I've just recently watched A Series of Unfortunate Events, and not really being aware that the antagonist is played by Jim Carrey, I almost smacked the laptop, broke the DVD and poke a few needles into his imaginary voodoo doll. I don't like Jim Carrey, in case you did not get the gist already.
My arms are so sore. My legs are sore. My brain is numb. I just want to sleep and read some vapid chick lit, sip tea and sleep some more. I just moved this morning. Did the bulk of moving my belongings last evening, and then four hours unpacking, before I realise the contract ends 19th and I'm only staying there for three weeks, if I extend for a week. If that. My laptop broke down. Well, the inverter did. To put it in a nutshell, everything works as per normal, except the screen is dim. I can see faintly that there's things on the screen, just that the light isn't there. It will cost me £70 to fix it. And I don't even know how long it will take. I miss my laptop already. On top of that Tim's laptop was hard hit by an amusing virus (at least I secretly think so). It gave him a blue wallpaper with a few paragraphs on it with misspellings and bad grammar saying things like "Your're computer is infected. For your family, your children, your friends, please get antivirus". What's not amusing is that he'll have to reformat. At least he's got his data backed up with some pendrives last night. Speak of a series of unfortunate events now. Two computer nerds computer-less for a few days. How are we supposed to function?!
I've also just gotten an extension for my dissertation. I can technically hand it in on 28th September now. Which I hesitate to do. Ideally I still want to finish by 14th, or maybe around that time, because I want to relax and do my thing. This shackles called Dissertation is sucking the joy out of my soul.
Last night, after unpacking, Tim and I walked home from Boomerang to Central Quay for one last time. We had one last walk by the river. The three white (edible) ducks that never failed to sleep at the same spot weren't there. Perhaps it was too cold. Too windy. Too wet. But I felt the pain of lost so acutely. I've stayed there for almost an entire year, and what a year it has been. I've enjoyed my own ensuite, and cabinet-hogging in the kitchen, and a lot of privacy. I've even enjoyed staying in 2 flats that wasn't filled to capacity.
Boomerang is almost entirely opposite. There's 6 of us in a small flat. The walls are thin and noises carry. I can hear people peeing and flushing the toilet that's next to my room. I'm staying with 5 people I know. There's not much space in the kitchen for me to hog. And I sleep on a single bed. I guess it's really not bad at all because I'm now 5 minutes away from the library, but its just a lot of change to cope with at the moment.
Moving was also stressful - I came to this country with three bags, and over a year I've accumulated so much things that I'm ashamed of myself. In my defense, a lot of them are castaways that I scavanged. That's the joy of living in student accomodation - in a corner reserved for unwanted items, I've picked up duvet sheets, blankets and throws, boxes, bags of clothes and stuff, crockery, utensils and things of all sorts. I've also been to car boot sales and picked up pasta jars, photo frames, clothes...
I wonder when and if I do go home for good, what am I going to do with them things.
So anyway, the year I had in Central Quay - it was good, but nature states that nothing stays static forever. I cannot stop the sands of time slipping through my fingers, the only thing I could do and will do is to cherish and treasure the memories. And the memories of walking in flip-flops in winter to Castlemarket, catching the 52 bus, the walks along the river, the sounds and atmosphere of the pub downstairs...I'm grateful for the experience.