The rich scent of coffee fills my nose and brightens me up. 10am isn’t that early but I’m still tired, needing to rub my eyes a few extra times.

It's been a few days since my collab concert but I'm still recovering. Something I've really gotta get used to–and quickly.

My laptop sits open in front of me on the kitchen counter, my course work half scrolled through.

Sweet mother Ieva sets my coffee down on a brightly patterned, spiral coaster and brings her hand up to ruffle my hair. “I’ll make you some breakfast to keep you going.” She smiles and turns back to the counters.

“You spoil me too much.” I take a sip of the hot, caramelly drink.

“As your mother I have a duty and as my only child it’s your job to shut up and take it.”

I laugh, setting my drink back down so I don’t spill any of its life force. “Okay, I will. Thank you.” I tear my gaze away from her as she opens the fridge. Time to face my work.

My mom’s always been a ‘wherever life takes you’ type of person, but my dad practically pleaded with me to have a backup plan. Of course the media industry isn’t the most stable of places to start work so he was pretty worried. And I had to agree with him there, besides, I quite enjoy learning.

Or at least the thought of learning. Looking over the text I have to read makes me groan with the ultimate displeasure. An open university experience isn’t as fun as going into a school was. Still, I force my eyes to scan the words and my brain to process them.

I decided on a bachelor's degree in computer science because we're in a tech era. I figured, even if I don't fully understand nor like the gritty details of it all, I can at least be useful with it.

Just as I was picking up my reading pace and getting the hang of it, my phone buzzes. Any and all concentration I had flew out the window to get run over by a bus full to the brim with grizzly bears. It's dead.

I pick the attention thief up, automatically smiling when I see Isaac’s contact at the top of the screen–above Turtle.

Neighbour Boy, 10:17 I have to write a practice essay. Right now.

You, 10:18 Okay? Good luck

Unlike me, Isaac has the pleasure of in-person classes. He complains a lot but I know he enjoys it. He’s had very few friends for as long as I’ve known him, at least I’ve always assumed from the only 3 names he’s ever brought up, and when he moved to a new city for university, he left them far behind. He’s mentioned a good few new names since then, mostly his flatmates.

He’s like a bud on a tree of people, closed away with petal walls, finally blooming into the world of socialising...Not the most profound simile out there.

Neighbour Boy, 10:19 You kept me up all night talking about how birds are trying to deceive us with their hidden long legs!

You, 10:19 You were still talking to me Coulda muted me

Neighbour Boy, 10:19 Or you shouldn’t have texted me in the first place.

You, 10:19 You love my messages!

Neighbour Boy, 10:22 I usually feel dumber after talking to you. I scoff in offence, though he obviously, and sadly, can’t hear me.

You, 10:22 Do your work! Finish your essay or Ill ground you!

I threaten. He sends an image in response. A soft ‘Ooo’ escapes my lips as I click to download it, followed by a louder ‘Aah’. The picture loads to show a shiny beetle drawn in green and black ink. A mix of rough and soft lines form gentle shading, leaving perfectly made gaps for highlights. 

He can always find fault in his drawings, but all I ever see is perfection made by an extremely skilled person. Maybe I’m just biased because Isaac is my best friend, despite having never actually met him. Or seen him.

You, 10:24 Thats amazing!

Neighbour Boy, 10:24 So easy to drag you off topic.

I read that over a few times, admittedly a little confused. Then it clicks and I frown, gearing up to type out a long complaint. 

But mother dearest Ieva won't let that happen. “Jem do your work.” She orders, drawing my eyes away from my phone to meet her narrowed eyes.

“I am doing my work,” I complain, much like a kid when- damn it I’m just a big kid aren’t I?

“Your work is on your laptop not your phone. You should be taking notes or something.” She points out and then mockingly mirrors my frown.

She’s so rude sometimes, I swear. “Okay, I will.” I cave and set my phone beside me to reluctantly continue my work.

My eyes keep wandering back to my phone after finishing every paragraph. It gets to the point that I stop taking in what my eyes are reading.

