Frankly this makes me feel useless.

A friend from high-school just won a prestigious literary award. I think it is fantastic and I am happy for him and proud to know him. Nonetheless, it makes me even more dissatisfied with the current state of my life. I feel utterly unremarkable. So far my biggest claim to fame is having my photographs and website unfavourably associated with a double suicide in the local rags and The Globe and Mail. I go to my God-awful, soul-sucking job now where I am either dismantling everything I've worked on there for the last three years or sitting around with my thumb up my ass because I don't know what I'm supposed to be taking apart today.

I know myself. I'm going to have to crawl a little further into my own head before I come out again.  Prepare yourselves. This is the point where I start eating my own tail and looking back on things that I have done in an attempt to reconnect with the inspiration that I feel that I've lost.

Once again I've got a big, fat change thrust upon me  (I talk to people who have gone ten, twenty, even thirty years or more without having the company they work for taken over, their apartment burning, or any such other upheavals in their life and I wonder how people like that even come to exist). Who knows where this one will land me? I'm still waiting to hear about the job in Victoria, I've just applied for a job in Auckland, the idea of opening a store is still a very real option (made more real by a decent tax return - my first in 10 years). Here I am, 37 years old and once again, trying to decide what I want to be when I grow up.