[journal] I've been happiest so far at home after work.
The instant I'm home I immediately turn right and enter my room. I drop my bag by the door and loosen my tie. Though my job is not difficult and has ceased to be stressful, the instant that noose is loose, I feel relieved and relaxed. Sometimes it's as though I can't get the tie off soon enough and my anxious clawing at the knot and rapid untangling produces a
swoooosh noise. The layers of clothing fly off next -- jacket, pants and collared shirt and my body begins to float as I feel as light as air (don't panic at the resulting visual image as I've still got on a long sleeve shirt and sleeping pants). I then plop myself on my futon and flick on the laptop.
Oh joys of joy.
I feel really comfortable sitting on my laptop reading websites, writing posts and checking for emails. I know I've made money during the day and I know that I can continue to support this really happy lifestyle I've created for myself. I feel mature and independant and then I think to dinner and know that after a few hours of unwinding I'll have some sort of delicious dinner ready to wash down with a cold glass of CocaCola.
An extra benefit is sometimes when I'm propped back against the wall, cushioned by a pillow, watching my DVDs, I hear piano music --- a simple, unwavering melody (usually a baroque composer, Handel, Bach). The song is always sweet and sometimes meloncholy. There are rarely any mistakes, so I gather the pianist has already learned the songs and is playing for joy, expression or release. Sometimes when I'm watching a DVD I'll turn it off to better appreciate the music. I like to imagine a beautiful, disciplined girl playing the songs, someone completely wrapped up in the moment and lost in the music.
Anyways, I enjoy this musical ritual until my decibly gawdy roomate from across the room comes home and blasts hideous euro techno from the 90s, thereby notifying me of the impending sex he'll be having (I know because her moans are louder than the techno). Needless to say, it's then I press play and resume my DVD.
PS I hope I never meet my neighbour. I mean if I saw a fat, comb-overed, cigar-smoking man in a yellow stained wife beater tank top walk out of his apartment clutching Bach's Preludes and Fugues sheet music, it would sort of warp my future listening experiences.
