Author: Alif

Today’s Co–Star said:
Stop trying to change things that are fundamental to who you are.

And underneath:
“You’ve been treating your personality like a broken machine that needs constant repairs. But your intensity and impatience aren’t flaws—they’re tools. Stop apologizing for taking up space.”

That one stayed with me.

Because I do spend a lot of time trying to improve myself.

How I manage.
How I speak.
How I react.

How much I isolate.
How much I overthink.
How much space I take up.

And maybe there is a difference between growing and constantly assuming something about me needs fixing.

Maybe I don’t need less personality.
Maybe I just need to know where to put it.

Anyway.

We ended up leaving around 4 in the morning last night.

At that hour, buses were basically useless, so Dylan and I got an Uber back to his place.

By the time we arrived, I showered, and actually became ready for bed, it was already around 5:30.

And suddenly I was scared to sleep.

Not because I wasn’t tired.

I was exhausted.

But Dylan also needed to be in the city by 10, and I needed to get to Takapuna.

Then I watched him set an alarm for 8:30.

Okay.

Risky life I choose.

My entire morning strategy became:
hopefully Dylan wakes up first and wakes me up afterwards.

Very responsible.
Very independent.

Absolutely no flaws in this system.

At 8:30, the alarm went off.

I was half asleep and watched Dylan immediately snooze it.

Fair.

I was exhausted too.

But I also knew that if I properly fell asleep again, there was a very real chance both of us would be late.

So I pulled together whatever energy I had left and sat up in bed.

New strategy:
sleep sitting up.

Apparently that would make it easier for me to wake up when the alarm went off again.

Dylan looked at me sitting there like a malfunctioning human alarm clock, admitted defeat, and said he would shower first.

HAHAHAHA.

Sorry baby.
We are both tired.

But thank you for choosing my remaining energy over your snooze button.

Once he finished showering, I guess it was my turn.

So I dragged myself out of bed and went to shower too.

At that point, both of us were basically running on whatever energy was left from the night before.

Not awake.
Just operational.

While I was getting ready, Dylan opened the blinds and let the sunlight into the room.

And honestly, thank God.

I needed whatever energy the sun was willing to give me.

What am I, a plant?

Apparently yes.

But then I actually looked outside.

The trees.
The soft light.
The pink flowers.
And then Dylan’s sword collection lined up across the window.

For a second, I genuinely felt like I had been transported somewhere in Japan.

Maybe not actual Japan.

Maybe the version of Japan my brain has built from anime, games, and every beautiful window scene I have ever seen.

Either way, it was such a nice view.

One of those tiny moments where I was tired, running on almost no sleep, technically supposed to be rushing,

but still stopped long enough to notice something beautiful.

We waited for Dylan’s brother to get ready because he was the one driving.

They dropped me at Rosie’s Takapuna at around 10:30.

My shift started at 11.

For once, I was early.

I went inside to say hi to Callum, the other manager opening that day.

First time meeting Callum.

Or so I thought.

I walked into the office, introduced myself, and he just looked at me and started laughing.

Apparently he already knew who I was.
Because he had met me the night before at Rosie’s Viaduct.

He explained that he had been hanging out with a group from Sports & Rec, another Star Group venue at Sylvia Park.

And I just stood there trying to process this information because I genuinely did not remember meeting him.

Amazing.

I got embarrassed and explained that, technically, the person he met last night was not Alif.

That was Aiden.

My drinking alter ego.

Completely different employee.
No further questions.

Before starting, I told Callum I was going to grab coffee and asked if he wanted anything too.

He already had his.

Fine.

More coffee for me.

Starbucks was running a buy-one-get-the-second-half-price deal on the pumpkin spice range, and I was already planning to get two drinks anyway.

So really, financially responsible behaviour.

Obviously.

I ordered:

a Grande Quadruple Pumpkin Spice Oat Latte, hot,
and a Venti Quadruple Pumpkin Spice Oat Latte, iced.

The iced one was supposed to go into my giant tumbler.

I sat near the pickup area and watched them make the drinks.

And then I saw it.

The barista poured a scorching hot latte into my tumbler.

I was devastated.

First of all, that tumbler is only for cold drinks.
Second of all, the person making it was wearing a black apron.

A Coffee Master.

Hello.

Coffee Master.

You should know your products better.

I checked the sticker and, to be fair, the person at the register had entered that drink as hot.

So technically the mistake started there.

But still.

If something looks obviously wrong, I kind of expect the person making it to notice.

A trainee?

Fine.

They’re learning.

But a Coffee Master?

Disappointing.

Anyway, I told him the drink was supposed to be iced.

Before I could even properly explain, he just took the coffee and threw it away to remake it.

Which, to be fair, is pretty much how Starbucks has always handled remakes.

When I used to be a Partner, if a customer complained or the drink was wrong, we would usually just remake it.

So I understand the logic.

The thing is, I honestly would have been completely fine if he had just added ice.

I was not asking for a whole dramatic remake.

But the way he threw the drink away felt so aggressive.

No apology.

No “sorry about that.”

Just:
goodbye coffee.

And suddenly I had this horrible realization:
damn, am I that customer right now?

I swear I wasn’t trying to be difficult.
I just wanted my iced coffee to be…

iced.

After all that Starbucks drama, getting the correct coffee had somehow become the most important mission of the morning.

Once that was finally sorted, I went outside looking for somewhere to buy deodorant.

Because apparently in my late night packing situation, deodorant did not make the final cut.

And I was currently wearing none.

After already becoming that customer at Starbucks, I was absolutely not about to become that coworker who comfortably works an entire shift without deodorant.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t find anywhere to buy one.

Defeat.

Maybe perfume will have to do.

Sorry, Lord.

I went back to Rosie’s and still had about five minutes before my shift started, so I went outside for a cigarette.

Hannah, probably my most cheerful companion at Rosie’s Takapuna, looked at me and immediately said:
“Really? It’s 11 AM and you’re already smoking. Who did this to you?”

I looked at her.
“Life.”

And both of us started laughing.

Honestly, not a terrible way to start the shift.

I clocked in and started setting up the venue with Callum and Hannah for our Tattoo Sunday Session.

We also had some very, very big lunch bookings coming in later, so we started getting those tables ready too.

We were opening at 11:30.

Around 11:20, Hannah and Leiana came over and asked if they could quickly go to the shop before we opened because they needed to buy something.

I immediately ran to the office.

Grabbed a $10 note.

Handed it to them.

“Please buy deodorant for me.”

Then I explained the entire situation.

No embarrassment.

None.

Because I would be far more embarrassed to spend the whole day smelling like sweat than to admit I forgot to pack deodorant.

The shift itself ended up being pretty calm.

One of the big lunch bookings was supposed to be around 30 people.

Five showed up.

Five.

I was honestly a little disappointed, and I felt bad for Courtney because she had rostered me specifically to help make sure the shift would run smoothly.

Turns out the shift barely needed saving.

I was rostered until 5, but around 4 I asked Callum if he was happy for me to leave everything with him.

He said yes.

So I clocked out early and finally enjoyed my staffie:

the best, the greatest, the peach bomb.

I sat down with my peach bomb and started sorting through my Pokémon cards.

Looked at the time.

4:30.

I knew there was a Vagabond somewhere in Takapuna because Dylan had come by earlier after going into the city.

Apparently he has now dragged his brother into collecting Pokémon cards too.

And, little side note:
beginner’s luck is very real and I am slightly offended by it.

I’ll probably put that whole story into the Pokémon Journey because that entry is already painfully overdue.

Anyway.

I did a quick Google search.

Vagabond Takapuna:
about five minutes away.
Closes at 5:30.

Say less.

I shut my laptop, told my coworkers to keep an eye on my things, and started walking.

Then on the way there, I spotted another card shop.

Cards Merchant Takapuna.

Oh.

Oh no.

Takapuna might actually become my new best friend.

I got what I wanted from Vagabond and also stopped by Cards Collector before heading back to Rosie’s.

Then, naturally, I sat down and started opening the packs.

While I was doing that, I ended up talking to some customers who also love Pokémon.

