Long ago did I request my 48-hour mid-week leave. Emails were monitored occasionally during this period, with Thursday evening revealing a 9:30 AM meeting for discussions that would likely bleed into lunchtime.

I slept fitfully the night prior, following a relatively early return from Junny's marvelous performance. An early awakening enabled construction of Marbled Banana Bread. 

For once, I had executed the recipe perfectly, inclusive of the confusing and particular flour-folding procedure! Immediate worries were extended to the repetitive mixing process, for gluten formation was the last element I would hope for.

​The loaf emerged delicious, sturdier than the six (or seven) banana edition with distinctive, cozy spices and irrefutable chocolatey-ness.

​Quarrels over banana consumption and storage delayed final inputs into a work writeup, therefore also impacting my scheduled departure. The sleepy polar bear was advised to acquire a Vietnamese Ice Coffee (V2) from Yum's Kitchen in the interim. At 2:20 PM, we made our way downtown, energized by the potency of the drink.

The last trip to the ROM, beyond school field trips, had been undertaken in 2016 while maximizing a student discount.

Having verified the museum's operating hours in advance, we made a quick round through the gift shop first, as it would be the first attraction, if I may denote it as such, to shutter at 4 PM.

My two-year concert hiatus has finally terminated, graced with the present of a very special Korean-Canadian solo artist.

Over the years, I've observed my affection to reside less with idols and their overdone concepts and broken melodies. Instead, I've turned to calmer tracks, placing emphasis on sound, delivery, and lyric over merely performance. Moreover, the idols that I fell in love with - and still love to this day - have respectively evolved into musicians and artists in their own right, taking an active approach to the creative process.

I first discovered Junny through ØFFSHORE, a production crew that Jay B has pursued for musical interests outside of GOT7. His soothing yet stunning vocals captivated me almost instantaneously, and I began to follow his releases bit by bit, growing progressively fond of the tracks. His earlier albums are less familiar to me, for the nostalgia EP was the deciding duo for me. (Beyond the title track, my favourite is actually solo with Lullaboy.)

Slipping into comfy attire (complete with hi-vis jacket for visibility!) and not-so-comfy platforms in preparation for the GA crowd, I proceeded to assemble my standard roster of concert items. At quarter past one, I would begin navigating to Clarkson station; the GO Train whisked me to Union in just under forty minutes.

The venture marked my first solo trip since June. Within this period, several updates had been made to Union Station:

• Sephora and LCBO (as well as a dental clinic and cannabis store) had opened its doors in the Bay Concourse
• Matcha Lattes were re-introduced to the York Concourse McDonald's
• Decathlon's highly-anticipated concept store had opened for retail matters, Click & Collect services for online orders, and bike tune-up services

Exiting on street level, I found blue skies, off-duty labourers, and homelessness awaiting me.

Trodding up the concrete stairs, I proceeded northbound to King and Bay, where I would board the King streetcar towards the venue.
But, of course, the 504 was a short turn that concluded at Church Street. Alighting the next one while catching upon Woo Young Woo led me to missing my stop, then trekking back to Queen from Dundas and Broadview.​

At 3:42 PM, I joined the lineup at 10th place. Shortly afterwards, a fellow ahgase spotted from her fifth place position and approached me to catch up on recent happenings. ​We griped about career and financial difficulties - topics that the barely-legal Gen Z species surrounding us could hardly identify with.

During this procedure, I also unveiled a delightful assemblage of artwork from orderlyblue.

​Beyond being a friend of mine since the Before We Begin Vancouver stop, she is a flourishing artist, teacher, and entrepreneur in her own right. To declare my pride in her is an understatement; she is young but intrepid, and contemplative but resolute.

Prior to the Lynn Canyon trip, I had expressed interest in supporting her craft, to which she responded enthusiastically.
Her stunning creations, meticulously sealed in individual sleeves and bubble-wrapped for extra protection, were finally revealed upon reaching home. Delicate, precise linework, harmonious colours, impressive innovation, and astounding attention to detail were witnessed in each and every piece. 

