I am attempting to make my archives work... please do not adjust your television.

I take one day off from work and something goes wrong. Figures, doesn't it? Yesterday, I decided that I would not do work. I would not do ANY work. I went to Sandra's for my dress fitting, which went well, except that I've expanded through the chest somewhat (damn back-fat), and stayed for tea and a social call. I left bearing pieces of art that John had collected for me from Lynn Robinson Gallery before it closed. I've never been much of a fan of a lot of her work, but I like the fantasy head thing he gave me and the other piece was a mazuzzah (sp?). It's hard to turn down a mazuzzah - after all, as a gift, it's a very special sort of blessing. So, I guess I'd better dig around for the prayer that should be set within it and mount it on my door frame.

Following that pleasant visit, I came home long enough to check my phone messages and make a couple of quick calls before heading off to Becca's house. I've never been to her appartment. It's a bachelor, but it's a really nice one. Though not big, it's quite comfortable with a nice big window and well appointed bathroom and kitchen. She's got a great design flare and her place looks great, except for the cat hair on everything. She has two black cats that shed like crazy, Yum-Yum and Finigan. Apparently Finney doesn't bond with strangers, but within a couple of hours, he had made my lap a second home. Becca was impressed. I had a nice time with her. We don't see much of each other but we're trying to fix that. She really wants me to move into her building so that we can be neighbours and hang out together - not live together, mind you, we've already tried that.

So, while I was ignoring the world of work, the world of work was getting irritated. Today, I got an email from my liason in Montreal for the printhouse/platemaker that Adam's newsletter went to. The images weren't clear enough. No kidding. Well, they'll have to deal - they're as clear as they're gonna get. And I should have included the fonts that I used. Okay, fair enough. Chalk that up to limited experience with printers - Kinkos doesn't count. *laugh* So, the first thing I get to do tonight - rather than attend Matt Lenner's going away party (an old friend from university who is going to teach English in Japan), I'll get to go home and DO WORK. Ask me if I'm thrilled. No, don't.

This weekend, I'll be heading to the Petes tomorrow afternoon with Stinky and Rick. He and I are going to the PSO and then to a Jack and Jill in honour of Al and Carrie. On Sunday, I'm off to a shower - what am I supposed to bring? I'll bring food. I can't afford gifties. That's the problem with showers. Why can't you just give presents when they actually GET married? Anyway, Carrie knows I love her. I love you, Carrie ! Rick will stay out until Monday morning when he'll take the bus back to TO for work. I'm staying out until Wednesday night. Why? Because I can. Besides, since I'm not going to get paid until this coming week, I won't have the money to be in Toronto feeding myself. I have enough money to gas up my car tomorrow, that's it.

Is it bad to want to write stories all day at work?

After much thought and agonising over numbers and timelines and career options I come to a decision. It's an important decision and still one that does not leave me entirely satisfied.

First of all, on Monday, I was offered the sales job. I told my prospective boss that I would think about it, and in two days, I did a heavy amount of thinking. I sought out the opinions of those around me including that of Richard (a ROM manager) and of Anthony (a friend who works as a game artist, formerly of Legend Ent.). Both were of two minds, both talked of the pros and cons. My mother did some budget crunching, as did I, and we came up with similar findings. Ultimately, though I like the company and Donald, he who would have been my boss, and I'd have gotten to work with Al (big plus, there), I think now is the wrong time. Had I been offered a higher salary, I might have been swayed differently, but if I keep my freelance work with Adam and pick up another client, I will actually make more than the job would have paid. It was a very tough decision and I'm not entirely persuaded that I chose rightly, but I have decided. Corporate sales simply wouldn't allow me to spend time working freelance or even leaving me with much energy for any drawing.

What is it they say? "Do what you want and the rest will follow." Well, I'm not sure what 'the rest' is, but I am going to find out.

More decisions were made, too, or rather, one other important one. I have decided not to move. The fact is, the idea of boxing all my stuff up and shlepping it all to god-knows-where in a U-haul does not blow my skirt up. I'm going to look for a new roommate, maybe somebody knows of someone, preferably a woman (for Rick's sake, more than mine) or a gay man. I'll take over Nick's room and rent my old space. It's a lot easier to move down the hall than it is to move across the city. Living on my own can wait another year and when it comes, it will be all the sweeter for the wait. Or something.

So, there you have it. Be it for good or for bad, this is what I've decided to do. Do I feel better? Ya, I guess I do, or at least relieved.

Change. A change of pants. Change in your pocket. Change of address. Changing lanes. The changing seasons. Make change. A change of heart. Time change. To change one's mind. Change sides. A changing of the Guard. Sea change. A sex change. Regime change.

Change is good. Change is bad. Change is a whole lot of things and most people abhore it, avoid it; very few embrace it. When change comes on one's own terms, it is viewed in a positive light, but when it comes of its own whims, it can become devestatingly frightening. Paralysing, even. It comes and the butterflies begin their stomach dance, sometimes from excitement, oftentimes from anxiety. When faced with the challenge of change, it is very difficult to think without bias, to leave one's phobias out of it, to accept that it might not be so bad - a good thing, even.

And so, I am faced with change.

So, what have I been doing this weekend? Working. Yup, my life is ever full of fun and exciting ... work. Get used to the name, Adam G_______, for it will appear on a regular basis as it has over the last couple of weeks. This weekend, other than site sales at the ROM (today), I've pretty well done little more than work on the FYI, Adam's community association newsletter. Okay, I talked on the phone a bit tonight, to Rick, Becca, Mom, and to - no surprises here - Adam. Now, if my email would attach the files so that I could send them out, THAT would be nice.

There's a new development in my life. I'll be moving again, it seems. Nick does not want to renew the lease here, though we've come to a very amicable arrangement whereby we'll renew on a partial basis, giving me plenty of time to find a new place. I was just starting to really feel homey about this place, too. I've done a lot of moving in the past six years or so. First, in and out of residence, then in and out of Euclid, then into Manning, then into Al & Carrie's, then here... I'm frankly tired of it. The next place is going to serve as IT. I want to be able to like it, live on my own, and be darn happy there. Or at least not a victim to either roommate or landlord whims. I'm not mad at Nick, by the way, though I think maybe he thinks I am. I'm a little disappointed, sure. I thought we'd found a nice balance and I'd grown quite accustomed to having him as a fixed feature in my domestic life (the playstation 2 is a nice plus, as well). It hasn't all been milk and honey, but mostly, it's been pretty easy. C'est la vie, as they say.

Willi just walked into my room and yelled at me. This is not so unusual an activity, really, but I just thought I'd make note of this. I'm not sure when I last mentioned that I adore my cat, but I do, despite her kicking her litter (and sometimes her poops) out of her litter box. One accepts the bad with the good, you know? Anyway, she's gone again, waiting expectantly near her dish, no doubt. It's that time again.