They don’t collect the cards, but they play Pokémon Go, so that was enough for us to immediately have something to talk about.

One of the ladies even came over to watch me open the packs.

And honestly?

I think she was my lucky star for the day.

Because I pulled the card I actually wanted.

The full story can live in the Pokémon Journey.

[COMING SOON, LINK TO POKÉMON JOURNEY ENTRY]

Somehow, one peach bomb turned into five.

Rosie’s Takapuna is running a staff competition to see who can sell the most peach bombs.

And apparently I am an extremely easy target.

Hannah.
Rowan.
Riley.
Leiana.
Lela.

Five people.
Five entries.

Because in my head, if I bought one from one person, somebody else might feel left out.

So in the name of fairness, equality, and absolutely questionable decision-making…

I drank five peach bombs.

One for each of them.

This is what happens when my sense of justice gets involved with staff incentives.

My sanity suffered.

But at least nobody could accuse me of favouritism.

By the time I finally left Takapuna, it was raining and I was a little tipsy.

Normally I probably would have taken the bus back to Dylan’s.

Not today.

Uber.

I got there, found Dylan playing his game, had a quick chat with him, and then basically collapsed into bed.

Because apparently the day wasn’t actually over yet.

Kirsty had invited me to Parasol later that night.

Jason Derulo had a concert at Spark Arena, and apparently there was a chance he might come out with his team afterwards.

His official DJ was also supposed to play at Parasol later.

So suddenly I had another potential adventure waiting for me.

But first:
sleep.

Dylan woke me up around 9 PM and we took the bus into the city.

We stopped by Rosie’s Viaduct first because some of our friends were there.

Tamati was DJing, but around 10 he left.

So naturally…

I jumped on the decks.

Apparently this is just what happens now.

If there is an empty DJ booth and I am nearby, somebody is eventually going to find me in it.

I also made it my mission to teach Gio how to mix.

Partly because I want him to stop bothering me to DJ every time.

HAHAHAHA.

But also because DJing has become one of my escapes.

And I thought:
maybe it could become somebody else’s escape too.
Maybe I don’t always have to be the person behind the decks.

I can teach somebody else how to find the same little space I found there.

The only thing bothering me was that quite a few people already seemed very drunk and were starting to behave a little erratically.

I had been thinking about bringing people along to Parasol with me, but I decided against it.

Kirsty had invited me.

I didn’t want to arrive with a group that might create a scene and turn her invitation into her problem.

So when the manager on duty finally kicked us out because he needed to close the venue, I quietly made my way to Parasol on my own.

At Parasol, I met up with Kyla.

She’s one of the DJs I genuinely enjoy watching because I really like the way she mixes.

I also ran into Jamie, one of Kyla’s friends who I had met before.

She’s Malaysian too, although she has been living in New Zealand for about thirteen years.

Somewhere in the conversation I explained that I don’t really have personal social media anymore.

So instead of doing the normal Instagram exchange, we exchanged phone numbers.

Very old-school.

Honestly, I kind of like it.

Later, another Malaysian friend messaged me, so I invited him to come join us at Parasol too.

When he arrived, though, he told me something had happened involving Dylan.

I’m not going to write about the actual situation here.

It isn’t something I want to turn into part of this story.

But what I heard worried me.

Apparently Dylan had hurt his hand while he was angry.

And suddenly the rest of whatever had happened mattered a lot less to me than one thing:
is he okay?

My friend knows Dylan well too, so I asked him to go get him and bring him to Parasol.

I just wanted him somewhere with people who cared about him.

Dylan eventually arrived.

And almost immediately, I could tell something was wrong.

He felt hot, tense, angry.

So I took him out toward the deck area at Parasol.

It overlooks the harbour, the view is beautiful, and there was a cool breeze coming through.

More importantly, it was away from everyone else.

Somewhere quieter.
Somewhere he didn’t have to perform being okay.

I asked if he wanted to talk about what happened.

He said no.

So I didn’t ask again.

We just stayed there quietly for a while.

After that, a lot more happened.

More erratic behaviour.
More tension.

And eventually I could feel myself getting angry too.

Which was not what I wanted from the night at all.

I had come out expecting a quiet night.

A few drinks.
Good music.

Maybe something fun after the concert.

Instead, I reached the point where I just told my friend I was leaving.

He wanted to stay and see if Jason Derulo actually showed up.

Fair enough.

I told him I was heading off first.

Ordered an Uber.

Got home.

And basically went straight to sleep.

I was exhausted.

Physically.
Socially.
Emotionally.

Just done.

And maybe that is where today’s Co–Star comes back in.

Stop trying to change things that are fundamental to who you are.

I am intense.
I care a lot.

I notice things.
I get impatient.

I want people around me to be okay.
I want things to run properly.

I want everyone to feel included.
I will buy five peach bombs because I don’t want anybody feeling left out.

I will teach somebody how to DJ because I know how much it gives me.
I will sit quietly beside a friend because they don’t want to talk.

I will also leave when I know I have reached my limit.

Maybe none of those things need to be erased.
Maybe they just need direction.

Maybe I don’t need to become less intense.
Less caring.
Less loud.

Less me.

Maybe I just need to learn when those things are helping…
and when I need to put them down for the night.

Today’s Co–Star said:
Talk to people.

And underneath that:
Stop rehearsing what you think people want to hear. Your withdrawal has become more obvious than any awkward conversation could be. Pick up the phone. Send the text. Real connection requires risk.

That feels pretty direct.

And maybe fair.

I do have a habit of rehearsing conversations in my head before they happen.
Trying to work out the safest version of what I want to say.

What sounds too needy.
What sounds too emotional.

What somebody might think.
What they might say back.

Sometimes I basically write both sides of the conversation before the other person has even had a chance to exist in it.

Maybe today can just be simpler.

Talk.
Ask.
Listen.

Let people answer for themselves.

Anyway.

I woke up around 7 this morning.

I’m opening today, which means I need to be at Rosie’s by 10:30.

Still too early to start getting ready.

But also absolutely not enough time for me to trust myself with going back to sleep.

I know how that story ends.

So I just lay there tossing around, mentally planning how much life I could squeeze into the morning.

Current mission:

Put the laundry into the dryer.
Put the delicates into the washing machine.

Buy Pokémon cards.
Maybe get a haircut too.

Very reasonable agenda for the three hours before work.

Then I remembered something important.

I still had pizza from last night.

And honestly, this is what I love about me.

Sometimes I accidentally prepare for my own future.

Yesterday-me ordered too much food.
Today-me gets breakfast.

Beautiful system.

So I heated up the leftover pizza and suddenly felt much more prepared to face the day.

Around 9:35, I left the house to catch the 9:46 train.

I arrived at Waitematā just a few minutes before 10 and went straight to my favourite barber:
Hair for Men.

Bonus point:
it is literally only a couple of minutes away from Vagabond.

Very dangerous location for my wallet.

By the time I finished my haircut, it was around 10:15.

Vagabond still didn’t open until 10:30.

I had already accepted that I was going to arrive a little later to work anyway, so I made my way to my lucky chair in Chancery Square.

Sat down.
Waited for the shop to open.

Honestly, not a bad way to start the morning.

Then Vagabond opened.

I bought my stuff.

The Pokémon part of today can live over here:

[COMING SOON: LINK TO POKÉMON JOURNEY POST]

After that, I made my way to Starbucks for the important part of the morning:
coffee.

Today’s order:
Venti extra-sweet iced shaken espresso with oat milk, salted caramel, plus two extra shots.

Or, in Starbucks-partner language:
Venti quadruple oat milk extra salted caramel iced shaken espresso.

Which sounds less like a drink and more like a system diagnostic.

Either way, it was exactly what I needed.

And maybe I notice these things more because I used to be a Starbucks Partner around five years ago.

Back then, the drinks felt more personal.
The cup was part of the interaction.

You wrote on it.
You used the lingo.

The customer watched their order become something specific to them.

Now everything gets printed onto a sticker.

Efficient?

Absolutely.

But somehow less special.

I think Starbucks lost a little bit of its human touch when that changed.

Maybe most customers don’t care.