​I was also in awe at the souvenirs that she had obtained for me from her recent trip to Hawaii. The first was an adorable fridge magnet, in which the magnet was embedded inside of the wooden design itself, rather than affixed to the outside with oozing adhesive. The second was a lucky cat pin slurping ramen, and on the bowl showed the islands of Hawaii.

​Amongst the largest voids emerging throughout the trip were: a distinct lack of Larry and the convenience of a personal vehicle, for door-to-door trips that could take whenever my heart desired.

I proceeded to satisfy the first of these longings immediately after being relieved of the aircraft grime. Larry, along with both sizes of Sulleys, had undergone deep cleansing rituals in my absence. Radiating from them were fragrant clouds of cleanliness, along with noticeable boosts in fluffiness.

News of the heavenly heptet's return as seven had already been a blessing for us all. For them to expand beyond digital releases and attend group schedules was another degree of elation altogether, whether we be observing the process in person or not.

At long last, my fingers would glide over a physical album, over lyrics that each member had thoughtfully assembled with the sole intention of "repaying" ahgases. Truthfully, our patience needed no compensation, for once an ahgase is always an ahgase.
​GOT7 is home, after all.

​Extended periods of time off alleviates the pressures sustained from boundaries mandating the completion of certain tasks. For once, I need not plan so thoroughly. I need not allocate specific days for specific appointments. I need not concern myself over the consequences of schedule delays or underestimated time-to-complete.

​Lunch comprised of a soft-boiled egg and kimchi fried rice from DooBoo, while cookies (with rugged knife depressions) served as a light mid-day snack.

​For dinner came asparagus spears from T&T and Baked Fried Rice with Seafood and Pork Chop leftovers from Cattle Café.

"A concert!!!...AT 3AM?!?!"
Following a brief moment of dismay towards the announcement of a domestic in-person concert came the realization of a livestream opportunity for global fans. Ahgases have waited patiently for the members to regroup again, and the comeback announcement had brought nothing short of delirious excitement.

The term "homecoming" was especially fitting, for it implied a grand return: GOT7's return to a scene where they rightfully belonged. Whether it be performing on stage in front of screaming ahgases or broadcast channels via YouTube content, they would, after this long, grueling period, be seen together - seven as one unit - once more.

For the boys, "HOMECOMING" meant a lot more. Their home was the warm embrace of ahgases, a place where their work was appreciated, efforts were supported, and love was given, unconditionally. Despite being renowned worldwide, they remain the humblest of artists: While BamBam worried over whether the fandom would remain after their group hiatus, Jinyoung claimed himself to be a "nobody" who could only shine as much as ahgases allowed him to. These comments summoned an aching heart - Do they not know how awesome they are?! Of course we'd stay!

True ahgases will remain for certain and, what's more, support the members' individual pursuits to foster a stronger sense of awareness in the global music market.

A self-proclaimed regular observer of Twitter happenings and collector of data, BamBam was quick to ask the crowd of their ahgase seniority status. Majority had participated in their last world tour of 2019 - myself included - with a handful seeing the group in person for the first time. Interestingly, he also noted the possibility of those joining the fandom after JYPE era. He noted that a number of articles had circulated upon news of GOT7 going separate ways from their parent company, and that he wouldn't eliminate the possibility of those articles stirring up interest in the group and their past endeavours.

​I had purchased my ticket a few days after the release date, reassuring myself that my Saturday plans would not interfere with the decision. In reality, I was terrified.

Entry into the working world has solidified the importance of events that never truly garnered much interest in my teen and young adult years.
Politics matter, whether you believe true democracy will prevail or not. Familiarizing oneself with the various parties may be a hassle, but these respective platforms, supplemented by general public opinion, are deciding factors in the government's future investment(s) and job availability. Every instance of tax relinquishment reflects our investment back into the system, so thorough contemplation of these matters isn't entirely optional, as much as the act of voting is made out to seem.

