Small Things

I am going to be narcist today, this time I’m going to write about myself. Well at least about bits of my life. I’ve left Melbourne for about a month now, and not until yesterday had I feel homesick. Well I don’t really know what to call it, it’s like I wasn’t born there and I don’t even have any family in Melbourne, so technically it wasn’t home. But on the other hand I’ve spent quite a number of years there, and more cruicially those years were my adolescent years. Those were the years I’ve experience the first of everything, and hence like what my friend said (who happens to be in the same boat) Melbourne is the place where all our firsts happened. The first clubbing, the first smoke (though I’ve grown out of it), the first boyfriend, the first heartbreak, the first car, the first lecture, the first laundry, gosh the list will go on and on. And because of this I call Melbourne my home, though adopted.
Yesterday, I put my Van Morrison record, and straightaway everything floods back, and I was so desperately missing my old life I think I could cry. It was a summer afternoon in Lucy’s pad when I first heard the CD. I can still smell it, a perfect lazy Sunday afternoon in her shoebox flat. We were nibbling on spinach dip, crackers, and grapes on the veranda. Lucy’s plants were still really new and tiny flowers in assorted pinks. The street was rather sleepy except for array of summer people in their tanks, thongs, and sunnies, heading for some cool cafes in Lygon. And we were just lounging peeping at people walking, gossiping. And of course this brought me to another Sunday afternoon in my place with Lucy and Verli. We’ve gotten some wine from a nice cheap place in south Melbourne. The guy said it had a twinge of lanolin taste, and being me I cannot resist not to have it. And you know what, the girls almost kill me for it because believe me anything that’s meant for your skins will not go with wine. Luckily Lucy brought some leftover reds. And we had candles that afternoon, which I put in a glass vase along with some flowers & leaves picked from my veranda. We must have stayed there for hours chatting and listening to tunes from again Van Mor, Frankie, and Elvis (Lucy & Verli couldn’t stand him though). We had grapes, garlic dip and mini toast which we picked up in Chadstone, and I grilled some Lebanese bread.
I miss my friends, but most of all I miss my flat and all the small things. I miss my Barbie room which I painted myself with Yosa and Marg. I still remember the day we picked up the paints, it was in Bunning, sort of like warehouse for all the building stuff far away in some hick suburb. And golly we felt we’ve been thrown in another planet. There she was, Yosa with her chic Gucci sunnies and Sass & Bide miniskirt among giant guys in dirty overalls. And the worst thing was we didn’t have a clue what we have to get let alone where to get them. The first shop attendant wasn’t very helpful close to rude in fact, probably thinking that we were just some bimbos. After we pick the color swatch I want, we then browse the shelves to get the paint can. We must have browse them tens of time and not seeing anything close to pink. Then a nice shop guy who must have seen us wandering around blankly came up to us offering help. And only then we found out that one just have to pick any can, bring it to the counter along with the swatch and they’ll mix it for you. God talk about ignorant. Anyhow in the end I have a lovely room with pinks and whites stripes. The pink came up much brighter than we expected, and that’s how my room got called Barbie room.
Anyhow enough reminiscence for now, else I’ll be miserable again. What I want to say is always savor the small things because by Jove those are the things you’re going to remember most.