Lack of progress

Something about today just doesn't feel right. Maybe it's hormones. They make a good scapegoat for pretty much everything, so I might blame them. Although more likely is all the hours I've spent outside lately, a lovely thing as summer kicks out, but a horror if you've put on inadequate amounts of sunscreen. My skin is screaming at me. So I'm hibernating, and enjoying the weather through the kitchen door instead.

I've tried getting my music cap on but I'm uninspired all round. I think I'm writing a song about Tasmania but it's hard to be sure. Yet another hidden lesson regarding songwriting, and perhaps a classic truth: I have a certain 'style' in which I write. Of course. Thanks, Captain Obvious. I guess what I mean is that I can say I'm going to write a song about something oblique, like cycling to Wollongong, but I still kind of fill it with metaphors and stuff. Bart left a comment that nicely tied it up: "the more literal you get, the more crazy-deep metaphorical it sounds". That track is probably the most literal I've ever gotten, since it actually has some kind of narrative, but I'm doing it again in this Tasmania song (working title: Lagoon). I'm sort of telling the story, but in a sideways manner. It's not intentional, but all my stuff just kind of comes out like that.

I like people not really knowing what I'm singing about, or getting some kind of alternate meaning, or taking it at face value and not knowing about an emotion watching quietly from beneath. You don't want to get too weird with it though, because there needs to be that point of connection: the something they take away even if it is not what you first intended. It's like with 'Blow On In'. The verses are kind of just random sentiments. In order to make them feel more tangible, more real, I started numbering them. Eleven reminders why we left. Seventeen reasons we couldn't afford. Twenty-three lorikeets colour the sky. Ninety-eight beats of a rapid heart. Now it feels like something.

Then, of course, there are songs that are just written because the words seemed to fit nicely and I couldn't find an appropriate feeling from my repertoire to match. That seems to happen more frequently with the band now, another thing I wasn't paying much attention to, so getting to write on my own is a nice way of reminding myself that it's ok to say whatever you want and I don't have to try so hard all the time.

Anyway, this is sort of bizarrely askew of my regular blogs, but I can only contribute what I have. Today that just happens to be a breakdown of my songwriting patterns. Which reminds me, we're playing at the Excelsior Surry Hills tonight at 9pm - oh I should also probably mention that we came runners up in the band comp, but I won't elaborate for reasons of diplomacy - and that'll be our last show until May.

Also, we went to see Jersey Boys last night and it was fantastic. I may have to work some Four Seasons-esque choreography into our set now.*

*not really.

Summary - Month 7

The 22nd, again? I realise I didn't even get around to writing a summary last month. That means I should have made loads of progress since the last one of these, right? Right?

#1 – The Fundraising Ball. There is going to be one, and it is. hella. exciting. There is much yet to be organised and you will be informed closer to the date. I'm looking forward to it. A lot.

#2 – The Other Fundraiser. See #1.

#3 – Laughing Strangers. Ok, so I've only made 7 people laugh. I've also made a lot of people not laugh. A far larger number. So don't think I'm not trying.

#4 – i. Mediation. Since I became unemployed, I'm not being as strict with my routine as I used to - which is to say, taking my 10 minutes at 11o'clock every morning like a regularly scheduled dose of Chill The Fuck Out. Now that I'm more chilled and a whole lot less when-did-this-pit-of-despair-become-my-life, I have the flexibility to meditate as it comes to me. Audio has become my method of choice again after a couple of months being 'mindful'.

ii. Song Per Month. Although I'm still behind, I'm getting into the swing of creativity and this feels more achievable. You'll have to ignore the fact that I just spent two days trying to complete a song and coming up with nothing more than a few lines of gibberish. It was a total mindfart. It happens.

iv. 26km Coast Track. I was devastated when we had to cancel this. I think we've rescheduled it for the first weekend in May (which ridiculously was the first weekend available). I hope we don't freeze.

#5 – Songs About Challenges. I'm not quite as up to date with these as with the 'regular' songs. In fact I'm three months behind. But that's ok. I'll fudge them if I have to.

#6 – Bathurst. ARGH. The band is not in a good position for interstate travel just now. We figured out there is actually no possible time we can pull this off - March and April are out due to weddings and general mayhem, May has a small window which is unlikely to be available on all 5 calendars, and June/July is out due to our drummer going on an American pilgrimage. I am going to have to find a way to adjust this and make an agreement with Jason, who set the challenge. That, or he perhaps settles for me going and playing on my own, but I'm not sure that really counts.

