Train rides and throwing around plastic money.

Snow Patrol is the perfect band to listen to at 6:42am on a bleak Thursday morning; the beginning of a two hour train ride into the city. A lack of caffeine and a multitude of sleeping passengers; turn up the volume and keep to yourself because the day feels so much earlier than it really is.

All of the blinds on the train carriages are open, for there is no sun to come protruding through the glass and into the eyes of the sleeping. Air-conditioning: Off. Today’s top temperature is just half of yesterday’s. We’ve been traded the overpowering heat for the windy chill of Autumn weather, despite the fact that it is just one day prior to Summer.

Hunched forward on the seat to my left sits my mother, writing away as far as her hands will permit. No writing or book-reading for me though, as I sacrificed my morning injection of caffeine for the drizzle of rain on the way to the station. No, no reading. Sleeping is what I do best at this hour.

After what feels like forever, we’re there. We’re at the last station and the train terminates. We exit the train at the underground station known as Roma Street; the walk to the main city street from here is only a few blocks away. Those first few steps outside of the food court in the station are almost like a wake up call. Once you’re out of those doors, you’ve left the warm security of the bustling station and now you’re out there with the rest of the world.

Wake up, watch the traffic. Bicycles and kids on rollerblades. I thought they went out in the ’90s. The sky is overcast yet the clouds are not grey. Instead they take on a remarkably eerie yellow — a reflection of the fires caused by the previous day’s heat.

First stop: Queen Street. Quite busy at such an early time of the morning. Business meetings at cafés; CEOs ordering champagne for breakfast; homeless people sleeping on benches. It’s all happening here. Quick stop for breakfast to fuel up for hours and hours and even more hours of shopping. Flashing plastic is easier than it’s made out to be, but don’t be fooled by this. Of course there are challenges that come with it. For one, do you choose the blue of the grey shirt? Is this size too big? Does this suit me? How about the other one? Never mind, I’ll take them all. Don’t give me a plastic bag though, because I’d rather pollute the environment by disposing of countless tags and plastic clips, but no plastic bags, thanks.

Shopping is exhausting, really. It’s could almost be considered the international sport of girls. I think my Mum and I would be top contenders for any awards involved. This handbag looks great. How much is it? I don’t care, just put it on my store card. Oh, I don’t want to share it. Okay, I’ll buy both. We can have one each.

A quick lunch is shared, because the enormity of breakfast many hours ago is still apparent. Drink up some wine at the Italian family restaurant and we’re off once more. Bustling in the city with a hoard of people that pretend they don’t care what anyone thinks. They’re all important. They’re all confident, smart and assured. They know we’re they going and no one will get in their way. That’s what they make people think, anyway. It could be a completely different story on the inside, but that’s irrelevant, isn’t it?

Finally tiring and heading back to the train station. Queen Street station this time, not Roma Street. Quick! Run to the ladies’ before the train is announced. Be careful to watch the screens though, because it’s easy to mistake this train for the next. Don’t forget to run to the newsagent to pick up a Picnic bar for the train ride.

Opposite direction this time, and now we’re heading South West. Only ten stops to go. Nine, eight… it’s almost the end of the work day and everyone’s tired and grumpy, or hyper on the sweet thought of heading home after a long day. Some people have different thoughts on what a hard day has been. Shopping, for example.

Being picked up at the train station is a welcome relief from public transport. Driving through the highway traffic is horrible though, so let’s pull over at Toowong shopping center. Park on the top level, adjacent to the McDonald’s drive-thru. It’s only 5pm, we may as well have a look around inside while the peak-hour traffic clears. More shoes. Two pair, even. Year planners, business shirts and lighter flints. Calling home to check on the brother, making sure he heats up something for dinner, likely from the Chrisco hampers we received just days ago.

There’s a Sizzler restaurant upstairs. All you can eat salad bar and dessert for $17.95. Let’s go — why not? Soft drinks on tap and as much food from the salad bar as you would like. Cheese toast, chocolate mousse and bread and butter pudding. It’s almost 7pm now and we should really go home. The drive home on the highway is long and relatively uneventful, apart from the random snippets of conversation received through the CB radio. A ton of swearing and crass remarks concerning the government.

Press the garage door remote and drive in. We’ll un-pack the bags in the morning.

God I’m lazy.

So it’s 10:39am and I’m sitting here at the computer, still in my pyjamas, still lacking much-needed makeup. My eye still hurts like a motherfucker for some reason, but I guess I’ll live. I still don’t have my reading glasses back from the optometrist yet, as they’re getting new lenses put in. Woo yeah. Let’s hope my day settles down now, eh? I can’t deal with all of this excitement.

Oh shit son, I even get to vacuum my room now because of the vast amount of hair I’ve been shedding from blow-drying and straightening. Mmm, delightful.

Hitting up the small Bowls’ Club for lunch today too… with the whole 3 other people that are likely to be there as well.

Oh, wait, hold up — Mum’s vacuuming my room for me. Fuck I’m lazy.

Bah.

