A Train Ride To The City With Shawn (Part 1)

Chronology Procrastination

You know, I would have thought with the whole weekend ahead of me there would have been more than ample time to conclude my chronology but seriously, who am I kidding. Again, I have written for so much hours in my diary this weekend but still, to no avail. My last diary entry was twenty or so pages but it wasn’t all written on Saturday. Saturday night I got myself to sleep at midnight because my eyes were getting tired and as I woke up the following day at 8:30 a.m.

I thought it would be best to just conclude my entry instead of begin a new one. So there you have it, when you are running late on time you do weird things and it isn’t the first time I’ve begun on the same entry but it certainly has been the first for a heap of chronology. Today is Sunday and my last entry could only conclude the whole of my Friday.

Peculiar it is that I didn’t really have too much to do on Friday but yet, I wrote such an abundance of depiction for each event that I couldn’t find but to procrastinate with pages. I too find that it is hard to start an entry knowing you have such a big operation at hand and like my metaphor, I try to dissect chronology bit by bit.

Once on the computer, my attention span in this situation would be half an hour before I had to quickly flick on the television for a minute or two. I loathe writing the preface to chronology, this philosophy that you see before you as a good entry just isn’t the same without an introduction. I would say that after two or three pages I would pause, maybe even stop for an hour or two.

Eventually I would try and regain composure writing in my diary and the more I write the more I procrastinate with delineation. Here I am again, babbling on when I have a more important task at hand. What is more important, normality and ease by watching the tennis finals or the stress relief of trying to get up to date with chronology. I know that even if I stay up tonight to midnight there would be a slight chance that chronology will be complete. Therefore, I estimate another week of late nights and tight sleep, no bother…

Shawn Rings Early

Heading now to my capitulation of Saturday, my day began at 8:30 a.m. after frequently waking up through the night. The thought of heading to the City with Shawn was immediately on my head but I also wanted to jump on the computer before we headed out. Figuring that I had until 10:00 a.m. in which I had planned with Shawn I was just about to jump out of bed when I heard the phone ring.

Oddly enough I knew it would be Shawn as he asked me keenly if we were still headed down to the City. Putting aside my intention to write in my memoirs we agreed that it would be best to leave as early as possible. Knowing that I was going to dress up in my new club clothes so that I could try on the shoes properly I asked Shawn if he wanted to borrow some of my club clothes to wear down.

I didn’t want to be the only one looking dressed up for the City and as I put it past Shawn he said he would consider it. “Come over my house then and we’ll leave from here” I uttered in which he told me he would be over soon. Hanging up the phone I thought to myself how weird it was for both Shawn and I to be up at such an early time in the morning. Two months back the both of us used to have a combined average time of waking up being no less than midday.

Having myself a shower in my anticipation of Shawn’s arrival the minutes began to draw out. After half an hour I started to think that I could have spent that time better writing on my computer but it was too late now. Instead, I played some music to compose myself fully and within minutes Shawn had popped over my house. The time was just after 9:00 a.m. as I greeted Shawn at the door.

Pushing along his racer I allowed him to wheel it into my house where it would remain for the rest of the day. Despite Shawn riding over on his bike he had to linger at home in order to prepare himself. Upon stepping in my room and with myself already dressed I showed Shawn the clothes rack and told him he could wear whatever. With the both of us being hungry I brought down a banana for Shawn, having myself yogurt before he arrived.

With his stomach filing Shawn tried on the same outfit I let him wear previously but then noted he would just wear what he had on. No amount of my coaxing would benefit my ease and unable to be discouraged I thought what he had on was casual but good. Anyway, taking a look at myself in the mirror, my clothes didn’t really feel like they were too extravagant or fanciful.

