A Life in the Day

Every morning my alarm rings too loud and I wake up like a drowning man breaking the surface of the water, heart racing and gasping for air. I slam my head back into the pillow and stare at the ceiling for a moment.

I get up, shower and dress. Suit trousers, a shirt, black shoes. Probably a jumper since I've inherited or been given a number of extremely similar looking Abercrombie pullovers. They're all beige. They all have impractically long sleeves.

In the kitchen I marvel at the amount of food in the fridge before making myself a two course breakfast while cooking a packed lunch. Being a coeliac means my food combinations are not always normal, but I've stopped having things like chicken korma for breakfast because it weirds out the family.

Breakfast is usually pancakes with nutella and a bowl of fruit. I drink a berocca and a cup of mocca-made coffee with it. Lunch is usually pasta with tuna; a throwback to my travelling days. I play with the dog before I go.

I cycle to work on my dad's bicycle. It's a European style bike with three gears, and it applies the back break if you pedal backward. I'm convinced it's going to kill me. It has giant panniers on the back and there's no way I would have cycled it when I was 17. I go over a hill on the way that lets me see Dublin bay. I dream of sailing.

At work my room is quiet. We never turn the lights on, even in when it's cloudy, so the room has constantly a faint blueish true-light haze. I program extensions for Excel all day while listening to classical music on my reassuringly expensive Bose headphones. Usually it's Tchaikovski, but sometimes I play Bach or Vivaldi for some variety, even though I'd rather be listening to Tchaikovski. I say I can program but really I just copy code from the internet. It amounts to the same thing.

I work for a sleep monitoring company who developed a product that can tell what state of sleep you're in without touching you. We have Japanese customers who are very precise and our manufacturing is all in China. It sounds professional and exotic but people still argue about soccer results and delete files by mistake.

Sometimes part of my work is lying on the floor and breathing. I lie there and someone tells me to roll over every few minutes. I drift off a bit, but it's like trying to sleep in an airport while paying attention to the announcements.

I take lunch at my desk because it makes the day feel shorter. Usually only a few minutes. I spend the rest programming because I enjoy creating things people find useful.

After work when I go outside I remark on how cold it is. Every day. Still. With the sun on my face I take a long pull on the air and blow it out slowly through pursed lips, as though I were smoking it. I cycle back up over the hill. It's steeper on the way back.

In the evenings I read, jog, or meet with friends. I try to get to bed early on weeknights because I dont function well when I'm tired. I don't drink any more. The hangovers are hell and being drunk is overrated.

The novelty of having my own bed still hasn't worn off. The sheets and duvet are a far better quality than I'm used to.

When I get into bed I flick through a few social media on my phone. I look at a few news sites to feel clever but don't retain any of what I read. Before I go to sleep I turn my phone on airplane mode so no one will wake me. I check my alarms and fall asleep quickly. I always forget to turn the volume down.


Victor's trip to Europe from The Rules of Attraction.

Home

I've touched down in Ireland and begun the reintegration, which considering nothing has changed has been pretty easy.

I'm drafting a list of things that are strange to me here. Expect it.

The Beginning of the End

The flights are booked, the plan is finally made. Eight days of road tripping from Sydney to Melbourne, and then a long journey home.

It's a strange feeling to start something, and know it's the end.