555-1963

I saw a segment about this guy who left college in 1977 to busk the Boston streets.

He'd been taking Chemical Engineering in Northeastern when he got sick of the system and quit (wow, sound familliar?)

They were interviewing a bunch of street performers, all of them doing their thing in subways and in downtown Boston. One of them was this twentry something kid in a clown suit, making animal balloons and swallowing latex. In the middle of his performance, he looks at the camera with a nervous grin and says:

"I hope my mom doesn't see this, she thinks i'm in college!"

Cracked me up. Though what blew me away was that he seemed really happy with what he was doing.

I'm always appreciative of people who busk.

When I used to work in Ortigas, the high points of my day were: Sabre hotdogs that I really couldn't afford for lunch, and the guy who busked underneath the Ortigas flyover.

His voice is a cross between Paul McCrane and James Taylor. Butter. There were times when I just wanted to stand there and listen to him all morning. It seemed amazing that amidst all the noise and pollution of EDSA, there's this wonderful thing lurking underneath it all.

I gave him 20 bucks every time, and with just "training allowance", I couldn't really afford him either.

I'm not saying that I'd love to busk and forget about it all. Heck, I can't even lose my Body Shop obsession. I have to put in Mango Body Butter in my year long "poor gal budget" projection.

All i'm saying is that real buskers, those honest to goodness street performers, blow me away because they always feel glad that they're alive.

...

One of my fears is to wake up one morning and say "Okay, now i'm stuck".

Five, ten, twenty years from now, I don't want to sit in my car, wanting to hit my head on the wheel, because I am on my way to a job I hate but can't can't give up because I need the money too much. Or to be driving home thinking of those moments in my life where I could have done differently, chosen differently, because heaven knows this life wasn't doing anything for me.

It's not worth it.

And just when you thought that it was the fault of life or fate who just happened to have grabbed you by the nose and you just followed...you'll realize that there really was no one else but you who lead you there.

That's just sad.

...

I guess this is me trying to psych myself to April 1st, where I will wake up and think "Wow, I don't have to go to work in Ecogov. Ever. Thank God."

I'm not totally sad about it. I feel sad that I won't be seeing my friends as much, but that's about it.

I'm proud that I got to this point of my life. Maybe it's not what i'd originally envisioned, but I feel good that I got here.

Writing for food (that's what I call it if you're doing it as a "job") scares me and excites me at the same time. But it's what I always wanted to do, and I'm just happy that I got to the point where I was strong enough to finally admit it.