Kuting

Oh my goodness, there is a newborn kitten in the house!

My sister and I got home from a cousin's birthday party and headed up the stairs and straight to Mom's room to let her know we were back. As we lounged on her bed and told her how the party went, I noticed a repeated meowing sound. It's normal to hear cats outside, but usually, you can tell that they're coming from a distance. This one sounded like it was just a room away. Also, it sounded like a kitten; its meow was so tinny and high-pitched. I didn't think a kitten could meow so loud that we'd be able to hear it from far away, so I swore it was just nearby, perhaps on the small balcony outside Mom's room. I asked them if they heard it, but they simply said yes like it was nothing out of the ordinary. So, I went back to my room and worked on some essays.

About two hours later, I stepped out of my room to use the toilet and to get a glass of water. I heard the meowing again, and it sounded even closer this time, almost like it was a mere foot or two away from me. I decided to go into Mom's room to check if she and my sister found this weird at all, or if they still thought it was normal. I entered the room to find them both just staring in the direction of the meowing, perplexed frowns combined with horrified looks on their faces. They looked up when they saw me, and my sister said, "I think there's a cat in my room. I left the window open."

I went back into the hallway to investigate. Sure enough, the meowing instantly sounded louder, and it did seem to come from the direction of my sister's room. But the sound did not seem to come from behind a wall. In fact, it seemed to come from... under the wooden shelf in the hallway between my room and my sister's room? I peered under the shelf, at a safe distance. It was hard to make out anything at first; the shadow of the base of the shelf made it hard to see much. But as my eyes made sense of the lines and shapes, I saw... shredded paper... an open shoebox, the cover lying just beside it... and... wait. A moving tail. Orange-tan and white fur. A furry little mouse-sized thing clawing at the shoebox. Oh. My. Goodness. It was a little tiny baby kitten!

I rushed back into Mom's room and told them that it wasn't in my sister's room; it was in the hallway, under the shelf! And it wasn't a cat; it was a little tiny baby kitten the size of a mouse! They followed me out of the room cautiously, careful not to step too close to the shelf. They looked suspiciously toward the bottom of the shelf but made no move to bend down and peer under it. "Look!" I encouraged them. "It's there!" My sister did, but she barely saw the kitten before rushing back into Mom's room. My Mom looked a little longer before calmly walking back into her room. I gave the kitten another look before following them into Mom's room.

"How the heck did it get there?!" I don't know who said it first--and I don't know who repeated it the most number of times. But that question bugged the hell out of us. A number of half-thought-out possibilities came up, but none of them really seemed plausible to us. Perhaps it got in through an open window--but how could a little tiny kitten that couldn't even find its way out from under the shelf have gotten up to the second floor all by itself and leapt into a window? Perhaps its mother brought it there--but where was its mother?

The thought of a mother cat suddenly made me recall an event earlier during the day: As I stepped out of my room to tell my sister we were leaving for the party, the cover of a shoebox by the shelf outside my room tipped over and fell. I was instantly confused. Did I knock it over when I opened the door? I couldn't have; my bedroom door swings inward. For that matter, since when was there a shoebox cover by the shelf? And why just the cover? And then, all of a sudden, the idea that there might be a mother cat involved solidified in my mind. A theory began to take shape, and I could almost see it happening.

While we were out (Mom must've left the house too), our househelp must've left some doors and windows open. A mother cat, lips clamped on the nape of its kitten's neck, calmly entered the house, went up the stairs, and found the best spot to make a home for its young. Spotting some shoeboxes on a nearby shoerack, the mother cat gently put down its kitten by the shelf and nudged it underneath before heading to the shoerack to get some materials for its baby's new home. As it was finishing the job of transporting said materials, I must've opened the door to my room, which made it quickly drop the shoebox cover and hide under the shelf with its baby. I guess it hid out until we all left the house, or at least until we all were back in our rooms, before it went back out to finish the job. And then, at some point, it must've gone off in search of food. Before it could return, however, all the doors and windows had been shut, and it was locked out. And now, we have a poor hungry little newborn kitten, all alone with no one to turn to. It may still be blind too; it won't leave its spot under the shelf even though the way out is clear, and it keeps clawing at the shoebox.

