Yesterday morning, I dragged my tired ass out of bed at 8am to go meet C for breakfast and ice skating, her birthday present to me. And even though I had gotten eight hours of sleep, I still felt like I was hit by a train. I spent almost the entire day before with my guitarist, cranking out songs and getting ready to search for gigs (again – more on the singing spiel, later). After recording and re-recording and adapting and dining on buy-one-get-one-free sashimi at the chic bar around the corner, it was 9pm and my body barely had enough energy to prop open my crashing eyelids. I was up until 6:30 that previous morning, scouring the streets for used books and street food, and chatting and photo shooting with M, who hauled over from Tianijn as a surprise for my birthday. My tank was running on two hours of sleep, and I'm still making up for it. Nevertheless, the weather these past few days has been gorgeous, and the step into 25 has been great. And ice skating was great. Partly because I have been wanting to go for a long time, and partly because C has boosted my balance and stability in our training sessions. The last time I went skating was at least five years ago and I barely let go of the railing. Today, I was able hold my own, even while those little Chinese Kerrigans triple-axeled and double-fudged their tiny Vera Wang outfits around my ankles. It was a good do-different.

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