I should be sleeping. I have to get up early to go to work tomorrow and quit.
I started on Monday. I move around a lot but I've gotta say that's the shortest lived job I've ever had.
Anyway, I got a new, much better job. I no longer have to rent my soul out and sell my sanity for $12 an hour. I start next Monday as the (assistant?) manager of the coffee bar in this caf-by-day nightclub-by-night lounge called Opus. $18/hour, plus tips and grats, blah blah blah, creative control over menu, etc etc, 7am - 3pm. Early, but it gives me the rest of the day to work on music, which I'm looking forward to. I guess my only issue with that is my current lack of trans, and since I'm in Bermuda, the public transit system AKA bus (typically) does not run past my house that early. Alternative means must be sought...I am thinking...motorcycle license...very soon. I have the motorcycle (more like... my dad has six), all I need is the means to an end. (AKA, legality, and a stomach of steel, since liquid courage won't cut it in this situation, obviously....)
And this week off (post-quitting, AKA, sticking it the man, and walking out on my non-commitment) will be great for getting all the basics laid for this Halloween set I'm supposed to be putting on at G135. Gary just finished setting up his studio so once I walk out of my old job suppressing my ear-to-ear grin and deposit that cheque from my Friday bartending escapades I'll probably head down there and have another session of me + bass = murder-suicide.
I just started playing like 2 weeks ago if even that. Every time I get on that thing I kill it and kill myself doing so. I felt so broken this morning after I woke up from last night's rehearsal. My muscles ached, my bones were creaking, my fingers on the verge of blistering, and I felt great.
My life is on track I guess. Whatever that means.
Haha, plus a little something I learned this weekend after getting home after sunrise; it ain't a night out unless you stay out all night.
Peace.
Mikki
I started on Monday. I move around a lot but I've gotta say that's the shortest lived job I've ever had.
Anyway, I got a new, much better job. I no longer have to rent my soul out and sell my sanity for $12 an hour. I start next Monday as the (assistant?) manager of the coffee bar in this caf-by-day nightclub-by-night lounge called Opus. $18/hour, plus tips and grats, blah blah blah, creative control over menu, etc etc, 7am - 3pm. Early, but it gives me the rest of the day to work on music, which I'm looking forward to. I guess my only issue with that is my current lack of trans, and since I'm in Bermuda, the public transit system AKA bus (typically) does not run past my house that early. Alternative means must be sought...I am thinking...motorcycle license...very soon. I have the motorcycle (more like... my dad has six), all I need is the means to an end. (AKA, legality, and a stomach of steel, since liquid courage won't cut it in this situation, obviously....)
And this week off (post-quitting, AKA, sticking it the man, and walking out on my non-commitment) will be great for getting all the basics laid for this Halloween set I'm supposed to be putting on at G135. Gary just finished setting up his studio so once I walk out of my old job suppressing my ear-to-ear grin and deposit that cheque from my Friday bartending escapades I'll probably head down there and have another session of me + bass = murder-suicide.
I just started playing like 2 weeks ago if even that. Every time I get on that thing I kill it and kill myself doing so. I felt so broken this morning after I woke up from last night's rehearsal. My muscles ached, my bones were creaking, my fingers on the verge of blistering, and I felt great.
My life is on track I guess. Whatever that means.
Haha, plus a little something I learned this weekend after getting home after sunrise; it ain't a night out unless you stay out all night.
Peace.
Mikki
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here's to always finding something better to head to.