I’ve been watching Lost most of the afternoon. Right now, an episode with Desmond as the focus character has started. This is awesome because Desmond is probably my favourite at the moment. I love his accent, and he has the power to see into the future randomly. But then there is this side-story running throughout that is like the “Final Destination” movies so far (it might develop into something more impressive, but for now it’s not all that amazing) whereby Desmond sees Charlie dying in various ways and accordingly prevents his death. Plus i just realised why Desmond calls everyone “brother”. I was wondering about that.
The people next door are having arguments again. They yell really loudly, and because I went down to put the garbage out (good timing!) I could hear quite a lot of what they said, but I still couldn’t understand what they were arguing about. Mum thinks it is the 15 year old boy who lives there that was yelling. He apparently plays “that stupid game” in his backyard (which is how mum described it) which Rosie elaborated upon by saying, “yeah, I know what you’re talking about, he has a stick and waves it around like Star Wars, and runs up and down the yard and does noises and stuff.” Lol!
Noelle and I had our picnic at Roma Street Parklands today. As you can see, the grass really is greener… over there. There’s one big expanse of grass which has dried up and died, but the rest is still alive and well. Noelle and I had wheat-free bread (super dense but yum) with cream cheese, tomato, lettuce, jarlsberg and also some chicken from a chicken salad that we got from McDonalds at Roma St station, seeing as there were no real shops open today (Noelle said, “Those labour day sales adds were misleading! They’re the reason I thought shops would be open today.”) We also had some watermelon and some rice crackers, and pineapple juice. It was a lovely picnic. Dumb ibis.
One bad experience of the day was public transport. Brisbane Public Transport SUCKS! Allow me to explain: Noelle’s bus came fifteen minutes late, so when it arrived, another one arrived at the same time. Once Noelle had arrived in the City, we walked down to Central Station. After viewing the timetable tvs, we found a Roma Street Train would be leaving Platform 5 in approx. four minutes – plenty of time to get down to the platform and get on the train, right? Well, in any other universe but this one apparently. None of the escalators providing access to platforms 5 & 6 were going down – they were all set to go up. So, not a big problem, we hurried down the stairs. We struggled through a throng of people exiting the train we wanted to board, and just as we got to the yellow line, the doors closed – right in the face of some foreign guy who shrieked and jumped backwards. With over two minutes until the departure time scheduled on the screen, the train pulled away from the platform at the signal whistle from a QR employee. We spoke to this person, who became defensive and indignant. It wasn’t her fault she blew the whistle, apparently. She can’t control the train timetables. She doesn’t have to take this. I said to her, “You are a representative of Queensland Rail – in fact, the only one that I can see this minute. You are the person we’re speaking to about it.” Noelle said “You blew the whistle for the train to go!” But apparently this logic was too obvious for her, and she walked away from the discussion muttering under her breath.
Queensland Rail could benefit from some customer service training for their staff.
Whenever mum calls out to me, no matter what she’s saying, it makes me feel like I’m in trouble for something. This is especially true if she’s calling up from downstairs. She says “Hey Cass…” but the tone is like a warning sound, and I respond warily with “yeah….?” slowly. It’s either going to be a random question about something-or-other which I won’t know the answer to straight away anyway, or I’m going to be berrated for not wiping the bench down properly or something.
Well, I’m tired and have a headache. I’m going to go to sleep so that I’m at my best for work tomorrow, and so that I don’t seem “not myself”. Who am I if I’m not me? Someone less likeable perhaps… Sorry everyone! Here are some pictures to make up for it:
