The Roadtrip

Sorry it's been so long. Soul-searching (so-to-speak) requires a little effort.

Despite the purging of much of my worthless possessions, a month-long hiatus in Ontario, and a roadtrip across the country that can only be described as hell on earth (I now unwillingly know all the words to Michael Jackson and the Jackson Five, I won't go into details as not to offend someone), I've come to the conclusion (with absolutely no solid reasoning as of yet, but I'm okay with that) that Edmonton will be my home for a while yet.

Without much effort (but a little focus, it makes all the difference)I've managed a couple of job interviews in the weeks to come. My new direction will not make me rich, but it will make me happy. Don't get me wrong, I will be rich one day by my own doing. But in the meantime, maybe I can help others figure out their life.

With new focus also comes a new social life. I've been living my roommate's life long enough; It's time to make one of my own. I'm still stuck living the dorm lifestyle for now, but Porsche or old Mustang, money doesn't matter unless you make it matter to the people you surround yourself with.

So where's the humour in all of this? Well, none today, but I'm sure I'll think of something tomorrow. I do have a Porsche symbol emblazoned in my flesh in a search for the holy oil cap (note to self - let the engine cool before sticking arm in engine compartment), nothing like a perfect night out on the town ending underneath a car hood. It was like Armani meets Joy from My Name is Earl's trailer park. The only real difference between the two of us was one of us could afford the photo radar speeding tickets. And that person wasn't me. Seeing the city at 100km/hr is quite the experience. And that was before finding the oil cap. I so need a Porsche. And drinks every night at the Fairmont - love the Confederation Lounge. Although waiting for the sun to go down at this time of year will keep you up to almost midnight. Some guys should really bottle their charm and know-how and sell it, particularly to the ones that leave you with the $20 bill at a Sherlock Holmes pub. You lose some, you win some.