Category: Daily

Today’s Co–Star said:
Find people who will help you live a big life.

And underneath that:
Stop apologizing for wanting significance.

I liked that.

Because lately I’ve been thinking about what a “big life” actually means.

Maybe it isn’t just money.

Or status.
Or doing something dramatic enough that people notice.

Maybe a big life is also about the people around you.

People who make you want to grow.
People who calm you down.

People who encourage you.
People who make you feel safe enough to be stupid.

People who remind you that ambition is not something you need to apologise for.
People who make life feel bigger simply because they are in it.

And before today properly started, there was something from last night I wanted to remember.

At Dylan’s house, he showed me his Pokémon card binder.

I have always loved Pokémon.

I’ve wanted to collect the cards before, but I never really knew how to start.

Dylan gave me a few tips and agreed to help me get into it properly.

So apparently I now have another thing to look forward to with him.

Pokémon cards.

At almost thirty years old.

And honestly?

Who cares.

I’m going to be a Pokémon Master at 30.

Dylan arranges his binder based on the Pokémon he actually likes.

Not by value.
Not by set.

Not by whatever collectors say is “correct.”

Just by attachment.

And I think I want to do the same.

My main binder will probably start with:

Pikachu.

Charmander and its evolutions.

Bulbasaur and its evolutions.

Squirtle and its evolutions.

Then Eevee.

And every Eeveelution.

Jolteon.

Vaporeon.

Flareon.

Espeon.

Umbreon.

Leafeon.

Glaceon.

Sylveon.

There are more Pokémon I love too, obviously.

Maybe I’ll even create a page on this blog for the collection.

Take photos of the cards.

Write little notes.

Keep track of why I like them.

Where I got them.

What memory is attached to them.

I haven’t even properly started yet and I’m already excited.

And maybe that is one of the nicest things about this.

It has nothing to do with work.

Nothing to do with being productive.
Nothing to do with looking impressive.

I just like Pokémon.

That’s enough.

Then today started very simply.

I woke up around 8:30 with almost no responsibilities.

The only thing I really needed to do was download some music for the event at Rosie’s Viaduct tonight.

I wasn’t even the DJ.

Nela was playing.

But every now and then I somehow end up jumping behind the decks with her, so I figured I should at least be prepared.

Very responsible of me.

Unfortunately, it was cold.

The bed was warm.

And downloading music suddenly felt considerably less important.

So I pulled myself deeper under the covers and went back to sleep.

I woke up again around noon.

Hungry.

Okay.

Now the day could start.

First problem:
I apparently had no nice pants clean for work.

And with the big bosses around tonight, maybe today wasn’t the day to test exactly how casual I could get away with being.

So I put some pants in the washing machine.

Reheated garlic bread.

Made myself another whole jug of tea because apparently I still refuse to make tea in normal human quantities.

Then I sat down and started finding music.

Downloading whatever felt right for tonight.

House.

Things with energy.

Things I might want just in case Nela eventually handed me the decks.

Once the pants went into the dryer, everything started moving properly.

Shower.
Songs onto USB.

Get dressed.
Get ready.

And today I wore I Will by Giorgio Armani.

Hello, Jonathan Bailey.

The fragrance is still new enough that not everybody is wearing it yet.

So if there was ever a day to try and smell impressive, today was probably the day.

Big bosses around.

Might as well commit.

I also grabbed some cold medicine for a friend before heading out.

Then straight onto the train.

I still love this train.

It is so fast that I can leave home at the last possible minute and still convince myself I am organised.

Dangerous knowledge.

And of course:
five-shot coffee.

Big bosses are around.

“A” game.

Arrived at work.

Prepared for everyone important to arrive.

And then…

nothing much happened.

All that preparation.
All that caffeine.
All that perfume.

And service was just service.

But as the shift went on, I could feel myself getting tired.

More irritable.

Getting annoyed at little things.

Normally, if I’m feeling off during a shift, there are certain little habits I use to reset myself.

But with the big bosses around, I had to behave.

So naturally, I ran over to Lula’s for a quick pick-me-up drink.

Professionalism.

HAHAHAHA.

Then tonight’s event actually gave me something I cared about.

It was Jamie Freeman’s leaving party.

I never really had a proper work relationship with Jamie.

But James always spoke highly of him.
Jules did too.
Courtney too.

And from the little I’ve seen myself, I understand why.

Jamie makes an effort to know your name before speaking to you.

That might sound like such a small thing.

But to me, it isn’t.

There is something incredibly respectful about someone making the effort to know who you are.

Even if they have to ask someone else first.

It says:
I know you are a person, not just someone standing in front of me.

I respect that a lot.

At Lisa’s leaving party, I had asked Jamie what kind of music he listened to.

His answer was immediate.

House music.

So this morning, when I was going through the DJ pool, I downloaded as much interesting house music as I could find.

Just in case.

And of course, eventually Nela asked me to cover her while she went for some fresh air, used the bathroom, and took a quick break.

The second she handed me the decks?

BPM changed.
Genre changed.

House.

Nela works for a DJ company, so she has strict rules about what she can and cannot play.

She has a brand to follow.

I don’t.

Nobody has put those restrictions on me.

So I thought:
this is Jamie’s leaving party.

Why not play something Jamie actually likes?

And then Jamie started dancing.

Reacting to the music.
Enjoying himself.

Perfect.

That was all the validation I needed.

If anything comes back to me tomorrow, I already know my defence.

It was Jamie’s leaving party. I played something Jamie loved.

And honestly?

I stand by that.

Later, Dylan dropped a keg on his leg.

I felt awful for him.

Part of me wished I had the energy to close the bar for him.

But I didn’t.

I wasn’t really in the mood.

And I still wanted to keep playing music.

That’s the honest version.

So once everything I needed to do was finished, I clocked out at around 9:45 and went back to the decks with Nela.

Then Jamie came over and asked for a song.

One problem.

I didn’t have it.

So I left the decks.

Grabbed my laptop.

Found the track.

Put it onto my USB.

And played it as the final song of the night.

I’m really glad I did.

Jamie loved it.

And if tonight was meant to be about him, then ending the night with the song he actually requested felt right.

A proper ending.

His group invited me to keep the night going at Danny Doolan’s afterwards.

And I probably could have.

But I looked at Dylan.

I knew he wanted to go home.

He was staying at mine tonight anyway because he opens tomorrow.

So we finished our drinks.

Got an Uber.

Went home.

And then Dylan discovered something apparently unacceptable about me:
I have never watched Shrek.

So we ordered food.
Put the movie on.

And apparently I am now having a Shreking session.

Honestly, that feels like a pretty good way to end the day.

Today started with Co–Star telling me:
Find people who will help you live a big life.

And maybe I spent the day thinking a big life had to mean ambition.

Responsibility.

More management.
More DJing.

More opportunities.
More growth.

And yes, maybe some of it does.

Maybe James trusting me with more things is part of it.

Maybe getting behind the decks and playing something specifically for Jamie is part of it.

Maybe caring enough to remember what someone likes is part of it.

Maybe learning something new like Pokémon card collecting is part of it.

But maybe a big life also contains very small things.

Someone showing you their card binder.

A friend teaching you how to start a hobby.

Making sure someone’s leaving party sounds like them.

Going home instead of extending the night.

Ordering food.

Watching Shrek for the first time with someone you care about.

Maybe the right people don’t just push you toward bigger things.

Maybe sometimes they make the small things feel bigger too.

And maybe that’s enough for tonight.

I’m going to stop writing.

Eat.

Watch the movie.

Let Dylan make fun of me for apparently missing a critical piece of human culture.

The rest can wait until tomorrow.

Today’s Co–Star said:
Believe that it is all possible.

And underneath that:
Those abandoned projects weren’t failures—just premature attempts.

I liked that.

Because maybe some things don’t fail.

Maybe sometimes I just try them at the wrong time
Maybe I’m not ready yet.

Maybe the situation isn’t ready yet.
Maybe the obstacle is real, but temporary.

And maybe “I couldn’t do it then” doesn’t automatically mean “I can’t do it now.”

That felt like a nice way to start the day.

But before today really started, there was one thing from last night I wanted to keep.

After I stopped writing, I arrived at AA.

And before I even ordered anything, Wilson handed me a drink.

Maybe my friend had ordered it for me.

Maybe Wilson knew I was coming and made it straight away.

Honestly, I don’t know.

But I loved it.

I think one of the ways I feel cared for is when somebody remembers what I like without me having to ask.

Not because I expect people to read my mind.

It’s the fact that they noticed.

They remembered.
They thought of me before I had to say anything.

There is something about that which makes me feel incredibly appreciated.

Seen.

Maybe that sounds slightly demanding when I put it like that.

But I don’t think the thing itself has to be big.

It could literally just be a drink.