#7 – Gospel. I hope we get to perform again soon.

#8 – Children’s Hospital. I am resigning myself to this being far more difficult than suspected. The original challenge was to volunteer with a school reading group, with the children's hospital being a secondary option should the first not work out. With a 9 to 5 job getting in the way of the first choice, maybe I can revert on this.

#9 – Harbour Walks. I've made it as far as Taronga Zoo. Perhaps a quarter of the way. I plan to sucker punch a huge chunk of this next week with Ben's parents... but I still don't own any hiking boots.

#10 – Driving. My heart sinks when I think of this challenge. All is not lost, but I feel like so much could have been gained by now should I have not made the stupid decision that I did. Ben doesn't like it when I get down on the car so I will try not to bitch about it any more. Needless to say, I still can't drive.

#11 – Tasmania. COMPLETE!I swam in the Dee Lagoon. It was lagoon-y.

#12 – Scrapbooking. My scrapbook is coming together very slowly but surely. I have managed to lose all of the photos that I scanned, a minor setback. In the meantime I am cutting and pasting and creating a lot of background pages. I don't think it'll make for very good consistency when I get around to putting the substance in chronological order, but who needs a theme anyway?

#13 – Cooking. Again - I need to decide what my 7 dishes are. There is such huge space between each time I make everything that I always (with the exception of schnitzel and saltimbocca) have to refer to the recipe again. However, this is still learning, and each time is a little different, and a little less daunting, depending on the context of the situation.

#14 – TV. For a moment there I thought there was a window - somebody mentioned Foxtel to me, the pay-television channels. Since we don't have this service, I forgot that there was an entirely new scope for TV hijacking out there. The tunnel suddenly gave light! Until I tried to do some research, which is when I realised the calibre of the programming meant I would need to be a 15-year-old chain smoker who got knocked up by her teacher to even get a look in.

#15 – Horseriding. Well, we took one lesson, and plan to schedule another. We may do the second lesson in lieu of the trail ride, but an overnighter is still on the cards. It will have to be May as well.

#16 – Sydney to Gong. COMPLETE.

#17 – Reunion Dinner. I think it's rude not to reply to emails, don't you? If people aren't interested in doing something, they should just say so, not ignore you completely. In the interests of giving this challenge a fair shot, I think I will need to resort to just going up to Gosford and cooking Heath some lasagne myself. We've not seen each other for maybe 3 or 4 years. That still makes it a reunion in my books.

#18 – Breakdancing. When I can afford it, I will.

#19 – The Heart Is A Lonely Hunter. COMPLETE.

#20 – Yeats. Oh crap.

#21 – Youtube. Dusker are going in to record a 'single' - although, what is a single these days - on March 19/20. After that we can make a video clip. And put it on Youtube. Oh yes...

#22 – Busking. Why is this so difficult??!

#23 – Cliff. Many of my friends are showing (healthy) skepticism at this one. For the record, if I get there and it is ridiculous, I won't do it. I'm determined to follow through with everything, but not at the expense of great injury.

#24 – Protest Song. The song is written! Now I just need to get it into a format that I can send to a website.

#25 – See Challenge 4.ii
#26 – See Challenge 4.iii

#27 – Blood. COMPLETE.

#28 – Japanese. Tokidoki, Nihongo hanashimasu!Suki desu. Soshite terebi-o mimasu. Kirei-na terebi desu. Zehi! (Translation: Sometimes, I speak Japanese! I like it. Then I watch television. It is a beautiful television. Absolutely!)

#29 – Parents. I need to talk to them more.

At this stage of the game, the newest strategy necessitates a very important factor: compromise. I'm seven months in, time-poor and actually-poor, but fortunately still enthusiasm-rich (for the most part). For example, I'm probably not going to pull off a 500-people fundraising ball. But I'm going to do the next best thing. If I don't make 52 strangers laugh, I make as many attempts as possible. That was always the point - to try to complete the tasks to the best of my ability. If I can't complete them for whatever reason, I'll have still given them all a damn good try. If this was Masterchef, they'd be telling me what a fantastic journey it has been, and George would be up and down on his toes marveling at my pannacotta, which in my case, is singing in a gospel choir. And then I use Matt Preston's cravat to wipe the tears of joy from my face. It's going to make for a surprisingly moving piece of television. Trust me.

Bad poetry, oh noetry: A kitchen haiku

I made cassoulet:

The bread crumbs and everything!

Beans, leeks and onions,

Sage from the garden,

Bacon and tinned tomatoes.

