I’m Happy to be Finally Employed. But I Miss Galleries, Museums, and Books.
Laying in the bed, I hear the clock tick…
God bless the narrm ngarrgu library! The phone rings and beeps occasionally, and its battery is just 9%. The sun is warming my neck just a little too much and the table in front of me is just a little too small… I’m so calm, which for me is to say, I’m so happy.
The reflection of the sun breaking through paint-like clouds is so clear on this very screen that it seems like an HDR photo straight from 2009, and I can’t see what I’m typing, but no matter, that’s what editing is for.
Though I’m a bad editor.
I am — apparently — not as bad a manager, but I’m not sure what to think about that.
Over my vast repertoire of self-flagellation and using writing as a cheap alternative to therapy, I have recounted my wonderful experience with life in 2023. Then, not so long ago, everything stopped, imploded, swelled up, and exploded all at once. And I only started working a couple of months ago.
Now I could go into all of the benefits that come with being employed, money not being the least, but I cannot deny that thanks to my fortune privilege, not having to work was great most of the time, because I was not bored. I was not couch…