But as someone who used to stand behind that counter, I do.

There was something beautiful about the language around the drinks and the feeling that every cup had passed through an actual person before it reached you.

A sticker gets the order right.

Handwriting made it feel like somebody made it for you.

Anyway.

I arrived at Rosie’s around 10:45.

We had a lot of big bookings coming in early for lunch.

And yes.

We got slammed.

One of the bookings had pre-ordered their food and expected everything to basically appear the second they arrived.

Brother.
I am not asking the kitchen to cook your food while you’re still somewhere else.

Plans are plans.
But plans also change.

What if you’re an hour late?
What if something comes up and you have to cancel?

I would much rather wait until I know you’re actually here before telling the kitchen to start.

And anyway, our tacos come out in under five minutes.
Please have some faith in us.

The nice thing about the pre-order was that everybody had put their names against what they ordered.

And because I am me, and I love personalised service, I basically took over running the food for that booking.

If somebody ordered something under their own name, I wanted to make sure it actually reached that person.

Not just:
here are some plates, figure it out.

Maybe that is slightly unnecessary.

But I like people feeling like we actually know who they are.

In the middle of all of that, James also gave me someone doing a practical interview to look after.

I felt a little bad for her because lunch was so busy that I couldn’t give her 100% of my attention.

But honestly, from what I saw, she handled herself well.

She was proactive.

She didn’t just stand around waiting to be told every tiny thing.

Afterward, James asked me whether I thought we should hire her.

I said yes straight away.

The rest of the shift went pretty well until dinner.

I also managed to get a break with Mariele again, so naturally we continued our little break ritual at Parasol.

There was one problem during the shift involving what I would politely call the weak link of the team.

I decided I had dealt with enough.

So I passed it to Steve.

Hehe.
Delegation.

After I finished my report and cashed up the reception till, Steve asked me to come over to Lula’s for a chat.

He mostly wanted to know what I actually do outside work.

And honestly?

I didn’t know how to answer.

Because lately it feels like I’ve been working every single day.

Meeting after meeting.
Task after task.

Preparing for DJ sets.
Preparing social media.

Thinking about training.
Thinking about the venue.

Even when I’m not technically on shift, work still seems to find a way into the day.

We also talked about the current management team at Rosie’s.
I gave Steve my two cents based on what I’ve been observing.

Nothing dramatic.

Just the things I’ve noticed from actually being on the floor with everyone.

As we were finishing our drinks and wrapping up the conversation, we went inside Lula’s to put the glasses away.

And somehow we ran into Jamie Freeman.

Of course we did.

Jamie bought Steve and me another drink.

Am I complaining?
No.

Should I probably have said no considering I’m opening again tomorrow?
Also probably yes.

We spent another ten minutes or so talking with him before finally making our way back to Rosie’s.

I clocked out.

Said goodbye to everyone.

And finally went home.

And I think Steve’s question stayed with me a little.

What do I actually do outside work?

Because the answer should be easy.

Pokémon.
Reading.

DJing.
Writing.

Perfume.
Coffee.

Friends.
Random little adventures.

All of that exists.

But work has been taking up so much space lately that sometimes those things start feeling like small islands between shifts.

Maybe that’s something I should notice.
Not fix immediately.

Just notice.

Today’s Co–Star told me to talk to people.
And I did.

Customers.
Staff.

Mariele.
Steve.
Jamie.

People I needed to manage.
People I needed to listen to.
People I actually wanted to talk to.

Maybe connection doesn’t always mean one dramatic emotional conversation.

Sometimes it is just being present enough to let people into the day.

I got home.

Heated up some leftover pizza.

Filled my tumbler with water and put it beside the bed.

And then?

Straight to sleep.

No overthinking.
No extra chapter.
No late-night detour.

Just done.

Maybe after talking to people all day, there was finally nothing left to rehearse in my head.

And honestly?

That felt pretty good.

Today’s Co–Star said:
Start keeping a diary again.

And underneath that:
Your thoughts are spinning uselessly inside your head. Get them down on paper. The act of writing will force clarity where there’s been none. What looks messy inside looks solvable once spelled out.

And honestly?

Bit late.

I’ve already been doing that.

For the past couple of weeks, actually.

Writing everything down.

The stupid little details.

The things that hurt.
The things that make me laugh.

The people I miss.
The people who annoy me.

Work.
Pokémon.

Perfume.
Coffee.

All of it.

Maybe Co–Star finally caught up with me.

But maybe the rest of the message is exactly why I’ve kept doing this.

Things feel so much messier when they’re just spinning around inside my head.

Once I write them down, they become something I can actually look at instead of something I have to carry.

Not everything becomes solvable.
But at least it becomes clearer.

Anyway.

I was opening the bar today.

I was already wide awake by around 8 AM, and honestly, I was too scared to go back to sleep.

I needed to be at work by 11, and knowing me, “just another hour” could very easily turn into waking up at midday.

So instead:
phone.

Magic Chess.
One game.

Very responsible.

By 10, I knew I had to stop messing around and actually start getting ready if I wanted to catch the train.

I caught the 10:46 train.

Arrived at Waitematā at 10:53.

Seven minutes.
I still love that.

Which obviously gave me enough time for the important stop:
Starbucks.

My current favourite is an iced shaken espresso with oat milk and whatever syrup I feel like adding to make it sweet.

I’ve also decided that my current tumbler is basically a cold-drinks-only tumbler now.

Which raises an obvious question:
do I need another tumbler?

Future problem.

And by “future,” I mean tomorrow.

Today is payday.

Hihi.

I still got to work around 11:05.

Five minutes late.

Honestly, not bad.

Opening the bar is easy anyway.

Mostly just setting everything up and getting the station ready.

Nothing too dramatic.

Until I realised one small problem.

I had completely forgotten the order of the spirits on the speed rail.

Naturally, I texted Dylan.

Just one message.

I wasn’t going to call him because I had a feeling he was probably still asleep.

My logic was simple:
if he replies, I’ll call.

If he doesn’t, leave the man alone.

While I waited, I tried to arrange everything in a way that made sense to me.

What do I reach for most?
Which spirits belong to the cocktails we actually serve?
What order would make service easier?

Luckily, I still roughly remembered the cocktail list and most of the recipes, so I wasn’t completely useless.

But damn.
I really need more bar shifts.

This was my first proper bar shift in around two months.

Apparently two months is enough time for the speed rail to become ancient history.

Then came problem number two.

Lunch is usually quiet, and I’ve noticed that this is normally when the bartender preps all the garnishes.

Lime.
Lemon.
Orange.

I checked the fridge.

Yep.

A lot needed to be done.

One issue:
I had never actually cut the fruit before.

Most of my previous bar shifts were just me supporting another bartender when things got busy.

Jump in.
Make drinks.
Help out.

Easy.

But today?

I was alone.

Which meant all the little invisible prep jobs that somebody else normally did were suddenly my problem.

And I really didn’t want to be useless.

So there I was.

Staring at a pile of citrus like it was some kind of practical exam.

Honestly, how I wished Dylan would reply to my text right about then.

Eventually I got bored.

And I get paid well enough that standing around waiting for drink dockets to appear felt a little ridiculous.

So I grabbed the fruit knife.
Grabbed the chopping board.
And started cutting.

Lime.
Lemon.
Orange.

If somebody complains about the shapes later?

Hey.
I tried my best, okay.

The funny part was that I couldn’t find the limes.

So I complained to Steve:
“When life gives you lemons, why? Because right now I need limes.”

Steve disappeared into the walk-in chiller.
Came back with an entire box of limes.

Apparently they had been hidden under the mint leaves.
Then he told me I should probably stop searching like a man.

Excuse me?
Why the sass?

The rest of the shift actually went pretty well.

And one thing I definitely want to remember:
I had to make a Long Island Iced Tea.

I used to be weirdly intimidated by that drink because I could never remember the recipe properly.

Then I remembered something someone once told me:
think of the white spirits.

That was basically how he explained the core of it to me.
And for some reason, that explanation stuck.

So I made one.

Then the guy who ordered it came back and ordered another.
And another.