Simmering, bubbling...

Happy sausages

Greet us from the roasting pan.

The in-laws liked it.

Every Century

And now: a song for you!

Thanks for the inspiration, Karen! I'll do a better audio recording of this some time so I can get to saving the world in highest quality possible. (It also doubles as - what am I up to now? - January's song.) Hoorah!

I walked, I left a footprint

Heavy in the sand

I felt the lapping water

Gripping at the land

I sensed the air was thicker

And prickly on my skin

I peered into the volcano

As my breath was getting thin

As your energy recedes

We forget just what we need

Small movements make a big stand

Tiny actions become a large demand

Little changes felt in giant ways

Every century still breaks down into days

I saw the heavens spinning

Clouds go rushing by

Amazed at all the colours

Ignited in the sky

I felt foundations slipping

Underneath my feet

But heard the people singing

To one determined beat

As your energy recedes

We forget just what we need

Small movements make a big stand

Tiny actions become a large demand

Little changes felt in giant ways

Every century still breaks down into days.

Zebrotamus

I sat down to try and write a song yesterday, and dogged as my pursuit was, it turns out I'd run out of things to say. Odd, because I seem to have too much to say (of little interest) most of the time. I guess it's a collaborative thing - when provided with a something to build on (ie. music), part of your job is to slot together something that fits (ie. melody and lyrics). Otherwise it's like we're doing two different jigsaw puzzles, except Jacob's is of a zebra and mine is of a hippopotamus. It doesn't work. Unless they were made in the same factory with the exact same shapes cut out of it. Then I suppose they'd fit together ok. You'd just get a weird animal at the end.

Spending two hours aimlessly noodling didn't feel very productive, so I decided to make a start on Karen's climate change piece. I also signed up with 1 Million Women. You should too, provided you have the necessary genitalia. They run a campaign for inspiring women to take small, personal steps towards reducing carbon emissions, and give you hints on things you can change in your life towards making this happen. Each woman needs a minimum goal of reducing 1 tonne of CO2 and the site calculates your tally for you as you tick things off. While filling out my profile I realise that we are already running a fairly good household for emissions - we ride our bikes and use public transport, we recycle everything, switch stuff off at powerpoints, avoid using plastic bags, cut out one day a week of meat consumption. I suppose like everyone, it's about making those extra changes. Taking shorter showers. That kind of thing.

Anyway so I'm about halfway through a song about it. It's an effort to stay on the right side of preachy or naff and still be relevant. I don't want to make it too abstract but I don't want to be all "yeeeah so save the forests, pandas are dying wooooo" either. It's called 'Every Century' and hopefully I'll get some audio of it up soon. 1 Million Women already have a theme song but I think I'll 'donate' my song to them anyways and see if they're into it.

Oh, and the fundraising ball. Totally. Happening. Watch this space.

Shut up, cicadas!

I'm taking a break from the job hunt today. It has been getting me down this week, and it feels like pointless hours wasted away in front of the computer. I like to believe that being super positive can bring good karma or whatever, but the fact is I'm still unemployed with no prospects and no money and that whole mindset is wearing thin. Whenever I feel low I just remember that if I had not quit, I'd be enrolling grotty and complacent students by now. It makes me feel a lot better.

The in-laws are in town, all the way from bonnie Scotland! We've not seen them since the wedding fifteen months ago, so it is awesome to lay eyes on some family again without Skype playing middle man and garbling everything up. They plan to do a massive harbour walk and I am very excited about this prospect. Their map runs from the north side of the bridge right around the west side of the harbour and back to the south side of the bridge in the city. The tourist information centre told them it should take around four days depending on how far you want to walk each day. This makes my heart go doki-doki (Japanese onomatopoeia for a fast-beating heart), 100%! The walks are a huge metaphorical thorn in my time frame, so if I could knock out the majority of it in a week it would pretty much be the best thing ever. It also means saving money on the travel costs as we can get a travel multi-pass and jump on and off everything for that week - this has been an awkward hidden factor of this particular challenge.

As usual, other micromovements towards implementing some other challenges has brought a deafening silence, an aural space immediately occupied by the screech of cicadas having a rave party outside my window. Loudest. Insects. Ever. (no really.) I'm going to try and drown them out with my guitar. Wish me luck.

