Can't touch me!

I was just chatting to Matilda online, and my mood has plummeted. (No don't worry, it was not a direct causal relationship :D - chatting to you is always a pleasure, old friend.)

I suppose reading her blog and talking to her has got me thinking about this past week, and how I have been dealing with 5 days of continuous isolation.

From Matilda's blog:

"I thought loneliness was easy to handle. But weeks of lunching by myself,
talking to myself, pretending to read books to seem like I don't need
company
for lunch redefine loneliness for me. With the circumstances
surrounding me,
plain loneliness will slowly turn into 'unspeakable
loneliness'. "

Such a great difference in the way we deal with our emotions - she confronts her loneliness, and she reflects on it. What do I do? I squash it into a tiny ball and bury it under megabytes of online youtube videos, megapixels of SBS cartoons and documentaries and strange foreign language films about cannabilistic butchers. So much so that I didn't even realise it.

I wonder how many other people deal with their feelings the way I do, and unfortunately in our very (slavishly) technology-dependent society, it's not going to be an insignificant number.

Today, for the first time, I stepped out of my apartment. It was an odd feeling - the lift landing is always slightly cooler than the interior of my apartment; not an enticing first step. I was horribly self-conscious, knowing that my illness had simultaneously taken the colour out of my skin, pimplified my face, and added a few pounds on me (Jia Wei sums it up best: "sick=depressed=eat").

It was quite a relief, though, to finally see the sun. The first human I saw (besides mummy dearest who I see everyday, even when sick) was the janitor guy who glowered at me while leaning on his mop.

And the people in Southbank! Oh the humanity! So strange and fascinating to see people milling around, going about their everyday business - and so amusingly dressed in such contrasting gear. It's the end of the second month of summer, so techincally it should still be warm. And the sun is hot and beats down hard. Just that... there's this cool breeze that comes along as and when it wants to maim you and make you regret the very minute you stepped out of home without bringing along a jacket. Then it stops, and you bake. Then it comes, and you freeze. Repeat.

So I saw people walking along the Yarra in spaghetti tops and shorts, people in long pants and jackets, ladies in coats and boots striding out of PriceWaterhouseCoopers. We are a confused bunch, weather-wise, here in Melbourne.

My main intention in even leaving my comfortable, junk food littered apartment was to go to a chemist to get anti-perspirant. And of course, I've just given away a big embarassing secret. I sweat (I'm not even going to dignify that with the word 'perspire') like a hog. For a long time I've used Nivea's deodorant/anti-perspirant which I thought worked fine. But the last time I took a non-exerting walk and made the silly mistake of wearing a dark top, I came home to find myself with two big wet (but nice-smelling, thanks to Nivea) moons under my arms. Immediate, affirmative action required. Could have gone to any ol' chemist in South Melbourne or Southbank or in the CBD for some super heavy duty mega aluminum chloride anti-perspirant, but no; somehow I found myself on the train to Richmond.

Why did I go to Richmond? I think it's because the ratio of asian to non-asian people is roughly that of Orchard Road's - probably the closest experience I can get to home.

And therein lies the crux of the whole issue, doesn't it? No Guardian pharmacy or Watsons drugstore or Kovan Beauty Language shops to turn to; strange names like "Lu Pharmacy" or "Thian Thian Pharmacy" (if you're in Richmond) or names like Collin's Pharmacy (if you're in the CBD). No bus 73 or 136 or 22 or 24 or 315 or NEL Serangoon or TP or AMK or Bishan or Novena; there's tram 55, 109, there's the Epping or Blackburn or Alamein or Hurstbridge or Sandringham or Pakenham or Frankston line, said in a stilted automated mechanical voice.
I think I didn't deal with my homesickness properly this time, just dismissed it in one entry as being "much easier than the very first time and even the second time" [Friday, Jan 19]

Ah well. Suck it up and get moving, girl. Immerse yourself in wonderful new experiences. The Arts Student Society is organising a camp and an o-week party, where they're giving away free pot. Yes. POT. Unless I'm very much mistaken and everyone gets a shiny new Tefal, I think that means everyone is going to, in the words of Towelie, "get hiiiiiiiggggghhhh?!?!"

EDIT: Yes, I am very much mistaken. The term 'pot' used in a Melbourne context refers to a beer glass. Whoops. I think somewhere in this post is a lesson on checking facts thoroughly. But hey, boys and girls, alcohol is a drug too. So we can still "get hiiiiiiiigggggghhhhh"!!