The start of a study week

On the last class of my entire semester on Friday—a tutorial with my Romanian tutor for Empirical Studies at 4.30pm (skipped the earlier class as I often couldn’t get the chance to consult my tutor; and after asking my tutor, I switched to the later class)—I had a general seal of approval from my tutor who told me, “Your paper’s good as usual” but I was asked to extend it a little. I’m running out of time to study for my finals, and rather than throwing myself at another load of work, I’m only going to make a few name changes (from “mutual funds” to “hedge funds”) as per my lecturer’s advice.

Ethan badgered me on GTalk to help him print and submit his assignment which was due at 5pm but he only sent his work to me at 6pm+, and this is after everyone had left the teaching lab. After printing it out (with $0.20 left in my printing credit), I discovered that I couldn’t staple his 14 pages together due to the flimsiness of the $2 stapler I bought at some second-hand store along Swanston St—you do get what you’re paying for.

I went up to the 17th floor (from 108-07-011) as Ethan told me there might be a huge stapler on top of the assignment box, but none of that came to view. I eventually thought of just heading to the ground floor and ask the security guards there (RMIT was supposedly closing at 6pm), and lo and behold, they indeed have a sturdy, giant stapler. :)

For my trouble, Ethan treated me to a nice dinner at Rose Garden at Elizabeth St, where Desmond joined us as well (and subsequently Kelvin, Ivan’s housemate, who saw us eating there); I had a delicious, crunchy roast duck rice ($8.50) mmm. Our conversation (or rather, Ethan and Kelvin’s conversation) revolved around business and politics.. all terribly adult-ish (Kelvin’s only 22) and something I should be getting used to. Thursday’s dinner conversation with Spencer, Ethan, and Desmond, on the other hand, was something about us making a business together with our varied talents (half-jokingly, I might add), which is awfully reminiscent of similar convos I had with the u8 gang in the past.

After watching the anime I downloaded, The Girl Who Leapt Through Time, in Ethan’s room with Ethan and Desmond till 1am-ish, we went over to Ivan’s. And it was always at Ivan’s pseudo-kitchen-slash-living room that gusts of familiarity breezed by on a Friday night. Even more familiar music belted from his HiFi set in his room brought about a strangely homely sensation, and it was always when we were playing card games with some goon—like it was Chinese New Year with the u8 gang—that I find it difficult to leave Melbourne. Only less than a month remains before I depart for a (hopefully) fun-filled New Zealand adventure, and when I return to Walsh Residence two weeks after, I’d be greeted by empty rooms and silence, nightly aglio olio and solitude. My Walsh St mates would all depart one by one to Malaysia for summer, and it’s unlikely I’d ever see them again.

I doubt we’d even get to say proper goodbyes.

To gauge my level of comfort with the people I mingle with, you’d note the amount of times I cuss incessantly, and that I’ve been doing quite subconsciously, particularly when we were in the midst of one of our routine card games. “I never thought you’re one to cuss,” Ethan once remarked, and I’ve proved him wrong time and time again. We’re such a varied bunch: Ethan and Spencer from Kuching, Ivan from Klang Valley, Desmond who spent most of his life in Brunei but otherwise a Kedahan.

For what seems like a span of months, I’ve found myself texting Desmond or Ethan if they were cooking tonight, and I’d hop on over next door to participate in a grand cook-off of hearty proportions. They knew I can hardly cook, but I’m learning, slowly but surely: cooking spam (the Western name for “luncheon meat”) with eggs and corned beef with onions. And for some reason I don’t like mixing with my housemates all that much; apart from a few genial, polite remarks or forced conversations, my relationship with my housemates is as bare and empty as a barren desert with the occasional oasis or cactus.

I chalk it up to my Walsh St mates who are less calculative about things, who don’t mind cooking together, and of whom we have some things in common: we don’t like to eat alone. I suppose I knew I wouldn’t be able to get along with my housemates as well as I’ve hoped when I asked them if they cook together or share food items, and their answer was a quick “No”.

And that Friday night—Saturday morning rather—at 4am I fell back to my room.

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Uncharacteristically of me, I spent $16 on a dim sum lunch yesterday at a restaurant with “shark’s fin” in its name (after I was asked out by Ethan, Des, and Kelvin), and it was every bit tasty. Definitely not something I’d be going for anytime soon with its rather steep price. We met up with Spencer at QV where I did a quick grocery shopping while Ethan was looking for a pair of sunglasses and a set of quilt, before we trekked back home on foot (and stopped by at Aldi along the way).

We had a very Chinese dinner then at night, which involved a soup of pig’s liver that actually tasted pretty good (courtesy from Spencer)! Halfway through the cooking, Spencer had some puffs of Mike’s green and soon had a most amusing, contented, sleepy look on his face. Whilst indulging in our usual card games yesterday night, Neil the Canadian (who has completed a degree and a Masters in Philosophy, and currently studying Law) and Ivan went over to Mike’s to pick up some herbs, and with the exception of Des who didn’t partake, we were soon giggling and laughing carelessly.. save for Ivan, and a mock brawl nearly erupted between Ivan and Spencer. Apparently I have an innocent look, as indicated by raises of eyebrows by the rest (especially Ethan), but I’m happy to dispel such misconceptions.

It was Ethan’s burrito tonight for dinner, between Ethan, Des, and me.. followed by more of our card games and Ethan’s version of gin rummy. Wilco (if that’s how his name was slept) from Hong Kong joined us briefly for a few rounds too. And the telly thankfully works once more with its first few words being those from a judge from Australian Idol—the telly was audio-less for the past 2 weeks and we could only access Channel Ten. Linda the Resident Master had been out, and she only returned yesterday; she’s the only one who could reset the telly system and bring to life the joys of eating dinner in our pseudo-kitchen-slash-living room.

Less than 2 weeks till the start and end of my finals and my toughest semester thus far, less than 3 weeks till the start of my Kiwi experience and the end of my camaraderie with my Walsh St boys, and about 2 months till the end of everything Melburnian.

I can’t believe how time flies.