I’m broke but I’m happy, I’m poor but I’m kind

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The dreamy life of waking up whenever I want to, and moseying about the day however I please are gone, perhaps for good. I’ve now had my first days at my two new jobs, and I’m pretty happy about both of them so far.

The first one is ScentAir, a company in Bondi that specializes in scents for stores, hotels, gyms etc. This means it’s a sales job, which is both good and bad. Good because it’s dynamic and stimulating, bad because it seems I’ll only be able to work 30 hours a week at the most, which doesn’t feel enough considering my fiscal state. Still, I think I’ll be pretty good at it if I stick with it.

The other job is at a book distribution center, and I have to say I think I like this one even better. Basically my job is to grab an order and collect the books off the shelves in the little warehouse, pile them up in front of the packer, and then grab another order and repeat the feat. I guess learning the alphabet finally came in handy, after all. Who would have thunk?
It’s a dollar less an hour than the sales job, and it’s rather menial work, but they’ve already offered me full-time, which would provide some much needed security financially, and therefore definitely goes on the plus-side. But far more importantly than all this; the “damaged” goods is up for grabs for anyone working at the center.
We’re not talking trashed books here. A creased corner is enough at times, but on some of them I can’t even figure out why they ended up by the rejected books to begin with. Being both ingenious and thrifty, it didn’t take me more than 30 seconds to figure out how to best benefit from this perk; I devised a clever plan to bring books home every day after work and sell this material at a second-hand book-store. My friend called me a swindler when he heard of my intentions, but it’s all legit, trust me. I’m allowed to take the books, and once they’re mine, I obviously have the freedom to do whatever I want with them. What I want to do is read them and then sell them, acquiring both knowledge and cash, not to mention the workout when riding my bike home with a backpack full of books. Any book that doesn’t get grabbed off that shelf meets its destiny in the shredder, so I’m actually saving them from a certain death, which is awfully close to saving trees, since we all know where paper comes from.
Did I just turn parsimoniousness into heroism? Good on me.

Last weekend was nothing short of refreshing. Lorenzo and I drove south down the coast to catch some relaxation and sights, and we were successful in both regards.
Being the culinary fetishists we are, there was no shortage of yummy food in our cooler; quiche, focaccia, hot pockets, pie, cherry tomatoes, pineapple, rock melon, nectarines, bananas, avocado, pancakes, Nutella, grapes, bread, fancy canned tuna, etc. Most of the cooked food was courtesy of Lorenzo the Food-wiz; only the pancakes were a contribution from the kitchen I was surfing at the time. (And let me say this to my Flagstaffian hosts: I can’t believe I deprived you of the fulfilling goodness of the real deal by serving you that pitiful powder version of my home country’s delicacy. Shame on me. Please let me redeem myself next time I’m around.)

We camped on the beach of Conjola National Park the first night, and before even pitching our tent I had seen my first (three) kangaroos. Check!
The next morning we broke the fast with Nutella pancakes and bananas, and then hung out at our perfect location for several hours before heading out. Lorenzo is a good surfer, so he took on the waves while I lounged in the sun with a book and my mp3-player. To get some nice exercise in I went for a meditative barefoot run along the water, an activity that promptly chafed the skin off my toes, creating some minor discomfort limited only to whatever entails walking or standing on your feet.

Some time after noon we packed up and headed to Morton National Park, where we did a tiny bit of hiking by the beautiful Fitzroy Falls. I hadn’t realized how much I had missed being in slightly more remote nature, and in a moment of desperate longing for Arizona, the lush valley in front of me reminded me of the Grand Canyon’s North Rim.
That night we camped at another beach, and were lucky enough to catch a most spectacular lightning show. We could hear no thunder, but in a nearly 180 degrees radius we were illuminated by continuous flashes of massive lights bursting through the few clouds there were. No rain, no sign of storm, just these mighty flares in the sky. It went on for at least three hours, and we watched it in a reverential silence, broken only occasionally by the sound of us munching on the foiled-up Nutella-banana we had grilled over our campfire, or Lorenzo moving around to take pictures of the awe-inspiring display.

Next morning much repeated the successful recipe of the previous, with the difference that we had a deadline; we had to get to the city for Will’s going-away bbq around 2-ish.
On our way back to Sydney we came upon a motorcycle accident, and the still female body in the middle of the road first had me convinced I would find a dead body smashed to a pulp inside the leather outfit. I was the second person to reach the girl, but it was soon clear that other than a broken elbow, and a slight state of shock, she would be fine.

I know you’ve all been waiting to read these few words, and here they are, finally;
I’ve fallen in love.
Dave, the guy who’s letting me live in his room while away in the UK, is also letting me use his bike, and it’s the most amazing velocipede I’ve ever sat upon. This thing propels me forward so fast and so effortlessly it’s almost like one of those dreams I sometimes have, where my body knows no limits, and I can do hundreds of pull-ups (when in real life I can only do two). Riding this bike is truly empowering, and it gives me a pleasant sense of superiority to all the idiots sitting in their cars, exhaust pipes leaking out fumes even when just idle. “One Less Car” I gloat as I whizz past them on my sleek, slender vehicle, finding my narrow way between the long lines of automobiles by every stoplight. No amount of car horns or extended long fingers can get to me; I’m queen of the road, and it’s a good thing to be.
Dave, how much? I want her, and I want her bad.

I jumped off my bike to cross the street, and as I was waiting for a green walk signal I noticed that the 10-year old kid next to me was pressing the walk-button several times. I thought of Will, and our observation that an alarming majority of people seem to believe that several pushes on the button somehow is going to change the signal faster than just the one push. I turned to the kid and said: "You know, if you press the button 22 times in a row it will automatically turn green". After this statement I casually looked away, just to hear the gullible idiot press the button 22 times. When he reached 22 the walk signal was still red, and I turned back to him with a wide grin: "I can't believe you fell for that".
He sheepishly smiled back at me with a bewildered look revealing that he too was surprised he had been so daft as to think that there was actually such thing as a code to manipulate the traffic signals.
God, kids are dumb.

Tonight was fun. Rowan and I went to a fundraiser for a nature walk that I got invited to by Jodi, a spunky girl I met at Will’s going away bbq. Pete and Judith from that same party were there as well, along with a bunch of people I hadn’t met before. It was supposed to be a dinner-movie event, but the notion of watching a film got lost in the feast of yummy veggie food. All in all it was a nice night, and Jodi and I decided to hang out sometime, which would mean I finally have a female friend in Australia. It's about frigging' time.

After dinner and dessert Jodi announced that they had managed to raise $702 in just that night. Most people in the room manifested a fair bit of astonishment at this piece of information, which I thought was funny since it suggested that they themselves had donated very inconsiderable amounts, and therefore were incredulous to the final figure. I pointed this out, which made everyone laugh uncomfortably.
After false hopes of some game involving chocolate and a wedding dress (crazy-ass Aussies), Pete and Rowan and I biked back home, and now the time is far past my bedtime, so I'm off to bed.

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Comments

[anonymous]

Rowan is hot

[Dave]

That shining description of my bike will be going in the ad when/if I ever sell it.....is $5755 to much Annis?

[Bear]

Ouch
Poor guy does look like Ashton.