I want to feed the poor thing, or take it out from under the shelf and bring it outside where its mother can find it. Or maybe I could even just put it into the shoebox, together with some rags and a small container of milk. But Mom told me not to touch it because its mother might come back and attack me. So I suppose we'll just have to wait till the morning, when we can either open the doors and windows and wait for MommaCat to come back for her baby, or get someone else to scoop out the little kitty and bring it outside, where it can reunite with its mother. I just hope it'll last until then. Poor little kitty. :( I hope it wisens up and gets some sleep to conserve its energy. The last thing I wanna wake up to tomorrow morning is a dead newborn kitten outside my room. I guess we'll see what happenes tomorrow.

(Speaking of newborns, Grace and Conrad [well, just Grace, technically] gave birth already! I want to visit, especially because--I just realized--they're my first friends to have a baby!)

Kahl, Macky, and I are a bunch of whores, and I'm the biggest one of all

Music whores, that is. Gig whores.

Let me explain.

Last night, I was at a coffee shop, enjoying family time with my dad, my grandma, and my siblings. We were having a particularly sweet time because we had just left my one-of-a-kind stepmom and her one-of-a-kind family at the restaurant where we had dinner to celebrate Dad's birthday. (In this context, "one of a kind" is a bad thing; it is also an indication of quantity rather than quality: there are other people in this world who are like them [at least in soap operas], but no one is anywhere near as !?******?! as they are.)

So there I was in my rare moment of complete calm and contentment when along came a text message that took my moment away from me. It was from a guy I used to date, and he was just randomly popping up again like he does every so often. Because I'm civil and we actually parted as friends, I replied with the usual, "hey, what's up, it's been a while." He then asked if my band could play at his mother-in-law's birthday party next week. His wife, although she knows me only by name, hates me (she waged a cellphone war on me a few years ago, which I found amusing more than anything else), and I brought that up. His solution? Go by another name and pretend I'm someone else, and she'll never have to know; just please be there. He sent message after message, all but begging. And because I am a (music) whore, I said I'd ask my band.

And because my bandmates are whores as well, they said yes, despite midterms and an upper respiratory tract infection.

This morning, I woke up with a headache and a text message waiting. It was the guy, saying they didn't have room for a band after all. And now I can finally say what is at the forefront of my mind: I hate him! How dare he use the band thing, the music thing, as an excuse to get in touch with me and get his flirt on? How dare he lead me (and my bandmates) on (musically, that is)? I hate him!

And then, a mini (re)discovery. I thought about why I was so upset, and I realized all over again how much music means to me. I was upset not so much because he used music as an excuse to get in touch with me, but because it (the gig, not seeing him) wouldn't push through. I was upset because I thought I could finally play again, only to have it taken away from me as I slept--literally!

I must say, I haven't felt this alive in a while. Talking to my bandmates last night; them saying yes; discussions on what to play; this morning's indignation; my mind working at warp speed, albeit with the frenzied disorganized quality of consciousness just woken, to try to find another gig so we could push through with band practice and finally play again: all this reminded me of what I'm supposed to be doing and why. I am supposed to be relentlessly pursuing music because nothing brings me more joy or makes me feel more alive. Nothing makes me feel more at peace and one with myself and with the world. The reason I've been feeling a little distant from people in general is because of a lack of music in my life! Because music is my way of connecting with the world! Oh, I've been an idiot! But today, I am a genius!

They say music makes the world go round. The phrase may be a bit of a cliche, but for me, it is an absolute and personal truth: music really is what makes my world go round.

And hey, what do you know: my headache's gone! Good morning to me!

In a Rut

I am depressed because I don't know what to do. About anything. My life, my continuing education, my career, my romantic life, my citizenship. Seriously, everything. I'm in a rut. So many questions, and I'm too overcome by depression to even start looking for answers. It's like I've got lead running through my veins instead of blood. I don't even write anymore.

I am functioning though. There's that, at least. And I know I need to get up off my ass if I'm gonna get anywhere. I do want to. It's just so hard; inertia, y'know. And I'm not quite sure where to start.

