Monday, March 30, 2009

Pram/Plough

I got run over today. But when I say 'run over' I really mean 'hit' because no vehicles actually went over me. And perhaps I should also mention that it wasn't a car, it was a pram.

It amazes me that people strap their children onto what is basically a plastic seat with wheels, and all of a sudden they feel invincible. They feel like they can plow through crowds, use it as an excuse to push past people waiting to get on trains, to kick people out of elevators. Fair enough, they have kids and we should accommodate for them. But, that said, they should still realise that it is indeed their precious offspring strapped to the front of these devices. No, you wouldn't attach your pet chihuahua to the front of your car. So indeed, why do you run at breakneck speed through crowds with the fruit of your loins at the front of a plough?

When I pointed this out to the angry bogan father who smashed into me, I was promptly told to mind my own fucking business. Point taken.

NB: Children were harmed in the writing of this blog.

Connex, we have a problem...

Thanks to laissez-faire approach of Connex and the rapidly increasing population of Melbourne, I had to sit next to a total stranger on the Belgrave train. Not a problem, if he didn't start talking to me.


"Excuse me..."
Yes?
"Sorry. Nothing."

Another ten minutes and four stations go by.

"Um, excuse me, are you a student?"
No.
"Do you live here?"
On the train? No.
"What do people do on weekends?"
Sleep in.

He goes on to ask weird questions, like finding a place to fix his skateboard. It all gets very awkward so I make an escape route which consists of pretending that it's my station, getting off and running to the next carriage. Would have worked beautiful had I realised that there were massively clear and transparent (as glass usually is) glass doors between the carriages.

[NB: I should also mention that I met my last boyfriend on the Cranbourne train, on his way to visit his girlfriend at the time, who he started redating after he dumped me. Perhaps this is the cause of my adversion to courting whilst on public transport.]

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

My defining achievement

I recently received an email from an alumni organisation that I am a member of. The opening sentences were:


"Dear Paige, We define achievement in a variety of different ways - from the car we drive, through to the clothes we wear, or the TV we own. But have you ever thought you could define achievement by the job you do?"


Um, yes? Yes, I frequently do? If anything, I would largely define my achievement and success on my career (low paid but highly satisfied writer) and personal relationships (fulfilling), and not on my car (public transport user), my TV (second hand one that doesn't plug into the wall) or my clothes (second hand). I'm trying to figure out what they expected members to think.


"Meh, I'm a hooker who dresses like a child so that pedophiles will pay me. But I drive a Lamborghini and wear Ferragamo on my days off so it's alright."