Sunday, June 28, 2015

make my own home

so my mother just called to tell me that she and my stepdad are selling the family home and moving, and now i'm trying to process a lot of weird "help, how do i adult?" feelings.


to be clear, it's not like they're going that far from the current house -- they're moving out to one of the islands that's basically connected with kingston via ferry. according to my mom, they've been looking for waterfront property for a couple of years now, and they've finally found the jackpot. they're putting the current family home up for sale and hopefully moving by the fall.

whoa. (my initial response was: "but you've put so much work into the house!" and it's true, they really have -- inground pool, jacuzzi, workout room, full surround sound, a lot of home reno. in fact, my mom had said on a number of occasions that she'd never consider selling the house. the island home must be hella impressive.)

as a lot of you know - it's even in my about me narrative - although i was born in kingston, i mainly grew up in a tiny east ontario village called moscow. after my parents divorced, and my mother was dating the man who'd later become my stepdad, my mom, sister and i moved out of the massive stone house that i'd called home for pretty much all of my life. and i remember the day that my mom drove my sister and i into the kingston suburbs to show us the house that we'd all be moving into together -- the three of us, plus future stepdad and his two kids. i think she expected us to be as thrilled and excited as she was, but when she drove by the "new house" and pointed it out, 13-year-old me only managed a stony glare and grumble. (to which i remember receiving a terse "fine. fine." to say my mother and i didn't get along during my teenage years would be a vast understatement.) what i wasn't able to describe was how torn up i was about leaving the countryside, about moving away from the only home i'd ever known.

yet in the years to come, that new house in kingston would bear witness to all of us kids going through adolescence, high school drama, young relationships, and eventual leavetakings as we all went on to our own lives. for me personally, i only lived in that house for six years, from 1996 to 2002. by comparison, i've lived in dwellings across toronto for thirteen years now. also, i only go to kingston, like, three times a year -- for thanksgiving/my dad's and my birthdays (they're always on the same long weekend), for christmas, and usually once during the summer. but still, i can't disregard the fact that that's been the home i've always returned to for birthday celebrations, term breaks, mother's and father's days, and christmases for those past thirteen years.

on some level, we don't want our childhood home to change, do we? we like to think that we can go back and everything will be just as we left it. we don't like thinking about how the world can go on without us there to witness it. but little by little, things change -- walls get knocked down or repainted, teenage bedrooms become home offices, beloved pets pass away, trees grow tall enough to block windows, new neighbouring subdivisions go up, and sooner or later you go "home" only to find that it stands as a monument to the fact that time does pass without you. time always does.

i think we all get a finite number of havens -- little places we can go when we need to escape the regular world and our everyday lives. and if you're on good terms with your family, the longtime family home is usually one of those sanctuaries you can always go back to. this was definitely the case for me; the kingston home was where i could always go if i was having a tough time in the big city. it was where i spent a lot of weekend vacations from toronto trying to get my head straight, trying to figure out just what the hell i was doing. it's where i fell in love with music at fifteen, and where six years later, i'd bring an entire rock band home to come crash in the basement. it's where i spent my waiting period between leaving toronto and moving to vancouver. it's been my place to go whenever my life's been in transition -- a safe little rock that doesn't change.

that kingston house is still home to me. i still accidentally slip up and call it "home" sometimes, even though i've tried to quit that habit, because toronto's been my home for so much longer. i wonder if this will finally help me kick it once and for all, because the place on the island won't be my home. and that's fair, because i'm an adult now and i have my own life. still, i'm pretty sure that, in a quiet way, i'll do a bit of mourning for the haven that i'll be losing.

but whatever, none of this should be about me in any way, i know. i congratulated my mom and fully acknowledged that i wouldn't have had any say in it anyway. it hasn't been my home since i was eighteen. plus, my mom just sounded so incredibly happy and excited at the idea of owning a home on the island, and she works hard so she deserves something nice. it's a good thing for them, and whatever, for the couple times i'm in kingston during the year, i'm sure i'll get used to being out on the island. but yeah, you know, i'm going to miss the old family home. i'm going to miss that little sanctuary.

(still love you best, though, toronto.)