Creating buzz

Gospel choir continues to calm me in my times of flustering failures, in which it feels like there are many of late. We've been doing some 'improvised singing' at the end of each session and it is really eye-opening. Or rather, ear-opening. How it works is that we start on a hum, on whatever note you feel like singing. When you run out of breath, try to fade the note out rather than stopping abruptly (harder than it sounds) and fade back in when you're ready. The trick is to keep your eyes closed and listen to the people around you, feeling where you can match others, harmonise, provide counterpoint, be inspired by a change, swell, create buzz. The hum can become any sound you like - ahhs, doo-doos, la-la, ba-dups - as long as it fits into the soundscape. There will always be moments of dissonance but that is part of the experiment too. I would actually love to record one of these sessions and listen to it back later. The whole piece has a life of its own and sort of just comes to a natural conclusion. It's eerie and wonderful.

We also played a rhythm game today and that was fun. It involved singing a pattern with a couple of claps incorporated in it, and then doing it as a round. At one point the singing faded right down to barely audible and we all just clapped - I'm sure it would have sounded random and uninteresting to a passer-by, but sensing a heavy concentration amongst the sound in the room was wild. There is joy in feeling something like rhythm. I really hope my kids inherit it.

As a small aside...

...I wanted to say that LCD Soundsystem are now even more amazing than previously stated. They announced not so long ago that they are breaking up (really, this time. James told me in 2007 that they probably weren't going to tour again. Then they pretty much toured non-stop for the three years preceding that conversation. Which was awesome and I'm stoked they did. But now they're not any more. Fo' reals. It sucks. But, you know, good for them). So they announced a Last Gig Ever at Madison Square Garden (?!?) in NYC and it sold out in, like, minus time. Except then ticket scalpers started trying to charge thousands of dollars for tickets. THOUSANDS.

Anyways they've announced some more shows in the lead up to try and bring prices down and generally do the right thing by their fans. It's super noble. You can tell the whole thing has pained them. I read their blogs sometimes and James' voice reminds me that they were my friends before I knew they were famous people, because he writes exactly the way he talks. It got weird when I came back to the real world and suddenly saw them in context (or out of context, depending on how you look at it). And now they're selling out Madison Square Garden. Holy shit.

I'm sad there will be no LCD after April. But I am blessed to have shared their world for what was arguably the three coolest weeks of my life, when it could have just been 'another thing I did overseas' and potentially just another job. I did other tours. They weren't like that one. They just weren't.

Oh, and they're going to be on Colbert tonight (!!) so you should definitely watch it.

Take me to Dee River

Before you ask: no, we didn't go to Cradle Mountain. And no, we didn't go to Wineglass Bay. And no, we didn't go to Port Arthur. We did go to Hobart, and what little we saw of it was spine-tinglingly lovely. I ate some pretty spectacular French toast there. So yes, my quizzically-expressioned friend, we were in Tasmania. Stop shaking your head like that for a moment and put those eyebrows down. Just listen.

"Oohh, taaake me to Dee River... The River Dee is a tributary of the Derwent River in Tasmania. It flows into the Dee Lagoon. We will stay in dodgy motels, sing songs, eat cheese, drink wine, and once there you will, as Mr Green commands, cleanse your soul (and soles) in preparation for hitting 30 and starting a whole new chapter in life."

So in other words, blame Kat.

I'm kidding, of course. It turns out that sometimes best friends need a push to actually spend some proper quality time together. It's insane that the three of us have never taken a holiday on our own before, but now we live in separate cities, with separate lives, and we see each other only on sporadic transitory weekends. This had to be the most random and wonderful excuse for a 'girly' weekend ever.

The motel was not dodgy. In fact it wasn't even a motel. It was an 1840's charming stone cottage, with large airy rooms decked out in period furniture, free range eggs in the fridge and a loaf of homemade bread with jams lovingly provided.

The back garden was amazing - a treasure trove of fruit and vegetables at our disposal meant we had fresh mulberries at breakfast. And lunch. And dinner.

We settled down in the town of Hamilton (that's my maiden name. Geddit? Oh never mind), one with a tiny population, big beautiful hillscapes, a historic church and a goat I decided to name Engelbert.

Anyway. On Saturday morning we woke up to a fresh 13° c (while back home, Sydney was sweltering in the heatwave of the decade, enduring 42° c). This was the day. I suited up and we headed off into the relative wilderness looking for Dee River. Apparently there is even a place named Dee! I hoped for a sign that welcomed me personally.

About an hour into the drive, we saw a 'Dee River' sign and pulled over to take our first glance at it. A rocky stream bubbled past under the bridge. It looked friendly. We vowed to come back here if we were unable to find a more suitable launching point.