Which I am absolutely taking as very good feedback.

Honestly, I was so proud of myself.

One of those tiny moments where you realise:
oh. I actually know what I’m doing now.

Eventually Dylan finally replied.

He was supposed to start work at 6 PM.

So naturally, around 5 PM, he responded to the message I had sent hours earlier.

Classic Dylan.

By then, obviously, it was far too late.

I had already arranged the speed rail according to whatever felt right to me.
I had already cut all the fruit as best as I could.

So instead of asking for help, I just complained to him.
Told him not to laugh when he saw my garnishes.

His response?
“No promises.”

Amazing.
Very supportive.

Thank you, Dylan.

I was rostered until 8 PM, but I had already asked Steve if I could finish at 7.

I wanted some time to rest.

Maybe have a drink.
Reset a little before my DJ set from 9 until close.

So at 7, I looked around.

Dinner wasn’t even busy.
There were enough staff.

Everything was covered.

So once again, I told the manager on duty:
I’m clocking out.

Not:
can I clock out?

I wasn’t asking permission.
I was providing an update.

Apparently this is becoming a personality trait.

I sat down for a while and downloaded a few more songs I felt like playing that night.

Then around 9 PM, I jumped behind the decks.

Honestly, Thursday DJ shifts have become something completely different for me.

They’re basically just playtime now.

No rules.
No carefully analysing the crowd.
No energy curve I need to protect.

Mostly because there isn’t exactly much of a crowd to analyse anyway.

I just play whatever I feel like listening to.

Mix things together because I think they sound good.

Sometimes somebody reacts.
Sometimes people vibe.
Sometimes I play something and absolutely nobody cares.

And honestly?
I don’t really care either.

Tonight I wasn’t trying to prove that I could control a room.

I was just enjoying music.

By around 10:40, the venue was completely empty.

Doors closed.
No crowd left to read.

So I started going through my playlists looking for songs I had never really played before.

Somehow that turned into thirty minutes of Rihanna.

I genuinely don’t know how.

One Rihanna song became another.

Then another.

Then another.

And honestly, I wasn’t complaining.

I love Rihanna.

She was probably the first artist I properly loved when I was younger.

Almost twenty years ago now.

Which is insane to even write.

Back when I first started getting proper access to YouTube, she was one of the artists I kept coming back to.

So there was something really nice about standing behind the decks all these years later, in an empty venue, just playing her songs because I wanted to.

No crowd.
No expectations.

Just me and music I’ve loved for years.

Dylan invited me to hang out afterwards.

And for once, I said no.

Very responsible of me.

I have to open again tomorrow, so obviously I need to go home and rest.

Except…
that isn’t completely true.

Yes, I am opening.

But I also want to wake up early enough to go into the city first.

Maybe buy a lot of Pokémon cards.
Maybe finally get myself a tumbler that is actually suitable for hot drinks.

Priorities.

So I turned Dylan down and decided to go home.

Apparently I have finally become mature enough to reject a night out.
Just not mature enough to stop buying Pokémon cards and drinkware.

When I got home, I was feeling a little hungry.

And my logic was:

I need to wake up early tomorrow.
I might not have time for breakfast.

Therefore, if I don’t eat now, tomorrow-morning me is going to suffer.

Completely reasonable.

So I ordered:

pizza.
Chicken tenders.
Garlic bread.

Apparently preparing for an early morning means feeding myself like I’m stocking up for winter.

While I waited for the food to arrive, I put some laundry into the washing machine so I could throw it into the dryer tomorrow morning.

I also finally replaced the filter in my water jug.

Very overdue.
Very glamorous.

Pizza on the way.
Laundry running.
Water filter changed.

Maybe I really am becoming a responsible adult.
Just one whose mornings are planned around Pokémon cards and tumblers.

My food finally arrived.

I went for a Veggie Deluxe pizza because apparently I wanted to pretend I was being healthy.

Vegetables.

Balance.

Responsible adult choices.

Then I added stuffed crust.

Because obviously.

Is paying an extra three dollars just to have cheese stuffed into the crust worth it?

Yes.
Absolutely.
Every bite.

Unfortunately, there is one small complication.

I am dairy intolerant.

Which means future me may have some opinions about tonight’s decision.

But present me?

Present me was very happy.

Worth every bite.

And probably every minute I’m going to spend in the bathroom later.

Then I decided that if I had changed the filter in my water jug, I should probably clean the things that were going to hold the newly filtered water too.

So I washed my tumblers.

My two prized possessions at the moment.

There is something weirdly satisfying about little rituals like that.

Clean filter.
Clean containers.
Fresh water.

It’s not really about hygiene alone.
It just makes me feel like I’m starting something fresh.

Like resetting a tiny part of my life.

I filled both tumblers with water.

Put them beside my bed.

And now I’m just lying here.

Trying to fall asleep.

Excited about tomorrow.

Pokémon cards.
Maybe another tumbler.

Coffee.

Maybe something I haven’t planned at all.

And looking back at today’s Co–Star:
Start keeping a diary again.

Maybe that’s exactly why I want to remember all of this.

Not because today was particularly dramatic.

It wasn’t.

I opened a bar.

Forgot where the spirits went.

Learned how to cut fruit.

Got roasted by Steve.

Made a Long Island Iced Tea I was actually proud of.

Waited all day for Dylan to reply only for him to answer right before his shift.

Played Rihanna to an empty restaurant.

Rejected a night out.

Ordered pizza.

Changed a water filter.

Washed my tumblers.

None of those things are life-changing.
But they are my life.

And maybe that’s the whole point of keeping a diary.

Not just preserving the tragedies.
Not just documenting the big revelations.

Sometimes it is enough to remember:
this is what an ordinary Thursday felt like.

And honestly, ordinary felt pretty good today.

I’m going to stop writing here.

Tomorrow is already waiting.

And for once, I’m not overthinking what it might become.

I’m just excited to wake up and find out.

Today’s Co–Star said:
Stay up all night on the phone with a good friend.

And underneath that:
Someone in your circle wants to talk—really talk. Stop editing yourself for their comfort. Let the conversation go where it needs to go, even if it gets uncomfortable or takes all night.

Funny enough, I woke up and realised Kak Nana had called me last night.

Of course I was asleep.

Kak Nana isn’t actually my sister by blood.

Somewhere along the way though, “friend” stopped feeling like the right word.
We consider each other family now.

I even have her location on my phone, and she has mine.

She’s back in Malaysia at the moment, and it has been a long time since we’ve had a proper conversation.

So if I see that she’s home tonight, maybe I’ll call her.

Maybe Co–Star is being suspiciously specific again.

Although apparently I had already spent most of last night with another companion.

Kirito.

I woke up around 10 this morning feeling exhausted because I had basically pulled an all-nighter reading Sword Art Online.

I can’t wait for the next season of the anime, so I decided to read the novels to find out what happens next.

Big mistake.

The story got too interesting.

One chapter became another.
Then another.

Then suddenly sleep had become optional.

Today’s floor training was supposed to start at 3 PM, but I had already planned to get to Rosie’s much earlier.

I needed to print the slides.
Prepare the space.
Order some food.

Make everything comfortable.

Only five people were coming, so putting the presentation up on the TV and standing in front of everyone felt unnecessarily formal.

I would rather sit with them.
Go through the material together.
Give them something they could write on.
Actually talk.

My plan was to get there around noon.

But it was only 10.

The trains come every fifteen minutes.

Plenty of time.

So naturally, I went back to sleep.

I woke up again around 11:30.

Still tired.

But now the training session was properly sitting in the back of my head, so I finally dragged myself up.

Shower.
Comfortable clothes.

And then came one of the most important management decisions of the afternoon:
perfume.

I didn’t want to smell too authoritative.

I’m not trying to be the intimidating manager standing at the front of a room making everyone nervous.

I am the goofy manager.

I want my staff to feel comfortable enough to tell me when something is wrong.

Ask me questions.
Raise concerns.

Tell me if they don’t understand something.

So naturally I started mentally interviewing my entire fragrance collection.

Dior Sauvage + Ralph Lauren The Ralph’s Club?

