I’m well aware that I’m not posting about very cheery things at the moment. I guess I’m just accentuating the negative because that’s what sticks in my mind long enough for me to write about it.
There was the creepy man rubbing himself on the bus. Groups of people that walk straight into me like I don’t exist. Jellyfish, talking into voids, pity, narrowly missing being splatted getting off the tram, being in a city I haven’t quite clicked with. Realising everything I can’t change. And nice as it may sound, living in a hotel starts to become not so fun after a while.
There are things that balance all of that out. The joyful op shop on Chapel Street. The guy on reception at my hotel who gave me 11 free days of internet instead of my usual hour. The surprise postcard from my best friend. The feeling of real responsibility at work. Realising I can make an impact. Pushing the boundaries of what I can do. Getting to know a couple of people that listen. The full moon, being able to spend days playing with Final Cut, finding a big pack of multi-coloured plasticine for $5, nice weather, cycling, warm evenings, the sea. I’m falling into postcard speak. But you get my point: it’s not all bad.
