Random Channel Surfing

At least that's according to Greg. I hadn't seen him since late June (he's been busy with his play and I've been busy with finding work), so we met up for dinner and wine at The Common this past week. It was, as it usually is with this insightful dude, a really wonderful evening. He's a few years older than me, so he's been through similar situations with life, work, love--the whole kit and caboodle. He usually "gets" me (which is very fucking important in all my relationships). So, we sat down, ordered our food and wine and I brought him up to speed on my life. I gushed about my upcoming trip, I lamented my exit from the boutique, I explained to him the steps I'm taking to make my freelance career an actuality, and I explained to him how anxious I've been feeling. And, after confiding in him about all the bad shit that's happening in my life, he looked me straight in the eye and said, "This is your rock bottom." A part of m

Me: "Julis, I miss you." Julis: "You miss me? You should come live here." Maybe I should  leave Edmonton.

Q: And realistically, what's the worst that could happen? A: My heart caves in on itself, collapsing from grief and disillusion, never to beat again.

Years from now, when I realize how silly and petty some of the thoughts I have really are, I will realize how foolish and unnecessary the anxious feeling in the pit of my stomach really is. Because right now, this anxious, restless feeling that pervades my every thought is a constant critic and its white noise is set on a frequency I can pick up if I listen hard enough. It's telling me how stupid and foolish I am. It's reminding me of every embarrassing, shameful moment to date. It's making my life incredibly hard to enjoy. And, real talk: I don't think I've cried this much in ages. And part of me understands that this has to do with loss and grief and the fact I'm grieving the loss of the community of wonderful people I had at my old job. I didn't think making a career change would feel so... Confusing. I know I made the right choice; staying there would have meant not chasing my dreams or making an effort to change my life. When I realized that the o

Tomorrow is my first day at a francophone temp agency. I never wanted to be without a job for this long, but I didn't want to apply for any longterm positions lest the job interfered with my plans to go to Guatemala. 'Cause this trip? Oh. It's happening. I'm going to fly out on November 7 and I won't be back until December 18. That's 41 days of exploration and (dare I say it?) self-reflection. Whenever I think about this trip, I'm overcome with happy feelings and thoughts. This just goes to show how much I've longed for travel these last months. I'm excited and jittery--in a good way!--and I'm curious to see what happens to my life. Will things feel more centred? Will I have a better sense of what I want out of life? Will I finally grow that spine I've been lacking since infancy? Because I can be brave when I have to be, but that's not my permanent state of being. When it comes to feeling vulnerable and raw, open and exposed, I need

Ever since March, I keep getting this feeling that tells me I ought to be in Montreal. It feels genuine and serious. A premonition. And I will be honest and say that when the prospect of ending my job arose, I felt light and happy because something inside me thought, " Montreal ." Montreal is the dream, the ache, the lighthouse. It's been calling to me since 2008 and its siren call hasn't faded. In fact, it gets louder and louder with each passing day -- a fact that only terrifies me a little. Because... I could do it, you know. I could leave everything: family, friends, newfound dreams. I could leave it all behind and make a future for myself in Montreal. And there's nothing stopping me. Montréal. Je suis toujours amoureuse de toi.