What matters is the feeling behind it:
I remembered you.

And maybe that explains part of the way I treat customers too.

I try to remember them.

What they drink.
What they like.
What they don’t like.

The little things.

Because if Wilson handing me a drink before I even asked could make me feel this good, then maybe remembering somebody else’s little preferences makes them feel the same way.

Maybe hospitality, at its best, is simply another way of saying:
I remembered you.

Then today actually began.

And I woke up to approximately seven thousand work messages.

James was asking when would be the best time to meet with the marketing team so we could go through guidelines for Lula’s social media.

He had also reviewed my staff-training slides.

Which means:

More reviewing.
More editing.

Great.

Then people started replying to the group chat about their availability for the rescheduled floor training, so I had to put all of that into my notes too.

What a beautiful morning.

Eventually, nobody needed anything from me.

So I opened Magic Chess.

Played one game.

Finished it.

Looked at my life.

And decided:
actually, I need to sleep again.

So I did.

Then I woke up because James called me.

Again.

This time he wanted me to pick something up from a printing shop.

At that point I gave up on pretending the day hadn’t started.

Fine.

I’m awake.

I watched an episode of The Cat and the Dragon, which is currently my favourite anime.

Had a shower.

Tried to calm myself down before another manager meeting.

Apparently today was just management from every direction.

Messages.
Reviews.
Scheduling.
Meetings.
Errands.
More meetings.

At some point I started thinking:
maybe this is what moving up actually looks like.

Not some dramatic promotion montage.
Just more people calling you because something needs doing.

After the manager meeting, I had to sit down for a while and reset.

Then go into the city.

Pick something up for James.

Go to Rosie’s.

Sit down with him again and go through the training slides.

One thing after another.

And weirdly, I don’t hate that.

It’s tiring.

But there is something satisfying about being trusted.

Maybe responsibility doesn’t always arrive with some big announcement.

Maybe sometimes it arrives as:
“Can you handle this?”

And then another thing.
And another.

Until one day you realise people have quietly started relying on you more than they used to.

Maybe that is what moving up looks like while it is actually happening.

Then later, the day softened.

Yesterday, I had made plans with Mariele and Dylan to come to Rosie’s Takapuna.

Lucas was working there.

Dylan already lives on the North Shore.

And I really wanted to try their Peach Bomb on tap.

So that was the plan.

And eventually, there I was.

Sitting at Rosie’s Takapuna.

Writing.
Drinking.
Existing.

And honestly, I love the energy there.

After spending the whole day being pulled around by work, it felt good to end up somewhere I had actually chosen to be.

Same company.
Same brand.

Completely different feeling.

Takapuna has this calmness to it that Viaduct doesn’t.

The space feels slower.

The beach is nearby.

Everything feels softer.

And I realised I could happily just sit there and write for ages.

Maybe it’s funny that after an entire day of management, meetings and Rosie’s-related errands, my idea of relaxing was apparently:
go to another Rosie’s.

But this didn’t feel like work.

I was there because I wanted to be.

And then there was Dylan.

I think I’ve started loving hanging out with him more.

After everything that happened, there is something about him that feels peaceful to me.

He just does his own thing.
He works.

He doesn’t seem overly concerned with what people say about him.
He doesn’t perform himself for anybody.

He is just Dylan.

And I respect that.

Maybe I’m imagining it, but he also seems a little more caring toward me lately.

Maybe he knows more about what I’ve been going through.
Maybe part of him feels responsible for some of it.

Maybe none of that is true.

I don’t know.

And I don’t want to write a story for him that he hasn’t told me himself.

That feels important after everything I’ve been learning lately.

I can notice something.
I can wonder about it.

But I don’t have to turn my interpretation into fact.

I just know that being around him feels good.

Simple.
Quiet.
Easy.

And maybe I just started loving him too.

Not in some dramatic way.
Not in a way that needs a label.

Just that quiet kind of love where someone slowly becomes important before you even realise it has happened.

Maybe love isn’t always this huge thing that announces itself.

Maybe sometimes it’s just:

I like having you around.
I feel peaceful when you’re here.
I care what happens to you.

I’m happy when you’re happy.

And then one day you realise those feelings have grown into something you don’t really have another word for.

The rest of the night ended at Dylan’s house.

And I think I want to leave it there.

Nothing I need to analyse.
Nothing I need to turn into a lesson.
Nothing I need to explain just because I’ve gotten used to explaining everything.

Maybe that is part of today’s Co–Star message too.

Believe that it is all possible.

Maybe possibility doesn’t always look like some huge new beginning.

Maybe sometimes it looks like responsibility slowly increasing.

A new venue trusting me with more.
A boss asking more from me because he knows I can handle it.
A project I thought was just helping with social media becoming something bigger.

Someone remembering my drink before I ask.

A friendship becoming more important.
A place becoming more familiar.
A version of myself becoming more capable.

Maybe I’m already doing things that would have felt impossible to me not that long ago.

And maybe the important part is noticing that.

I don’t know exactly where any of this is going.

With work.
With Lula’s.

With DJing.
With people.

With Dylan.
With myself.

But for once, I don’t think I need to know yet.

Maybe I don’t need the full plan.

Maybe I just need to leave enough room for things to become possible.

And tonight, I’m going to stop writing here.

I’m at Dylan’s.

I’m comfortable.

I’m happy to be here.

That can be enough.

I opened Co–Star this morning and today’s message felt less like advice and more like a warning.

Sometimes you want things that are bad for you.

Underneath that, it talked about being drawn toward something that promises instant relief but creates long-term chaos.

And honestly?

Maybe I have been wanting a lot lately.

Wanting answers.
Wanting people.
Wanting things to happen faster.
Wanting certain feelings to disappear.
Wanting certain other feelings to become real.

So maybe today wasn’t a day for making moves.

Maybe it was a day for asking:
Do I actually want this?

Or do I just want the feeling I think it will give me?

That seems like an important difference.

Anyway.

The rest of the morning was very glamorous.

Laundry.
Tea.
PowerPoint.

I put some delicate clothes into the wash because I wanted to wear one of them to work later.

Then I noticed how much other laundry I also need to do.

Future problem.

I made myself a whole jug of tea because apparently one cup has never really been enough for me.

Go big or go home.

Except I was already home.

So I just went big at home.

Then I sat down with the tea and finished the slides for the floor-staff training we were supposed to do tomorrow.

Sent them to my bosses.

Checked the availability poll.

One person was available.

Amazing.

So I guess we are rescheduling.

Again.

Management.

Very exciting.

I was working at Rosie’s Takapuna tonight, which meant about an hour on the bus.

At first I thought:
there goes an hour of my evening.

Then I tried not to stare at my phone.

I looked outside instead.

And honestly?

New Zealand is beautiful.

The weather was warm.
The sunlight came through the glass.

Not too cold.
Not too hot.

Just one of those temperatures where everything feels easy.

And I realised I actually like travelling.

Even if the destination is work.

Which is ironic, because my attempt to enjoy the journey almost completely sabotaged the journey.

I knew there were supposed to be six stops before mine.

So instead of checking Maps, I counted them in my head.

One.

Two.

Three.

Eventually I got to seven and looked around.

This does not look familiar.

Opened my phone.

Same bus number.

Wrong direction.

Amazing.

Apparently this is the danger of trying to reduce screen time.

You become so present that you end up in the wrong suburb.

I immediately called Courtney, the Business Leader at Rosie’s Takapuna, and told her what happened.

She just laughed.

Told me not to worry.

And then something happened that I really want to remember.

The sun came out from behind the clouds.

It hit me straight in the face.

Warm.
Bright.
Comforting.

And I felt instantly lighter.

Maybe taking the wrong bus was exactly the detour I needed.

I was supposed to be annoyed.

Instead, I sat there with the sunlight on my face feeling weirdly cheerful and hopeful.

While I was waiting, I was listening to Constant Companion by Sam Smith.

And for some reason I related to it in a way I hadn’t expected.

Not as a song about another person.

About this.

The blog.
The memories.
The feelings.

Even the painful ones.

Maybe they are my constant companions.

Not because I want to carry pain forever.

But because once something happens to me, it becomes part of the person I am becoming.

At first, a memory hurts.

Then maybe it becomes context.
Then maybe it becomes a lesson.
Then maybe one day I look back and think:
that hurt me once.

And it still taught me something.

Maybe memory is not something I need to escape.
Maybe I just need to learn how to carry it differently.

Then the bus came.

And guess what?

It was the exact same bus that had taken me the wrong way.

It had finished the route.

Gone all the way around.

And came back for me.

Honestly, what is the philosophy of that?

Maybe sometimes the thing that takes you in the wrong direction isn’t gone forever.
Maybe you just have to get off.

Let it complete its cycle.

And when it comes back around, maybe it can finally take you somewhere better.