On the bright side, I guess this means that there's much for me to do and that life isn't a done deal by the age of 25, as my 15-years-younger self thought. That's a relief. And hey, I'm writing now, aren't I? That's as good a place to start as any.

Favorites

So I've been delinquent. I told myself I'd try to come up with at least one post each month; it's been two months since I last wrote. But I've been busy soul-searching, so it's ok.

This isn't even gonna be a real post. It's just me listing down some favorites. Which doesn't require much of an intro, so I'll just get right to it.

1. Favorite NBA team: Boston Celtics, season 2007-2008 (Runner-up: Philadelphia 76ers, season 2000-20001)

2. Best smile in the NBA: Paul Pierce (see final minutes of game 4 of the NBA finals 2008 vs the Lakers, when Ray Allen gets past Vujacic for an open layup and Paul jumps for joy like a little kid--adorable)

3. Best smile in sports: so far, Tiger Woods

4. Best burger: In n Out, Route 66 from Johnny Rockets

5. Best sandwich: authentic Philly cheesesteak, Chicago sub, Italian beef (spicy, wet)

6. Favorite new ice cream: Haagen Dazs caramel cone, Dreyers birthday cake (and they're both low-fat!)

7. Favorite meat: lamb

8. Favorite food in general: meat (ie, steak), sushi, anything with tomatoes/tomato sauce (mostly Italian), mushrooms, dessert!

9. Consummable must-haves in life: chocolate, liquor, birthday cake

10. Fetishes: high heels, notebooks

11. What puts me in the zone: singing, writing, dancing

No, this isn't a slam-book entry. I just like to get some of my favorites down from time to time. Coz it feels good thinking about them. :) So don't be surprised if more posts like this one turn up.

Mariah Week on American Idol (Part 2)

5. Because my good friend Nico works for the show, and he's real friendly and everyone loves him, not only did we (me and Michelle, his girlfriend) get tickets (pretty good seats too, thanks to Kathleen Sheets!) and not have to line up for hours at the main gate, the guard gave us these VIP wristbands too, which gave us access to the VIP room, this little lounge where they serve refreshments and some food while you wait for the show to start. All we had was water coz by the time the food came, it was almost time for the show. I wish I tried the food, though, just because it would've added to my whole American Idol experience: yknow, knowing what they serve VIPs, tasting what they serve VIPs, the actual experience of having eaten what they serve VIPs. Hahah. Nico also showed us the show's production area where they... I dunno, plan the show and do all the work, I guess. The performers/contestants aren't allowed in that area, so I guess it was cool that we got to see it. Met quite a lot of people working on the show, none of whose names I remember (except a Bristish guy named Joe because he was the first one I met and Kathleen coz she was the one who hooked us up with the tickets and she had a nice sweater). I also met the idols' voice coach, which was awesome. Gobbled down a slice of pizza and a cookie from the pantry too: got a taste of the food the production staff eat. Hahah.

6. After the show, there's a sort of little meet and greet line at a studio entrance. Nothing big, just an awning and and some ropes behind which fans could wait. Yes, I did the whole fan/tourist thing, and why not? I am a fan and a tourist. I met David Hernandez before heading to that area, and then I met Mr. Brooke White (Brooke's husband, who joked, "My last name isn't even "White." But yknow what, maybe I should start a website, mrbrookewhite.com."), whom I recognized before Nico even said who he has because he's shown on TV a lot. I didn't get a picture with him, but I wish I did, coz he's cute and semifamous. And I don't mean cute like I like him. I just mean cute like... he and Brooke are adorable. I wish I coulda had a picture of me sandiwched in between them, kind of like their Asian adopted child, only about the same age as them. Hahah. And I met most of the remaining idols (with the exception of little David because he was there for like a second), Chikezie too, and had pictures with them, yay! The judges and Ryan didn't come out, though. Woulda wanted a picture with Simon. Ahhahahah. Fun fun.

