Living out of home for the first time
is many things: daunting, exciting, scary. The sense of freedom can
be both exhilarating and crippling.
I'm not living in the other apartment
anymore. I ended up moving into a new place where I have a bedroom to
myself, and the whole place to myself except for 3 days a week when
my roommate stays there. It's very peaceful (especially as the
reception and internet are decidedly pathetic at best). It's also in
Lane Cove where I got my new job at the BWS. This blog post is a
story of my first 4 days living there alone (Not even a full week!)
and how during that time I learned some major life lessons and was
hit over the head with the common-sense stick with excruciating
regularity.
Working at the bottle shop is actually
fairly exhausting. The folk of Lane Cove must all be serious
alcoholics because the liquor almost literally runs off the shelf and
there is constant re-shelving, re-stocking, boxes being swapped and
replaced not to mention serving customers, all happening at an
incredible non stop pace. After my first couple of shifts I was
completely buggered, and it didn't help that I had a ten hour one
after doing a cheeky saliva swap with a bit of a suspect character in
a club the night before.
LIFE LESSON 1: No kissing randoms
before big events such as moving out, huge shift or about to start
uni. Just... Don't.
The following day. Everything hurt.
The actual fibres in the bones of my
legs were throbbing. My neck was stuck in this eternal tilt to the
left and everything from the top of my spine to my bellybutton was on
fire.
I woke up at 6am to drive right back to
Camden and teach my last swimming class. Then drove all the way back
to Lane Cove to do another shift.
LIFE LESSON 2: Attempting two jobs at
once. DON'T DO IT. JUST DON'T.
I realise that so far this has just
been a huge rant on how much I've been working and you're all like
what a fucking crybaby.
You see, I agreed with you. Which is
why I ignored the warning signs...
Sunday was another experience all
together.
Work at BWS again. And let me tell you
my friends, the crazies were out in force:
A mild mannered man turned into the
crazy dog man http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cZpm_9_PmYg when I asked his underage son to show some ID. Another
fellow decided to loudly judge the residents of Lane Cove right
outside the shop, and then smash his beer bottle all over the ground.
“If I don't get arrested tonight,
It'll be a fuckin' miracle” he told me when he came in the store.
“Are you trying to get arrested?”
I asked mildly. I was serving him because there was literally no one
else in the shop (the manager was downstairs in the cellar) and I
didn't trust him not to get aggressive if I refused him.
“Nah mate. Just tellin' it like it
is. Fucken rich people in their houses with their ocean view. Life is
SOOOOOOO FUCKEEEEEENNNNN HARD for them AIN'T IT???” He screamed
across the street.
When the manager returned I told her
what had happened and asked if we should call the police.
“No. It's alright. I know him. If he
comes in again, cut him off” she told me.
And he did come in again, about an hour
later.
I was pissed off at the manager,
because she claimed she knew him, claimed she could handle him, yet
she let him walk in the store, grab a six pack, line up and try to
pay. She left it up to me to tell him that I couldn't serve him any
more because I believed him to be intoxicated. And he lost his shit.
“What the FUCK do you mean? Don't go
all fucken RSA on me you bitch. You stupid homo c**t. Who
the fuck do you think you are to refuse ME?”.
Anyway.
You all get the drift. It went on for a bit, and what can you do but
just stand there and wait for him to finish and leave? Which he
eventually did.
But
then he came back. He stood at the front of the counter, pointed his
finger at me and for the next 3 minutes the abuse just rained
down.
“That's
it” said the manager (about 3 hours too late in my opinion) “I'm
calling the police”.
So the
police came, took a statement. And then the guy came back AGAIN.
So I
just went and hid amongst the boxes for the rest of my shift.
That
night the bones in my legs had turned into lead. I could barely lift
them. I blamed it on all the standing. My head felt foggy and clouded
and I blamed it on the emotional day.
“It'll
be alright”. I told myself. “O-week starts tomorrow. You'll have
fun”.
LIFE
LESSON 3: Let the manager handle it/stop being so optimistic.
I did
not have fun.
Standing
in line to get my student card I was talking to a guy in front of me
and I asked him if he was going to check out the stalls and
entertainment after this.
“Nah,
I can't. I've got class after this”.
What
an idiot I thought. “Class
doesn't start till next week” I said. “This is O-week”.
“I
think you're about to be in for a rude shock” he said slowly,
clearing thinking, what an idiot. “Classes
start this week”.
aaaah
shit.
So I
ran to the library to find my timetable and realised that my first
class started RIGHT NOW. So, hot and sweaty, I ran across campus
(looking every inch the lame-o first year with my nose buried in a
map, asking every poor shmuck in my path the way to the room) I ran
to the classroom I was meant to be in and arrived literally dripping
in sweat (it was also a humid 32 degrees might I add...) and...