Or maybe it is just Auckland public transport being Auckland public transport.

Either way, I’m choosing the poetic version.

A wrong turn doesn’t mean the journey is ruined.

Sometimes you just reroute.

I finally reached my stop feeling sleepy, so obviously I ordered coffee.

Four shots.

Standard.

Then I arrived at Rosie’s Takapuna and Courtney started laughing at me.

Apparently the whole wrong-bus thing was very funny to her.

Fair.

The shift itself was actually really good.

Slow.
Calm.

Almost peaceful.

Time moved ridiculously slowly, but I didn’t mind.

One thing I love about Rosie’s Takapuna is how easy the whole place feels to manage.

The restaurant is small enough that I can almost stand in one spot and see everything.

Very different from Rosie’s Viaduct.

The staff are easier too.

If I ask the waiter in a section whether they’ve done a meal check, they just follow the instruction.

I’m not asking because I want to micromanage them.

I’m asking because I’ve worked in hospitality long enough to read body language.

I can tell when a table needs attention.
I can tell when something feels slightly wrong before anyone says anything.

I care about the customer.

That’s why I ask.

I also met Courtney’s new hire, Kate.

She was lovely.

Bubbly.
Cheerful.

Exactly the kind of energy I love in staff.

There is something about a person who naturally brings light into a room.

And I found myself thinking:
please don’t let Rosie’s take that out of you.

Keep that attitude.

I hope you do well here.
I hope you keep that warmth.
I hope you succeed.

Maybe that sounds dramatic for someone I just met.

But I genuinely want good people to stay good.

Takapuna itself feels different too.

Beautiful.
Calm.
Slow.

Right beside the beach.

And during closing, once the music was turned off, I could hear the waves crashing somewhere in the distance.

For a few seconds, I just stood there.

No crowd.
No music.
No problem to solve.

Just the sound of the ocean.

I think I understand why I like this venue.

It feels like work can breathe here.

Then, on the walk to the bus stop after the shift, I looked around and noticed the lights.

The empty walkway.
The colours.
The way everything looked against the dark.

Nothing extraordinary was happening.

I was literally just going home.

But it was beautiful.

And I loved it.

Maybe I’m starting to understand that a journey doesn’t have to be exciting to be beautiful.

Maybe that is true about a lot of things.

A bus ride.
A slow shift.

Laundry.
Tea.

A night walk.

The things that seem like wasted time.

Maybe they are not wasted at all.

At the start of today, Co–Star warned me that sometimes I want things that are bad for me.

And I think I understood that as:
be careful what you chase.

But maybe today also reminded me that I don’t always need to chase anything.

Sometimes the thing I need is already happening.

Warm sunlight through a bus window.

A song that suddenly means something different.
A wrong bus coming back around.

A quiet restaurant by the beach.
A new staff member with a beautiful attitude.

Waves in the dark.
Pretty lights on the way home.

Nothing huge.
Nothing dramatic.

Just enough.

I’m on my way back to the Viaduct now to meet some of the staff.

Maybe I’ll stay for a drink or two.
Maybe I’ll go straight home.

I don’t know yet.

But I’m going to stop writing here.

Whatever happens after this can belong to tomorrow.

For now, I’m just going to enjoy the rest of the night.

Today is my day off.

And somehow, before I had even properly started the day, I was already thinking about yesterday.

Yesterday felt wrong.

Nothing catastrophic happened.

But everything felt slightly off.

I was tired.
Clumsy.
Dropping things.
Kicking tables.

My energy felt strange.

And even though the shift eventually became easier, I think some part of me carried that weird feeling into today.

Then I opened Co–Star.

The line it gave me was:
Anxiety is a defensive turn of your imagination.

And that felt uncomfortably accurate.

Because sometimes anxiety is not about what is happening.

It’s about what I think might happen.

Rehearsing problems before they exist.
Preparing myself for something I can’t even name.
Waiting for yesterday’s bad feeling to prove itself right.

Maybe that’s why today started with a little tension in me.

---

But before I get into today, there’s something from yesterday I forgot to write down.

During my break, I went over to Lula’s for one quick drink.

I’ve been trying to spend more time there lately.

Talking to the staff.
Learning the room.
Taking in the environment.

If I’m going to become part of Lula’s family soon, I want them to be familiar with me before I officially become part of the team.

And I want the place to feel familiar to me too.

While I was heading outside for a cigarette, a little boy, maybe eight or ten, was walking in with his mum.

The walkway was narrow, so I stopped to let them pass first.

He was busy talking to her and almost walked straight into me.

Then, a few steps later, he realised what happened.

He stopped.
Turned around.
Looked at me.

And said, in this tiny polite voice:
“I’m sorry.”

I don’t know why, but that genuinely touched me.

After my cigarette, I went back inside looking for him.

I found him sitting with his mum on the seaside deck.

Just the two of them.

Talking.
Smiling.

The manager noticed I was looking around and asked what I was doing, so I told her about the little gentleman outside.

She immediately knew who I meant.

Apparently he had been incredibly polite all night.

And then she told me something that somehow made the whole thing even sweeter:
he was taking his mum out for dinner.

He had been to Lula’s before.

Loved it.

And wanted to bring her back so they could sit by the water together.

Mate.
My heart.

Technically, I don’t even work at Lula’s yet.

So I couldn’t exactly walk over and start comping their food like I would at Rosie’s.

But I knew immediately that these are the kinds of people I would want to keep.

The kind of guests I would want as regulars.
The kind I would remember.

So I told the manager:
whatever dessert that little gentleman orders, put it on a tab.

I’ll pay for it later.

Maybe that says something about me.

I don’t think I know how to stop being hospitable just because I’m technically on a break.

And maybe I don’t want to.

---

Later today, I was getting ready to go to a leaving gathering at The Zookeeper’s Son.

One of the managers in the company, Lisa, was leaving.

I had never actually worked with her.

That’s what made the invitation feel so meaningful.

She had asked Jules to invite me.

Me.

Not everyone.

Maybe one or two other people too, but still.

I’m not close with Lisa.

We’ve only had a handful of interactions.

And yet she remembered me.

That felt incredible.

Because I don’t treat people differently just because they have a title.

Owner.
CEO.
Manager.
Customer.

I genuinely don’t care.

If anything, I probably care more about the paying customer because they are the reason the venue exists in the first place.

People from the company can come in, eat, drink, use the company card.
Technically they are a liability to the venue.

HAHAHAHA.

But seriously.

I don’t believe in changing how I treat someone depending on how much power they have.

If you walk through my door, I will treat you properly.

That’s it.

So the fact that someone from another venue remembered the way I treated her enough to want me at her leaving gathering?

That meant a lot.

On the way there, I finally got to use the new train line.

I have basically watched this thing being built for the entire time I’ve lived in New Zealand.

When I moved here three years ago, they were already working on it.

Construction everywhere.
Businesses disrupted.
Roads changed.

And now it is finally open.

So obviously I was going to use it immediately.

My nearest station is Maungawhau.

Five minutes from home.

Then straight to Waitematā.

Another five-minute walk to Rosie’s.

I genuinely feel like I just unlocked part of Auckland.

Work.
The city.
Karanga-a-hape.

All suddenly easier to reach.

Was it worth the three-year wait?

Oh yes.

---

At the gathering, of course I ended up talking to Jules.

Jules is my workplace mum.

She is one of the people I trust most when it comes to anything affecting me mentally at work.

If something happens around Rosie’s, she is usually one of the first people I want to talk to.

I ask for her advice.
I trust her judgement.
I trust that she understands how much the venue means to me.

And part of why I don’t completely panic when things happen at work is because I know I have her in my corner.

I don’t usually bring her the deeply personal parts of my life.

Maybe one day that will change.

For now, this is enough.

While I was talking to her about everything that has been circling around me lately, it suddenly started raining.

I tried to pull her under the roof.

She didn’t move.
She said she liked it.

She said:
“It feels like the world is crying with us.”

And I related to that immediately.

Here we were talking about all this mess.

All this pain.

Everything that had been sitting on my chest.

And suddenly it was raining.

Like the world had decided to join the conversation.

Then later, I saw a rainbow.

And I really wish I had a photo of it.

But I didn’t take one.

I had been trying to stay off my phone.

Trying to be in the moment.

So I just watched it.

And after Jules had told me the rain felt like the world crying with us,

I told her maybe the rainbow meant something too.

Maybe it was the universe telling us that everything would be fine.

Not literally.

I don’t know if the universe sends messages.

But I liked the thought.

Rainbows only come after rain.

There’s something beautiful in that.

Maybe pain and hope are allowed to exist in the same story.
Maybe things don’t have to stop hurting before something beautiful appears beside them.

I missed the photo.
But I kept the memory.

And maybe that is enough.

---

I left the gathering more emotional than I expected.

