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Everything I wanted.

Today I got everything I wanted. My new job (which I've had for three weeks now, by the by) is 30 hours a week, so only 6 hours of work for me. There are two white little shih tzus that live in the opposite office, so at lunch I pat and cuddle them in the break room. My coworkers are kind and the work is easy; file this, download that, scan the other. I get paid peanuts and I don't care at all. With the free time I finally feel balanced and normal. Study is something that can take precedence, not become squidged into odd hours. I go home every weekend with my little brother to see our parents. When I say 'I'm going home' I'm not sure which house I refer to.

On thursdays I volunteer at the DVD rental. Three hours of me at the counter, with so few customers you can count them on one hand. My little brother comes to visit forty minutes in, to say hello and discuss when I'm picking him up the next day. Today he brought me a bread roll from his university canteen, gently swaddled in a napkin. He told me about his adventure exploring the town, which culminated in him sitting at the jetty eating shrimp dumplings. I love the fact that he has fulfilling experiences by his lonesome. Maybe it's odd to cherish that sense of solitary enrichment, but I do. Sometimes I'll see something beautiful or rare, like a shooting star, and make sure not to tell anyone as it falls. It's just for me.

At the rental shop I watched 'A hard day's night'. Then, as six slid into seven, I read my copy of 'Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance' while listening to classical music on the radio. I tucked into a muesli bar, and spilled a bit of it down my front. The shop closes at eight. I bring in the sign, close and bolt the door, and turn off all the lights. Then I walk to the back of the shop and battle with the sticky back door, which only opens if I push against it and jiggle the key three-quarters of the way in. Outside it was black and cold, but not too cold, just refreshing after the awful muggy summer. I drove home listening to Charly Garcia and sticking my hand out the window to feel the breeze, thinking about the Beatles in black-and-white playing in front of a crowd, and Ringo's downward-drooping eyes.

I showered as soon as I got home and then sat down to write this because I think today was important for me. Today was everything I wanted. I'm going to have a cup of tea now, and probably play Minecraft while listening to an episode of a podcast I've listened to before. My extremities feel warm inside from the hot shower, and the memory of the cold wind whipping past my hand lingers. I was terrified about a month ago that I'd never find a job, that everyone was judging me. But I'm okay now.