Eventually we turned off onto a dirt road - but shh, don't tell the hire car company - and bumped along it, fumbling with a map. We drove through a cluster of holiday homes which were possibly the aforementioned township of Dee, and there she was, the great Lagoon, on our left.


Dee Lagoon: your fate awaits you.

I'm totally in the Lagoon named after me. Ridiculous, but true. I flailed for a couple of minutes; my feet sinking into the oozy swamp mud. Mel joined me in solidarity. Then we toweled off, went back to the cottage and got drunk on cheese. Victory.

Scarce weekends

So, today (which is "kyo" in Japanese!) I listed all of the weekends between now and the end of July. And then I filled in all the 'life' stuff I need to do - mostly wedding related things, as what feels like thousands of my best friends get hitched and I need to be available for hen's nights, engagement parties, pre-wedding parties, actual ceremonies - and band stuff, including a long overdue recording session (Did I mention that we were in a band comp and have won all our heats and are now in the final? Well we are. It's a bit rad. The final is Tuesday week and if we win it we get a 5-day studio recording package. But I digress). The point is, empty weekends are like opportunities to eat cheesecake. Infrequent but blissful. Especially if the base is all crumbly. Mmmmmmm. Crumbly cheesecake base. Keeki-o kudesai? (Japanese: Can I have cake please?)

I then looked at all the challenges yet to achieve, and the time frames needed for some of them. It's a tiiiiiny bit nerve wracking, but mostly I'm still wrapped up in a sense of guileless positivity about their completion. Call it denial, whatever it is, it's working for me.

Sorry I haven't posted about Tasmania yet, but I've been applying for jobs and stressing about various other things and also am lazy and haven't got around to it. Y'know. But the short story is that I jumped in a lagoon. I'll tell you about it some time.

Meanwhile I've switched meditation audio and now a lovely Scottish gentleman named Andrew Johnson guides me. His accent is wonderful.

You might think that any old chump can cook fried rice.

Well you'd be right! This was a piece of piss to make (but tasted significantly better, I assure you). Usually we would use grated carrot and zucchini in our fried rice but this was more of a "whatever we have in the fridge right now" version.

Oh how we laughed...

And then there were seven. Sort of.

Ben cycled down to Belvoir St one morning (well, actually two mornings, but that's a different story) to try and get last minute release tickets to see Geoffrey Rush in 'Diary of a Madman'. The queue was rather long, and he feared we'd miss out a second time. Someone from the box office came and counted along the line, and told Ben he was at the very end of the allocations and would probably only get one ticket. He texted to tell me this. I texted back (from the comfort of my hairdresser where I was being given my annual head massage from heaven), saying it was ok, I didn't mind if he went on his own as long as he reenacted the whole play for me when he got home. He had been chatting with other queuers (is that a word?) and relayed them my response. Apparently everyone thought that was jolly funny. Ben thinks it may have had something to do with breaking a certain tension with some older single women in line, who had bristled when he said he was trying to get tickets for himself and his wife. This proved I had a sense of humour and we were not some sickly sweet couple (apparently). Maybe that's just the kind of thing that last minute theatre-goers find amusing. Either way, Ben said it was a whole line of people laughing and it totally counts.

Next, I was out and about in the city when I spotted an interesting sight: a young Japanese couple perched underneath the statue of Queen Victoria with little origami dolls. I let myself be suckered in and the lovely guy made me one (pictured here in the dinginess of my lounge room against the harsh glow of my laptop):

As he twisted the fine paper together, I pointed at the head and desperately offered: "Ataya? Atama? Ataya?" Nodding, he giggled sweetly. "Atama." I then tried to think of any other useful Japanese I could work up, but all I could manage was to introduce myself (badly) and then explain I was learning Japanese (badly). He humoured me. He laughed.

The clincher, however, came just as we were leaving Tasmania (more on this later). Standing in the gift shop, I picked up something called an 'Aussie Bubby Stubby'. It took a few moments to register exactly what purpose it served - as a stubby holder for your baby's bottle. Really? No seriously. Really? "This is actually kinda cute," I said to Kat, "in a totally bogan way." The woman behind the counter just about lost it. Shout out to Tam at the 'Tasmania & Beyond' souvenir store at Hobart airport! She said every time anyone buys those from now on, all she'll be able to think about is their bogan baby. Thanks Tam. I hope that keeps you laughing.