[ music | zola jesus, "dangerous days" ]

Saturday, June 27, 2015

slow reaction

the last couple of weeks have legit felt like i was running a marathon and riding on a roller coaster at the same time. you ever have one of those moments? it sort of feels like you have so much to do and so little time to get it all done, you just have to bear down and hold on tight and hope you get through it. of course, a lot of it is an adjustment period - i've had a lot of time off in previous months, but now i have both independent work to do and multiple job interviews to juggle/attend - and i'm sure i'll sort out my scheduling as time goes on, but lately man, wow. i just kept pushing through and hopefully doing the best job i could. i kind of forgot what it feels like.

there were a couple chances when i could have backed out, but nope -- i held myself to that shit. i may be lazy by nature, but i also don't back down from a challenge, particularly when i think it's coming pointedly from someone. i will undermine myself and tear myself done all day long, but the second someone else tells me that they don't think i can do something? nope. noooope. i will end you.

also, you know what? i like being busy. i like it especially having spent a bit too much time being stagnant and just going through the daily motions of whatever. it feels nice to be able to use my brain power, and to go to bed at the end of the day feeling productive, like i actually accomplished something in the day. free time is nice, but too much of it makes me feel equal parts antsy and sluggish. i've been in perpetual go-go-go mode for most of my life - school, multiple jobs, lots of responsibilities - so i don't really know what to do with myself when i have nothing to do. (this would've been the perfect time to develop a useful skill or hobby, and believe me when i say that i tried, but i drew an absolute blank.)

however, a crazy busy couple of weeks makes patio relaxation after everything's done that much nicer:



anyway, the relief i was recently working towards was sean's 32nd birthday last wednesday. it was going to be a day off work for both of us, and we had big plans to make it an awesome day. i'm entirely confident in my abilities to make birthdays special for whatever guy i'm with, but this day in particular was a great success. here's a screencap of his "birthday wins" that i yanked from his facebook:



we went to starbucks to claim his free birthday drink (big ups to the barista for the cute celebratory art on the cup), then to best buy to exchange a fistful of gift cards and a piggybank full of cash for a brand new playstation 4. (he also ended up snagging four games -- arkham knight, devil may cry 4, the last of us, and watch dogs) after lugging this prime haul back to his apartment, there was approximately five hours of dmc before we went out for birthday wings and beer at duff's, his favourite in the city. so, yes: beer, bbq, and video games. i'm pretty sure i enjoyed his birthday as much as he did. (the gamer kid in me is still awed at the idea of going out on your birthday and getting a brand new video game system. like, are you god?)


my boy's been growing out his scruff and i enjoy it immensely.

i legit have nothing on my birthday wish list for this year but a satin pillowcase and a new long leather duster. i'm boring.

another roller coaster week ahead, but i'm looking forward to wednesday (magic mike xxl opening-day movie date with allegra) and thursday (picnic on toronto island with the boy). it's the little anticipations that make all the other stuff worthwhile, after all.

[ music | the moth & the flame, "young and unafraid" ]

Wednesday, June 17, 2015

#Reverb15: School's Out

School's out: Share what you're doing when the sun doesn't set until 9 PM!

considering that i haven't been in school for, oh, nine years now, this prompt doesn't quite apply to me. (i am a grown-ass adult and we don't get summer vacations.) however, i have been thinking a lot about my schooling lately, especially since i've been taking walks through my old campus and noticing all the convocations that have been happening. 'tis the season.


june 21, 2006. so fucking thrilled.

i did four years at the university people refer to as harvard north; a place where the common saying among students was "once you step on campus, you stop smiling." and those were four long, hard fuckin' years, man. i very clearly remember the first week of my third year and just feeling crushed that not only would i have to get through this year, but i still had another year to go after that. to this day, i'm still not convinced that the piece of paper i got at the end of it was worth all the money and struggle, but i did it for my parents. well, them, and the fact that university was my 18-year-old self's ticket to living in toronto. i would have done anything to get the hell out of kingston and start my real life in the big city.

(and it only occurs to me now that this is exactly what my mother meant the other week when she said that "sometimes we need to do things we don't necessarily want to do, but because they'll ultimately give us the opportunity to get to where we really want to be." even crummy experiences can be used as a means to an end, if you want something bad enough.)

but then once the four years were up, i absolutely had this feeling of "oh shit, here we go." it was time to go out into the real world. and honestly, i had been waiting for it for so long. there were so many times during my university years that i would get totally fucking impatient, wanting to get out there and prove my worth, feeling like the world was passing by without me. (to be fair, my life wasn't 100% schoolschoolschool; i was working full hours at my part-time job, and in my third & fourth years i had the bad habit of skipping classes to 1) interview bands and/or 2) running away on tour with bands)

so once i was finally unleashed, i had two conflicting feelings of 1) determination and 2) sheer panic. if i wanted to stay in toronto, i needed to double down on the jobs so i could pay my rent (up to this point, i was living on my student loan + the wages from my one part-time job). also, i wanted to keep pushing at my music writing, but that would have to take a backseat until i figured out how to stay in the city that had become my home. and i couldn't find anything entry level, you know? i really did look for full-time writing and editing jobs - because my freelance music journalism had at least afforded me a little experience i could put on a resume - but it ended up not being until 2008 that i would land my first 9-to-5 gig. instead, i would end up stumbling between part-time jobs and from one side of the country and back over the next couple of turbulent years.