Too friendly.
Slightly too romantic.

Versace Eau Fraîche Extreme?

Too strong.

Versace Eros Flame?

Too playful.

Giorgio Armani Stronger With You?

Too authoritative.

Giorgio Armani I Will?

Definitely too romantic.

Eventually I landed on Paco Rabanne One Million Black.

Sweet enough to feel approachable.

Still strong enough to say:
please be comfortable around me, but also don’t take the piss.

Then came the outfit.

Maroon Tommy Hilfiger wool sweater.
Warm enough for the cold weather.
Soft enough to hopefully make me look approachable.

Oversized grey Hallensteins jeans.
Partly because I didn’t want anything restricting my movement.
Partly because I wanted to project:
hey, look, I’m the cool manager.

And then simple black UGGs.
Comfortable.
Slightly ugly.
Somehow still cool.

Perfect.

While I was packing everything into my bag, I finally texted Kak Nana.

Apparently the reason she called me last night was because she had been trying to find my Instagram.

She wanted to show her friends what I looked like.

Except:
my Instagram no longer exists.

And apparently I completely forgot to warn my sister that I had disappeared from social media.

To be fair, when I deleted everything, I wasn’t exactly in the best place.

Explaining my disappearance to everybody wasn’t exactly high on the priority list.

So instead, I sent her a mirror selfie.

There.
Proof of life.

And once we started texting, we just kept going.

While I packed.
While I left the apartment.
All the way toward the train station.

It had been a long time since Kak Nana and I properly talked, so even that little stream of messages felt nice.

Maybe tonight we would finally get that phone call.

Although I wasn’t promising Co–Star the all night part.

I had already made that mistake with Sword Art Online.

When I arrived at Waitematā, there was one obvious priority.

Starbucks.
Immediately.

I made the mistake before of going into a meeting without coffee and becoming the crankiest version of myself.

I was not repeating that.

And I think I have finally discovered the true purpose of the giant Starbucks tumbler I bought while my finances were absolutely not interested in unnecessary purchases.

Apparently giant tumbler means giant coffee.

Which means it was never an impulse purchase.

It was an investment.

Return on investment, baby.

Then I got to Rosie’s.

Said hi to everyone on shift.

And went straight into preparation mode.

I edited the PowerPoint so it could be printed more like a workbook.

Something everyone could actually write on.
Take notes.
Add questions.

Make it feel less like me talking at them and more like something we were working through together.

I printed my own version with notes underneath too so I had everything I wanted to cover in front of me.

Then I prepared the space.
Chairs.
Papers.
Making sure everyone would be comfortable.

By the time everything was ready, I still had about thirty minutes before training started.

So naturally:
burger.

I ordered myself some food and waited for everyone to show up.

We started around 3:10.

In my head, this was supposed to be a two-hour session.

Go through the slides.
Answer a few questions.
Eat some food.
Done.

Except everybody had something to say.
Questions.
Concerns.
Opinions.

And most importantly:
nobody seemed afraid to say any of it to me.

Honestly, that made me proud.

Because that was exactly why I wanted to do the training in the first place.

Not just to tell everybody how things should be done.

I wanted them to have a space where they could ask why.

Tell me what wasn’t working.

Bring up something they were unsure about.

Disagree if they needed to.

And they did.

They actually used the space.

Maybe that means I’m doing something right as a manager.

I’ve always wanted to be approachable enough that my staff can actually talk to me.

Not the kind of manager where everybody nods during a meeting and then waits until I leave the room to say what they actually think.

Today, when they were given the opportunity to speak, they spoke.

And I was able to answer their questions.

Address their concerns.

Explain why certain things are done the way they are.

Sometimes even listen and realise they had a point.

That felt cool.

Not because I had every answer.
But because they trusted me enough to ask the questions.

The session finally wrapped up around 5:45.

Definitely longer than planned.

But honestly, I didn’t mind.

If the extra time came from people actually engaging, then I would rather let it run.

At one point, one of my friends tried to video call me while I was still in the session.

I ignored it.

Not because I didn’t care.

I just wanted my attention to stay with my staff while I was there.

He only called once, so I knew it probably wasn’t an emergency.

I texted him afterwards.

Turns out he just wanted to hang out and get some food.

Easy.

I told him to come to Rosie’s.

He is also good friends with Dylan anyway, so it made even more sense.

Then another friend messaged me.

He had come over from Malaysia for his graduation and wanted to pick up some things he had left with me.

He was staying at a hotel nearby.

So:
come to Rosie’s.

Suddenly everything was lining up perfectly.

And because I felt like I had actually done a good job today, I decided I deserved a reward.

The new dessert from our menu:
Piña Fiesta Sundae.

Consider it a pat on the back.

Also, unfortunately for every other dessert on the menu:
I think I’ve found my new favourite.

When my friend from Malaysia arrived, he brought food from home with him.

The second I saw it, I was already excited to get back and eat.

So around 9 PM, I said goodbye to everyone and headed off.

Joseph, one of the staff who came to training today and also one of my good friends, was staying at mine tonight, so we walked toward the train station together.

Our train home was twenty-five minutes away.

Personally?
Not a problem.

I had my Kindle.
A train station.
Twenty-five uninterrupted minutes.

Sounds perfect.

Joseph strongly disagreed.

Apparently waiting twenty-five minutes was unacceptable.

So he jumped onto another train that would only take him part of the way, with the plan to grab a scooter from there and make his own way to my apartment.

Honestly?
That sounded like far too much effort.

I was comfortable.
I was chilling.
I had Sword Art Online.

So I let him go.

He could optimise the journey.
I could optimise the waiting.

And I disappeared into another chapter.

When I finally got home, the first thing I did was check on Lucas.

He had been to the doctor today, so while he told me the whole story of his little medical adventure, I started unpacking some of the food my friend had brought from Malaysia.

I opened one of the packs.

The smell?

Damn.

Immediate hunger.

Tonight’s dinner:
chicken curry with potatoes.

Proper comfort food.

Only one problem.

Chicken curry obviously wants rice.

Unfortunately, rice requires cooking.

And then waiting.

At least fifteen whole minutes.

Absolutely not.

I had already waited twenty-five minutes for a train tonight.

I had reached my patience quota.

So I looked at the instant noodles.

Instant.

The clue is literally in the name.

Chicken curry with potatoes + instant noodles it is.

Traditional?

Probably not.

Efficient?

Extremely.

And honestly?

It worked.

Now I’ve finished eating.

My water bottle is full.
My tumbler is full.

Both are sitting beside my bed so I have absolutely no reason to move again.

And now I’m just going to read.
Rest.

Maybe accidentally pull another all-nighter disappearing into chapter after chapter of Sword Art Online.

Maybe stay awake long enough for Kak Nana to get home so we can finally talk.

Maybe fall asleep waiting.

And looking back at today’s Co–Star:
Stay up all night on the phone with a good friend.

Maybe the point wasn’t necessarily the phone call.

Today was full of people talking to me.

Staff trusting me with their questions.

Friends wanting to come see me.

Someone returning from Malaysia and bringing a little bit of home with him.

Kak Nana appearing again after we hadn’t properly talked in a while.

Maybe connection doesn’t always arrive through one dramatic conversation.

Sometimes it is five people sitting around a table and feeling comfortable enough to speak honestly.

Sometimes it is a friend calling because they want food and company.

Sometimes it is someone bringing curry halfway across the world.

Sometimes it is sending your sister a selfie because she just wanted to show her friends what you look like.

And maybe tonight it will actually be a phone call.

Or maybe I’ll fall asleep with my Kindle in my hand.

Either way, I think today gave me enough.

I’m going to stop writing here.

The rest can belong to tomorrow.

Today’s Co–Star said:
Start a new page. Open the windows. Clear the room.

And underneath that:
Stop rehearsing old arguments in your head. That person you keep defending yourself to? They moved on months ago. Cut the internal chatter and make room for what’s actually happening now.

That felt pretty appropriate.

I think I’ve spent enough time replaying things that have already happened.

Old conversations.
Old frustrations.

Imaginary arguments where I finally say exactly the right thing.

