I’m kinda nervous. I’m here much too early, so I stop at a park bench in the sun, adjust my tie, shift stuff around in my bag. Haven’t worn a tie for this long since high school, basically, and I’m not even in the door of the place. Gawd. m-flo & yoshika start to sing let go. I exhale deeply, glance at my watch. 8:37. Close enough to showtime if there ever was one. I pick up my bag and go. ...

So I’ve been here two days… Sydney is hot. Which is nice, and which I recall quite clearly. Sydney is humid. Which is less nice. And I don’t recall it being this humid at all. Living alone has its own ups and downs. I think in part this will sort itself out when I start working, bringing something of a routine to the place, but it’s altogether too tempting to waste the day lying in front of the TV when there’s no-one to supervise. Dialup is oh so frustrating. You want to be sure each and every page loaded is worth it. You can’t imagine what it’s like not having a car once you’ve had it for so long. Feels almost like it’s a ticket to freedom and fun. The utility of cordless phones is vastly, vastly underestimated. … did I mention I can’t wait for work to start?

61 months is how long it’s been since I moved down from Sydney, and now I’m moving back up. It’s been a long and interesting 5 years, and I’m going to do a quick summary here. Mainly because I can. Before Moving down from Sydney was a very reluctant thing for me. I’d got things fairly set in Sydney, with a good bunch of friends, and even if I was going to be moving schools regardless, I’d still be close to those people I stuck with since year 7. Moving is never easy for the very reasons it is exciting; in essence, your whole life is renewed with new opportunity. I managed to get into a good school in Melbourne, and if I didn’t know anyone there or indeed practically anything about the city before, it wasn’t so much of an issue. When you’re a 15 year old, you don’t have too much control over your life, and I like to think I do my best to make the best of a situation. ...

Perth has a flying/hovering car: I’m a fan of the Harry Potter theory.

We have managed to uncover a huge clothing conspiracy which may explain why you no longer fit into that nice size M shirt, and are now guiltily standing at the counter buying a size L even though you really aren’t all that large. Yessiree, there’s a bourgeois conspiracy to make the untailored clothes buying public feel guilted, fat and generally uninterested in doing anything to upset the supressed place of the proletarait. It is not the simple fact that fashion has deemed a “skinny fit” to be the standard; the very size has been downsized! ...