offically distant and internet obsessed

It's two thousand and eight. It looks really different and almost wrong when you write the year like that. i wish we still used roman numerals. MMV111.

I started a journal this time last year and kept it up pretty steadily until around July. Considering i type faster then i print and i usually can't shut up my brain, not to mention my shameful amount of internet time wasting sessions i figure i should hop on board this blog thing. And also because i've got some pretty amazing friends who have started one and have keep me entertained and informed by doing so... DISCLAIMER: This does not guarentee any entertainment value or relevant information from my blog. and ps. i really hate the term blog.

I've started this new year back in toronto with some realizations... let me explain;
After my flight in from Van, a trip to mexico and a new years eve party with one of my favorite ladies Bronwyn, I realized that the amount of baggage I brought back with me was overwhelming. Not only two suitcases full of multi-weather condition items, but a very heavy heart. I know i needed a change. Not a change like a new highway, a new skytrain line or a new condo... but a new scene. at least temporarily.

The changes happening in vancouver have been slowly eating at me, mostly because wealth, greed and foreign investment are becomming a bitch slap to the city and it's residents. Olympics is THE excuse for outrageous tax spending and absurd cuts to social programming, forcing people with inherent drug addiction onto the streets. My initial acceptance of the overwhelming drug presence turned into percieved patience and then sustaining rage. Why am i constantly paying for the poor life choices of someone else? Why does the city just accept and soak up this kind of behavour? My ongoing inner battle between self pity and refusal to be vicimized turned me into a steam engine ready to plow the olympic supporters, the condo owners, the construction crews and the crack heads. I used to think of my community as a place where people were not judgemental. Instead now i recognized nothing but the lack of judgement...perhaps driven more by dope then by socialism.
It is time to get out.

To further my push out of town the WGA went on strike effecting the very industry I came to work in and build a life around. After 2 years of ruthless hard work and determination, just when I was finding my footing, there are now no jobs on the horizon.

So it seems simple, just get out. Come home.
The dreaded fate: boomerang home again. (I'm not sure this idea is any more appealing then watching my city get swallowed by cranes and crime.)

So now i'm depressed. are you?
Changing the subject; my toronto time thus far...
Pretty great. Back in my childhood bedroom that now looks more like a hotel room. Back to amazing home cooking and a dad willing to drive me everywhere. I'm lucky to have made some good friends who are now in high places. A minor meeting or two and i'm back on the circut. Back in toronto where hard work pays off with a swanky job title, if not financial gain. Work to live, live to work...the cycle continues. but you know what, I LIKE WORK. I like it. I prefer work to doing nothing. I'm impatient, what can i say. I'd rather make something happen then wait for it to.

I say all this with one work day down and a strong ache in my chest missing my amazing boy at home...

One down. I'm going to try and use this space to share my experiences and thoughts while in hog town, and my subsequent travels back home to van. Let the double dipping continue...