Maybe today didn’t need any of that.

Maybe today was just:

open the window.
clear the room.

make space for whatever is actually happening now.

There’s one more thing from last night I want to remember first.

After a few drinks, AA started getting crowded.

By then I was already three drinks deep.

And honestly, I was getting annoyed.

I’ve realised I get cranky pretty easily when places get too loud and rowdy.

Sometimes I just want to sit somewhere, have my drink, and exist in peace.

Once the room gets too packed and everybody starts getting louder, I can feel myself getting uncomfortable.

So I waited for Lucas to arrive.

Said goodbye to everyone.

Got myself an Uber home.

When I got back, I put some music on.

And apparently my body had already decided the night was over because I fell asleep almost immediately.

Which is probably why I woke up today at 4 AM.

Hello, midnight bedtime.

Apparently my body had decided:
four hours is enough.

Amazing.

I couldn’t fall back asleep, so I just rolled around in bed.

Played one or two games.

Rolled around some more.

At this point, I think I need a sleeping partner.

I had a meeting with the marketing team at 11 because today is officially the day I take over Lula’s social media.

So naturally, around 9 AM, that was the exact moment I started feeling sleepy again.

And hungry.

And desperately in need of coffee.

Unfortunately, I was also too lazy to move.

So I forced myself into these tiny little naps.

In Malaysia, we call it chicken sleep.

You know how chickens sleep?

Barely.

Just little bits at a time, waking up at every tiny sound.

That was me.

Sleep for five minutes.

Wake up.

Sleep another ten.

Wake up again.

Completely useless rest.

By 10, I knew I had to get ready if I wanted to make the meeting on time.

Somehow life still got in the way.

And by 10:45, I was calling an Uber because apparently public transport was no longer an option if I wanted to arrive at Lula’s like a responsible adult.

The meeting itself was basically about guidelines for how Lula’s should look and sound online.

The easiest way I can describe the brand is:

Rosie’s, but brighter, more refined, and more polished.
Rosie’s can be loud.
Bold.
In your face.
A little messy in a fun way.

Lula’s feels quieter.
More professional.
More premium.
More deliberate.

Which actually makes sense.

However.

Did I mention I was hungry?

Because I was.

Very.

The entire meeting:

no coffee.
no food.

And somehow I was expected to function like a normal person.

Excellent combination if the goal was to make me cranky.

After the meeting, Bee, my social media partner, started talking about the game plan.

And honestly?

I had mentally clocked out.

At that point I needed:

food,
coffee,
or alcohol.

Whichever arrived first.

I just needed something to wake me back up.

So I went back to Rosie’s and immediately ordered food.

I needed to chow something down before I chowed Bee down.

Once I had actually eaten, suddenly I could understand what she was saying again.

Amazing what food can do.

She wanted to record some content for the bottomless promotion.

Fair enough.

We did that.

Then I sat down because I still needed to refine my notes for the managers’ meeting later that evening.

At that point, I genuinely thought:

okay.

Meeting.

Finish.

Go home.

Easy.

So naturally, I started on a Jameson and cranberry.

One…

Two…

Three…

And then Steve broke the news:
our bartender couldn’t make it into work.

Of course.

And because I was already there, my immediate thought was:

what’s a few extra hours going to hurt?

Then I remembered something quite important.

I was already three drinks deep.

HAHAHAHAHAHA.

Amazing.

This is going to be a fun shift.

Around 3:30, I went into the managers’ meeting.

Nothing dramatic.

James talked through the numbers.

A few managers raised issues and concerns.

The usual.

By 4, we were done.

I was already clocked in by that point, so I just started working straight away.

Then the manager who was supposed to handle dinner said something that immediately annoyed me:
“It’s going to be a quiet shift tonight.”

Bro.
The Q word.

In hospitality.
Absolutely not.

Call me superstitious, but I literally read Co–Star every morning.

I am not above believing in cursed words.

And of course dinner ended up being ridiculously busy.

He even asked if I wanted to finish early.

But I had already looked at the bookings and knew we had a massive group coming through.

I would rather stay and help than disappear right before everything kicked off.

Good decision.

Because not only did the big booking arrive, the restaurant ended up around 80% full.

Suddenly I was running around like a headless chicken.

Shaking cocktails while trying to split bills.

Taking payments.
Taking orders.
Carrying empty plates.

Basically doing everything at once.

But honestly?

I had fun.

It has been a while since I’ve had a shift that chaotic.

Being a manager is a blessing in disguise sometimes because I usually get to stand back a little more.

Let the floor team handle service.

Jump in when something goes wrong.

Tonight we didn’t have that luxury.

I had one floor staff.

So instead of being the manager overseeing the floor, I became the other floor staff.

And weirdly, it brought back memories.

Before I was managing people, this was just what I did.

Run.
Carry.
Serve.
Fix.
Keep moving.

It was exhausting.

But when everything stayed under control and I knew I was helping hold the whole thing together, there was a strange sense of accomplishment in it.

Like remembering:
oh yeah. I can still do this.

By 8 PM, I was exhausted.

Technically, I was supposed to finish at 11.

But the chaos had died down.

The restaurant had finally become calm again.

So I cleaned and reset everything as best as I could.

Looked around.
Everything was under control.

And then I went to the other manager and basically said:
“I’m clocking off. I’m going for drinks.”

Notice:

I was not asking permission.
I was providing information.

HAHAHAHA.

In my defence, this was supposed to be my day off in the first place.

I came in for a marketing meeting.

Accidentally attended a managers’ meeting.
Accidentally became a bartender.
Accidentally became a floor staff member again.

Survived a dinner rush with one floor staff.

I think I had contributed enough to the company for one supposedly free day.

So I went to AA.

I hadn’t even finished one drink when James called me.

He asked if I could put through a Chocolate Lava Cake for him at Rosie’s.

I explained, very kindly, that I had already clocked off and that he should probably ask the staff who were actually still working.

He said okay.
Fair.

Then he invited me over to Lula’s to keep him company while he and the sound guy worked on the sound system.

And honestly?

Yeah.
I went.

Partly because I didn’t mind.
Partly because I felt like I owed him a little kindness after lashing out at him before the weekend.

They fixed the sound system.

And as part of testing the microphone, I got to hear James sing.

Unexpected bonus.

After that, nothing particularly eventful happened.

I said goodbye to James.

Got the train home.

Made myself some instant noodles.

Then helped Lucas pick up his pizza from downstairs because he is basically crippled now.

He had a scooter accident this afternoon.

His leg is swollen.

He’s sore.

And moving around is apparently difficult enough that he has been using an umbrella as support around the house.

Hello Lady Gaga in the Abracadabra music video.

At least he got me garlic bread.

I’m eating that while reading my book.

I’m in bed now.

Not sure whether I’m going to keep reading or just fall asleep.

Either option sounds fine.

And looking back, maybe today’s Co–Star was right in a way I didn’t expect.

Start a new page. Open the windows. Clear the room.

I didn’t spend today replaying old arguments.

I didn’t spend it defending myself to people who weren’t even in the room.

I was too busy.

Learning a new brand.

Taking on Lula’s socials.

Trying not to bite Bee’s head off before eating.

Doing a managers’ meeting.

Jumping back onto the floor.

Remembering what it felt like to be a floor staff member again.

Helping James.

Helping Lucas.

Coming home.

Eating noodles.

Reading.

Maybe clearing the room doesn’t always mean some dramatic emotional reset.

Maybe sometimes it just means filling the day with enough new things that the old noise finally has less space to echo.

And honestly?

I think I’ve done enough for one supposedly-off day.

So I’m going to stop writing here.

Maybe I’ll keep reading.

Maybe I’ll sleep.

Either way, tomorrow can have whatever is left.

Today’s Co–Star said:
Crying can be the first step to moving on.

And underneath that:
Stop apologizing for having feelings. That relationship or situation you’ve been trying to save? Let it break. Your tears aren’t weakness—they’re information. Someone who truly cares will stick around while you fall apart.

I actually found that message strangely soothing.

Maybe because it explained something about how I’ve been feeling lately.

