Melbourne, here I am fifteen and a half hours since arrival. The eight hour long flight did not feel like an eternity. Maybe my back has been molded to fill the AirAsia seats nicely after all this while, or maybe I was seated next to a pretty white girl instead of a sweaty, pimpled teenager tapping away on a PSP. The long wait at the baggage claim feels like an instant in retrospect. The taxi ride on the way back to the city was probably the only thing that affected my emotions due to the meter that skips a few dollars every time I look away.
Arriving back at the apartment felt like returning home after a tiring game of mahjong or a heavy dinner. Opening that clean, snow white door is probably an invitation to a routine. Walking to class and back, cheap a la carte Chinese food for dinner, listening to the same old music, watching old episodes of American series, refreshing Facebook every half minute. All those thoughts came to my mind as I walked in a state of apathy into the place I left vacant three months ago.
After waking Keith up while changing bedsheets and pillowcases, I played around with his electric guitar that lacked an E string, then fiddled with his new Tamron lens. Other than that, life is pretty much back to where it was.
Wanting to break the routine with increased productivity, at least for the coming month, I made a to-do list which I would most likely disregard sooner than desired. So far, I have crossed off payment of bills and revising one chapter of French. I had also, for the first time, cleaned my bathroom.
University life also did not feel any different. My first class of the semester, a French tutorial with only five students in it felt a bit strange. The tutor thought the class was at 3.15 while the students thought it was 2.15. In the end, most of the students left save five. Three of the five took French in VCE and were a lot more fluent than those who took French Beginners back in year one. Due to lack of practice, my French is very rusty by now. Looks like I will have to work harder.
Merde.
Arriving back at the apartment felt like returning home after a tiring game of mahjong or a heavy dinner. Opening that clean, snow white door is probably an invitation to a routine. Walking to class and back, cheap a la carte Chinese food for dinner, listening to the same old music, watching old episodes of American series, refreshing Facebook every half minute. All those thoughts came to my mind as I walked in a state of apathy into the place I left vacant three months ago.
After waking Keith up while changing bedsheets and pillowcases, I played around with his electric guitar that lacked an E string, then fiddled with his new Tamron lens. Other than that, life is pretty much back to where it was.
Wanting to break the routine with increased productivity, at least for the coming month, I made a to-do list which I would most likely disregard sooner than desired. So far, I have crossed off payment of bills and revising one chapter of French. I had also, for the first time, cleaned my bathroom.
University life also did not feel any different. My first class of the semester, a French tutorial with only five students in it felt a bit strange. The tutor thought the class was at 3.15 while the students thought it was 2.15. In the end, most of the students left save five. Three of the five took French in VCE and were a lot more fluent than those who took French Beginners back in year one. Due to lack of practice, my French is very rusty by now. Looks like I will have to work harder.
Merde.
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