I never worked with Lisa.

But I knew how much Jules trusted her.
How much Jules respected her.
How much Jules loved her.

And I tend to love the people that the people I trust love.

Maybe that sounds strange.

But I trust Jules’s judgement.

So while I had the opportunity, I asked Lisa for advice.

I love doing that.

Whenever I meet someone with more experience than me, I want to hear how they see things.

Not because I automatically believe they know everything.
But because every perspective gives me another way to become better.

We talked about the company.

Rosie’s.
Me.
Things happening around the venues.

Some of what she told me can stay with me.

Not everything needs to be written here.

But what mattered was that she cared enough to tell me.

Lisa didn’t have to care about Rosie’s.
It wasn’t her venue.

She was leaving the company.
She could have very easily looked at everything happening and said:
not my problem anymore.

But she didn’t.

The way she spoke made it obvious that she had been watching.

Thinking.
Caring.

She wanted other venues to thrive even when she was walking away.

That told me more about the kind of leader she was than any title ever could.

Lisa.
Former Business Leader of The Zookeeper’s Son.

One of the good ones.

And I think that is partly why I left feeling so emotional.

Maybe I saw something in her that I want to become.

Someone who cares beyond the limits of her own venue.
Her own shift.
Her own position.

---

Later, I went back to Rosie’s.

Which is funny, because I’ve been telling myself that I should probably spend more time away from work people.

But one day without them was apparently enough.

I love them.

Maybe I don’t need to get away from them.
Maybe I just need to remember that sometimes they are my friends before they are my coworkers.

Tonight, nobody needed fixing.

We drank.
Talked shit.
Laughed.
Had fun.

And I realised I needed that too.

We’ve all been through so much shared chaos together.

Maybe that is part of why we are so close.

Sometimes the whole friendship can be explained with:
you had to be there.

And tonight I related so much to Don’t Rein Me In by Sam Fender and Olivia Dean.

I have spent so much time containing myself.

Manager.
Mediator.
Responsible one.

Tonight I just wanted to exist with my people without feeling responsible for every emotion in the room.

At one point though, something happened that made my brain start running again.

The security guard I like was hanging out with the girl who has become deeply tied to all the mess I’ve been dealing with lately.

The mess that had me hating myself.

Hating my life.
Feeling like shit.

And I didn’t like seeing them together.

I could feel that immediately.

Maybe it was jealousy.
Maybe resentment.
Maybe fear that the same drama would somehow spread again.

She seemed to be talking to him about her ex.

And my first reaction was not generous.

But then I had to remind myself:
I don’t actually know what is happening.

They might just be talking.
He might be listening.

He might like her.
He might not.

It is too early for me to decide what any of it means.

And I’m not going to interfere.

I like him.

A lot.

But apparently he has already told people who know I like him that he doesn’t “swing” this way.

And I have to respect that.

Liking someone doesn’t give me the right to stop them from getting what they want.

If something happens between them, I genuinely hope it goes well.

I just hope I never end up in the position of thinking:
I knew this would happen.

But I’m not going to write the ending before the story has actually happened.

---

Then, after Rosie’s closed, we all went to AA.

Our favourite place.

And thankfully, the night became stupid again.

At some point I asked Alisha, one of the managers there, whether she knew
“the Asian guy who always hangs around here.”

I told her I thought he was attractive.

I didn’t even realise we were talking about the same person,
but apparently there is a manager at Somm Wine Bar nearby who fits the description.

And some of the Somm staff happened to be hanging around AA.

Alisha did not hesitate.

She went straight to them and asked.

No subtlety.
No shame.
No build-up.

Just straight into investigation mode.

So…

I guess this Thursday I have something else to look forward to besides my DJ set. 😜

---

And then I stopped writing for a while.
Actually stopped.

Put the phone down.

Sat there.

And that was when I really noticed the DJ.

He was good.

Really good.

Not in the way where every song was some huge banger.
In the way where every song somehow felt like the right one.

When I stopped typing and sat there quietly, something more melancholic came on.
When I started texting my friend and my energy lifted a little, the music did too.

I have no idea whether he was actually reading me specifically.
Probably not.

Maybe I was just attaching meaning to the songs because they matched my mood so perfectly.

But either way, the energy felt right.

And as a DJ myself, I respected that so much.

Because good DJs don’t just play songs.

They make the room feel understood.

And maybe that was exactly what I needed at the end of today.

Not another person asking me what was wrong.
Not another conversation to solve.
Not another explanation.

Just music that somehow knew when to sit with me and when to lift me.

And I think I want to end the entry there.

Because I caught myself looking at my screen again.

Writing.
Documenting.

Trying to capture every little thing before it disappeared.

But there were people around me.

Real people.

Talking.
Laughing.
Living.

And I didn’t want to spend another night physically present while my attention was somewhere else.

Anything else worth remembering can belong to tomorrow.

For now, I’m putting the phone away.

I’m going to listen to the DJ.
I’m going to look at the people around me.
I’m going to let the rest of tonight happen without narrating it.

Maybe anxiety is a defensive turn of the imagination.

Maybe music is what brings me back into the room.

I opened Co–Star when I woke up today.

The message was:
You don’t have to convince anyone that you’re smart.

And underneath it was another line I liked:
Let them impress themselves while you get things done.

I don’t know whether the universe was actually trying to prepare me for anything.

Probably not.

But I liked the reminder.

I don’t need to win every argument.
I don’t need everybody to agree with me.
I don’t need to prove that I understand something just because somebody else thinks differently.

Sometimes I can say what I think, listen to what somebody else thinks, and leave it there.

Which, as it turns out, became relevant almost immediately.

Because last night, after I finally clocked out from everything, another piece of relationship news landed in my lap.

Apparently it really is break-up season.

One of the security guards we had working told me that he and his girlfriend had broken up.

And weirdly enough, I had served them during what ended up being their last date night.

Now,

before anybody gets the wrong idea,

I am not happy that somebody’s relationship ended.

A breakup is still a breakup.

Someone is probably hurting.

But…

if the universe is currently taking requests…

and there were ever a chance for something to happen between me and him…

I would not complain.

At all.

He is very much my type.

And from what I know of him, he seems sweet.

Kind.
Caring.

All extremely dangerous qualities to show me right now.

I asked him a question that was probably far too personal:
“Why did you break up?”

And, surprisingly, he actually told me.

The answer led us into a conversation about gender and pronouns.

I gave him my opinion.
And I know it is an opinion that some people would strongly disagree with.

There are parts of modern conversations around gender identity that I genuinely struggle to understand.

I have my own way of thinking about sex and gender.

Other people have theirs.

I can respect somebody’s right to identify however they feel comfortable, and I’m happy to address somebody respectfully, even if my personal understanding of the subject is different from theirs.

But I also don’t think respect should require either person to pretend they believe exactly the same thing.

Maybe that’s the important part for me.

I can say:
I see this differently.

And someone else can say:
So do I.

And neither of us necessarily has to turn the other into an enemy.

Maybe Co–Star had a point today.

I don’t have to convince anybody.
And they don’t have to convince me.

Anyway.

Enough philosophy.

Coffee.

My normal coffee order is already slightly questionable.

Four shots is basically standard.

If I wake up exhausted and know I have a long shift ahead of me?

Six.

Sometimes seven.

Which sounds ridiculous when I write it down.

But in my defence, I used to work at Starbucks.

I think being a barista permanently damaged my ability to be intimidated by espresso.

One day, the barista making my coffee actually asked whether I was okay because I ordered six shots.

I just told her:
“Long day.”

After that, I think she stopped being surprised.

Now it’s probably just:
Oh. Him again.

HAHAHAHA.

Then something else happened today that reminded me that leaving social media doesn’t necessarily mean losing the connections that existed through it.

There’s a Malaysian woman here who makes homemade nasi kerabu.

I ordered from her a long time ago after seeing one of her posts.

Now that I’m not really on Facebook anymore, she actually messaged me directly to ask whether I wanted some again.

Obviously.

Yes.

I ordered two.

One for me.
One for my friend.

Originally I was supposed to travel all the way to Sylvia Park to collect them.

Which I was mentally preparing myself for.

Then she told me her husband was already coming into town and could drop mine off along the way.

Thank God.

Nasi kerabu without the Sylvia Park mission.

Instant improvement to the day.

And then I got to work.

Something felt wrong almost immediately.

Not dramatically wrong.
Nothing terrible happened.

I just felt…

off.

I kept kicking tables.
Dropping things from trays.
Dropping things from tables.
Dropping things from my hands.

At one point I think gravity just personally decided it had a problem with me.

And even aside from the clumsiness, I could feel that my usual energy wasn’t there.

My vibe was off.

I was tired.

I didn’t really know why.

And that bothered me slightly because lately I’ve been trying to understand my emotions more clearly.

