A T-shirt Makes for an Excellent Pillowcase
A lot has happened during my three month writing hiatus, so much so that I won’t be able to come even close to squeezing it into a single entry, but to quickly bring you up to speed: I’ve graduated, I’ve started work, and I’ve moved into a flat.

The title of this post sums up the whole transition really: I’ve gotten by, albeit not very smoothly or conventionally. Incidentally, the little piece of advice in the title is unquestionably true. At the moment, I’m just trying to work out whether it was my own ingenuity or whether it was some advice a friend gave me that seeped into my subconscious. Come to think of it, it is most probably the latter. Irregardless, if you ever find yourself ready for bed and your sheets still haven’t dried from the wash, just slip an old t-shirt over your pillow and sleep on top of the mattress protector.

Leaving Canberra and starting working life in Melbourne threw up changes and challenges that I never contemplated. During the first few weeks of work, I felt like a majestic tree living in nature that had been suddenly dug up, potted, and put under the bright lights on a show room floor of some tacky discount department store. Every working day I woke up early, sat in traffic for an hour and a half, worked all day on tedious spreadsheet manipulations, sat in traffic for another hour, got home, ate and slept. This was what my life had come to. Instead of being respected by my classmates and my students, I was now an incompetent newbie who knew next to nothing about the work that was required of me. That hit me pretty hard. The one thing Melbourne had going for it, was that Sherly and my family were here. If it weren’t for them, I’d have been screaming to go back to Canberra, in fact I’d probably be enrolled in a PhD course by now. One week I received an e-mail from the ANU asking if I’d like to spend the summer researching GLM’s (Generalised Linear Models) with one of my former lecturers in Canberra and I almost wept when I read it.

Piled on to that, I moved out of home a little earlier than I’d expected and so yet another transition was occurring. Although, Sherly was of immense help and organised a fridge and a washing machine and helped me buy and assemble my furniture from IKEA.

For weeks I wasn’t myself. My soul was screaming, and my creative side was yelling out too, I couldn’t make sense of anything. I was angry, frustrated, stressed, impatient, quick tempered and generally grumpy – all of which, I don’t see as traits of myself.

But finally, very slowly, things are settling down again. I’m finding myself again. It may take months before I feel comfortable and confident with work, but that is a challenge that I’ve got to face. Actually, when poring over some old diary entries, I realised that I hated Canberra and life there when I first moved. For now though, I’ve got a great place right by Albert Park, close to the tram, close to MSAC (Melbourne sports and aquatic centre), close to the Chapel St. shops, and close to the lake, so whenever I miss Canberra I can just walk around it and imagine ‘Lake Burley Griffin’.

In summary, I’ve taken my first tenacious steps into the real world, looked around, and am now motivated to keep stepping forward rather than turn back and spend my life on solid ground.

Phew, that was a little heavy, but I needed to get it off my chest.

So, onto the lighter side of things, I’ll cut to my last day in Canberra. I’d just finished my final exam and walked from room 101, where it was held, back to my college room and began to pack. I met some friends and we went to lunch one final time. It was an abnormally cold day and it was raining. In fact, I recall it rained on each day of my exams – my ‘formulae and tables for actuarial examinations’ book now has rain spec marks on it. Despite the cold, I was wearing a T-shirt and jeans. I don’t know why, but I have a quirky habit where I refuse to wear a jumper after I declare to myself that it is past mid-Spring.

I felt quite sad whilst eating my ‘Pad Thai’, and even more so, on the walk home. After reaching college, I headed back to Civic once more to meet a classmate. I had originally suggested we climb the local mountain together, but due to the weather, I suggested coffee instead. Just as well, because whilst sitting down enjoying the coffee, it began to snow! Brrrr. As I sat shivering in my T-shirt, I wondered why I had to have such warped principles that forced me to wear a T-shirt when it was snowing outside.

Ideally, I’d like to have headed back that night to surprise Sherly, but my mind was exhausted from the long exam period and I didn’t finish the packing until late. After all, I had to squeeze my entire room into my small Honda Civic. So, on my last night I packed, had a celebratory gin and tonic by myself in my room and contemplated leaving Canberra.

