Tuesday, 26 February 2013

Elyse writes the 'How not to live' manual. Aka PUFFED CORN.


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!

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