Today was just fantastic. I traveled 50 minutes via train and bus to get to my new uni campus. I had my uniform fitting which lasted all of 15 minutes. I just can't wait to get my hands on my stylish navy blue jumpsuit with alluring reflector panels and my bloodstone work boots! Rafael Nadal will fall at my feet when he sees me dressed like that. The best part was waiting 25 minutes for a bus then sitting on the train for another 50minute trip home.
Today the universe, in the form of public transport in Frankston, was screaming at me, "GET YOUR DAMN LICENCE!"
Universe, I am compelled to agree.
There is very little about Frankston Railway Station that is pleasant. Highlights from today included seeing an anorexic looking teenage girl board a train her a pit bull, the irony was both delightful, puzzling and horrifying. The police were about and a young man was trying to get out of his fare evasion fine by telling the officers about the brawl he was in last night. Interesting tactic. The very drug affected looking mother, who looked no older than 21, carrying her tiny little baby was the part where I stopped judging and started being thankful.
A large part of me wanted to kidnap the baby and take it home. It reminded me that I did nothing to deserve being born to parents who planned for me, loved me and had the means and support to nurture me than that little baby did to be born to a very young, very addicted mum. That child will face challenges that I can't properly comprehend. She or he will have to work really hard to have a chance at receiving half the opportunities I have had available to me. The chances of 'falling in with the wrong crowd' for that child will be so much higher than it was for me. Plus, what the 'wrong crowd' would be getting up to in Frankston would be so much more serious than the 'wrong crowd' naughty private school kids I came across. The difference would be between visits to the local Magistrates' Court rather than the Principal's office.
Each time I've been to Frankston the reality of how sheltered my life has been hits me, as well as how lucky I am to be able to board the train, fall asleep, wake up 45 minutes later and stroll off into the leafy suburbs again. My family have had their ups and downs financially, which has meant that my siblings and I have been made aware of the work that goes into providing things like a nice house, music lessons or a sound education. We are not what most people I know would consider 'rich' but going to Frankston reminds me just how relative that kind of terminology is.
I think we can sometimes get caught only looking up at the next bracket above where we are. Whether that is in our career, social standing, educationally, musically or athletically. Most of us have a fair idea how far away we are from moving up a 'level' in life and Frankston reminds me that sometimes we ought to look at the gap between the level we are currently at and the one below it and be grateful.
Pete and I were talking to some homeless people today, and afterwards said exactly this, but in fewer words! So true Lizey, and well done for seeing it as many still don't, not even when they are 60. Being grateful for what we HAVE, rather than pissed off about what we don't (or can't) have is the key for me.
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