All Things Considered

"Here we go." I thought, sliding groggily out of bed and stumbling into the bathroom.

Shortly after, having showered, eaten, and while heading out the door with a non-sealed package under my arm, I realised that this was a big moment, and almost took a few seconds to soak it up ...

- but the door clicked shut, a metallic grinding from my keys filled the silent hall for a moment, then I was off, out into the pacific-northwest chill to wait for the bus.

Downtown, I walked into Staples office supply centre, USB key in hand, smile on my face, package under my arm still unsealed.

"Howdy," I chirped to the girl behind the print-centre desk, "how do I print off a document from my flash-drive?"

The girl glanced up, blank expression, "Log on to our website, and submit the order online. It'll be ready about ten-ish." I check my watch. 8:23am. "Um... couldn't I just print it out here?"
Now she looked as if, ridiculously, I'd just asked a print-centre to print something.
"You'll have to submit it online."
"But it's only one page... it'll take twelve seconds, it's just a black and white text document. I'm kind of in a hurry."
"I've got orders that need to be in by ten. There's nothing I can do about it. Sorry." Then she goes back to shuffling around in a square between the copier and the coffee cup by the window, and I stand there awkwardly, the broken automatic front doors behind me opening and closing on their own.

I get back on the bus and head to work, where I use the printer there to print my one-page black and white document in less than twelve seconds, then I'm in a cab, heading back downtown again. This time it's a quick journey.

Reception is quiet, a group of people chat amongst themselves a few feet away from the main desk where an older gent sits, watching as I walk in. "Morning." I nod to him, and a brief conversation ensues. I leave my package - now sealed tight - there, knowing it'll get where it has to go, then it's back into the cab and back to work. I'm only five minutes late.

I didn't have a chance to think about it that day. I discovered hackers had broken into an account of mine, and 5 of my websites had suddenly became ads for middle-eastern war protests. Once fixed, it was right on to other matters. A project I had for a friend was looming and I'd been slack lately. I stayed at work after hours, then headed straight to a friend's place for Lost. After that was a few rounds of cards.

I couldn't sleep that night, and the next morning I could barely get out of bed, but made it slowly through the day with coffee and yogurt raisins (no, not together).

Now, here I sit in a cafe, realising for the first time that Frontier is officially out of my hands, and apparently under the eyes of the executive in charge of development and production at CBC.

Holy shmolee. I actually got this far.

It's quite a stretch from two years ago, from those first evenings sitting at a cafe under a caffeine haze, jotting notes in a small book and wondering where the project might go.

But despite the relief at finally having everything 'finished', despite finally being able to sit back, stop fretting, actually play my piano again, and despite knowing that I did the best I could, I keep saying the same thing over and over in my head. The same three words that remind me I haven't really gone that far at all yet.

"Here we go."

Jimzip :D