But maybe today wasn’t a day that needed understanding.

Maybe today was simply an off day.

No explanation.
No dramatic cause.
No lesson.

Just:
I don’t really like today.

And apparently that is allowed too.

Fortunately, I had nasi kerabu.

Everyone at work immediately became fascinated by one specific thing:

the rice was blue.

Which made me laugh because it’s such a normal thing to me.

But watching people encounter Malaysian traditional food and immediately stare at the rice like:
WHY IS IT BLUE?

was genuinely funny.

At least I had good food.

And maybe something familiar from home was exactly what I needed on a day where everything else felt slightly strange.

The rest of the shift actually went by pretty easily.

Nothing particularly dramatic happened.

My energy never completely transformed into some amazing mood.

But the day softened.

And by the end of it, I started wondering what I wanted to do afterwards.

Maybe I wouldn’t drink tonight.
Maybe I’d get drunk.

Maybe I’d go somewhere.
Maybe I’d go home.

I genuinely didn’t know.

And then I realised something.

I had been writing all day.

Recording everything.

Thinking about everything.

Trying to preserve how everything felt.

Which I love.

This blog has become important to me because putting my thoughts somewhere means they don’t have to keep taking up space in my head.

But at some point, documenting life can also become another way of standing slightly outside of it.

So I decided to stop.

Not permanently.
Just for the night.

I didn’t need to know how the rest of today would fit into the story yet.
I didn’t need to decide whether tonight would become meaningful.
I didn’t need to predict what mood I’d be in.
I didn’t even need to know whether I was going to drink.

I just wanted to put myself out there.

And see what happened.

Maybe that is what today’s message actually meant to me.
You don’t have to convince anyone.

Maybe that includes myself.

I don’t need to convince myself that every day has meaning.
I don’t need to turn every feeling into an explanation.
I don’t need to defend every opinion until somebody agrees with me.
I don’t need to prove that an off day was secretly a good day.

Sometimes I can just say:
today felt weird.

The coffee was strong.
The nasi kerabu was good.
The rice confused everyone.
I dropped everything I touched.

And now I’m going outside.

The rest can happen without me narrating it.

I opened Co–Star when I woke up today.
I haven’t been checking it consistently, but I think I want to start.
Not because I believe astrology should dictate my life.

It shouldn’t.

But I like the idea of letting it give me a thought to carry through the day.

Today’s message was:
Let it be messy.

And underneath that:
Stop trying to solve your emotions. They’re signals, not problems.

That felt relevant.

Because lately, I’ve spent so much time trying to understand everything.

Why I feel something.
Why someone else feels something.
What caused a problem.

Who is right.
Who is wrong.

What needs to be fixed.
What I should do next.

Maybe sometimes I don’t need an answer immediately.
Maybe sometimes I can just feel something and let it exist.

So I decided that starting today, maybe these entries can revolve around whatever Co–Star gives me in the morning.

Not as a prediction.

More like a question.

Co–Star gives me the sentence.

My actual life gets to decide what it means.

And weirdly enough, today started making sense before it had even properly begun.

Because last night, after everything that had been happening, I made a decision:

We weren’t going drinking.
We weren’t going somewhere loud.
We weren’t going to keep chasing the night.
We went home.

I invited friends over.

Ordered almost $100 worth of food.
Rented Kung Fu Panda.
And watched a movie.

That’s it.

It sounds incredibly boring.

And it was.

In the best possible way.

I realised that I had seen so many clips from Kung Fu Panda on Instagram Reels and TikTok that I almost felt like I had watched the movie already.

Funny scenes.
Memes.
Quotes.

Little moments cut out of context.

But watching the whole thing was completely different.

The jokes were funnier because I understood what led to them.
The characters made more sense.
The emotional parts actually landed.
And yes, some parts were boring.

But I think that made the movie better too.

Because if you want to understand a whole story, you have to sit through the parts that aren’t exciting.

The boring parts.
The awkward parts.
The painful parts.

You can’t skip all of them and still pretend you understand the whole thing.

And then I realised how ironic that thought was.

Because I’ve been doing exactly that with people.

Watching fragments.
Seeing one part of a situation.
Filling in everything that came before and after.

Convincing myself I understood the whole story.

That is partly how I ended up tangled in all of this mess in the first place.

Maybe I’ve been consuming people the same way I’ve been consuming movies.

Highlights.
Clips.
Fragments.

Enough to make me feel informed.
Not enough to actually understand.

So I made myself a little promise.

I want to learn how to enjoy whole things again.

Whole movies.
Whole conversations.
Whole people.

Even the boring parts.

Especially the difficult ones.

Because those are still part of the story.

Last night itself was one of those boring parts.

Pizza.
Movie.
Friends.
Sleep.

Nothing dramatic.

And today I woke up feeling different.

Refreshed.

There’s still something happening in my mind.

I can feel it.

But for some reason it doesn’t feel heavy.

I feel more alert.
Things seem clearer.

I don’t really know how to describe the sensation yet.

It feels new.

And maybe that’s the funny thing.

I spent weeks chasing stimulation because I thought that was how I escaped everything.

Drinks.
Going out.
Noise.
Social media.
People.

Something happening all the time.

Then one night I did almost nothing.

And woke up feeling better than I had in ages.

Maybe boring isn’t empty.
Maybe boring gives everything else somewhere to settle.

Before work, I finally bought something I had been putting off for ages.

A 2TB external drive.

I know.

But genuinely, it was overdue.

I’ve been recording my DJ sessions with my action camera and my laptop storage is basically begging me to stop.

So I guess I already know what I’m doing on my next day off:
sorting through videos.
Organising footage.
Going through all these moments I’ve recorded without ever properly arranging.

And honestly?

That sounds kind of nice.

Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about keeping things.

Photos.
Videos.
DJ sets.
Thoughts.
Memories.

Not because I need to post all of them.

Just because I want to know they’re somewhere.

Maybe that’s what this blog has become too.

A place where I can put things down without losing them.

Then I got to work.

And almost immediately, I was reminded why I love hospitality.

Two tables were regulars.
They were happy to see me.
They told me they had been looking for me.

Then another couple who regularly comes in walked through the front door just to say hi and ask what time I was finishing.

Then there was another group.

A girl with her mum and, I’m guessing, her partner.

She told me she remembered me from the last time she came in because I had served her.

And she said I was amazing.

Small words.
Tiny moments.

Probably things they will forget saying.

But I wish they understood what those words mean to me.

I really do.

Hospitality is weird.

You meet hundreds of people.

Most of them disappear from your life ten minutes later.

So when someone comes back and remembers you?

That means something.

Not the venue.
Not the menu.
Not the drink.

You.

They remembered you.

And lately, when I’ve been questioning so many things about myself, those little moments feel incredibly precious.

I wish I could bottle all of them.
Keep them somewhere.
Open them whenever I start doubting myself again.

Maybe this entry will have to do.

There was another moment at work that made me proud too.

Mariele.

Her favourite phrase lately seems to be:

“Everything fine.”

And somehow, I actually believe her.

I’ve been watching her move around the restaurant smiling genuinely.

Serving people.
Carrying herself differently.

More calmly.
More confidently.

And tonight, someone pushed her past her limit.

The situation became too much for her.

Normally, that kind of pressure might have ended with her lashing out at me.

Instead, she came to me calmly.

Explained how she was feeling.

And asked whether she could leave the situation.

That hit me harder than I expected.

Because I think, in that moment, I finally understood what being a manager means to me.

It’s not just running a floor.
Doing rosters.
Fixing complaints.
Watching service.
Closing tills.

It’s also learning how to regulate myself well enough that I can help somebody else learn how to regulate themselves too.

And seeing that happen in front of me?

That made me feel like maybe I’ve actually done something right.

Maybe I can say I’ve successfully become a manager.

Not because everything around me runs perfectly.

But because someone I care about is handling difficult situations differently now.

And maybe some of what I’ve learned has helped her get there.

Later, James asked me to go over to Lula’s and get some video because they had a well-known live band playing.

The problem was…

the vibe just wasn’t there.
It wasn’t busy enough.
Nothing looked particularly exciting.

And my job was basically to make it look exciting anyway.

So I did what I could.

Found angles where the room looked fuller.
Focused on the band.
Moved the camera.

Tried to capture whatever energy I could find.

And then I realised how incredibly ironic that was.

I was literally choosing the fragment.
I knew what the whole room looked like.

Quiet.

Not much happening.

But someone watching that video later won’t know that.

They’ll see whatever I choose to put inside the frame.

And they’ll decide whether the night looked exciting based on that.

It brought me straight back to everything I’ve been thinking about lately.

Fragments aren’t necessarily lies.
But they are never the whole truth either.

Sometimes the person posting them knows that.
Sometimes the person watching them forgets.

I was supposed to clock out at midnight.