I catch feelings quite easily sometimes.

Here and there.

Trying to keep things simple while simultaneously overthinking every tiny interaction.

Do I actually like this person?
Do they like me?

Am I reading too much into this?

Should I say something?
Should I back off?

What did that mean?

And suddenly something small becomes an entire internal investigation.

Maybe I don’t need to apologise for that.
Maybe having a feeling doesn’t automatically mean I need to do something about it.

I can like someone without needing to know where it is going.
I can be disappointed without turning it into a tragedy.
I can cry without deciding that everything has gone terribly wrong.

Maybe I just need to let myself feel things before trying to explain them.

Or maybe the universe is just messing with my emotions again.

Who knows.

Anyway.

I woke up around 4 this morning to a message from Dylan asking where we were last night.

I replied.

Then I remembered something very important:
I don’t start work until 5 PM today.

Yes, I’m working in Takapuna.

But surely 4 AM is still a little early to start preparing.

So I pulled the blanket back over myself and went straight back to sleep.

I woke up again around 10:30.

This time, responsibilities had arrived.

I needed to message James about my hours.

Naturally, that turned into something else.

He asked about the floor training and wanted the latest PowerPoint.

I told him it still wasn’t finished, but I’d send it through by 5.

So apparently the day had officially started.

I rolled around on the bed for a bit, grabbed my laptop, and started working.

By the time I finished everything, it was almost 2:30.

Which meant I had reached the point where procrastination officially had to end.

Shower.
Best clothes.
Get ready for Takapuna.

Lucas started work at 4, so I figured I’d head into the Viaduct with her and then walk over to Britomart to catch the bus.

Simple enough.

Work done.

Slides finished.

Now I just had to physically transport myself to the other side of Auckland.

On the bus, I kept my phone very close this time.

Learned my lesson.

No accidental sightseeing in the wrong direction today.

I got to Takapuna, started my shift, and honestly…

nothing really happened.

Dinner was so quiet that before 10 PM we had already finished closing and were out of the venue.

Very efficient.
Very uneventful.

Exactly what my brain probably needed.

Also, I should probably mention that I was absolutely not tired.

This time I brought my own jumbo tumbler to Starbucks and filled it with a six-shot vanilla iced latte.

Six shots.

In the late afternoon.

So yes.

Going straight home after work was never really a realistic outcome.

And yes, I have photographic evidence.

My giant tumbler.

My ridiculous coffee order.

My very questionable decision-making.

No wonder I wasn’t tired.

I had basically turned my Starbucks order into a personality trait.

After work, I took the NX1 bus back.

Honestly, I love this bus.

First of all, the name already sounds futuristic.

NX1.

Like I’m travelling through some cyberpunk version of Auckland.

But inside?

Completely different mood.

Blue lights.

Quiet.

Almost weirdly romantic.

Which is slightly dangerous considering today’s Co–Star message.

Crying can be the first step to moving on.

Great.

So now I’m sitting inside a romantic blue bus, heading toward the place where half my recent emotional damage seems to live.

Maybe I’ll cry.
Maybe I won’t.

Who knows.

BRB.

Might cry.

I arrived at AA and got my drink.

Jameson.

Cranberry.

Fresh lime.

Somehow it has become one of those drinks that just feels comforting.

Thanks, Steve.

And honestly, I think that’s where I want to leave today.

I’ve got my drink.

Lucas is still working.

And for once, I’m just going to sit here and enjoy the moment instead of turning it into something I need to analyse.

Tomorrow is supposed to be my day off.

Supposed to be.

I’ve got a meeting with the marketing team at Lula’s.

I still need to finalise the floor training.

I need to contact everyone and make sure they’re rostered for Wednesday.

So yes.

Apparently even on my day off, I still somehow find a way to work.

Classic.

But that can be tomorrow’s problem.

Tonight, I’m just going to finish my drink and wait for Lucas.

Maybe I won’t cry after all.

And maybe moving on doesn’t always look like some dramatic emotional release.

Maybe sometimes it is just letting yourself have the feeling.

Then getting on the bus.

Getting your favourite drink.

Sitting somewhere familiar.

And allowing the night to be simple.

Anything worth remembering from here can belong to tomorrow.

Today’s Co–Star said:
Your mind needs a break.

And underneath that:
Stop interrogating every thought that crosses your mind. You’ve been overthinking yourself into paralysis. The answers you need won’t come from more analysis — they’ll surface when you finally give your brain permission to rest.

Honestly?

Fair.

I think I’ve spent the last few days analysing everything.

Every conversation.
Every reaction.

Every friendship.
Every work decision.

Every possible consequence.

Maybe today didn’t need another answer.
Maybe today just needed space.

I was supposed to start work at 3 PM, but I really wanted to go to Vagabond first and watch the Pokémon tournament.

I asked Dylan again last night if he wanted to enter.

But he didn’t bring his deck with him, and he was closing.

Which meant he wouldn’t finish work until around 5 in the morning.

Understandable.

The man needed sleep more than he needed Pokémon.

I invited him to stay at mine, but he already had a ride home and preferred to go home instead.

Fair enough.

I woke up around 10:30 with no message from him.

So I assumed he was still asleep.

He had already told me he wasn’t really keen to come anyway.

So I did the sensible thing.

I went back to sleep too.

Around 12:30 I finally woke up again.

I had already planned to go to Vagabond, so I lazily dragged myself out of bed, got ready, and around 1:30 caught the train into the city.

The tournament had started at 1.

Obviously I was already late.

But I thought maybe I could still watch.

Learn something.
Meet some people.
Maybe make a new friend.

Who knows?

This is only the third day of my Pokémon journey.

Might as well try.

I arrived in the city around 1:40, grabbed my coffee, and made my way to Vagabond.

I also planned to buy two new packs.

Which, obviously, I did.

Apparently buying Pokémon cards is just part of my personality now.

While I was paying, I asked the shopkeeper about the tournament.

I asked if I was allowed to watch.

His answer was basically:
“If they allow you to watch, yeah, feel free.”

Okay.

Very helpful.
Not terrifying at all.

I don’t know anyone there yet.
I don’t know the etiquette.

I don’t know how strict tournaments are.
I don’t know if people like random strangers standing around watching them play.

And mind you:
this is literally day three.

So I chickened out.

I grabbed my packs and told him:
maybe another time.

And honestly?

That’s okay.

I don’t need to become a professional Pokémon player within seventy-two hours.

Instead, I went back to my lucky chair in Chancery Square and opened the two packs.

You can see what I pulled here:
Cards Pull: Sunday, 20/09/2026

After opening them, I made my way toward Rosie’s.

I arrived around 2:30.

Still half an hour before my shift.

So naturally, instead of mentally preparing myself for work, I sat down and started writing the entry about the cards I had just pulled.

Priorities.

Mariele came over and told me lunch had been insane.

Apparently there was a rugby game happening, plus some kind of conference or showcase around the city.

They served 205 people for lunch.

Two hundred and five.

I was devastated hearing this.

Because obviously my first thought was:
great.

Dinner is going to destroy us too.

Except it didn’t.

At all.

The contrast was ridiculous.

Lunch:
205

Dinner:
around 80.

Absolutely bizarre.

So most of my shift ended up being pretty uneventful.

I stood around hosting.
Finished off my training slides.

Nothing particularly dramatic happened.

Which, honestly, was probably exactly what I needed.

Our bartender couldn’t make it into work though, and we couldn’t find anybody to cover.

So Lucas had to stay back and close the bar.

Lucas and Mariele were already tired from surviving that ridiculous lunch, and we knew the rugby crowd might start coming through later.

Potentially already quite drunk.

No proper bartender.
Tired staff.

So we decided to do last call at 8:30.

Honestly?
Reasonable.

We didn’t need to prove anything.
We just needed to get through the night properly.

Before we could completely close, some of the Lula’s staff came through.

And I was very happy to see Karl.

Karl is funny.
Flirty.

And yes.

I kind of like Karl a little bit.

Maybe if I actually flirt back one day something might happen?

HAHAHAHA.

They eventually headed over to GC.

So naturally, I started planning to go there after work.