but, when i was a new university graduate, i was fucking determined: i would stay here. i had put in my four years and countless thousands of dollars. i had earned my right to be in toronto and not have to move back home with my parents.

so yeah, i was terrified, but i was also running on a heightened survival instinct. none of the jobs were right for me, not out of the gate, but they gave me something to do while i tried to sort out how i would move forward. the sad thing is, i'm not sure if i ever really did. it feels like it's all been lateral moves for me. which isn't a total negative - it's not moving backwards, at least - but with no sense of a career, i haven't really had as much upward mobility in my career as i'd like. and sometimes i do wish i had dropped out of uni and grabbed those chances when i saw them. sometimes i wonder if i missed out on my future. but if my mother's right and everything works out the way it's supposed to, then i guess i would have ended up here sooner or later, no matter what.

oh, and the original prompt question - what am i doing when the sun doesn't set until 9 pm? mostly waiting for the sun to set, because i like the nighttime.

[ music | broken bells, "holding on for life" ]

Saturday, June 13, 2015

day in the life


this is art eggleton park, on my way to the gym every morning. it just always looks so peaceful.

now that i've got a bit of a break between work projects, i have a brief window of time to scribble in here for a bit. yes, i don't really blog about it much - i've never really blogged about work much, really - but i've been doing freelance writing for the last while, thus granting me the glamourous life of being able to work 1) from home and 2) without pants. i'd like to get back to full-time agency work eventually - i miss people, and i miss structure - and i'm actively going to job interviews in the attempt to make this a reality, but in the meantime, this is doing me just fine. (blatant plug: do you want me to write for you? let me know! my rates are competitive, and i am good.)

late spring/early summer is the busy time though, apparently, and i'm pretty happy to be occupied. yet it really does highlight for me the differences between my stamina back in the day when i juggled a bunch of jobs, and now, when i am an old. my mom: "honey, you used to work multiple part-time jobs, and you were writing, and you were in school." me: "mom, i was 22, so i had the energy; i was single, so i had the time; and i lived in a basement, so i had cheap living expenses." but i make it work, and it's good to stay productive. exercising the ol' brain knowledge is important.

here's how my days usually go:

i wake up early. i always have. i have a deep-rooted inability to sleep past 9 a.m. at the very latest; i think this goes all the way back to childhood, when my father would get up at 6 a.m. every day to get ready for work (he was a high school teacher) and i would get up too so i could spend time with him. even now, i don't like sleeping in too late because i feel like i'm wasting the day, like i'm not getting a good start if i spend half the morning in bed. it just sort of throws my whole day off.

anyway, i get up early, i make coffee (a lot of coffee), i put on indie 103.1, i check all my usual website and social feeds, and then, if i'm in the mood for it, i write here. i write all my personal blog posts pretty early in the morning, which has been common for me for just about forever (my old blog had timestamps on the posts, and going back over them, 98% of the posts were made either around 7 a.m. or 11 p.m., when i would get home from work for the night). so i chip away at a new or already-existing blog post, then drop it and go to the gym. again, morning workouts always. i'm a creature of habit these days. afternoon workouts happen occasionally, but i don't like them, because there's too many people around and it's too hot out. whine, whine.

morning workout done around noon, i go home, shower, fix some scrambled eggs and tea and fruit for lunch, then settle in to do work writing for the afternoon. (weirdly, i can't blog without music on, and i can't write professionally with music on. i dunno.) that's the other thing with me: i'm best at personal writing in the morning, and best at professional writing in the afternoon. it's like my brain needs that lead-up - ie. plenty of caffeine and exercise and psyching up - to get into work mode. i slog a bit if i have to do it first thing in the day. and, like most freelancers, i'll work into the evenings and on weekends. i put in the hours to make sure i get my shit done, and done well.


i also write surrounded by marvel pops, and sometimes delicious snacks.

