An ode to all-night jam sessions and week-long music fests. To hanging out with local legends and rock gods and living icons. To writing for art and creating for passion. To riding the wave and getting high on the dream.

That was how things were. Once upon a dream.

Duration of purple phase unknown.

This blog has been dark for the longest time. This is my way of bringing back the light. (And this isn’t just a reaction to Claudine’s warning in True Blood last week. Heh. But I digress.)

The color choices were accidental. But I’d like to think that the purple infusion is a subtle shout-out to gal pal Jac, whose purpleness is as endearing as her goofy grins and girly squeals and puffy cheeks. Ey, Jac, you are missed.

What it does not mean: I’m a Chloe-type for the likes of CTU*, analyst extraordinaire and guardian of all things confidential and dangerous.

What it does mean: I’m a busy working mom who (as yet) can’t find enough time to finish this vanity project.

In a nutshell: There are things that need to be unearthed from unsavory depths. While they remain buried, these pages will have to remain under lock and key. The primary reason being, they are empty. Embarrassingly simple, but pathetically true.

What’s that? Like I have the time? You’ve got a point there. But there’s always time for everything. And rather than talk to myself in my head (which I do often…but then again, you already know that), I’d much rather talk to myself in a more tangible (and less looney) context. So til then, all I have to say is this:

I just had the happiest 4 months of my life. I love you, Baby Mac.

This is not to say that I’m not good in what I do, for I do acknowledge that my skills are more than adequate. Case in point: happy, happy clients. This is just to say that I have no delusions of grandeur. I’m good, yes. But never superlatively so. And I’m perfectly okay with that.

Writing is an entirely different story. I once considered myself great, and I still have brief spurts of lucidity at times. But the blockage is growing and growing and growing. I dream of one day acquiring the secret to infinite time, so that I can write without regard for when or how long or now and later. Perhaps then my bored muse can finally stop that annoying exaggerated yawning that she does whenever I think about that writing thing.

…There are no words. No words.

Late last year, I vowed to launch at least a working version of hubby’s website by January at the latest. But the real world intervened (read: billable projects and a lil overeager fellow in my womb), and the Bigmakoy agenda was soon swept under the rug. Again, blame me.

I did make some progress, though. The concept is more or less final (but knowing me, I’d probably find an excuse to keep tinkering and tinkering). Currently, the biggest need is to finish the coding part.

There wasn’t a need for it, really. In the next couple of months, I’ll be working on our firm’s website (note: I hesitate to link to it from here, what with the outdated elements and all), and I will probably post a more complete listing there.

So, what’s the point of this? One word: vanity.

So, there. A portfolio, sort of. And perhaps a second wind at blogging. Here’s hoping the fire won’t burn out anytime soon.