The irony of convenient communication...

I love the fact that, at any given time, I have up to six viable means of transmitting thoughts and ideas to someone standing on the other side of the world, making any long distance relationship a whole lot easier.

...and yet...

I can't stand the fact that soon people living in Ottawa, a city of only a million people, will have to dial 10 digits to talk to someone standing on the nearest street corner.

It's a wacky world we live in.

SUS

There's a new kool-aid ad campaign out there, stop me if you've heard this one. As I see it, the story goes something like this: the nice people at Kraft foods resurrect kool-aid man, dust him off, and then promptly strand his zombie, liquid-filled ass on a desert island. Bear with me, here.

And then, without any explanation, a plane full of children (possibly also piloted by children) flies overhead. They spot kool-aid man's misleading message ("S.U.S.") and mis-read it as a weak attempt at calling for help. Apparently the kids missed the all-important Grade-1 class where they should have learned the difference between the letter "U" and the letter "O". Miraculously, they find the means to land their adolescent airliner and rush to kool-aid man's *ahem* aid.

So the kids arrive on the beach, ready to rescue kool-aid man, but instead, all he wants to do is hawk his crappy little single-serving packets of fruit-flavoured dust. Kool-aid man has baited and fooled the kids again! The only logical course of action is to throw a spontaneous party. Coconuts are hollowed out, kids are swinging on vines, and merriment ensues.

Now, as plausible as all of this must sound to you, I still have some unanswered questions --how come kool-aid man needs to wear pants? And when they're done partying, do the kids fly away on their plane and leave kool-aid man behind, biding his time until the next jet full of children wanders into his island's airspace? These are important questions.

I think I have too much time on my hands.

Like the phoenix....

Does anyone still read this rag? Holla holla holla holla holla holla! I'm holla'n atchoo.

Okay, so how do I make up for four months of silence? Forget that dumb-ass business, best policy is to pretend it never happened! Yeah, that sounds mature and healthy.

Here's a quick rundown on my sordid, navel-gazing winter. The whole rehabilitation thing swung me for a loop. It's no big secret that I don't handle winters very well....change in light, lots of nutsack-burying cold, blistering wind, lots of COLD. C-O-L-D. Even this year's mild weather wasn't enough to counter the frustration of coming back from the surgery. And it was even routine surgery! Am I goofy, or what?

But honestly, it shouldn't have hit me as hard as it did. Yeah, I was dumb. I learned from it. Things aren't as bleak as they ever seem. I could spout more self-assuring statements for anyone who's interested. No takers? I'll move on.

The "my-knee's-all-fucked" depression would have been enough to deal with on its own, but there was more in store for me. A self-inflicted change to my job that saw me crumbling from a position of power back to a role I used to manage. I won't go into the details, but it shook my faith in the government's HR system. I'll say no more. Let's just say it was good while it lasted. I read a lot of web comics over that period.

But even that shouldn't have accounted for where I was this past winter. I was lost for far longer than I should have been. But the words of a wise friend kept ringing in my ears: if you don't like where you're at in life, don't just sit around bitching about it. Do something about it. So I did.

Today, I feel like a new person. A real, honest-to-God, semi-reformed human being. I still have a pile of stuff I'm working on. But I'm healthier, stronger, leaner and better dressed. I have a great new job working for one of the best companies I've ever come into contact with or heard about (bye-bye land o' cubicles and apathetic public servants). I have my own office with a view of the Peace Tower. I'm dating a sweet, smart, beautiful girl who sent me easter candy in the mail today. Mr. Mike Blue-Jeans is getting married to another great friend, and I couldn't be happier for them. Now If I could figure out a way to win the lottery, I'd be all set. But I'm not even sure that would improve my mood past what it is right now.

Hahahah, yeah, I can't back that up. Winning the lottery would kick ass. Where's all that mushy junk coming from, anyway? While we're dreaming, I could also go for a brand-new Dodge Charger.

So where does that leave this blog? Great question, even if I did ask it myself. Gold-star for me. The honest answer? I don't know yet. I want it to be great. I'm not sure it ever has been great. Lots of people who have been regular readers have told me how much they enjoyed it and encouraged me to start back at it, and I want to send a deep, heart-felt thank-you to each and every one of you (if it weren't for you, I may have never come back). But I still want it to be great. And that may take some time.

So for all of you who are still with me....or happened to drift in by accident -- thanks for dropping by. And with your help (and maybe some more continued good luck) maybe I can make this site as great as I want it to be. I hope you'll stick around to see what I make of it.