but i do tend to keep things meticulously scheduled, which works; i pencil in the daily timeblocks where i have to write for work, and i stick with it. still, that's the #1 awesome thing about freelance life (other than working with no pants on): you choose your hours. sure, you may have to work long into the night to hit your project deadlines, but you can start and finish whenever you choose. and while i do like overarching structure to a job, it's also pretty great to be able to step outside of the 9-to-5 cubicle box and do what works for you.

also great: being able to shop and stuff during the weekdays when everyone else is in the 9-to-5 cubicle box. (conversely, i do a lot of work on saturdays and sundays because i'd rather avoid the crowds of people, so i guess it evens out.) though i really do miss my old work-writing routine of taking smoke breaks, but i guess i won't get cancer now, or something.

like i said, this all does me fine for now. sure, i'd like to get back to something a little more stable, but until i can make that happen, i'm at least staying sharp and occupied. and it gives me the time and space to mull over what i really want to do with my life. (i remember years ago, a kind-hearted boss asked me that very question in a one on one meeting, and i said "that's the question, isn't it?" before bursting into tears.)

there are things i want for my life, but i won't put them here because i don't want to fuck myself over in the future when employers come a-googlin'. i can keep some things close to my chest. (i've said it before re: my blog and i'll say it again: i never tell the whole story. it's truly a revelation when you realize that, in this age of oversharing and no privacy, you control your own public narrative.) but there are some things in my life that i don't want, because i remember how bad it can feel to be trapped somewhere you don't want to be. yet if my mother's right and if everything can be used as the means to an end to an extraordinary life, then i'll have to do what it takes to get to where i want to be.

i still have trouble falling asleep some nights with all the anxiety and worries, but the other night i ended up mentally telling myself this: "hold your head up high, motherfucker. remember who you are and remember where you came from."

but sometimes i think that might be the problem.

once you know what makes you happy in life, how can you be content with anything else?

[ music | phantogram, "black out days" ]

Monday, June 8, 2015

the charm offensive

whew. so much self-reflection and weird negativity lately, huh? apologies. have a cat.



this is the neighbourhood floof, who's the biggest bag of happy friendly fluff you'll ever meet. i see her pretty often as i'm walking to/from the gym, and she always runs right over with an excited meow when i call out to her. the other day, when i took that photo (i regularly snap photos of her because she's such a pretty cat), i sat on the curb in my running gear and just gave her belly rubs for five minutes.



she really loves me, i swear. (sadly, i don't know her name or her owners, or even if she's definitively a she. to me, she's a she, and her name is floof.)

anyway...

it's funny because in the last week, i've had separate conversations that have indirectly related to the last couple things i've been blogging about. the first was when i was with jenna, the two of us sucking back multiple glasses of pimm's cup on her balcony and talking about the struggle i've been having with trying to find an extraordinary life, and feeling like i'm not quite measuring up and/or i'm running out of time to make one for myself.

"you can't measure your life against social media," she said bluntly. "that's why i almost never check facebook. everyone else's lives are so curated to look awesome."

it's always a relief to hear your friends echo your own frustrations. while i won't go so far as to delete social media accounts (though i don't check or update facebook as often as i used to, for sure), it is maybe better to join the real world for a while. it's hard enough to stumble your own way through your own shit without everyone else's shinyhappylives diluting your vision of what you want. if i'm going to have an awesome life and work towards doing extraordinary things, i would rather it be real, not an online construct built to only show the good and not the struggles behind it as well. authenticity is a balance. that's what this entire blog of mine has always been about, after all.

the second was my mother, whom i called up last week to discuss my career path. i've been working freelance for some clients for the last little while, and i've actually had a couple of interviews for a full-time job lately, so i've been trying to sort out (see last blog post) just what exactly i want to do with my life, or what i don't want to do. the latter will remain with me, because i know better than to bitch about things on the internet that can come back to bite me, but when it comes to my career, i know that i'm going to be forced into making a decision before the year's out. that's a fact. even if it's a short-term decision, my life will be different this time next year -- or even in a few months. and here's what my mother said as i fretted about possible wrong decisions:

"everything happens for a reason, even if you don't know it at the time. maybe it'll be that you meet some new friends, or make connections. maybe you'll end up making new opportunities that happen at a later date. but no matter what, things are going to happen as they're supposed to."

and this concept is something that i definitely do believe in myself. it's always been a source of great comfort to me when my life gets turbulent: that even though yes, you do have some agency in things, at the end of the day, everything's meant to be. this is life's path, etc. and so you can't spend too much time mourning bad decisions, because that's how things were supposed to happen. it really saves you a lot of time in the regret & disappointment department.

