Almost to an end

Amazingly, everything comes to an end coincidently.

I will finish my last volunteer night in Fitzroy Legal Service on next Wednesday, where I have been volunteering for two years. Initially it was just my frenzy to kill time on something meaningful. After browsing the volunteer database and sent out several applications, I was called up by FLS and started volunteering there since. This is one of the great Aussie experiences for me; I got to know people and cases I would rarely see otherwise. I consult with distress, solve problems, and meet with fantastic lawyers who have the hearts to help. Well, if I can, I will continue to contribute to the community in Singapore.

My work contract is going to expire in two months. Although they have agreed to get it extended till July, I won’t take it. If I stay in this position, I will become someone I don’t know - a woman with a Bimbo mind and a big house mortgage.

My apartment’s leased is also going to expire in mid-Feb, a perfect timing. It is a lovely but tiny studio, stamped with our joys and tears. We all hope to live in a nicer one in the future, after I come back.

My flying off day is most likely to be set on the 5th February. I was still asked by grandma to stay for another one and a half year to get the Australian passport this morning. “No way!” - conversation ended. I don’t think I can survive with loads of money but an empty heart, not at this age at least.

A super strong cleaning detergent is needed

Now I have this embarrassing temporary tattoo on my left hand that I can’t wipe off! Three days after the Sexpo, this “sticker” tattoo still adheres on my hand like a stigma, showing everyone I have been to that adult show biz. Not a piece colour has come off from my skin, which make me feel suspicious that it is a real one. The wording is “I ♥ sex”. Lucky there is a web site printed below it; I can explain to people it is for an advertising campaign. Otherwise, people would think I am a sex freak.

I started reading astrology recently, a big change from science (Myers Brig) to mythologies. I never believe in such myths as I have met people who were born on the same date same year as me, but we all go on different path. Yet, some of its descriptions so accurately match my profile that I would like to use it to understand others.

Make Poverty History

Melbourne in Storm
I fetched a ticket offered by Optus to attend the Make Poverty History concert in Sydney Myer Music Bowl last night, bearing my flu and spinning head. Bono and Pearl Jam made a surprised appearance at the opening scene. This was a free concert, but the ticket was so hard to get as it was one of the biggest musical events in Melbourne with famous Australian artists and bands playing to arise poverty awareness. Given that the concert was held on the eve of the G20 summit, its power to call on people, especially the youths, to “change the political wind” (Tim Costello) was prominent. Once the sun hit behind the ground, we raised our glow sticks, swinging and singing along with performing artists. The populated band Jet, Eskimo Joe, Evermore, etc. brought this infamouse Melbourne venue into a screaming mountain. Appart from the chilly weather, it was a pleasant night to most of Melbourneist.

November rain, hail and snow plummetted in Melbourne last week, brought Melbourne back into winter and caused many people to sick, including me. I took Friday off and fell into a coma like sleep for the whole day. The soundly sleep was what I need for the week to recover from the bizzard hailstones and bizzard rains.

November festival

November is a lovely month in Melbourne. The weather is pleasant, and the flavour of festival is brewing among well dressed punters for fashion of the year’s race. In two months time, I will leave this place, where I have disliked for five years. I love the people, love the arts atmosphere and the dancing places I hang out in, but the layback attitude and the work is dragging me into expiration day by day. I am not sure will I regret for deciding to leave, whereas I know for sure that I will regret if I do not leave. It has been an unfortunate year for both of us, all the distorted incidents and distress should leave behind and let us go for a fresh life in a new year.

For four bloody years, the Melbourne cup carnival has not improved a cent on its transportation system. People, all well dressed, still has to crowd around to wait for the train which its platform gate shuts every four minutes, or for the tram if it ever comes. The most efficient way to get out of the racecourse is to call an ambulance with your partner(s) pretending to be seriously chocking. Last year of working in these four-day carnival, no more devastated on cursing public transport.

Derby Day, the dress code is black and white in tradition. Giving that I was working in the member’s area on the fourth floor of grand stand, not much fashion aroma was smelled in there. Hopefully more colour and styled hat would be seen on Tuesday.