heat was at a nice broil at 39 degrees that day. When we made it too the top (after a bit of a break on a bench) we were greeted with some of the freshest looking park goers I have ever seen! I suggested to James that our Canadian roots were showing in my inability to cope with a bit of exertion in the hot weather. The Park was supremely landscaped and had lush grass which I am sure took quite a bit of water to maintain, if I am not mistaken there is a drought currently. On our bench we were treated to a bit of a show. A group of tourists were involved in a photo-escapade and going through slight aerobatics and theatrics to get that near perfect memory of the occasion. Taking their lead James and I decided to do a bit of posing but our challenge was clearly amateur because they had started their shoot sometime before we arrived and continued I am sure continued for sometime after we left.
The evening winded down with a competitive game of marco polo in the hotel pool and then for supper a large piece of meat to satisfy our appetites. James left that evening and I slept in solitude comforted by it because I knew I had hostel dorm rooms in my future.
In the morning I took the free bus (which I had been getting well acquainted with) to the train and boarded it to the suburb of Fremantle (I just checked wikipedia and it assures me Fremantle is a city in Western Australia and so does the web page City of Fremantle so it appears it is not a suburb after all). The city is very laid back and has a hostel it seems on every corner. Before I arrived I had booked in at the Old Fire Station Backpackers I was recommended to it by a lovely Canadian waitress at the Little Creatures Brewery and was persuaded by the write up in Lonely Planet. However, I was unable to book for the Sunday, I did make a reservation at the Freo Backpackers Inn. I was initially worried that the hostel life was a bit uncomfortable but now that I have arrived at the Old Fire Station Backpackers I can say with certainty that I will be very comfortable! The clientele seem all to be of a certain age and looking for a bit of fun and adventure. There are billiards tables, a ping pong table, free wifi, a comfortable (I mean very colourful, cozy and inviting) atmosphere and the entire building comes across as large home being rented by several friendly strangers with something familiar enough to make it warm.
This week I look for a job wish me luck!
We flew from Victoria to Seattle, to Los Angeles, to Sidney and finally to Perth. After checking in at our hotel (James' company put us up for a few nights) we were ready to hit the streets! We met up with a new friend, for me, and an old friend, for James, and shared the glory that is Victoria Bitters! Haha. The beverage lead James and I to a necessary nap then it was off to "two-for-one" pizza with Jesse and his gang. Now, James and I were faced with a bit of culture shock because this pizza joint seemed to us to resemble a club in design and in clientele. Beautiful, fit people enjoying delicious (but a tad dimensionally challenged) pizza. The stress of travel, lack of sleep and unfamiliarity started to affect my mental capabilities and I very embarrassingly confused the Victorian period for the 1900s. I felt impressively like a dunce and was happy to dive into bed around 10:30pm. The faux pas was I'm sure forgotten because last night when I met up with the same group my name and impression seemed a little fleeting as I was obliged to reintroduce myself. My reputation regarding knowledge of the proper Victorian period was restored.
The evening with new acquaintances also provided an opportunity to obtain knowledge about the ins and outs of procuring the proper means to be employable. A bank account, a mobile phone and a tax file number were of necessity and all three require an address which is not a post box. Lifting one from James' lovely friend from University I have been able to obtain two of the three and am in the 28 day waiting period for my tax file number (I would recommend to anyone thinking about coming to do this prior and have it mailed to someone in Aus).
Moving along, Thursday was arranged as an introduction to the city of Perth and James and I toured along with a wonderfully knowledgeable and personable lady. We went to many of the suburbs and were able to step onto the sand (finally!) of a couple beaches. One in Cottesloe, and as luck would have it a sculpture on the beach event was happening. It had a very island feel! Creative people designing beautiful art and showing it on a gorgeous beach. The second was in Scarborough (pronounced, "SCAHR-Brah") and it was beautiful too but had slightly larger waves. The evening was followed by dinner out with the family of James' work associate. They were lovely people with the cutest daughters! James' tackled, at dinner, an Australian fish called the Barramundi - we were told it is a sneaky fish to catch which I quite liked. James thought its flavour was comparable to a giant herring. The dinner lead to an early night for us once again.
Friday or INTERVIEW day(!) was finally upon us! The reason we trekked all the way across the world (or partly since I have really taken this trip into my own hands and stamped it a bit brighter with my own aims than James did). Things went well and celebratory drinks drove us into a much earlier night, like 8:30ish.
Our final day together we decided we would hike up to Kings Park - the view looks out over Perth and it is said to be a romantic spot. Our canoodling was to be put on hold though. Unfortunately we took a bit of a detour and ended up sweating and climbing treacherous stairs in the ferocious Australian heat. There were a few crazies (whom self professed their lack of sense when they passed us - James was nice enough to slow his pace to my crawl - that to walk up and down and up and down the stairs was there form of fitness!). Well, I might agree but the heat was at a nice broil at 39 degrees that day. When we made it too the top (after a bit of a break on a bench) we were greeted with some of the freshest looking park goers I have ever seen! I suggested to James that our Canadian roots were showing in my inability to cope with a bit of exertion in the hot weather. The Park was supremely landscaped and had lush grass which I am sure took quite a bit of water to maintain, if I am not mistaken there is a drought currently. On our bench we were treated to a bit of a show. A group of tourists were involved in a photo-escapade and going through slight aerobatics and theatrics to get that near perfect memory of the occasion. Taking their lead James and I decided to do a bit of posing but our challenge was clearly amateur because they had started their shoot sometime before we arrived and continued I am sure continued for sometime after we left.
The evening winded down with a competitive game of marco polo in the hotel pool and then for supper a large piece of meat to satisfy our appetites. James left that evening and I slept in solitude comforted by it because I knew I had hostel dorm rooms in my future.
In the morning I took the free bus (which I had been getting well acquainted with) to the train and boarded it to the suburb of Fremantle (I just checked wikipedia and it assures me Fremantle is a city in Western Australia and so does the web page City of Fremantle so it appears it is not a suburb after all). The city is very laid back and has a hostel it seems on every corner. Before I arrived I had booked in at the Old Fire Station Backpackers I was recommended to it by a lovely Canadian waitress at the Little Creatures Brewery and was persuaded by the write up in Lonely Planet. However, I was unable to book for the Sunday, I did make a reservation at the Freo Backpackers Inn. I was initially worried that the hostel life was a bit uncomfortable but now that I have arrived at the Old Fire Station Backpackers I can say with certainty that I will be very comfortable! The clientele seem all to be of a certain age and looking for a bit of fun and adventure. There are billiards tables, a ping pong table, free wifi, a comfortable (I mean very colourful, cozy and inviting) atmosphere and the entire building comes across as large home being rented by several friendly strangers with something familiar enough to make it warm.
This week I look for a job wish me luck!
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Australia bound.
Friends, family and those whom count as both! We (James and I) finally have our date of departure: Monday March 5th 2012. James and I will both depart to Perth and only one of us will return. Not to sound unreasonably ominous but I will remain and look for a job, and do plenty of exploring so that when James returns in two months time I will be able to show him the ropes! I admit to being an unseasoned traveler and some of you may worry about my competency on an international scale but I have a feeling I will no doubt thrive in the absence of familiarity and become somewhat of a expert in all things Australian. The feeling, I am certain, evolved from my personal notion that I may in fact be somewhat of an adaptable creature. I love you all but I have many things to take on momentarily: of most import is the acquisition of a, more than tolerable, traveling bag – something that says “expert-traveler-whom-is-of-fashionable-mode” but also fits the “I-have-lint-in-my-pockets” budget. Wish me luck!
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