My friend was already there waiting for me because we were going to hang out afterwards.

But I decided to stay another half an hour.

Just in case Lula’s suddenly picked up.

Maybe the atmosphere would change.
Maybe I could finally get something worth using.

It didn’t.

So eventually I accepted defeat.

Sorry, James.

I tried.

But there’s no point paying me for another hour just so I can produce footage that still looks shit.

Sometimes trying harder doesn’t make something better.
Sometimes it’s just not happening tonight.

And that’s okay.

Around that time, Emily gave me something.

A letter.
And some chocolate.
And face mask.

She had been reading what I’ve been writing here.
She knows some of what I’ve been going through.

Emily is one of the people I love enough to let see this side of me.

Because she has always been real with me.
She has always been true to me.

And because of that, I trust her deeply.

I’m not going to write what the letter said.

That part is mine.

I’ll keep it.
I’ll treasure it.

Not everything needs to become part of the archive.

Some things deserve to exist somewhere other than the internet.

That letter can stay between Emily and me.

But apparently the night wasn’t finished with me yet.

After Emily came back from her break, I could immediately tell something was wrong.

At this point, I had already clocked out.

I was done.

My friend was waiting for me.

Technically, whatever happened next wasn’t my responsibility anymore.

But then there’s the manager part of me.
And there’s the friend part of me.
And unfortunately, neither of them seems particularly interested in clocks.

I couldn’t leave someone I care about miserable at work.

So I pulled Emily aside.

Brought her into the office.

And asked what was wrong.

And there it was again.

The same problem.

Circling.
Spreading.
Dragging more people into it.

That was the moment where I realised:
this has to stop.

I’m not saying people aren’t allowed to be human at work.

Of course personal problems follow us through the door sometimes.

We’re not machines.

But once those problems start affecting the workplace itself?

Once they start changing how people work together?

Once everyone is becoming emotionally involved in something that doesn’t actually belong to them?

Then yes.

As a manager, I have to care.
Because eventually it damages the place.

So I made sure Emily was okay.

And then…

Chloe came in.
Coming in hot.

Same problem.

Again.

Apparently she had now been caught up in it too.

At that point, I had absolutely nothing left.

I had already had the conversation with Emily.

I was mentally exhausted.

My friend was still waiting.

I wanted to leave.
I wanted my night.

So I told Chloe the truth.

I had nothing else to say.

I could listen.
But I couldn’t give her another answer.

And I told her something I think I need to remember myself:
be a wall.

Let whatever you hear hit you.
And let it fall.

Don’t carry it.
Don’t pass it on.
Don’t add another interpretation.

If someone asks you about it again, tell them you have nothing to say.
If they want answers, they should speak directly to the people who are actually involved.

Not another friend.
Not another coworker.

Not another person who heard something from someone who heard something from someone else.

Go to the source.

Chloe just needed to let some steam out.

So I let her.
I listened.

That was all I had left to give.

And tonight, weirdly enough, I finally related to Hotel California.

“You can check out any time you like.
But apparently you can never leave.”

I had clocked out.
I was still managing.

I had a friend waiting.
I was still listening.

I had technically finished work.
Work had absolutely not finished with me.

And maybe that is what Co–Star meant this morning.

Let it be messy.

Because today was messy.

Some of it was beautiful.
Some of it was boring.
Some of it made me proud.
Some of it made me tired.

People remembered me.
Someone I’ve been managing showed me how much she has grown.
A friend gave me a letter I’ll probably keep for years.

I filmed something from an angle that made it look better than it really was.
I stayed late for footage that never became worth filming.
I listened to problems I couldn’t solve.

And I learned that sometimes the most useful thing I can tell another person is:
don’t carry this any further.

Let it stop here.

Maybe that applies to me too.

Not every feeling needs solving.
Not every story needs another narrator.
Not every problem needs another person involved.
Not every boring part needs skipping.
Not every beautiful thing needs sharing.

Sometimes the mess can just exist.

And maybe my job isn’t always to clean it up.

Maybe sometimes I just need to experience the whole story.
Even the parts I would normally rather skip.

I woke up around midday today still thinking about last night.

It was a good night.
Everyone had fun.

We laughed, joked around, caught up, and somehow even the little problems that came up didn’t feel as heavy as they usually would.

That was probably the part that surprised me most.

Because if the same kind of thing had happened a few weeks ago, I probably would have tensed up immediately.

I would have tried to understand it.
Fix it.

Make sure everyone was okay.
Make sure nothing got worse.

Today, I looked back at some of those things and thought:

that was such a stupid problem.

And I don’t mean that the people involved were stupid or that their feelings didn’t matter.

I think I just stopped giving every little problem permission to become a huge one in my head.

Maybe I’m loosening up.
Maybe I’m finally understanding that not everything needs me.

And strangely, I’m okay with that.

I woke up feeling fresh, but it was still my day off, so I stayed in bed anyway.

I had a DJ set later at Rosie’s at 9 PM.

Technically I could have gone back to sleep for a few more hours.
But I didn’t really feel tired.

Maybe anime instead.
Maybe doing absolutely nothing.

That sounded nice too.

Something else I’ve started noticing is how much writing all of this down has been helping.
Once I put a thought here, it stops taking up so much space in my head.

It doesn’t disappear.

That’s actually the comforting part.
I know the thought still exists.

It’s here.

Waiting for me whenever I want to come back and visit it.

So once I write it down, I feel like I’m allowed to let it go.
I don’t have to keep replaying it in my head just because I’m scared I’ll forget what I felt.
I think social media used to serve the same purpose for me.

I had a thought.
I posted it.

I saw something funny.
I shared it.

I had a feeling.
I threw it onto a Story or a Note.

But social media was never just my thoughts.

It came with everybody else’s too.

Their opinions.
Their happiness.
Their relationships.
Their faces.
Their problems.
Their lives.

Here feels different.
This feels like my space.

I don’t have to watch anybody.
I don’t have to perform.
I can just say what I want to say.

Yes, I’ve shared this blog with a few people I trust.

But it still feels different.

It doesn’t feel like I’m standing in the middle of a room shouting every thought and waiting for everyone to react.

It feels more like I’m leaving pieces of myself somewhere safe.

There was also a fire drill in the middle of the day.

There are 24 apartments in my building.
Fewer than ten people came outside.

Maybe everyone was at work.

I’m choosing to believe that.
😂

At some point, completely by accident, I opened Co–Star.

I haven’t opened that app in months.

I’m not a firm believer in astrology.

Flash news: I probably shouldn’t be.

But I also don’t think there’s any harm in taking something useful from it.
Sometimes I use astrology as a way to understand changes in my mood.

I’ll read something and go,
Oh, Mercury is doing something weird today. Maybe that explains why I feel like shit.

Sometimes I read a prediction and think:
Right. Let’s see if I can make this go my way instead.

I don’t want astrology dictating my life.

But today it gave me a line I really liked:

You deserve a life of your own design.

And then, a little later, I had my counselling session.

I told my counsellor everything that had been happening.

Everything.

And her advice was ridiculously simple:

Stop isolating yourself.

She told me to go out.

Meet people.
Make friends outside of work.

She pointed out something I had never really thought about properly before.

I already know how to talk to people.
I do it for work every day.
So why don’t I do it in my personal life too?

And that got me thinking about the two versions of myself that I seem to have created.

There is Alif at work.

He is vibrant.
Chatty.
Fun.
Confident.

He walks up to strangers without really thinking about it.
His whole job is basically making people feel comfortable.
Making them laugh.
Making them feel welcome.

Treating them like family so they want to come back.

And then there is Alif at home.

Quiet.
Shy.
Isolated.

Not particularly comfortable around people.
Would rather stay in bed than go outside.
And for a long time, I thought that was completely fine.

Work is work.

Home is home.

Maybe that was the problem.

My counsellor asked me what I do when I’m alone.

And my answer was:

I stay alone.

Even when I go out to eat by myself, I usually sit there scrolling through my phone.
When I walk through the city, my headphones are on.

I walk quickly.
Point A to point B.

If I go out drinking, it is almost always after-work drinks.
Which means I’m still with coworkers.

My friends are mostly people from work who happened to become actual friends.
There is nothing wrong with that.

I love those people.

But maybe I’ve made my world smaller than it needs to be.

My counsellor challenged me to do something different.

Go out.
Don’t immediately hide behind my phone.
Don’t use a book to avoid the room.

Watch people.
Smile at strangers.
Talk to them.
Join conversations.

Let things happen.

And I actually loved the idea.

Not because she planted something completely new in my head.

Because I realised I had already seen proof that it could happen.

A few nights ago, when I was drinking alone because I needed to get away from everything, a stranger noticed me sitting by myself.

He invited me to join him.

I declined.
I was overwhelmed that night.
I genuinely needed space.

