I was travelling to Journalism last night, when I saw a woman board the train. She was tiny; standing, she would have been under shoulder height on me. At first, I thought she looked quite ordinary; fine brown hair, petite features, lovely hands (I don’t know why I notice these things, but I do), just an ordinary woman. Then, one of the men sitting in a seat usually reserved for disabled people stood up and offered it to her.

I thought he was just being polite at first. She refused it, and turned around, those tiny hands (seriously, why do I notice things like that) gripping the railing as the train began moving. And then I noticed, you see. She had a humpback. She couldn’t sit down, was physically unable to, in fact. It made me feel so selfish for bitching about the things that go wrong in my life.

Really, having to resubmit an assignment is NOTHING compared to what that woman’s everyday life would be like. I can only imagine the struggles and challenges she would face while trying to do small things that I - along with most people, I’m sure - take for granted. Things like sitting down on the train, or getting clothes that fit. I filled a page with writing, just observing her and theorising about her condition.

I suppose I felt sorry for her in a way, also. Because I thought she was missing out, or not living a ‘normal’ life. But you know, when she got off at Flinders Street Station, a group of women were waiting for her. They surrounded her, smiling and laughing - her friends, obviously - and they all walked off together. I’m glad that I was wrong about her being a lonely spinster with seven cats.

It made me wonder, seeing that woman, about how we measure how badly things are going in our lives. I know that I generally don’t sit here thinking, ‘Oh, sure. Things in my life are bad, but at least I’m not <insert really bad thing>.’ I think most people remind themselves - or are reminded by others - that there are people who are worse off in the world, but mostly I think the gloom in our lives is relative to the good.

For someone like that woman I saw on the train, maybe things like getting caught in the rain or failing an assignment aren’t a big deal. For me, though - a reasonably healthy, quite normal, average young woman - stubbing my toe in the morning can set my mood right to TALK TO ME AND I KILL YOU for the rest of the day. Perhaps it can for her, too; I don’t mean to imply that she’s a freak.

I suppose I would just like to think that Life takes it a little easier on her, day to day.

Onwards to Editing, today. We had our Grammar Test, and also received our marked Editorial Reports back. I don’t think I failed the test, but I’m not holding out for a fantastic score. Melanie is not only a hard marker, but I missed heaps of the classes leading up to it, so a lot of the information I had was self-taught. Fingers crossed. I passed the Editorial Report, in fact got one grade above it.

A credit isn’t wonderful, but I’m okay with it. The further into this course I get, the more I realise that at the end of it, a potential employer isn’t going to look at my application and say, “Oh, she only got a CR in Journalism? Horrible!” They’re going to look at the overall qualification, and although I like getting great marks, the important thing is that I learn. As long as I’m doing that, I’m happy.

After the test, we were allowed to leave, which is WONDERFUL. I was fried afterwards, really. I was almost falling asleep on the train, surrounded by obnoxious school kids. No doubt if I had fallen asleep, I would have stumbled across video footage on YouTube, of me drooling in my lap; there were some rather talented young boys on the train trying to get upskirt video of the girls, heh.

I was wishing them luck, secretly.