7. The show, just like this post (including part 1), was not done in order. Well, not entirely, anway. The show went in this order (I think):

• a) Top 7 performance
• b) Jason, big David, Carly, and Kristy were called out
• c.1) Elliott Yamin's performance
• c.2) Syesha and Brooke were called out
• d.1) Phone calls to American Idol
• d.2) Mariah Carey's performance
• e) Little David was called out, and the bottom 3 was announced
• f) Someone (not saying in case someone hasn't watched yet) sang one last time

*Items with the same letter were shown as one segment, meaning, no commercial break in between.

But this is the order it really happened:

• a. Mariah's performance (d.2: pretaped)
• b. Calls to American Idol (d.1: pretaped)
• c. The rest of it, in the order shown (live)

Ahhah! So, I don't know why they pretaped the performance. Maybe so that they could redo it if something went wrong or if it sucked. Or maybe so Mariah could leave early, perhaps so she could avoid any run-ins with the audience and the little people working on the show on her way out. As for the calls, apparently they always pretape them in case a caller says something nasty that they wanna edit out. So much for live TV. Also, they ask everyone to hold up their posters before taping the live stuff in case there are any mean messages. Case in point: there was one person whose sign read, "Bye-bye Kristy." Mean! I actually agree, but I wouldn't do that.

A glitch! Seen on TV! And I don't know if I only noticed coz I was there when they taped it, but here it is.

So, they taped bMariah's performance, with a platform to one side for the drums, a platform to the other side for the guitar and keyboards, three mic stands just a little behind and to the side of Mariah for the backup singers, Mariah's bling-embedded mic stand front and center, and the idols on the couch. There was a break, all the equipment was taken out and replaced by a small table with a phone and laptop, and the idols left the stage and then returned to the couch but sat in a different order. And then they aired the two segments continuously and in reverse order.

The results:

• a) During the calls, Carly and big David were seated next to each other somewhere in the middle of the couch. Camera on Ryan to introduce Mariah, camera back on the idols clapping, and all of a sudden, big David is in the middle of the couch, and Carly is on the end. The excuse: they could have switched around during those couple seconds. Really, they could have!
• b) During the calls, there was a table with a laptop and a phone onstage. Camera on Ryan to introduce Mariah, camera on the idols clapping, camera back on centerstage, and all of a sudden, in a matter of seconds, there's a drumset, keyboards, guitars, musicians and backup singers, and Mariah's glittering mic stand. The excuse: maybe the calls and the performance happened on different stages/areas of the stage. The calls were flashed on a screen, and Mariah's album cover (I think) was flashed on a screen (that split open to reveal her diva-ness, and out she came carrying her glittering mic), but hey, it might not have been the same screen, right? Maybe the two stages both had screens. Very possible.

Ahh, movie/TV magic.

8. When Carly was called out from backstage, people cheered. When people were done cheering, some crazy person yelled, "You're awesome!" although the words didn't come out so clearly on TV. The reason I know what was said even if it wasn't clear was because that crazy person was me. Me! I was heard on national (international!) TV! By millions of people! It's not much, but hey, it's a start. Ahh. The whole hand model thing (watch Zoolander) comes to mind. Only, my claim is more pathetic, and I didn't get paid to do what I did. But it was wonderful and such fun!

Hmm... maybe next week I'll wear a sweet little cocktail dress and get all dolled up (it seems to be a requirement for the moshpit) and line up at the main gate. Hahah.

Mariah Week on American Idol (Part 1)

I got to watch it live! Not live on TV, but live live! The following will probably be interesting only to those who are into the show.

1. Mariah Carey is sexy, beautiful, and has nice long legs. She is also quite a diva: bronzer with real gold bits; humidifier in her bedroom for added moisture to her skin; crystal/diamond-embedded mic, mic stand, and ear monitor. No one gets to see her come in and out of the studio; they only see her onstage, during the soundcheck and during her performance, both of which are just one run/take. Even the crew couldn't get her picture or autograph because her bodyguards kept everyone away. The studio audience couldn't get stolen shots either because cameras and cellphones are not allowed: they have a metal detector at the entrance to make sure that no such gadgets make it through. She also seems to be a bit of a bimbo and very into herself. But she also seems very sweet and nice, and I think she might be smarter than she seems.

