Home, sweet home.
Sitting in the lobby of my accommodation, as usual, I wonder what’s gonna pop up next.
There is something about this place that gets the emotions going.
Despite what one might say for or against the culture of this place, one DOES feel at home here.
Yes, I was back where I belonged, Sydney.
The new room, after coming back from vacation that I have checked into, is simply a dream come true.
At least considering the amount of time, effort and energy I have put into it, I can safely say it’s a room worth the money.
Anyone entering my room would say it’s good.
It’s one of those rooms that looks onto you, winks, smiles that naughty mysterious smile and goes, ‘Looks can be deceptive bro – Enter at own risk’.
Friends enter it and go – ‘whoa, it’s a big, happy room. Good one, mate.’
Excursion trains will soon run, with my half baked mates in their fake tans and sun burnt skins shouting from outside, give us the ticket number, we are next.
Anyway, coming back to what this is about, something massive has gone wrong with my stomach.
It usually happens to the best of us when we eat at leisure anything we find without thinking because we are on a vacation.
Whatever it is, it’s big.
Sometimes I get the idea I may be pregnant. But then again, considering my gender and the general way reproductions happen in humans, maybe not.
It’s one of those things that might make it to the ‘Top 100 Things to Avoid When on a Journey called Life.’
Somewhere between sleepy classes and bunked lectures, I vaguely remember some natures’ law of what goes in, comes out.
Or to put it simply, input = output.
But never did I realize it’s gonna come out in such measures.
I eat the diet of a 2 year old and poop like a horse on fire.
Just as a side mention, horses’ farts and shits can be quite damaging for anyone who wishes to pursue the course of their life with their nasal mechanism somewhat functional.
This morning, after 3 days of going through my shit controlled life, I decided to call it quits.
Anyone who would have seen me this morning would have changed his direction, went back inside his/her room or would have simply prayed his/her stars to make him/her invisible.
I had a nasty temper, fueled by my mom’s serious mano-o-mano talks about affairs of life that were in my case literally going down the toilet flush system.
Having fought a bit, I went to the doctor at Broadway.
The walk from my crib to my ‘Mecca of momentary solace’ was epic.
I stumbled and trembled, literally dragging my body, all across to that distant land, which in theory for me and in practical for rest of the world was barely 7 minutes away.
Anyway, having arrived, I went to the receptionist and having probably done the worst imitation of Australian accent ever, demanded to be seen by a doctor.
Being asked to wait for a few minutes, I took a piece of paper and began scribbling.
Ten minutes hence, sitting at that seat of patience, I was called in by a doctor who probably wanted to keep the account clear and pronounced my name in a manner even I wouldn’t use for my most hated enemy.
Beggars can’t be choosers, and I decided to grace his small ‘shop’ of human torture by my sheer presence.
A typical doctor-patient talk ensued, halfway leaving me with the notion that maybe nothing was actually wrong with my digestive or nervous system.
This is the same feeling I have had ever since I was a kid and went to see doctors.
The mere sight of a doctor has a calming effect on me.
The Joseph Rana my friends know ceases to exist.
The kid who refuses to budge from the lobby is now willing to take a hitch hiking trip all across Australia on foot.
It’s always a different me, a different kid.
The doctor, after having molested me for a bit, having poked at my stomach at various positions, which I felt was unnecessary as a five minute inspection stretched 25 minutes, left me wondering that maybe the doc did indeed take me for a video game console.
The checkup over, he solemnly said, ‘kid there is nothing wrong with you. It seems all psychological.’
And they say a mind is a terrible thing to waste…