I'm bored.
My legs are jiggling uncontrollably like an impatient Chinese man.
I'm annoying everyone with my happiness.
I even tidied my desk.
I'm contemplating the risk of eating another banana.
And I think I've outdone myself with my packing. Not only is it light and minimalistic but it's organised too. I have morphed into my mother with full force. Hand sanitiser? Yes. Spare plastic bags? Fuck yes - take three. I've even applied three coats of organisation to my nails. The first is an undercoat. Then two layers of grey. Then a final coat to seal it so my nails will be able to endure 3.5 weeks of hardcore fun. Shit, that's 4 coats of organisation. Arghh. Why can't I ever be a proper half Chinese person and add up correctly in my head?
4 hours til I can go to the airport.
Tuesday, March 09, 2010
Tuesday, March 02, 2010
7 days
This time, this exact time in a week, I’ll be packing my things up (by packing up, I mean shoving my laptop somewhere) and leaving grey behind for three and a half weeks. Do you hear me people? Three and a half weeks! This calls for more exclamation marks!!!!!
It’s strange, mostly, I don’t think of my other home much. And by that, I don’t mean the people, it’s more the physical nature. I don’t think about the roads, the trees or the shops. And of course, I don’t need to think of these things, because everyday life is in London, but as the days draw closer, they’re appearing again. I’m suddenly having flashes of ‘home’. I’m remembering street names, shops, foods, I’m even thinking about how I’d get from the city to the beach and where I’d park. It’s a strange mix of comfort and excitement.
And for the first time, I’m showing my home to someone else. Being over here has changed how I perceive Australia and Australians. Instead of being proud, at times it has made me cringe, made me embarrassed and made me ashamed. Of course, it’s not all bad. I know it’s not. I guess I want L to see the best part of my other home, because I know how great it is. I want him to see it how I left it, not how Aussies abroad ruined it.
But the most important thing is, I'm coming home. I can feel sun on me. I can hear the crickets at sunset and the smell of eucalyptus. I'm walking slower already and smiling at strangers (actually, not yet, but I might). I'm coming home and I can't wait.
It’s strange, mostly, I don’t think of my other home much. And by that, I don’t mean the people, it’s more the physical nature. I don’t think about the roads, the trees or the shops. And of course, I don’t need to think of these things, because everyday life is in London, but as the days draw closer, they’re appearing again. I’m suddenly having flashes of ‘home’. I’m remembering street names, shops, foods, I’m even thinking about how I’d get from the city to the beach and where I’d park. It’s a strange mix of comfort and excitement.
And for the first time, I’m showing my home to someone else. Being over here has changed how I perceive Australia and Australians. Instead of being proud, at times it has made me cringe, made me embarrassed and made me ashamed. Of course, it’s not all bad. I know it’s not. I guess I want L to see the best part of my other home, because I know how great it is. I want him to see it how I left it, not how Aussies abroad ruined it.
But the most important thing is, I'm coming home. I can feel sun on me. I can hear the crickets at sunset and the smell of eucalyptus. I'm walking slower already and smiling at strangers (actually, not yet, but I might). I'm coming home and I can't wait.
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