​Spendings have been striking this quarter, spanning utility bills, vehicle maintenance, small appliance replacement, and special occasion dining ventures. Adding to the financial burden is a pending vacation (at long last!!) and GOT7's comeback. VICTON and ASTRO are also releasing EPs within this month, though their impact is negligible in comparison to OT7.
It is with much dismay to note that my quarterly review is delayed. The corporate class is frustrating, with an insatiable appetite for prosperity and ascent on the social ladder; what is more: these circumstances are consistent across majority of companies, with the same woes being expressed by those simply looking to survive, and maybe strive towards their career goals.

The week commences with Dalgona Lattes, one with espresso and one with a concentrated dose of genmaicha. Sickeningly sweet are the shards when incorporated in generous handfuls. In small doses though, they are quite enjoyable, contributing a caramely robustness to the iced beverages. ​Granola with vanilla Greek yogurt subs in for blue sky bran muffins on a few breakfasts.

​In the absence of a functioning microwave, creativity continues to be employed for the delivery of weekday meals in a timely manner. Sourced from the freezer are frozen vegetables and a mini pizza, which is elevated with additional cheese cubes and a few strips of Arirang takeout bossam.

Creations of the week included:

1) Marbled Banana Bread Feat. Mini Marbled Loaves

​As with the most stubborn of adrenaline junkies, I find myself constantly testing the physical limitations of time in order to achieve more. For workplace duties, I am often provided more tasks than physically capable (and reasonably reimbursed for), thus strive to automate processes in order to earn back some breathing space. The plan backfires again and again, for upper management cares not of the wellbeing of their junior employees, but the milestones attained at a corporate level. Greed and pride are the dark drivers of ambition, leading countless to exploit both living and inanimate resources to rise along the social and economic ladder.
​
There is little to be negotiated in the corporate environment, for endurance is a matter of survival of the fittest, supplemented by underhanded compliments to establish shallow working relationships. In what remains of my personal time, I make steadfast attempts to portion it out with the aim of achieving the most. The habit, while rational in its conception, is dangerous over extended periods of time. It involves pushing oneself to the brink of death, and quite possibly into a somber territory of lifelessness before retreating a few steps, then doing it all over again. Burnout lies at the end of this all-too-familiar path to exhaustion. Yet, despite knowing the consequences, I unconsciously default to it anyway. And now, my calendar is filled till mid-summer.

​Having earned a throbbing headache and burning eyeballs at the end of each work day, I began to push away those seeking sympathy. It was never my strong suit to start, but a further reduction in sanity hours only worsened my reactions.
Schedule regulation was an act I had kept at the back of my mind, occasionally dabbling in it as needed. My routine had stayed relatively consistent over the past few years, especially given the dreadful, health-wrecking work-from-home situation, but the introduction of new priorities (needs?) demand a change. Frequently do I preach the importance of taking matters into one's own hands to yield the preferred result; I shall not be the hypocrite this time, nor any other time.

The week starts with unofficial meetings: Teams call after Teams call to address various issues. A mid-day boost is crafted from Paragon's Oolong tea powder and a few drops of ube extract mixed with sweetened condensed milk. The result was a two-toned Oolong Ube Latte with stronger notes of smokiness than sweet purple yam.

​Meals of the week comprise of takeout from Magic BBQ, Pork with Onions in Tomato Sauce over Rice, Baked Salmon and Choy Sum, and mini frozen pizzas for convenience.

​Constructed in the latter half of the week was a Coffee Castella with Chantilly Cream.

​Desires for a fluffy cake matched with airy whipped cream sent me in the direction of Sunday Baking's Taiwanese Castella recipe. Its texture was advertised similar to sponge, though the procedure was more forgiving. The low-and-slow baking process entailed minimal effort from my part and, furthermore, enabled dashes to the computer and unexpected requests. Swapping oil for melted butter and incorporating several tablespoons of Nescafe Gold into the batter at the egg yolk stage, the cake resulted a little denser than I would have liked. Nonetheless, it was delicious. Although a bit firm at first touch, the texture had not been comprised: air pockets were largely uniform in size and the cake emitted a light bounce when subject to pressure.