The next morning, after I loaded everything into my car, I shut the boot (well rather I pushed hard on the boot until it shut) and I looked up at ‘Black Mountain Tower’. I actually spoke a farewell out loud to Canberra. I recall I said, “Good bye Canberra, you’ve been awfully good to me.” After that I sat in silence and drove off, my car laden with all my possessions. There is a lot of truth to what I said out loud that day; Canberra has been very good to me. In the two years I was in Canberra I felt I achieved so much and had a lot of good fortune. I finished a masters degree (with merit), I completed all of my part I and II exemptions from ‘the institute’, I secured a job, I tutored and gave lectures, I grew immensely as a person and last but by no means least, I started a relationship with my long time love, Sherly. All in all, it was a very happy and prosperous time for me and I’ll remember it always. Canberra will always have a place in my heart.

I got pulled over by the police on the way home. They were conducting breath testing by the side of the road next to a sign that read: ‘Heavy vehicle inspection bay.’ Due to this sign and the fact that a cement mixer in front of me was pulled over, I naturally assumed they were inspecting heavy vehicles, so I was quite surprised when the plump policeman in his fluorescent vest leapt on to the road waving his arms vehemently at me. I’ll admit that I wasn’t exactly packing lightly, but surely I wasn’t classified as a heavy vehicle. The policeman immediately assumed I was drunk, and I just told him of my confusion apologetically. In his finest condescending country drawl, he informed me that I had to be tested. I began to draw a big breath in preparation, but yet again to my surprise, all I had to do was count to ten whilst speaking into the microphone. Either I wasn’t drunk or my pronunciation was perfect, for I was allowed to drive off again.

This time when I drove through the gateway to Melbourne and saw the dazzling city lights, I had a giddy sensation upon realising that this time it was for good; I was no longer a visitor; I was back.

I unpacked hastily whilst saying a quick greeting to my family before hitting the road again to visit Sherly. This time when I saw her, coupled with the usual joy was the realisation that I would be able to see her all the time now. There would be no lengthy drives or tiring train trips, only a drive from Rowville to Carlton.

I made the most of the two weeks before work started. I made pottering around into an art form and was most efficient in my relaxation and unwinding. I took Sherly for a trip to Daylesford for a couple of the days. I know what you’re thinking… I’m fully aware of Daylesford’s reputation – not that there’s anything wrong with that – but it also happens to be a very relaxing getaway destination for heterosexual couples as well.

If I were to describe Daylesford in one word, it would be – dainty. I think that is the best one word description, plus it offers a delightful little alliteration. You swing around a roundabout into the main street and the town welcomes you with open arms and a slightly over-eager melodious voice. The town is gay and proud, it’s there, it’s queer, get used to it. Why, even the sweaty labourers waft the delicate scent of ‘CK One’ cologne instead of the usual ‘BO Ultra’ found wafting from labourers in most towns. Each shop along the pokey street is aimed at pampering your senses rather than providing for your needs. Coles supermarket is hidden away in a little alley, while decadent cafés and day spas are plonked in the middle of the highest traffic areas.

Since I’m a big fan of mineral water, we decided to check out the mineral springs first. I imagined how glorious it would be to drink effervescent mineral water straight from the source, and I was gleaming in anticipation. Sherly began to tip out all her water bottles to collect such a bounty, while I tasted the water. BLEEECCCCHHHKK. It tasted foul, no, foul is too kind, it was an abomination - a rusty gassy concoction bearing no resemblance whatsoever to the bottled variety. Fortunately that was the only disappointment of the trip, well that and leaving.

Inevitably the holidays ended and the time came for my foray into the real world – the land of unrealistic expectations and deadlines, pressure from shareholders, German-like efficiency, where you swear people are looking at you and seeing dollar signs and where grey ethical decisions are made instead of the usual black and white.

So long Canberra and so long uni life. I’ll miss you both.