Creative Writing Response: Belonging Essay

Diary Entry: You know, suddenly I realised it was a different world. I was stuck in a land of hill billies and bogans. There was no sign of modern civilisation, no saviour to whisk me out of this hole, no sign of educated life forms. I should probably tell you where I am. My mother decided it would be a good idea to, you know, travel our country, bask in our amazing land marks. In other words travel to god forsaken places that have no interaction with the real world. I would have to leave my friends for two weeks, leave my lover and all forms of technological communication behind.

My life was officially over. I may as well buy my coffin now, jump in it and close the door on sanity for the next few weeks. So anyway, we have just arrived at our 5th stop in “The travel Mobile of fun or so my father likes to call it. I don’t think it is fun. Fun could be an anagram for foible, unnecessary nuisance…I’ll try to think of something better. The monotonous, abandoned township we have landed ourself, correction: mum and dad has forced us to drive to, is Wangattamata. It is the middle of Australia.

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I am surrounded by acres of sand and millions of mosquitoes. The joys of life. Mother drags us into a worn and torn pub looking thing for an early dinner. Old men and cigarette smoke fill the air, which might I add, if your ever planning on visiting Wangattamata, don’t forget to wear your gas mask when entering the pub, Thankyou… The dim lighting leads nothing to the imagination. I am already picturing hostile men, angry drunks and teeth not even dentists would touch. I have only set two feet into the premises. We ate dinner and Mummsy and Dad had a few beers.

Turns out the people were really not that bad. About half an hour later the lights brightened. Turns out the electricity had been cut off for a few days due to a storm and the pub owner was running on a generator. There were women in the bar, the dresses in a way I wouldn’t dare but they were polite, welcoming, eager to hear about our stories from the land of the beaches. The majority of men, I can safely say, had teeth a dentist would definitely touch, although there was one man who should have had them all removed in my opinion.

His face would have looked ten times better. As I sat in the pub, listening to the stories of the bush, telling stories of school and friends, I couldn’t help but feel a friendship with the people of this abandoned hell hole, which turned out to be a populated, county town with a good old country attitude. I would have traded my whole summer for another day at Wangattamata… Ok, well maybe a week tops but it sound better if I say my summer, more dramatic