Perks of the Job

Mark Twain: a true cat lover. (insider info from Cat Fancy's Jan '12 issue. MARK YOUR CALENDARS!!)

It's not all bad. Sure, after taxes I make less than Canadian minimum wage... probably before taxes, too, but the calendar information I enter will provide me with stories long after I've made my nest under the nearest bridge.

I say good-bye to this corporate temp gig tomorrow and move back into the restaurant industry FTish. Oh, the job applications and interviews of the past that I shake my head at, and the ones in the future which I'm trying to remain hopeful for, but am skeptical about with the amount of scams on Clist. I won't start on that.

Basically I just wanted to share the Mark Twain business, and then I felt it necessary to provide some context. Until later, interneters.

the ole switcheroo

There were a few mornings where I poured orange juice over my Corn Flakes or Fruity Pebbles thinking that would combat my continuously grumbling stomach. “I must be lactose intolerant.” As if three days of no dairy would be an instant cure-all. Unfortunately, dysentery by water supply wasn’t that easily cured.

That damn island; I loved it, but apparently it didn’t feel the same about me.

9/3/10

"Today was all relax, though I wish I could transport everyone I've ever met and loved in my life to this place with me, and we would all swim and spin in the sea laughing for all the happiness in the world."
--Boracay, PI
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SCUBA certification with Team Lone Rangers and Big Blue Diving in Koh Tao, Thailand on September 22, 2010.

Bus in PI going to Taal from Manila, when Lizzikins was still with me.

Recently I've been thinking a lot about my travels. Dreaming of the days spent wandering in wonder, and I'm in love and I'm lost. I can't help it; September's the month of change, new beginnings, and I feel like I'm back at square one. I'm thinking a lot about where I've been: "this time two years ago I was living in Korea" and "I was in Thailand, living out of a backpack and sleeping on bouncier than you would believe buses this time last year." Right now I can't see where I'm going and that's feels more scary than exciting now that I'm back home.

But that fear of the here and now and seemingly desperate times is something else that's not for now or here, and so we move on: I just started re-reading my travelogue which feels like kind of a big deal - probably because I built it up as such. I have a slight inkling as to why it's taken me almost a year to re-crack the bronze-wood journal's binding. At first I thought it was because I didn't want to have to come to the realization that my travels were over, and I suppose that is a part of it, but the main reason I discovered was fear that my words wouldn't hold a candle to the truth, thus sparking no memories and completely void of inspiration. In truth, I hope that my fragmented thoughts spin themselves into stories with my prodding.

To end with the words of a man I dubbed "Jacksonville" on flight KE621 from Incheon, KR to Manila, PI who sat next to me and spoke about the book full of  25 potential wives to the woman who was returning home after 30 long years (GOLDMINES ALREADY!!! Skeletons that I must flesh out.): if you are confident, you will be a success.

My Oh My: Chiang Mai!!

I knew it was going to be a good trip when I boarded the sleeper car in Bangkok. After purchasing a few beers and a "dinner snack" of this mysterious pizza bread from the station convenient store, I stepped out into the smoky platform area...

(I started this around this time last year, and then I was probably distracted by something more exciting going on outside the internet cafe... Story to continue some time.)