The entirety of the GTA was met with the first major snowstorm of the season (and the year, for that matter) upon confronting on Monday. Any residual weekday blues were replaced with anxiety and awe - for either you calmly observed as a work-from-home-er (myself) or were already knee-deep and digging yourself out of the house.

​In the face of a rippling blizzard, there were still some that took to the 401 for work and non-essential travel. It was ill-advised, and many were left stranded on the highway or trapped within snow banks.

​As the once grey skies began to dim, I could withstand a bread craving no more. Digging a path just wide enough for the wheels of my vehicle, I dashed out onto the partially ploughed streets, heart yearning for COBS.

​The dangers had not been cleared away in their entirety, for while major streets had been mostly cleared, lanes were reduced tremendously and plaza parking lots remained inaccessible. Extra caution was exercised to navigate safely within the plaza and back onto arterials.

​A Country Grain Loaf, two Hot Cross Buns, and six-pack of Butter Tarts accompanied me for the ride. Though, the latter will likely never enter the household again: excessively sugary with the unnecessary addition of raisins, we deemed the palm-sized pieces edible, but far from enjoyable.

​Witnessed the next day were glorious blue skies, as if the previous day's mayhem hadn't occurred at all.
​I remained within, observing all from my ever-consistent, second-floor window.

​The sole creation of the week was a second attempt at the Oat Fudge Bar.

​They say that time is but an illusion - an identity created for humans to measure their existence in space. It may arguably be so, yet persists as the most reputably quantifiable unit worldwide, on Earth that is.

There is a sense of pride in this declaration, for while I admit pressure in this constant battle of inevitable time flow, the perception also serves to stimulate and motivate. But in a "New Day" sense.
This underlying sarcasm is tied to balking at the talk of New Year's resolutions. Goals are as dynamic as those that create them: sturdy like 35 MPa concrete in their early conception and fickle like kite strings amidst 70 km/h gusts as the days of January drag on. It was always beyond me why such an extravagant portion of the population allowed themselves to be dictated by the calendar, rather than exercise discipline in monitoring progress and accomplishing tasks with the existing circumstances in mind. 

Ultimately, time waits for no one.

​The arrival of January 1st tends to hold less meaning with each passing year. We are older, our society is supposedly more advanced, and the planet continues to rotate. Truthfully though, my present situation differs not from one second, one minute, nor one hour ago.

​I carried on with my regular roster of tasks, extending hope at a last hurrah before resuming the repulsive work ritual.

​Skies were finally clear after over forty-eight hours of dull ashiness. Sunshine and a coat of cerulean awaited us as we pulled into the Celebration Square parking lot.

After roughly twenty minutes of hesitant laps about the rink, I somewhat regained composure on the ice. Whatever muscle memory that remained had been summoned, and in quite the enjoyable atmosphere. Popular pop tunes could be heard from all corners, its origins several standing speakers under which a series of lights could be seen. With the reduction of sunlight in the early evening hours, they would cast coloured beams on the blade-streaked grounds, making for a fun, winter disco.

For the past two weekends, I had filled my body with lessons from Studio Bon. Yet, a total of four classes remained at Sum Pilates. With an unavailability of instructors, continuation of my package was delayed. The seventh session resumed on August 28th, preceded by a highly anticipated massage and realized with a new instructor.

The early appointment led me to Scarborough, just a few blocks from the neighbourhood traversed for the sake of jokbal and juice. It proceeded as planned, with the exception of makeup application taking place in my driver's seat of the vehicle (behold the glitter dust!) rather than within the air-conditioned establishment. Despite full comprehension of the masking rule for indoor spaces, it hadn't occurred to me that makeup application would not be permitted within.