I do realise that seven is significantly less than 28, which is how many weeks have passed since I began this project and therefore how many strangers I'm supposed to have made laugh by now. But I'm working on the little victories.

Hot, much?

Wow, you know what is inexplicitly dull? Scouring through career websites and trying to figure out things like how diary management can possibly be as exciting as so many ads say it is. My concentration skills are waning in these temperatures. I am trying to write something more substantial. Really.

The Great Walk continues: Balmoral to Taronga

My companion on Leg 3 of the Harbour Walk was the delectable Miss Caroline.

The day proved too hot for the equally delectable Sir Benjamin who was forced to stay home or face the wrath of Australian humidity on Scottish flesh. And so began an impromptu girls own adventure.

Having learnt the importance of following the guidebook, we decided to do the walk 'backwards' and start at Taronga, working our way back to Balmoral. Inner west trackwork was conveniently taking place, so we chose a leisurely ferry option: drive to Balmain, ferry to Circular Quay, change ferries to Taronga Zoo. This is the kind of time I could get used to consuming.

The ferry wharf is at the Zoo Entrance and we caught a glimpse of Miya the sea-lion swimming gleefully around her enclosure (I know her name because I've visited her before). For every dirty great spider and deadly snake, Australia also graces us with some beautiful bush friends. A cooing juvenile kookaburra, and a charming lolloping goanna were two of the first we met.

The views of the harbour along this route are a little bit divine to say the least.

Bradley's Head was quite a find - one of those places you think, wow, why didn't I know this was here before? It's an amazing lookout point with some bizarre memorials, such as a Doric stone column they decided to drag out there for no real reason. There were six of them but they somehow managed to lose four (How do you lose a Doric stone column? It's not like it's going to fall behind the couch). There's also a crazy ampitheatre that goes right down into the harbour.

Most of the walk goes through Sydney Harbour National Park; speckled shade, unseen creatures scurrying in nearby bushes, fragrant flowers and almost tropical greenery.

Some people are alarmingly wealthy enough to own properties along this stretch. Who are these people? We admired the stunning, vine-laden houses from our plebs view in the vegetation, discussing whether we would really appreciate everything so much if we were to view it from a balcony every day (the answer was probably still yes).

Shoes and bags were abandoned at Chowder Bay while we took a much deserved ocean frolic. Kids were leaping from the wharf here so we joined in. Somehow, the thrill of jumping from high places never seems to get old.

The home stretch took us down a long wooden staircase through the national park to pop out the other side at Balmoral. Totally stunning, and a joyous way to spend a Sunday.

Songwriting catch up

Just to prove I did write some songs all those months ago, here's a snippet of what Dusker sounds like rehearsing "Blow On In" (September's song):

...oh and also I don't think I ever posted "Mallow" (August's song). I was still trying to figure out the whole blogging thing back then. I still can't figure out whether it is here or not. Anyway, in case it isn't, here's a demo of it. Imagine it getting totally Sigur Ros on your ass right at the end and you'll get the idea.

Mallow by duskerdee

Soft like a mallow

I caught you in the shadows

You climb in through the window

You're shooting all your arrows

Hold me in the winter dark

Bathe me in the summer light

The water is your alibi

The wind is your valentine

Your light is a firefly

The trains are your lullaby

Hold me in the winter dark

Bathe me in the summer light

It's a trick of the light (soft like a mallow)

It's a trick of the light (caught you in the shadow)

It's a trick of the light (climb in through the window)

It's a trick of the light (shooting all your arrows)

If this is what being a bum is like, then why am I still so damn busy?

I already know this is going to be a stupid post that I am posting for the sake of posting. But I don't have time to do a proper post. Unemployment is awfully time consuming, and I've not even got halfway through my to-do list yet.

I still have to write about the walk, and also about a cute little Japanese interlude today, and wow, how many trillions of degrees is it outside? I have to get ready to go to choir shortly and I am sorry to say that I would much rather stay home in my pyjamas, but such is the sacrifice of progress. I feel like it is taking away from an opportunity to do something else, like breakdancing, and also I am very aware that the $15 it costs me to participate is $15 that we really don't have spare right now. Yes, I'm complaining for the hell of it, and I'll enjoy it once I'm there, blah blah blah, but, you know.

I'm very glad I quit my job, but I'm almost as stressed out just trying to get my personal stuff done. I must remember it is only Day One and the window will keep opening, but it doesn't feel like that yet. I will get more time to myself. And I will be gainfully employed again soon, I hope. I am only starting to realise that not everyone chooses to fill their every waking second with stuff.