…
no one was there.
Because
on my timetable it also stated that that lecture was an online
lecture and had I stopped half a minute to read it properly I would
have seen that. In fact it didn't have a room written on it either so
apparently I'd just made up some room that I thought it was in and
had run there. I got to meet a couple of people going to 'Intro to
Geo Physics' and through those interactions learned that I never want
to be married to a Geo Physicist. That's about it.
The
rest of my classes finished at 9pm and by that point I was in a
pretty bad way. I had a headache which just wouldn't leave (and I
never usually get headaches). I couldn't for some reason really feel
my legs and as I was walking I felt like I was pushing through this
odd red, hot fog. Afterwards I realised that I must have had a pretty
intense fever but at the time I was just like.
What
the fuck is wrong with you Elyse? Jeeze. So what you made one mistake
and got the day wrong? Suck it up you princess”.
The self abuse was
rampant.
So I was waiting
for the bus to go home and somehow psyched myself out of the
bus stop I was waiting at (which in hindsight was probably correct)
and ended up waiting at the wrong bus stop for about 40
minutes, then catching the wrong bus, getting off at the next stop.
Walking about 2 kilometres along Epping road and fighting this huge
internal war about whether or not to 1) just fuck the bus and walk
home. 2) walk to the shopping centre (there must be ONE bus there
that could take me home!) or 3) Just jumping in front of traffic and
ending it all because I felt that incredibly sick. Thankfully I chose
option 2 and got home safely (after missing my stop on THAT end as
well!) and I pulled myself into bed. It was at that moment which,
incredibly, for the first time all weekend I thought, you know
what? I don't feel so good. I think I might be coming down with
something.
LIFE LESSON 4: Self
denial/abuse is never constructive.
The following
morning was literally death.
I had tossed and
turned all night so when I woke up I forced myself to go to Woolies
and do some shopping just so I could get away from the bed. I was in
some weird dreamlike state where I actually forgot that I'd made the
earlier realisation that I was sick. And so with my foggy brain I
stumbled blinking out onto the street and thought to myself
stagnantly (again) y'know? I don't feel so good.
Miracle of miracles
I conquered Woolies (and probably infected everyone there) (this is
why you wash your fruit peeps!) and lugged my stuff home. On some
weird, disease ridden impulse I had bought a bag of puffed corn (I
know... What? and Why?) and after I had put everything else away I
was left staring at this huge bag of puffed corn on the bench without
a clue of what to do with it. So I opened it and started eating it.
Manically. I just couldn't stop! I had to have this puffed corn! I
was cramming it in my mouth without any real reason or purpose and
then in a sudden moment of clarity I looked down at my two fists full
of puffed corn and thought to myself. I reeeeeally need to just go
back to bed. My body was just too weak, hot and heavy to protest
with my brain, so although I had this inexplicable urge to eat all
the puffed corn in the world, instead I tucked myself back into bed
and fell asleep.
LIFE LESSON 5:
PUFFED CORN.
I woke up at
midday, feeling only mildly better, but somehow convinced myself that
I'd feel MUCH better if I went to the library, found myself some wifi
and contacted the rest of civilisation. I was still pretty convinced
that my low mood was on account of being so isolated and so many
crazy events happening. I was also pretty disappointed in myself for
my poor observation skills regarding the bus and my uni timetable
(but not my health for some reason?) and so I packed my work clothes
in my bag, intending to be re-immersed in the world of facebook for
some considerable hours and didn't want to have to walk back to my
house to get changed if that was the case. I thought that was an
AWESOME decision and that I was really turning myself around. Until I
closed the apartment door behind me and realised in the split second
after the condemning BANG that I had left my keys inside and
locked myself out.
Anyway. This has
already been a long story so I'll try to cut it short now.
I went to the
library. Sat in a chair by a large window for 4 hours. Got up, went
to work and SUDDENLY felt better. The weight of the world was lifted
from my shoulders! I could see without fuzzy vision! I could swallow
without wanting to just rip out my oesophagus! My feet were light, my
clarity had returned I COULD BREATHE.
I don't know how,
but somehow, without even the assistance of a panadol, my body threw
off this death virus which was so horrible that I didn't even realise
I had it. And I only realise now how incredibly horrible the past few
days were because of it, RIGHT NOW because I just feel SO MUCH
BETTER. Which is why I have stayed up till 1am to write this story.
I FEEL BETTER
EVERYONE. AREN'T YOU ALL SO HAPPY FOR ME??
LIFE LESSON 6:
Always carry spare keys/look after yourself /don't hate on
yourself/don't expect yourself to be able to do everything as
awesomely or effortlessly as your parents, they've had way more years
of practise/puffed corn is seriously delicious and I am so excited to
be able to wake up tomorrow morning and have some.
On that note.
Goodnight!