I hate it when I’m so tired that I don’t even want to go to sleep, but I do. But really I don’t. But I kind of do, just not really.

Yeah. I’m way tired. This doesn’t even make sense.

She’s a maniac, maaaaniac on the floor.

I’m not even 18 yet and I feel like I’ve grown up and out-grown so much recently. I both like it and I don’t. I don’t even know what I want at the moment, but I kind of wish time would slow down a little for me, if only for a moment. Unfortunately it doesn’t work that way.

Things are  moving so quick it’s not funny. After waiting for so long for it to happen, I’m finally finished school. I’m almost working full-time now, people are constantly drifting out of my life–we make plans like, “You. Me. This Saturday night. Let’s catch up and get wasted!” and things along those lines, but then what?  Nothing ever comes of it. It’s been going on like this long before I left school though, so I don’t know why it’s hitting me like it is now.

Do I care? Do they care? If they don’t really care, do I care that they don’t really care?  Do I even make sense to myself anymore?

My first day working in an office.

Whilst I only began working in an office at, oh, 8:30am today, I can’t yet see what people complain about. “It’s boring, monotonous, blah blah blah.” So what? Here are some reasons why I enjoy my new job:

1. Flexi-time. Yeah… that’s pretty cool.
2. We get breaks! Ten minute break both morning or afternoon, and the choice of a half hour or hour lunch break around midday. Works in conjunction with said flexi-time. (And no, I never got breaks working in the café).
3. Air-conditioning is awesome when it’s a million degrees outside.
4. Coffee. Any time. You may or may not wish to read my post about why I think coffee is great.
5. You can roll around on those comfy chairs that, you know, roll around.

Yeah, so I’m pretty content with this new job of mine. Go me!

My last day of mid-week freedom.

Yep, that’s right.

I’m currently sitting at home on the computer (what’s new?) on a Wednesday afternoon. As of Thursday November 16th, almost one week ago now, I’ve been a high-school graduate. All that crap like classes, exams, assignments, changes of friends and just plain old stress from it all is finally behind me after twelve long years.

So, what does this all mean? Well, as an Australian tradition (perhaps elsewhere, too) most Year Twelve school leavers embark on a week-long endeavor to party, get drunk and… well, that’s about it, really. This is known as Schoolies Week (although I’d like to point out that this Government-endorsed program does not condone underage consumption of alcohol — yeah, right). I also think it should be renamed to Out-Of-School-ies Week, because this would just be logical.

What am I doing sitting here on the computer, amidst this week of drunken shenanigans, you ask? Simply put, my friends and I somehow managed to never even get close to booking an apartment. Hell, we didn’t even have any near-solid plans for the week, and now it’s half over and I haven’t seen any of them in-person. Shocking? Probably not, no. However I did still take the week off work, obviously.

Today just so happens to be my last day of mid-week freedom as tomorrow I embark on my Business Admin traineeship with the local council. “Thursday? What? WHY are you starting on a Thursday?” Because Thursday and Friday are my ‘trial’ days — not to see if they want me to continue on, but to see if I want to continue on. Crazy, I know, but that’s cool. I mean hey, I get to sort mail, scan documents, archive stuff and enter a whole lot of data into the computer. In air-conditioning. With decent length lunch breaks. Sans snobby, rude customers complaining about food or coffee orders at the Deli that I’ve [almost] left.

Ah yes, it’s going to be great.

So this is the obligatory first post, it seems.

So the name’s Cassy. I’m a seventeen-year-old female from Australia and spend far too much time on the computer for my own good. I’ve just graduated from high school and am now beginning a year-long traineeship for the local council doing records/administration and the like. I never know what to write about, so excuse me if I’m boring. )

I also have a couple of Livejournals, a Myspace, Last.FM, DeviantArt and I post at two message boards. Oh and just for the sheer geek-factor, I now have a new Neopets account — See? Told you I spend too much time on here. On last count I think I had about 6 Gmail accounts, not that that’s relevent to anything whatsoever.

It annoys me to no end when people have no grasp on the English language. Yes, this includes grammar, spelling and punctuation, and — gasp — even the simple use of common sense. It’s really not too much to ask, is it? Well I guess it is, since I’m sitting here writing this in the first place.

I really have no clue what the purpose of this blog will be. I have two personal journals hosted on Livejournal.com that I’m quite attached to, yet I seemingly felt the need to establish my presence over here. To be honest, I love the (so far) simple design of the site and the ease of use with templates or themes, whatever they’re called.

I’m interested in photography, and even considered applying to study it at university; however, I also considered studying fashion design and accounting over the past few years, and what did I apply for? Journalism. People are often telling me that I have a knack for writing, and whilst I don’t necessarily always agree with them, I do enjoy it. I have no idea if it will ever get me anywhere, but right now I’m only seventeen and really don’t want to think that far ahead! You’re only young once, right?

It’s currently 11:24pm and I can’t think of anything else to say about myself. I don’t even know why I’m still awake actually, so this will conclude my obligatory first post. I hope my posts in the future will have a little more substance to them. )

– Cassy.