Then, as he was leaving, he came back again and invited me to another venue with some of his friends.

I declined again.

Looking back now, I don’t regret saying no.

That was what I needed at that moment.

But it showed me something.

People can reach out.
Connection can happen.

And next time, if I actually want it,

maybe I’ll say yes.

Maybe designing a life of my own means allowing some of Work Alif to exist outside work too.

Not the version whose job is to make everybody happy.

Just the version who isn’t afraid to say hello.

And then at around 5 PM, because apparently none of these thoughts are important enough to interfere with my priorities,

I got coffee.

Yes.

Five in the afternoon.

Coffee.

I’ve accepted that coffee isn’t a morning drink for me.
It is a ceremonial opening of the day.

7 AM?

Coffee.

7 PM?

Also coffee.

The clock is irrelevant.

Later, I went to buy a vape pod.

And got ID’d.

Again.

This happens every single time I clean shave.

Apparently removing facial hair immediately removes several years from my age too.

Thanks, Mum and Dad, I guess.

Then I got to Rosie’s for my set and discovered something genuinely important:

they finally changed the setup.

About damn time.

I hate the CDJ-2000s.

That might be dramatic.
I stand by it.

During the set, Dyli got bored and started making experimental mocktails.

Guess who became the guinea pig?

Me.

Obviously.

At this point I’m less of a friend and more of an unpaid beverage quality-control department.

The drinks were good but,
I am now approximately 40% sugar.

I was supposed to play from 9 PM until midnight.

But Auckland weather decided otherwise.

Rain.
Cold.

Almost nobody around.

Eventually the manager decided we should close at 11.

And weirdly, I didn’t really care.
Not in a bad way.

I just didn’t treat it like some huge disappointment.

There was no crowd to impress, so I messed around.
Played songs I hadn’t played before.

Tried things.
Experimented.

No pressure.
No dramatic interpretation of an empty room.

It was raining.
It was cold.
It was a quiet Thursday.

That’s all.

I’m hoping summer will be different.

Near closing, I played Fly by Nicki Minaj and Rihanna.

It’s not really something I would normally play at Rosie’s.

It’s too slow for a nightclub.
Too pop for the usual Rosie’s vibe.

Honestly, I partly threw it on because we were almost closing and I thought maybe it would help move people along.

But then I actually listened.

Not just to the beat.

To what the song was saying.

There was something in it about hurt.

Feeling abandoned.
Feeling like people you thought were on your side somehow became part of the same noise.

And then somehow still choosing to rise above it.

That part got to me.

Maybe because of everything that has happened over the last few days.

Friends.
Enemies.

People misunderstanding things.
People taking sides.
People turning little pieces of a story into something much bigger.

And me trying to work out where I actually stand in all of it.

The song didn’t make me feel sad exactly.

It felt almost defiant.

Like:

Yes, this hurt.
Yes, this changed something.
Yes, I’m still figuring it out.

And I’m still here.

Still moving.
Still doing my set.
Still laughing.
Still talking to people.
Still trying to build something better for myself.

Maybe I didn’t play that song for the room.

Maybe I played it for myself.
And thinking back over today, I keep coming back to that Co–Star sentence.

You deserve a life of your own design.

Maybe designing my own life isn’t some huge dramatic reinvention.
Maybe it starts smaller.

Writing thoughts down instead of letting them live endlessly in my head.
Going outside without automatically disappearing into my phone.
Learning that I’m allowed to meet people outside work.
Accepting that I don’t have to solve every problem that appears around me.
Drinking coffee at 5 PM because apparently that’s just who I am.
Playing a song that doesn’t fit because the room is empty anyway.
Letting myself have days that don’t need to prove anything.

Maybe that’s enough of a start.

I’ve spent a lot of time designing versions of myself for different places.

Work Alif.
Home Alif.
Social Media Alif.

Maybe now I’m curious about what happens when I stop separating them quite so much.
Maybe I can be quiet without isolating myself.
Maybe I can be social without performing.
Maybe I can make people happy without believing I’m responsible for their happiness.
Maybe I can just exist somewhere between all of those versions.

I don’t know what that looks like yet.

But I think I’d like to find out.

After work, we stayed behind for a while and played cards.

It was loud.

Everybody was arguing over the game, accusing each other of cheating, talking over one another, making stupid comments, and turning something completely insignificant into an unnecessarily serious competition.

And somewhere in the middle of all that noise, I realised I was happy.

Really happy.

I couldn’t explain why.

Nothing particularly meaningful was happening. Nobody was giving some profound speech. There wasn’t some life-changing conversation unfolding in front of me.

It was just us. A bunch of tired people after work, fighting over cards.

I recorded it because this is exactly the kind of thing I would normally put on my Instagram Story.

Except I don’t have Instagram anymore.

And strangely, I still wanted to record it.

Maybe because I didn’t actually lose the desire to share my life.
Maybe I just wanted to keep the moment.

Later, while we were walking to one of our usual places, things became considerably less peaceful.
The people caught in the conflict I’ve somehow found myself tangled in finally crossed paths.

One person was avoiding.
Another was overthinking.

Then somebody else became involved and suddenly something that was already complicated became even louder.

More interpretations.
More emotions.
More people having something to say.

And I was tired. So tired.

People have been coming to me with their problems, their complaints, their versions of what happened, asking questions as though somewhere along the way I became the person who was supposed to have an answer.

I don’t.
I don’t know what everybody should do.
I don’t know what everybody is thinking.
I don’t know who’s going to feel differently tomorrow.

Sometimes I don’t even know what I’m feeling myself.

At some point I just wanted to have a drink, have some fun and let all the noise around me disappear for a little while.
And I remembered something.

I don’t owe everybody an explanation.
I don’t owe everybody an answer.

That doesn’t mean I don’t care.
It doesn’t mean I’m heartless.
It doesn’t mean I’m a bad friend.

It just means that sometimes someone can come to me with a problem and the most truthful thing I have to offer is:

I don’t know.

Because I’m tired too.
I’m figuring things out too.

At some point during all of this, I checked the Rosie’s Instagram again.

Which is becoming slightly ironic considering I no longer have any personal social media.

Another post from the marketing team had gone up. Once again, it was collaborated across multiple Rosie’s venues.

And once again, the post I had personally made was reaching significantly more people.

I started thinking about why.

Their content is polished.

Professional.

Very recognisably marketing.

Mine was simply a picture of two people we work with.

People know them.
Their friends know them.
They recognise their faces.
They have some sort of connection to what they’re seeing.

And maybe that’s the difference.

In this endless amount of information being thrown at us every day, I think people are still searching for something they can relate to.

Maybe because it makes them feel safe.
Maybe because it makes them feel loved.
Maybe because it gives them something to criticise.
Maybe because it gives them something to hate.

But when people recognise something of themselves, or something familiar, they react.

They engage.

And engagement doesn’t necessarily mean understanding.

I’ve already learned that lesson the hard way.

Something I once posted innocently became something people interpreted through their own perspective, and those interpretations travelled far beyond what was actually happening in the moment.

The same thing that makes something relatable enough to connect people can make it relatable enough for them to project onto it too.

I understand social media better now.

And somehow that makes me want my own social media even less.

Eventually, I found myself sitting alone in the corner.

I wasn’t angry.
I wasn’t mad at anyone.
I wasn’t sitting there hoping somebody would notice me being distant.

I just wanted to be away.

People kept coming over to check whether I was okay.
And I appreciated it.

But I didn’t really have anything to tell them.

I didn’t want another conversation.
I didn’t want to comfort anybody.
For once, I didn’t want to feel needed.

I just wanted to sit with my drink and comfort myself.

And maybe that’s allowed too.

---

Today was technically my day off, and eventually things became much quieter.

I finally had the conversation I had been needing to have with the person at the centre of everything that started this mess.

For the first time, I got to properly hear his side.

And I got to say mine.

I can’t pretend that none of this has affected me.

I’m hurting too.

Maybe that’s something I hadn’t really allowed myself to admit while I was busy worrying about how everybody else was feeling.

But I said what I needed to say.

He listened.

He accepted it gracefully.

And I listened to him too.

There were things I had judged from the outside without actually understanding what was happening from his perspective.

I had even judged one of his friends badly without knowing his side of the story.

So I apologised for that.

I think I needed to.

Because after spending the last few days thinking so much about how people interpret fragments of other people’s lives, it would be hypocritical of me not to recognise when I had done the same thing.

Once everything was said, something shifted.

Not because every problem suddenly disappeared.

But because I finally had more information than assumptions.

And now I feel like I can decide what I need to do next with a clearer head.

There was another relationship I needed to repair too.

Mariele and I hadn’t properly spoken for days.

She had really pissed me off.

And if I’m being truthful, part of me intentionally withdrew because I thought she needed to come down from her pride a little.