2. The studio is a lot smaller than I thought it would be. It looks huge on TV! People are also a lot closer (physically) to each other than it looks. (Like on TV, the judges look like there's a lot of space between them, but there isn't really.) Also, the layout surprised me. The audience with tickets have seats, which are near-ground-level if you're up front and get higher and higher the farther back you get. From one side of the studio to another, there are four sections, with aisles in between. The middle sections have about 15 rows, with maybe 8 seats per row, and the side sections have about 20 rows, with maybe 5 seats per row. There's an aisle too between the first five rows and the rest; I think the former are for guests of the performers, contestants, judges, Ryan Seacrest, and maybe the musicians and other production bigshots. (I was at the right-middle [all occurrences of "left" and "right" here are oriented facing the stage], about the 10th row). In front of the seated audience is a platform with a long table and three swivel chairs: this is where the judges are seated. In front of them and right by the stage is the moshpit: the people without tickets who line up at the CBS main gate to watch the show (they stand throughout). The stage is a kind of wide U shape with a half circle jutting out of the open part of the U: the couch of safety is on the right. The stage also has a balcony on the edges of the U. On each side of the stage, there are pillars with spiral steps winding around them that you can use to go up to the balcony. (You know when singers start a song/performance on stairs? These are the stairs.) The balcony is where the band is: orchestra on the left, drummer in the middle and bongo/percussion set guy right beside him, keyboardists and guitarists toward the right, and Ricky Minor (bassist and band leader) at the extreme right, at the pillar. There is a hill-shaped screen at the back-center of the stage, and this can split apart vertically down the middle so performers can enter and big pieces of equipment (like the platform with the drumset used during Mariah's performance) can be taken offstage.

3. Simon is actually not bad-looking in person. He and Paula look pretty friendly. The whole cast seem pretty friendly with each other. Ryan is not bad-looking either, and he's not all that short. Maybe shorter than the average American guy, but I didn't look at him and think short. Nigel (from So You Think You Can Dance?) was there too, and he seems friendly with the American Idol people. His right arm was in a sling; wonder what happened. The contestants are skinnier in person (for example, Carly looks a little thick--not fat or even chubby, mind you--on TV, but in person she's not, not even a little). And when you see them live, especially during commercial breaks, you realize that they're really just people. I mean, of course we know that, but on TV, we don't really see that.

4. Speaking of people being just people, let me return to the subject of item number 1: Mariah's Carey. Her soundcheck, although the volume and and echo and all that weren't steady because the tech people were tweaking, was flawless. She talked a bit too during the song to ask if she could be heard, to say it was too loud, etc. And then, during her actual live performance, she was a little... different. She seemed a little nervous, and there were a couple glitches in her singing, although they weren't very noticeable, especially to the untrained ear and to one who didn't hear her soudncheck. I could see a bit of a struggle trying to recover from those glitches too, though I don't know if someone who doesn't sing and know what it's like would have caught that. She was still awesome though. What I got out of that was, even big divas who've been at the top for the better part of 18 years get nervous and aren't perfect, and that makes me feel a whole lot better (about myself and my music/singing).

To Soar: Step 1

Jump right back into that neatly packed away mess of emotion. If there's one thing you should not procrastinate on, it's retrieving and dealing with feelings put on hold and nudged aside until they've been pushed so far back and so hard against the wall, they've been compressed and need to be sorted out and restored before they can be made sense of. Numbness is, thus far, the hardest habit to break out of and the toughest shell to break through.

Sunday Night at the Chancos'

GEM

A finger poking her shoulder. She turned away from her food--a mini feat for her--and glanced to her side to find her niece, pudgy, with a double chin and a hard round stomach: so much like her, which made her feelings toward the child a screwed-up mix of affinity and disgust. The girl had her mouth open and was pointing to a loose milk tooth and a permanent tooth jutting out of the front of the gum, pushed out of its rightful place by the milk tooth that had overstayed its welcome.