If I was without my jacket then I would look overdressed but I seemed to be content with what I was wearing to the City. Slicking my hair back slightly with the small tub of gel that was given to me by the Campbelltown Hairdressers I quickly wrote a little list of things I wanted to check out and a little map of the City. I was prepared in mind and physically for a big day of window shopping. Best of all, I wasn’t going it alone, bringing Shawn into the circle of fashion…

Cold Feet At The Hairdresser

Calling ahead to Busways we found that the next available bus for the City arrived just after 10:00 a.m. This gave us half an hour to muck around with but instead of dawdling around we made our way to the bus-stop. With the thought of getting my hair braided we decided to firstly head into Bradbury Shops so I could chat with the ladies at the hairdressers. Taking along the booklet for ‘Bone, Thugs n Harmony – The Art of War’ I wanted to get my hair braided just like the dude on the bottom right hand corner’s cover.

Later in the day I found out that his hair was finely dreaded but I want the same turnout, just with braided hair. Taking a glance into the hairdresser at Bradbury Shops I didn’t feel too comfortable walking in there. Apart from the couple of people that were getting their haircuts so early in the day I didn’t want to place myself in what could be an awkward situation. Therefore, Shawn and I just walked past the hairdresser and straight to the bus-stop across from Jonas and Clayton’s house.

Express Train To The City

For the next fifteen minutes we sat there in what was a bright and sunny day. The warmth wasn’t too graceful but it did keep the winter chill to a minimum for Saturday. Chatting away about our forthcoming adventure in the City our bus arrived minutes later and we jumped on. Shawn paid his full fare while I used my concession to jump on and as we made our way to Campbelltown Station I handed Shawn one of my spare weekly train tickets.

Hopeful that we would be able to catch an express train to the City I wasn’t sure on what time they would run. Checking the electronic display board while Shawn bought himself a drink I noticed that a train stopped at Glenfield within 3 minutes and figured it to be an express train. Shawn contested my query as he noted the next train to Leumeah was in 13 minutes but as we walked down the stairs and read the electronic display down there my hunch was right.

As soon as we had walked downstairs our express train arrived and as we jumped on there was a bit of confusion as to where it was headed. Hearing the electronic voiceover Shawn noted that the train was heading to the City via Granville. Sounding too uncanny I brushed it off as we found our seats on the first carriage and three seats from the middle, facing the opposite way of our travel. Sitting on a three seater Shawn sat himself at the window while I sat on the end portion. The thrill of heading to the City was still buzzing around as we chatted some more of our expedient adventure.

Wishing To Be Sixteen

Deciding to speed up the process a little, I shall talk in the detail of which last year would have stemmed, at least for this portion. Therefore, three paragraphs would be one and I would be if quicker in my recital. Therefore, if I come across these proceedings in later years I will have enough depiction to write more affluent prose, if needed. Anyway, the train trip was brimming with conversation but moreso, anticipation. There were two girls who were sitting right behind our seat, barely aged fifteen.

One of the girls had her hair in big braids and despite her age we were both looking at how showy her clothing had made her. Being small bodied and up to my shoulders she was wearing a blue top that ran straight across her chest allowing for small arm holds. Her boobs weren’t large but they were well enough for her age and if she was but two or three years older I would have been a touch more interested.

The reason I explain her in detail is for the fact that Shawn created an off-spin of conversation. “I wish I was sixteen” he yearned just before the girls jumped on the train. Looking at me with an infectious longing he told me that today’s hip generation is for the young teenagers. “When I was sixteen no girls dressed like that” he acknowledged, “They were either all fat or ugly and none of them knew how to dress”.

There is some truth in what he says, until these past couple of years girls under the age of sixteen really weren’t too strung up on looking pretty. Nowadays girls as young as thirteen look like knockouts in their little dresses, showing off their tans and what not. I couldn’t argue with Shawn’s opinion but I disagree with wanting to be sixteen again. Remembering back in time, when I was sixteen I was just getting out of school and discovering myself.

It wasn’t too great a time for me in respect to finding women and if I had a choice, I would stick with the more matured 20 year old girls that I have a chance with now. As for discovering myself, it is a constant reminder of my able body and although I am nor near or far to settling down my quest for universal acceptance my perfection is well on hand. I might be going through another stage of upheaval to my old ways with new fashion and style but I will keep grounded to my utmost desires.