thinking on it, i guess this is my version of religion, because although i don't believe in a big bearded guy in the sky, i do believe that things work out the way they should. i actually wrote about this a couple years ago and it all still holds true for me.

two more fun little things (aka when i go back through my tumblr and see if anything exciting happened to me lately):



on twitter, this pic is currently sitting at 48 reblogs and 240 favorites, all because i'm wearing my favourite wrestler's t-shirt and said favourite wrestler retweeted it and i didn't stop grinning even as my twitter was on fire for two days. heart u, seth. fluffy-haired supervillains forever.

also somewhat related to the above, i took an online personality test last week and got the intj type, "the architect." (again, pure coincidence re: above - if you're a wwe fan, you'll get it - but i still laughed) particularly relevant passages for me:

INTJs are simultaneously the most starry-eyed idealists and the bitterest of cynics, a seemingly impossible conflict. 
INTJs will strive to remain rational no matter how attractive the end goal may be, and every idea, whether generated internally or soaked in from the outside world, must pass the ruthless and ever-present “Is this going to work?” filter. This mechanism is applied at all times, to all things and all people, and this is often where INTJ personality types run into trouble.
Because their emotions are such an underdeveloped tool, INTJs often feel them more strongly than many overtly emotional types because they simply haven't learned how to control them effectively. 
Having more than just a few friends would compromise INTJs' sense of independence and self-sufficiency – they gladly give up social validation to ensure this freedom. INTJs embrace this idea even with those who do fit into their social construct, requiring little attention or maintenance to remain on good terms, and encouraging that same independence in their friends.

it's true and weird how i've found that i've become more calculating and clinically ruthless as i've gotten older. if i know what needs to be done, i'll do it. also, the whole idea of valuing quality over quantity in friends and otherwise keeping to myself is super true for me. hooray for being a good friend who can also be a recluse!

but when i do get out of the house, at least i have a cute new dress to wear:



i couldn't take a picture of it on me because it photographs weird (it's the little cape-ish part that hangs off the back), but know that it looks rad, and that the keyhole opening on the back is right over my tiger tattoo, which is awesome because barely anyone ever gets to see it:



it's not exactly like i'm flush with cash for new dresses right now, but i couldn't resist. (still, it was a bit of an annoyance to realize that, in my closet search for appropriate job-interview outfits, pretty much all of my dresses are too short to be considered professional. #caitlinproblems)

time to clean up a bit of work writing before settling in to game of thrones and penny dreadful back to back tonight. find me on twitter and tell me things!

p.s. as much as i'm looking forward to the free windows 10 upgrade at the end of july, is anyone else worried that it might blow up the computer? i'm still chipping away on a laptop from 2010, and as much as i love the beast, i'm slightly anxious.

p.p.s. i had a ridiculous life epiphany the other week when i realized that, rather than spending all this money on dry-cleaning my jean jackets, i can...just wash them like normal. because they're just denim. i mean, duh.

[ music | nonono, "pumpin' blood" ]

Friday, June 5, 2015

dangerous days

lately, i've watched trailers for two music documentaries that i really need to see:

kurt cobain: montage of heck


amy


music docs hit a chord for me (pardon the pun) because they show me glimpses of the world that i used to want to belong to. if you haven't known me very long, then you should know that as a teenager, i wanted to be a music journalist as a career. i wanted that so, so bad.

back in early 2003, the now-defunct blender magazine did a cover story on the libertines. (remember the libertines? i loved them.) and man, i wish i could find that article online somewhere, because it just blew my 19-year-old mind. it was just this epic story of highs and lows and drugs and thievery and friendship and rock n' roll. and i remember thinking, oh wow, what a story they have. then: what stories they all must have. and lastly: that's what i could do. i can write. i can tell their stories.

that moment is still the closest i've ever come to having that epiphany that people talk about, where they suddenly realize that this certain thing is what they're meant to do in life. this thing. this is it!

also, it appealed to me because telling anyone else's story means you get to enter someone else's world, if only for a little while. and me, i'd been trying to escape into fantasy worlds my entire life. for me, it was a forever case of no, i reject this reality. this is a mistake. this is not the world i'm meant to belong to. so when i stumbled upon the realization that i could gain entrance to the world of the rock stars purely through the power of my writing, then shit, yeah. i wanted it. i wanted in.