I wanted her to realise that I was serious.

So I ignored her.

But ignoring somebody you love isn’t particularly satisfying when you’re hurting too.

And I didn’t like how snappy I had become with her.

I think everything happening around me had started leaking into how I treated people who weren’t necessarily responsible for all of it.

Today she came to me differently.

Quietly.
Humbly.

She apologised.

And I finally said my piece.

She listened.
I listened.

And we resolved it.

I’m glad we did.

Because I don’t want being overwhelmed to turn me into someone who becomes sharp with the people I love.

And then the rest of the night became something I think I really needed.

No dramatic conversations.
No interrogations.
No sides.

Just people.

We hung out.
Made stupid jokes.
Caught up.

I got to have genuinely deep conversations with people I love without them turning into arguments.

I spent time with a newer friend I’ve only known for a few weeks and watched him fit naturally into my existing circle.

They liked him.
He liked them.

And there was something incredibly comforting about watching different pieces of my life fit together without me having to force anything.

By the end of the night, I realised that, from my point of view, everything I personally needed to resolve today had been resolved.

I had heard his side.
I had apologised where I needed to apologise.
I had spoken to someone at work I trusted.
I repaired things with Mariele.
I had said the things sitting heavily on my chest.

And suddenly there wasn’t another conversation waiting for me in the back of my mind.

I could just be there.

Even work gave me another little reason to feel proud today.

My boss asked me to take care of another venue’s social media as well.

Which is honestly quite funny.

I deactivate all my personal social media accounts and apparently immediately become more responsible for everybody else’s.

But I think it proves something to me.

I don’t hate social media.
I’m actually quite good at it.

I understand what makes people stop scrolling.
I understand what feels human.
I understand what people respond to.

And apparently the people I work with recognise that too.

I just don’t need it for myself right now.

Somehow, I’m becoming better at social media at exactly the same time that I’m learning I don’t need social media to live my own life.

And maybe that’s why tonight felt as good as it did.

I’ve hung out with these same people before.
I’ve been at these same places.
I’ve laughed at the same stupid jokes.

But previously, even while I was sitting with people I cared about, some part of me would still be somewhere else.

Checking Instagram.

Seeing what somebody else was doing.
Seeing somebody else’s relationship.
Somebody else’s night out.
Somebody else’s face.
Somebody else’s life.

And without even realising it, comparing their happiness to mine.

Tonight I couldn’t do that.

There was nothing to check.

Nobody else’s life was sitting in my pocket waiting for me to look at it.

So I looked at mine.

The people sitting around me.
The conversations happening in front of me.
The stupid jokes.
The drinks.
The arguments over nothing.
The new friendships slowly becoming real friendships.
The old friendships being repaired.
The uncomfortable conversations finally being had.

And I realised something incredibly simple.

I wasn’t consuming other people’s happiness anymore.

I was experiencing my own.

I don’t think deactivating social media magically fixed anything.

There are still things I’m trying to understand.
There are still people hurting.
I’m still hurting in some ways too.

And I’m sure there will be more complicated days.

But tonight I was completely there.

Not wondering whether somewhere else looked more exciting.
Not wondering whether somebody else was more loved.
Not wondering whether somebody else’s life looked better than mine.

There was nobody else to compare the moment against.

There was just us.

And for once,

that felt like more than enough.

Today started with a cup.

A Stanley cup, specifically.

I had wanted the classic Stanley shape for quite a while, and last night I got an email about one from Starbucks. The moment I saw it, I already knew I wanted it.

Then this morning, while getting coffee before work, I checked my local Starbucks.

And there it was. On display.

Perfect.

The problem is, I’m currently very low on funds.

Payday is Thursday. Two days away.

Did that stop me?

Absolutely not.

I wanted it really, really, really badly, so I bought it.

Maybe tomorrow I won’t eat out.

Maybe I won’t hang out with friends.

Maybe that is financially questionable.

But look at it.

I regret nothing.

Also, I bought it from Starbucks because Stanley cups are one of those things that seem to have a million fake versions floating around online. Starbucks is an established retailer, so at least I can trust that what I bought is actually what I think I bought.

Worth it.

Probably.

Later, I checked the Rosie’s Instagram account and noticed something that made me ridiculously proud.

A post I personally uploaded was performing better than one created by the official marketing team.

Theirs had the advantage of being a collaboration with three other Rosie’s venues.

Mine didn’t.

And somehow mine still reached more people.

That felt good.

Really good.

Not because I suddenly missed having social media for myself.

That was actually the interesting part.

I can still use social media professionally.

I can still understand what works.

I can still make something that performs well and feel proud of it.

But none of that made me want to reactivate my own accounts.

And I can’t really explain why.

Maybe I don’t have to.

Maybe I’m starting to make peace with the fact that not everything I feel needs to be dissected until I understand it completely.

Maybe it’s enough to simply notice:

I’m proud of this.

And I still don’t want to go back.

Before work, I sat outside for a while.

I’ve sat there so many times that I couldn’t even begin to count them.

And somehow, today was the first time I really noticed the flowers next door.

They were beautiful.

That sounds so stupidly simple, but that was exactly what made it feel important.

How many times had I sat in that exact same place before?

How many times had those flowers probably been there?

And how many times had I looked down at my phone instead?

Today I just sat there.

Music playing.

People walking past.

I noticed what they were wearing.

I noticed the air.

I noticed how fresh it felt when I breathed in.

I noticed the cold breeze against my skin.

I didn’t really have anywhere else to be in my head.

I was just there.

Watching everything happen in real time.

I don’t really know how to describe that feeling yet.

Presence, maybe.

Stillness.

Relief.

I just know it felt nice.

At some point during the day, I also said something completely stupid:

“I should abuse people but here I am, abusing alcohol instead…”

To be clear, I am not abusing alcohol.

It was just one of those ridiculous sentences that normally would have immediately become an Instagram Note or a Story.

The kind of thought that appears in my head, makes me laugh, gets posted, and disappears.

Except now, I guess it ends up here.

Which is kind of funny.

Maybe I haven’t stopped wanting to share things.

Maybe I’ve just changed where I put them.

One of the people who has been tangled up in everything that happened recently was working today too.

At one point he said:

“I don’t need alcohol to have a good time, but it sure damn helps.”

I laughed.

But I also looked at him and felt something else.

I love him so much.

He is very, very good at hiding pain.

Maybe I don’t know exactly what he is feeling. I don’t want to pretend that I do.

But I can see enough to know that he is hurting too.

And right now, I don’t want to force anything out of him.

I don’t need him to explain himself.
I don’t need him to talk just because I think he should.
I just want him to feel comfortable.

I want him to know that he can sit beside me without owing me a conversation.

Maybe that is enough for now.

Later in the afternoon, the sun started coming through the venue.

Golden hour.

Normally, when I think about golden hour, I think about selfies.

Good lighting.
Pose properly.
Take twenty photos.
Pick the best one.

Edit it.
Think of a caption.
Post it.

Today I still took the selfie.

Of course I did.

But something was different.

The sunlight wasn’t valuable because it made me look good.

I could actually feel it.

The warmth on my face.
The light coming through the doors.
The way everything looked softer for a few minutes.

It felt so nice.

I think before, I would have immediately started thinking about how to make the moment look perfect.

Today, I just noticed that it already was.

And then something else happened.

I actually enjoyed work.

Not tolerated it.
Not survived it.
Not counted the hours until I could leave.

I had fun.

A feeling I honestly haven’t felt in a very long time.

I went around talking to customers.

Actually talking.

Not just taking orders and giving the right hospitality responses.

I interacted with people in real time.

I joked around.

I felt social.
I felt present.

And apparently my aura was doing something right today because multiple customers told me I was doing a good job.

I wish they knew how much those words meant to me.

They probably thought they were just giving me a compliment.

Something small.
Something they would forget five minutes later.

But today?

I needed to hear it.

And then one customer tipped me fifty dollars.

Proof.

I took a photo with the note because obviously I did.

But even that felt different somehow.

It wasn’t really about needing everyone else to know that I had a good moment.

I think I just wanted to remember it.

That seems to be the theme of today.

Remembering.

Not performing.

The Stanley cup made me happy.
The work post made me proud.
The flowers made me stop.
My friend made me care.
The sunlight made me feel.
The customers made me feel seen.

And somewhere in between all of that, I think I noticed something else.

Myself.

A little bit.

Not completely.

I’m not going to turn one good day into some dramatic declaration that everything is suddenly okay.

I don’t think that would be honest.
But today felt lighter.

And after how heavy everything has felt recently, I think I’m allowed to appreciate that without questioning it too much.

Maybe I really am starting to notice things again.

Not just flowers.
Not just sunlight.
Not just people walking past.

But the actual experience of being alive while all of it is happening.

And for today,

that feels like enough.