JILLIAN

She had held her tears, not because she was trying to be brave, but because she was waiting for the right time to unleash them. She was going to let them go, not because she was afraid and thought something was seriously wrong with her teeth, but because it got her attention and special treatment. And now, now that her aunt was looking into her mouth and telling her not to be scared because it was no big deal, in that loud obnoxious voice that ensured that everyone's attention was on them, she knew: this was the time. With everything she had, she squeezed tears out of her eyes and began to bawl.



JOAN

Her husband's niece seriously always tried to take the joy out of any celebration. She did not mind not being the center of attention every once in a while, even on her birthday, but what she did mind was the fun having to stop, and she was not about to let that happen. And so, seeing an opportunity for another impromptu performance that would earn her a few laughs--all-out laughter if she was lucky--she grabbed a pair of tongs and approached her niece and made like she was going to pull out her loose tooth with them, her trademark silent-comedy face on.



EDWIN

His youngest daughter making a scene, his sister soothing her, and his sister-in-law provoking her: what else was new? But he was the father, and he was the oldest brother, and although no one believed in him much, it was time to take control. He asked for a piece of thread, and he tied it around his daughter's tooth and then gently pulled.



TIM

What kind of family had he married into? He loved his second set of children, and they got along so well with his first, but his wife, her similarly shaped niece, and the rest of her family were the most exasperating bunch. He watched as the niece was rewarded with money and ice cream for her lost tooth and then as she spat and cursed at her father, apparently blaming him for everything. Shaking his head in disgust, he silently wished his wife would be true to her word and leave the country--and him--already.



JACY

She watched her father, saw his tiredness and utter dislike for her stepmom and her family, and wondered if he wished he had stayed with her mother: she thought the answer was yes. She wondered vaguely if there was any chance of her parents getting back together: she thought the answer was no. She wondered if her siblings still hoped for it: she thought the answer was maybe. And then it was time to go, and she worried a bit because the place they made her park her car was teeming with roaches. But they were gone: the whole tooth ordeal took so long, the roaches must've fallen asleep. Or died.

Sleepless Stupor

6 AM. Birds chirping. Jeepneys started their runs about an hour ago. Just finished the draft of a program script due today that we're meeting about tonight. I've e-mailed it to the people concerned. I have not slept. I am going to bed after this, sleep till the afternoon, and get ready for my meeting. Then maybe I'll have a few drinks; tonight is Friday night, after all.

I, for the first time ever, received roses and chocolate on Valentine's Day. The roses were red, and there were 3 of them. The chocolates came in a heart-shaped container. The most cliche gifts ever, even according to my gift-giver. But there's a reason why they're given all the time: they are wonderful things that make their receivers happy. Besides, for someone like me, who has never in her life had a relationship close to resembling normal, cliche is a breath of fresh air. :)

The Lame-Ass and the World-Class

Last Friday, for the first time in forever, I went to see a gig again. It was the opening of an acquaintance's bar, and me and some friends from my old job (not that I have a new one) decided to go check it out. A lineup of bands, free entrance, okay food, and cheap booze. It's been a while since I've been in that scene, either as a member of the audience or as one of the performers, but... nothing has changed.

These band people still walk around with an all-important swagger, unsmiling. Their hair is still messy or unkempt. (There was this Kurt Cobain wannabe--vocal style, body movement, outfit and all--who had his hair all in his face. So you would think, okay, this guy doesn't give a shit about his hair. At least, that was the desired effect. The illusion, not very convincing to begin with, was shattered when he got thirsty and very carefully lifted a curtain of his hair, just one side, up and back toward his ear and took a drink of water, and then just as gently eased his hair back to cover his face. OhmahLawrd.) They all still sound the same. There is still a lack of originality.

But. Inasmuch as I hated on them, I was actually happy and relieved. Happy because I'm never happier (well, maybe not never) than when I have something to bag on. Relieved because, well, it's good to know that I'm still up to par. It's good to know that I haven't gotten left behind. That world is almost exactly as I left it, and were I to return (and I will), I'm still good for it.

Last night, I went to see a gig of a friend of mine. His band, Sound, played at 19East in Sucat. That place, by the way, is awesome. Lots of parking, nice garden tables, spacious music hall, fantastic sound system. And the drinks are yummy. The only downside is that you have to go down to the basement to use the bathroom: not exactly convenient or easy when you've had a few drinks. And the place is a little out of the way, so it doesn't really fill up. Sayang (it's too bad) though.

