Melbourne Blog 2
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Melbourne Blog 2
written on 23/2/09
Well hi it's me again.
I knew this day would come. I just didn't know when. I expected the tears to come to me sooner or later and today it did.
Feh... I feel like slapping myself. For no particular reason.
Anyway. I moved into my new home today. It is this really gigantic, luxurious, well-furnished house. It has a white exterior and inside, the floors are marble and wood. At corners there are sculptures or some fancy decor. The backyard has a wide verandah for BBQ parties and it overlooks a golf course. There's a friendly ol' beagle named Chiko. It's a he.
So why.am.I.sad.
Why Vina why?
You are so damn lucky to actually live in this home! It's crazy nice. And you are the first to arrive so you could pick the best room. And the family seems nice and they smile a lot.
But see the problem is, they are not yours.
Not my home. Not my pet dog. Not my parents. Not my siblings. They are not mine. And I don't feel too comfortable being here. I haven't even seen the whole house. They didn't bring me up to the second floor and around. My family and I arrived here, put down the luggages, helped me unpack, and then they left. Carrying the empty nutshell of the green luggage bag with them down the sun-scorched road of Melbourne. So quickly, I only had time to wave a little. My homestay parents left with them to go off somewhere. I went back to my room that was on the little corner slighly hidden.
I slumped onto the carpeted floor, against the little bed, facing the floor-length window. Floor-length. Just as I like it. Outside the trees hung over the tall wooden fence, their light green leaves turning into yellows. And there was the sun, casting an array of shadows. And the birds. Chirping gleefully. One settled onto the roof of the neighbour's house. Oh and the sky. Such a cheerful blue with shreds of white clouds. I looked at them all, in a daze. At least in this humble room of mine I feel more at home. Less constraint to put on a polite smile and nod in agreement. And so I cried. And I couldn't stop myself. Now that I was left alone, with time to think in peace, I felt miserable and lonely.
Here now I am telling myself constantly to forget the sorrow. Just throw it away. Don't cry. Cry and tomorrow you will have swollen eyes for orientation and that's not such a good idea. My things are still scattered everywhere and I haven't the mood to clear them all up. Maybe later. For now... I'd have to do something else. And that doesn't include the Internet since there is none yet. What will I do? Play with Chiko? Watch TV? Play the violin? Walk around the neighborhood?
Don't bloody know.........
written on 23/2/09
Well hi it's me again.
I knew this day would come. I just didn't know when. I expected the tears to come to me sooner or later and today it did.
Feh... I feel like slapping myself. For no particular reason.
Anyway. I moved into my new home today. It is this really gigantic, luxurious, well-furnished house. It has a white exterior and inside, the floors are marble and wood. At corners there are sculptures or some fancy decor. The backyard has a wide verandah for BBQ parties and it overlooks a golf course. There's a friendly ol' beagle named Chiko. It's a he.
So why.am.I.sad.
Why Vina why?
You are so damn lucky to actually live in this home! It's crazy nice. And you are the first to arrive so you could pick the best room. And the family seems nice and they smile a lot.
But see the problem is, they are not yours.
Not my home. Not my pet dog. Not my parents. Not my siblings. They are not mine. And I don't feel too comfortable being here. I haven't even seen the whole house. They didn't bring me up to the second floor and around. My family and I arrived here, put down the luggages, helped me unpack, and then they left. Carrying the empty nutshell of the green luggage bag with them down the sun-scorched road of Melbourne. So quickly, I only had time to wave a little. My homestay parents left with them to go off somewhere. I went back to my room that was on the little corner slighly hidden.
I slumped onto the carpeted floor, against the little bed, facing the floor-length window. Floor-length. Just as I like it. Outside the trees hung over the tall wooden fence, their light green leaves turning into yellows. And there was the sun, casting an array of shadows. And the birds. Chirping gleefully. One settled onto the roof of the neighbour's house. Oh and the sky. Such a cheerful blue with shreds of white clouds. I looked at them all, in a daze. At least in this humble room of mine I feel more at home. Less constraint to put on a polite smile and nod in agreement. And so I cried. And I couldn't stop myself. Now that I was left alone, with time to think in peace, I felt miserable and lonely.
Here now I am telling myself constantly to forget the sorrow. Just throw it away. Don't cry. Cry and tomorrow you will have swollen eyes for orientation and that's not such a good idea. My things are still scattered everywhere and I haven't the mood to clear them all up. Maybe later. For now... I'd have to do something else. And that doesn't include the Internet since there is none yet. What will I do? Play with Chiko? Watch TV? Play the violin? Walk around the neighborhood?
Don't bloody know.........
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