Why not?

Maybe spend a little more time with Karl.

Except by the time we finished closing and I started making my way toward GC, I ran into him halfway.

He was already going home.
He had clearly had enough to drink.

And at one point, he started kissing me.

Now.

Do I like him?

Yes.

Would part of me have probably entertained the situation under different circumstances?

Also yes.

But he was drunk.

And that is where my line is.

I’m not going to take advantage of someone whose judgement is clouded.

Because even if something feels fun in the moment, we might both wake up later and regret something that neither of us properly decided on.

So I didn’t push it.

He was going home.

I let him go home.

Maybe another day.

When everyone actually knows what they want.

After that, I made my way to AA just to have a drink.

Lucas and the others didn’t really want to keep drinking though.

They wanted to go home.

So I finished my drink.

And that was basically the end of my night.

And looking back now, I think today’s Co–Star message actually did get into my head a little bit.

But maybe in a good way.

I didn’t overthink anything.
I didn’t pressure Dylan to come to the tournament.

He wanted to sleep.
So he slept.

I didn’t force myself into watching the Pokémon match when I felt uncomfortable.
Maybe next time.

I didn’t turn a quiet dinner shift into a problem just because lunch had been busy.

I didn’t push things with Karl just because part of me wanted to.

I didn’t force the night to continue when everyone else was ready to go home.

I just…

went with it.

If something happens, it happens.

If it doesn’t, it doesn’t.

Maybe not everything needs analysing.
Maybe not every moment needs a meaning attached to it.
Maybe not every person needs to become a question.

My mind needs a break.

So I think I’m going to stop writing here.

I’m still not particularly tired.

But I also don’t think I need to fill the rest of the night with anything.

I’m just going to read my book.

And maybe somewhere between the pages,

fall asleep.

Today’s Co–Star said:
The decibel at which a person critiques you betrays the decibel at which they critique themselves.

And underneath that:
Extract what’s useful from their words, discard the venom. Their volume reveals their wounds, not your worth.

When I first read it, I almost laughed.

Because after everything that has been happening lately, I genuinely thought:
Alright.
Let’s see what people have to say about me today.

But I also made myself a promise.

Whatever happens, keep my demeanour.
Stay calm.

Don’t let somebody else decide what version of me shows up.

Before today properly started, though, there was still one thing from last night I wanted to remember.

After I stopped writing, one of my friends basically threatened me into going out.

Not actually threatened.

More like:
“If you don’t come, I’ll come pick you up from your house. I dare you.”

Apparently “I don’t feel like going out” was not being accepted as a final answer.

So yeah.

I had a shower.
Put on my best perfume combination.

Dior Sauvage + Ralph Lauren The Ralph’s Club.

Two very basic perfumes by themselves.

Together?
Dangerous.

I called an Uber and went to AA.

The second I arrived and saw how lively it was, I thought maybe this was actually the better decision.

Better than sitting alone in my room, overthinking everything.

My friend came alone, and I finally told him what had happened.

Why I had been so upset.
Why I felt like I was in such a delicate mental state.

I didn’t need him to solve anything.
I think I just needed someone outside the situation to hear it.

Then, after he finished his shift, Dylan showed up.

And I was genuinely so happy to see him.

My beloved friend.

My beloved Dylan.

Two fairly basic people in my life.

Together?

Apparently a dangerously effective combination for my happiness.

We didn’t even talk about anything particularly serious.

We mostly just sat there.

Quiet.

Existing beside each other.

And somehow that was enough.

Their presence was keeping me sane more than any advice probably could have.

Eventually Dylan decided to go home.

Fair enough.

I hadn’t invited him back to mine.
He hadn’t invited me back to his.

And after everything from the night before, I didn’t want to keep unloading more questions and emotions onto him.

He deserved his own bed.

His own space.
His own comfort.

I still texted him afterwards and admitted that I kind of wished I had followed him home because I really didn’t want to go back to mine.

He replied:
everything is fine.

Maybe that was all I needed to hear.

Then today actually started.

I woke up around 10:30 feeling exhausted.

My shift started at 12, so I knew I couldn’t go back to sleep.

But it still felt too early to properly get ready.

So I just lay there for a while.

Processing.
Thinking.

Thinking about everything that had happened.
Thinking about today’s Co–Star message.

Trying to work out what I was even feeling.

Eventually, around 11, it was time to face the music.

Shower.
Clothes.

Work.

Physically?
Prepared.

Mentally?
Absolutely not.

I didn’t even feel particularly sad or angry anymore.

Just exhausted.

Blank.

Like my brain was processing something somewhere in the background but had forgotten to tell me what.

I took the train to Waitematā and pre-ordered my coffee on the way.

Maybe coffee would cheer me up.

Nope.

I arrived at Rosie’s still dreading being there.

The restaurant was empty anyway, so I grabbed some food and told Lucas I’d start at 1 instead.

Then I sat in the office updating my Pokémon Journey and working on the layout for my card collection.

Apparently Pokémon cards are currently doing more for my mental state than employment.

I ate my food.

Around 1, the restaurant was still empty.

So I told everyone I was going for a walk.

When I came back, I spoke to James.

I apologised for lashing out at him over something that, realistically, could have been resolved pretty easily.

I told him I’m not in a particularly good mental state right now, and that was part of why my reaction became bigger than it needed to be.

He told me he understood.

He also said he would rather I lash out than bottle everything up inside.

And importantly, he acknowledged that part of the problem was his responsibility too.

That helped.

I told him the truth.

Physically, I was at work.
Mentally, I really wasn’t willing to work.

James told me that was okay.

If I didn’t want to work today, I didn’t have to.

So I asked him to put me down as annual leave.

Naturally, I then continued doing work anyway.

Because apparently taking annual leave while physically sitting inside your workplace still leaves plenty of opportunities to accidentally be productive.

The floor-training slides have been overdue for a while, so I sat in the office editing them.

When I got bored of the office, I took my laptop to Lula’s, got a drink, and continued working from there instead.

Annual leave.

Very relaxing.

Around 3:30, I knew Steve had started, so I went back to Rosie’s and told him James had approved me taking annual leave.

At least then he knew what was happening and could arrange whatever needed arranging.

By that point, I was completely done with work mentally.

So I sat in the office playing games and continuing to build my Pokémon card collection page instead.

And honestly?

I’m so proud of that page.

Maybe I wasn’t in the right headspace for work, but apparently I had plenty of energy for Pokémon.

By 6, I started wondering whether I should just go home, nap, and come back out later.

But Dylan started at 7.

And I already missed him.

Problem solved.

I decided I would just nap in the office and wait for him.

When he arrived, I gave him a quick hug and told him I was going home to sleep.

Then Lucas pointed out the obvious.

Why go all the way home just to come all the way back?

Just sleep in the office.

Fair.

So apparently Rosie’s is now also accommodation.

I also took the opportunity to properly talk to Steve.

I explained why I had been acting the way I had.

What had been bothering me.
Why my mental state had dropped so much.

The details are too personal for this blog.

They can stay mine.

But at the end of the conversation, Steve said something very simple.

“Thank you for talking to me.”

And somehow that meant a lot.

He didn’t say thank you for explaining myself.
He didn’t say thank you for solving anything.

Just:
thank you for talking to me.

It made me feel appreciated.

And honestly, looking back, today ended up being very different from what I expected when I first read my Co–Star.

I thought the day might be about criticism.

About people saying things about me.

About whether I could stay calm while somebody tested me.

But instead, today became about conversation.

James listened.
He took some responsibility too.

Steve listened.
And instead of judging me, he thanked me for trusting him enough to speak.

Maybe that is the useful part of today’s message after all.

Not everybody who speaks loudly is right.
Not everybody who criticises you deserves to live in your head.

But sometimes, if you stay calm long enough, you also get to hear the quieter things.

Understanding.
Accountability.

Thank you for talking to me.

By then, Mariele had finished her shift, so we stayed back for drinks.

I was also waiting for a friend.

And honestly, I think I’ve written enough for one day.

Whatever happens from here can belong to tomorrow.

Some nights are better lived first and written about later.