A day in the city.

Okay warning: you're about to read something that is ... just a little bit diary-style. Ish. :D

I yearn for holidays.

I yearn for the freedom of doing things in my own time, going out with friends, being able to laze around relatively guilt-free.

Wednesday was report-writing day.

Usually, I would go to the city with Cookie or something but I didn't want to... burden anyone with a day of dealing with my crazy head so I decided to spend the day by myself.

I enjoy my own company.
:D LOL.

Actually, I lie. I'm not THAT self-confident, I didn't actually go out thinking, "Oh my, a whole day to spend not having to share my company with anyone hahaaaa!"

The plan was,
Get to the city and buy Dramaqueen's birthday present (which I did) then go studying at the library (which I didn't).

Instead, I decided to detour through a second-hand bookshop.

It seemed like a fun thing to do. In books or movies, there's always that loner who spends time observing behaviour while pretending to browse for books.

So yeah, that day, I decided to be that kind of pedophilic psychopathic loner who wonders bookstores thumbing through volumes of poetry, scanning dusty old spines and finding the occasional well-written book.

As I browsed, I could hear the friendly storekeeper conversing with customers about their writing careers and reading tastes. Those are the kind of people you met at second-hand bookstores.

I didn't actually expect to buy anything but I walked out with three books (1 superficial fiction ;D, 1 historical fiction and 1 literature), minus $32 and inspiration to write.

So I decided to go back to the city to a stationary shop and buy some notebooks to write in.

On the way there, I got distracted by Bardot having a sale. ;)

But as I was about to walk into the shop, I see an elderly man with a white beard, sitting cross-legged on the floor, crouched over a hat. I automatically walked past, iPod in my ears.

Then I turned back and dug out a dollar to slip into his cap, running away quickly in fear of pedophiles. ;)

As I walked into Bardot, the thought didn't leave my mind. I was alone in the city, a tram route away from home and had given money to a stranger who didn't attack me. The feeling pinched at the back of my mind for a while until I left the store, taking my iPod out of my ears this time.

Then I noticed a guy on the corner of the intersection in a wheelchair, selling the Big Issue.
It was $5 of course but I didn't want to buy the paper so I walked past.
Then again, I turned back and went through my purse to find 2 50-cent pieces.
Gingerly approaching the man, I held out the money saying sorry I wasn't going to buy one.

He started to make noises that weren't distinguishable as words.
I admit, I was a bit scared.
It took me a minute to realise that he wasn't trying to hurt me or yelling abuse at me; instead, all he was asking was that I slip the money into his bag. So I did.

It was kind of amazing the way his eyes lit up, as if I'd just empowered him to go onto university. I recognised the sounds of "Thank you" from his mouth.

It made me feel bad.
It was a dollar I'd given and he'd been so grateful.
From the look on his face, I was obviously the only person who had turned to acknowledge him.. probably all week.

I was crying on the way back to Melbourne Central.
Not living under the delusional comfort of my iPod was... different. New.

Purely because of the corruption of our society.
People decide there must be an up to be a down.
There must be an inferior to be superior.
There must be poverty and isolation to have wealth and fame.

The thing about being alone in the city is...
There are no expectations.
I could go into a bookstore and fit in as a budding author.
I could go into Bardot with my bankcard and be a rich snob's daughter.
I could walk around the city and actually make a difference.
Or I could choose to ignore it all and wallow in my self-pity.

When I was in the city that day, I forgot everything that was happening a few kilometres away. I could be myself, or even versions of myself that I've wanted to... try out. It was kind of like, Identity-defining, I guess. LOL o.O

That day, when I came home, Mum asked me if I'd studied.
I said no, but I'd learnt that there was something in life that was more important than study.

Humanity.