Perks of Being a Tyneesha: Floods & Déjà vu

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Perks of Being a Tyneesha: Floods & Déjà vu

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I might have to rename this series – this episode is probably more adequately named “The Slight Inconveniences and mishaps in Tyneesha’s life right now”. You know the deal; here’s the blow-by-blow recount of the last month or so of my life.

The journey home

In my last update, I assumedly mentioned that I was going home for a little while through the uni break. I’m sure I also said that my beloved Peugeot 207 CC was broken down last month. Long story short – I wound up having my brother tow Champ the whole 5oo km home. He’d never towed a car before, so it was a bit of an anxiety-inducing ordeal for me. I spent around 7 hours peeping in the passenger side mirror to check that my car was still firmly situated on the trailer. We made it, though!

The fate of Champ

Unfortunately, after all the effort of moving Mr Champ around these past few weeks, it seems as though he must be laid to rest. He’s suffered irreparable damage, and patching him up again would be pointless. The operation is too risky, and he mightn’t make it. Car healthcare isn’t free in this country, so I’ll have to let him go. At the moment, that means I’m annoying my co-workers by asking for a lift to work every few days – and I’ve endured a few bus trips. Concerning the silver lining, public transport is easy to romanticise, and I’m learning to ask for help (I’d rather not).

The tech gods are just toying with me at this point

I might have mentioned in my last update that my laptop had simply stopped working toward the end of last semester. It caused me a lot of inconvenience and annoyance. I ordered a new laptop, which arrived in Dubbo in time for my return home. I took my old, broken laptop with me because, just like my two dead Peugeots, it was not the first time I’d broken my laptop. There’s another one exactly the same sitting at home, and I thought my Dad might want it for parts.

My Dad works in IT, and, rather typical of an Aquarius sun, machines tend to do what my Dad tells them to. This laptop had been broken for over a month at that point – on several occasions, I’d picked it up and optimistically tried to turn it on. I never got a flash of light or response from the little shit. Dad walked into the living room one night and rather calmly said, “I got your laptop to work”.

Baby showers are crazy

I had planned to go home for a couple of days because my sister had planned her baby shower to take place that week. If Champ hadn’t died on me, I wouldn’t have stayed for almost two weeks – but I wound up waiting for my brother to have a spare day to drive me back to Wollongong. It’s beside the point.

My point is that baby showers are insane. I always thought that baby showers involved some girlies sitting around chatting about babies and giving the expecting mother a bundle of goodies for her bundle of joy. I was also under the impression that it would involve drinking. My sister is a fantastic event planner; it was lovely and fun. Family members of both sides helped put together an incredible spread of food to eat and did up a clipboard of game sheets for us all. It somehow went on for the entire day, but it was nice and calm. I got a copy of The Hungry Caterpillar for the future baby, a classic. I can’t wait to meet this tiny human in a few weeks.

Hometown consistency

Whilst I was home, I did all the usual hometown rituals. I drove around aimlessly with my friends. I listened to country music. I went to the same two restaurants I visited weekly as a teenager. I went to the same bar and the same pub I’ve been to every other time and saw every person I’ve ever met whilst I was there. It was nice, and it was also peculiar. It had only been a few months since I was last home, but I felt a little bit out of place. I’m sure that happens when you go off and build a life for yourself away from home, but I didn’t quite expect it.

I invented climate change

There’s this joke I love to make while I’m home. For those unfamiliar, Dubbo is divided up by the river that runs through it. One side of the bridge is West Dubbo, and the other is the rest of Dubbo. People drive over this bridge every day, look out the window, and report back on the water levels as if it is the most interesting thing in the world. “River’s up!” they exclaim relentlessly. But this time, the river really was up.

Dubbo has mini floods every so often. The river gets high enough to peep over “the little bridge”, and people come out and look at it like it’s a tourist attraction. The last time I was home, the Sydney area experienced floods, which happened again this time too. My friend made a joke insinuating that it floods whenever I go home – so naturally, I’m taking credit for climate change.

Oberon, factory tour & a bonus car accident

My brother had to go to Oberon for a work trip. We figured I’d tag along because Oberon is halfway to Wollongong, and he could drop me home later that day. The work trip was expected to be rather dull; I thought I’d just sit in the car for a while or go explore the shockingly cold town, but I tagged along, and I’m glad I did. We went to the Board factory, where they make Polytech products, which my brother’s workplace uses to build kitchens. The factory is huge, and the machines were strangely fascinating to me. I have no reason to know how these things are made, but it’s fun that I now do.

After that, we headed back to Wollongong, or, at least, tried. Things did not, in fact, go to plan. About 20 mins out of Oberon, we ended up sideways. We went for a little rolly polly on the road. To be frank, he flipped his precious Hilux. Some friendly people pulled over to help us out, the police rocked up hours later, and then it was towed to Bathurst. This whole time it’s like 2 degrees out. Dad drove to Bathurst to pick us up and drove us the rest of the way to Wollongong. Que Sera, one might say.

Finishing Uni – In need of a housewife

I’m feeling much less burned out than before visiting home, and I think it’s just because I had a break in having responsibility. Sometimes adult life gets a bit overwhelming, and I don’t like having to cook and clean for myself. I’ll do it – but I hated it a bit extra in the last few weeks of uni and after having had covid again.

I think I’ve used my break well because I am feeling rejuvenated and ready for uni to start tiring me out again next week. It’s my last term in Journalism subjects, so I’m excited to finish that degree. I recently got a blender, so I’ve been excitedly making mad little smoothies! Cooking is annoying, and the cost of living is far too high, but I’m keeping myself excited; however, I can.

At what point do I start referring to myself as a photographer?

This is a really important, tightly kept company secret. Still, I’ve been working on a photography website for a while now. I’m in the process of writing my about pages, which is just… you know… a challenge. But it’ll be worth the time and struggle when I can finally have a functional booking system and make some consistent money with it. I’ve landed a few really cool gigs in the last few months, and it’s genuinely only going up from here.

I saw a peer/friend post something about being “an actual photographer”, and I had a weird self-awareness moment in the mall bathroom. I realised that I generally don’t refer to myself as a photographer. I don’t argue with others who refer to me as one, but I never really introduce myself as one or say that I do it for work. Realistically, I’ve been paid for my photography since I was about 17; there’s no reason I shouldn’t call myself a photographer – so if you catch me using the P word from here on out, don’t be alarmed; I’m just self-actualising.