I'd forgotten what
silence sounded like. It's an empty sound, like one hand clapping.
Unfortunately, no transcendental insights accompanied such a realisation,
although I think some trees might have fallen in the forest without me being
there to hear it. One thing I did realise was how much I missed having my own
space, as I did while staying in the 8 bed sardine can. Living in Hobart with 7
males, even briefly, was a severe change of luck from the 8 girls I lab-ratted
with in Broome. Surprisingly, that was a positive change of luck as living with
untidy, smelly, snoring sausages was actually more fun than the 3 months with
attractive, considerate yet alien tacos.
The last of the
guys to leave our house, did so an hour ago after sharing many a beer and laugh
together. Another cog in the Broome machine of fun times, Rhys was someone I
wish I had taken more time to get to know before. His considered criticisms of
my novel were the sort of feedback I needed about 3 years and 4 drafts ago. I
could be a published writer living on my own secluded island just south of a
country with a shattered economy, instead of living south of my brain with my
own shattered economy. Then again, if I had much money I'd probably lend it to
Rhys to fulfil his dream of time-sharing the Hubble telescope on weekends so he
could “spend it looking at boobs”.
My wishes were
fulfilled above and beyond my expectations in regards to my TV spot. Anyone who
made the effort to watch it could have been forgiven for being bored to sleep
before I made an appearance. While none of us were made to look like
intellectual virtuoso's, an impossible feat to any editor, our vastly condensed
answers came out quite well I thought. And I managed to get my joke in, and I
was recognised in the street half an hour after the show aired. No signatures
were requested, but I gave the lady a complimentary blush to go along with my
beaming smile.
Another life long
wish was fulfilled when I finally managed to clock the basketball machine at
the local arcade parlour. The counter only goes up to 99 so shooting nearly 50
hoops in 60 seconds required a factory line of awesomeness which lifted me to a
level I have strived for since I was 10 years old. The feat was marked with
little fanfare as the ticket dispenser on the machine was broken, meaning I
couldn't claim a cheap Chinese soft toy as reward. There was no back slapping
from gathered friends due to envy that I doubled their score and no shoulder
rides around the complex were offered. Nevertheless, passing that magical
number has helped me tick off another goal from my bucket list. The only things
left on there is to have my novel published and become a millionaire; hopefully
not mutually exclusive events.
The biggest news
to change my world was the proxy fulfilment of my recent request to find
someone to marry. Again, I get to live vicariously through someone else, as
three friends have invited me to their weddings this year. Two of the Melbourne boys tie
the knot in mid May and the end of September while Adam, of 'last trip to Asia' fame, called me just then
to offer me the privilege of being one of his grooms men. So now I get to
relive the best parts of getting married without having the expense, obligation
or the ties to anyone for longer than 2 and a half minutes or so. Adam's
engagement party coincides with returning back to Melbourne for my
Nana's 90th, so perhaps this 'travel' journal might once again
detail some form of travel other than just from my couch to the fridge.
The weddings in
September force me to plan about 9 months further into the future than what I
normally like to do. Planning my dinner seems to compromise my ethos, so
committing to a time at the end of the year would have required some deep
breaths had Ads and Elliot not been the sort of friends I would happily offer
all my worldly possessions to. Most homeless people could boast a more valuable
collection of personal assets, so I guess they invited me knowing my
contributions would be more emotional than fiscal.
