Professional Writing

Down the narrow alleyway I stumble, and enter the alluring entrance to the basement; the magnificent, dark, noisy and often smelly basement. A basement I sometimes might as well could call home.

I would be considered pretty darn lucky. I moved across the world with a tiny suitcase to start a new journey in a new and intriguing city. I left my family, friends and my dear sewing machine back in Norway. I knew coming to Melbourne meant a fresh start, not that I desperately needed one. I love my friends, and nothing can replace my family (nor can any sewing machine on this planet replace my old Husqvarna), I was excited and scared to shit. I knew I had to make new friends. I hate socialising with new people. But somehow, it changed, or I changed. I made new friends and I even stuck it through with a guy whom is now my boyfriend. And that’s when my journey really started, my journey down the narrow alleyway and through the alluring entrance to the dark and smelly basement. This basement is my second home.

My proper home is a lovely two bedroom house with a backyard in Carlton North, shared between me, my love and my best friend. I love our home, and I love both my house-mates, and I am extremely lucky to be able to live with them instead of all the other gumtree creeps I've previously shared residencies with.  We have a jolly good time together. But, my inner introvert is never to be allowed to show his/her face when I am at home. You see, it brings a great deal of lousy atmosphere. “Yes, I am being a sook!”

 As a result; a stumble down the narrow alleyway and enter the basement. Usually I tell them I'm making my way down to bring my love some food, which I do. (You see, my love is the barman in the basement). But it is just a ridiculous excuse. It more or less because I get to order myself a Jameson & coke when my love is full and content, and I make my way to my favourite corner, gaze at the people and let my mind unwind, I let my brain have a breather, I become a vegetable. Not physically of course, I still need to use my hand to tip the short-drink in to my mouth!

My love often ask me if I am shy; “do you not like hanging out with a big group of people?” I don’t really say much when I am with a big group, they all seem loud and too eager to let everyone know what happened on the tram on the way over or how delicious the burrito they had for lunch was, I don’t want to take that away from them. I know most of the hard working bartenders in the basement, they often come over; “are you sitting here by yourself?”  And then they give me a look which screams ‘I pity her’, or ‘you are a tad odd and awkward’ look. I am not really odd or awkward, but sometimes you need to get out of the house and down the dirty and smelly basement to get some alone time! And if you can get some alone time with a drink in your hand, you've hit the jackpot!