Ahh, I can’t concentrate!

To give myself some relief, I lean back in my chair and take a coffee sipping break. Mother dearest seems okay with that, we wouldn’t want the drink she so graciously made going cold.

My phone lights up again and out of habit I pick it right up to text Isaac back. I send him a few messages and get back to work, continuing my sip breaks at the end of every page so I can text the pouty boy.

I’ve thought about writing a song inspired by our somewhat odd friendship before, but Isaac’s pretty sharp. If he heard it he’d probably know. I’m surprised he hasn’t already figured out who I am, although I keep my music life vague, we have talked on voice calls before. He knows what I sound like. Then again I doubt he’s listened to any of my songs.

The thought makes me curious. Isaac is the type of guy to find a new song or artist and listen to them on repeat until he hates it and moves onto something else. 

You, 10:38 Whats your favourite song this week

Neighbour Boy, 10:39 Actually, I’ve been listening to the songs I loved in secondary. Hollywood Undead, Get Scared. 

He lists. It somehow gives me a nostalgic hit to remember those bands. They weren’t groups I’d choose to listen to but Isaac did talk about their music a lot back then. I sometimes listened. They were fun. And Isaac is such a lil emo.

Neighbour Boy, 10:39 What’s yours?

You, 10:39 Same as last week

Neighbourboy, 10:40 :( You’re so boring. 

Insulted. I can feel the pixelated frown. 

Some music just really jumps out at me and Take Me To Church has always been very high on my list. I even make sure to not play it too often because it’s fineness must not be all I hear–I can’t risk becoming bored of it!

Of course, memories tied into the times I’ve listened to it play a big role in why I like the song so much.

Neighbour Boy, 10:40 Give me something different. What have you listened to recently?

You, 10:40 Hmmm Love you like a love song by good ol Selena

Neighbour Boy, 10:41 How and why?

You, 10:41 Because it’s good and it appeared on my YT recommended one day

I continue talking to him about music, Uni and his people watching hobby until my phone leaves the grasp of my hands, lift upward and into my mom’s clutches. “Hey-” I begin but quickly get cut off by a stern motherly voice.

“You’ll get this back when you’ve finished.” She states and shakes her head, “I can’t believe I’m taking things off a 19 year old.” 

After staring at her a little too long and receiving a scolding back, I go back to my work.

Unfortunately for my mom, distractions are everywhere today. Turtle climbs me like a tree to get to the table, sprawling out across my keyboard. She’s begging for attention and I, being a doting cat dad, gladly give it to her. 

I ignore the deeply annoyed sigh that culminates behind me.

After the painfully slow day of working on my readings, I finally get the time to do what I've been loving recently: dance. Not something I have to learn, but that I've always yearned to try since I was a kid, watching music groups dance their hearts out.

I have practice with a class that I can only, unfortunately, attend once a week because of how insanely busy my life suddenly got. But I take it into my own hands at night, sometimes. 

I escape to our cellar, not the prettiest place but after I put up a pale pink curtain on the widest wall and bought some storage for the random clutter, it didn't look too bad. Good enough for a video.

I prop my phone up in its usual space on a low shelf across from the pink curtain, turning the video on before some music.

Standing back a few steps, I take a deep breath then I carefully raise my arms. Although I already did a few stretches, I always feel weird just diving straight into a dance.

My legs begin to move, side stepping and jumping gently. My body twists and I draw my arms in before reaching out, gliding into pose after pose. I match my feet to the beat of the music and let my body take over as I think purely about the routine we'd been learning the past few weeks.

The music comes to a gentle stop, my body following suit. I hold my pose as I focus on breathing, slowly and carefully.

My stamina is much stronger than when I started nearly a year ago. If little me could see the type of stuff I'm doing now he'd be so incredibly proud. And I'm only just starting.

After a cool down and a long drink, I hastily edit the video and upload it to the busy world of the online. It started out as a bit of fun, sharing my progress, but it became a place to connect with fans and gain more. As much as I hoped for it, I could never imagine myself even getting this far.