Sound played along with two other more-or-less jazz bands, Yosha and The Group. They were all really good. I mean like really good. Sound seems to be sort of feeling their way into something a little different from their old stuff, probably mostly owing to their lineup change, from a band of 6 to a 4-man lineup. Sounds good, though. The Group plays old stuff (the guy up front is kinda old too), The Police and Toto, and they don't sound like a cheap imitation either. In fact, if you close your eyes, you'd swear it was actually Sting singing. The discovery of the night, though, was Yosha, a 3-piece band fronted by a female vocalist. I don't even know where to start. Those guys are amazing, very clean and tight, and they've got this energy/vibe that's chill and subdued but with a kick. Definitely worth going to see.

So. I've been to 2 gigs within the span of a week. One showed me that I haven't been left behind and that I can still make it. The other showed me that there is so much more fantastic talent out there, that perhaps they have been working on their stuff for a long time, and that they are definitely on their way to something fantastic, coz by God, they got it. And I guess what I got out of them both is a good kick to my backside to get back on track already. I know that I still got it, that I can keep up with what's out there. But I'm not the only one, and I'm not getting any younger. So it's about time I really just went for it. I've been biding my time, doing things I needed to do first, and waiting for when it would be right. Well, that time is now. I'm not gonna be any more ready or in a better position to go do this. There is no more point in putting it off.

It's time to just take a deep breath, close my eyes, and jump.

Reflections of the Newly Unemployed

I guess I had a bit of an extended holiday. I still ate a lot last night and today to celebrate my freedom from work. Whee!!!

I shoulda applied for a Canadian visa before I quit, though. Went through the requirements today, and among the suggested documents for showing is a certificate of employment. Bank statements, too, and I just so happened to have canceled my credit card a month ago. Might not look too good: I cut my only local credit card and quit my job, and almost immediately after I sever these ties to my homeland, I'm applying for entry into another country? I need to show too that I'm financially capable of supporting my travel, and although I think I have enough to get by over here, the cost of living there is so much higher, and I dunno if I have enough. And I just realized how expensive it is to apply for a visa: 3600 buckaroos??? And that's one of the cheaper visa application fees. For permanent residency visas, it's more than 20,000.

I'm gonna have to live a little simpler now, too, I guess. I've never been an extravagant spender, but when I had a job and was making my own money, I could have an occasional unplanned nice dinner or drinks or buy something nice on a whim, and saving up for a trip or some other big expense required only some overtime work and patience.

Well. No regrets. I really am glad to be outta there. Had I stayed longer, I might have fallen into that life--the life of entering the regular white-collar workforce straight out of college and making my way up that ladder (the company I work for doesn't even have a ladder; they've got even fewer steps than a Little Tykes play set, and even those are accessible only to the elite). And I might have stayed with it, until it became comfortable (comfort does not necessarily equate to happiness, to meaning), a habit. Until it became too late for me to take any other road (although I always say it's never too late; I guess in this case, I mean too late from a practical standpoint).

I need the free time. I really need to get back to work on preparing myself for music school. I need to get back into the world of art, and into the art of life. I need to retrace my steps and get back to the state of mind and being I was in before work took over my entire brain and my entire life.

And I'm still okay. I'm not broke on my ass; I do have some money. I made it a point to save a little bit of every paycheck, so I do have savings. And I have money put aside for some things: the occasional gimik (night out), a couple of trips out of town, getting my PC fixed, visa and school application fees. I just have to be very careful every single time I spend now, and that's okay. I've lived pretty much my entire life like that (I grew up without an allowance: the only money I had was limited to what I received as gifts, and so I had to spend and save carefully and wisely); it shouldn't hurt me too much to go back to that.

Totally unrelated thought: why is it that bubble baths in real life are never anywhere near as bubbly as they are in the movies/on TV? And do baths with rose petals feel as good as they look? I mean, they're just effin' petals floating on the surface of the water, and most of your body doesn't even come into contact with them. They do look heavenly though.