so that year, late 2003, i marched straight out and started looking for music publications where i could contribute. i wasn't an experienced journalist per se (in fact, i'd never had anything published), but i had a good angle - i'd already been following a band around ontario and quebec for almost two years, which proved my passion for the subject - and i was quickly absorbing as much music writing as i could. my bookshelves were stocked with issues of rolling stone, spin, blender, chart, and any number of uk or indie music mags, and more arrived in the mail every week. i'd read these articles and look at the people in the bylines and get so excited that this was my future. this was where i was heading, for sure.

but since i was still in school at the time - and had a part-time job besides, which became two part-time jobs after i graduated - it was only ever a side project, or a hobby. it never paid me enough to live on, and i had to give priority to the jobs that were letting me afford my rent and bills. so after i graduated, i had to dial back a lot of my music journalism in order to fit it in around my jobs, but i kept up with it as best i could.

because i loved it, you know? i didn't love transcribing; very few people do (unless you really love the sound of your own voice, and i do not). but i did love going through the transcript, picking out the pull quotes i could build a story around, and then filling in the blanks surrounding the dialogue with a cohesive, engaging narrative. i loved being able to slant the narrative voice this way or that; i loved finding a good angle or getting the musician to give me the perfect pull quote. i loved doing the research and coming up with solid questions that maybe they hadn't been asked before. i loved the moment when i did in-person interviews and i'd get to walk into the music label offices and then be introduced to the label reps and agents and the bands, and they would always look a little taken aback at this young goth-punk girl who showed up with a tape recorder and a big grin.

and i talked to so many people. i talked to chris cornell and dave gahan and nikki sixx. my second-ever interview was with the tea party, my first favourite rock band when i was a teenager. i interviewed maroon 5 in a stairwell and was insulted by the frontman of kings of leon and set up an interview with dave navarro via aol instant messenger. i spoke to panic at the disco, and the darkness, and interviewed one of my favourite bands, editors, three times over four years. i hung out with muse and drank whiskey with the foo fighters and stole beer from inxs backstage. i got prime tickets and guest list for so many awesome concerts. but i especially loved the industry parties, the get-togethers when i could be among other music journalists, exchanging notes and stories and drink tickets. i was part of the cabal, and i wasn't even 23 years old. it was the mostly fun i'd ever had in my life.

see, i wanted to bear witness to lives more interesting than mine. because i didn't feel that interesting as a person (i was a small-town girl who grew up on a farm, after all), and so i privately held a hope that, in the pursuit of these figures, some of their interestingness might rub off on me. i wanted an extraordinary life, and i saw this as my way to a life that would be a story worth telling.

long story short, i got what i wanted, and then some. my life became very, very interesting. but it was, as many things, unsustainable, and i couldn't make it last. (not when there were other things i wanted more, at the time. something's always gotta give.)

so now, many years and many successes & failures later, i'm at a point in my life where i could possibly try to get back to that place, where i could once again tell the stories of the people who mean so much to me. sadly, though, i'm not sure if it's a world i really want to be a part of anymore.

the new media landscape sucks, you guys. and by that, i mean it sucks for women. you need to have really, really thick skin these days to put yourself out there on the internet as a female, especially if you're a female critic in any capacity. because people will always want to disagree with you, if you express an opinion; doubly so if you're a woman. and me? am i made for that level of possible backlash? i already have all the usual safeguards in place - i have my facebook locked down to real-life acquaintances only; i don't respond to tweets from trolls or creeps; i don't read the comments on anything of mine that's been published online - but now, these days, everything is done online. it's not 2003 anymore. if i want to get back on track to the career i'd always wanted (and even now, there's no guarantee i could pay the bills, just like back in my twenties), i need to put the armour on and dive right in. but could i?

as i said to my mom last week, "when i was 20, i wanted to be a music journalist, but then that career basically became obsolete. so what do you do? you evolve with the career. but what happens when you don't necessarily like what the career has evolved into? what if that just isn't your thing?"

and i think that's where i get stuck.

i still do contribute to music publications every now and again; i still have "freelance music journalist" in my twitter bio and on my facebook profile. these days, though, i worry about whether or not that's too much of an exaggeration. maybe i should make more of a push to make it completely accurate. maybe i should try, because i'm 31 now, and i'm constantly worrying that i'm running out of time to make a name for myself in any field.

also because i know it's not good for me to pretend. ("you're one foot in and one foot out of that little world of yours, and you've never been good at forcing yourself to be somewhere you don't belong.")

i guess i'll have to figure something out, sooner rather than later.

[ music | two wounded birds, "i think the world of you" ]