Well, it’s a start. Worked on 9 pages of the script tonight.

I get that there’s an imbalance. The chemical soup misfires neurons (or doesn’t) and causes unpredictability. As a result, I get sad, I get paranoid. I made bad decisions. I second-guess good decisions. It’s a learning curve, and I’m doing the best I can. Medications are taken daily, the doctor is visited weekly. This blog…

I have a complicated history with being happy. Even the idea of being happy. It’s not that I can’t. It’s holding onto it. Like sand, running through my fingers. Warm from the sun, tickling the skin. But eventually the last grains fall away, leaving only an impression of what was. And then I look again.…

Bowmanville.

Yeah. I’m afraid if I blink, it’s gonna get less real. I had an interview today. Doing layout for a weekly newspaper. Mom and pop company. Part-time, two days a week. The initial interview went so well. I was on point, open and positive. They liked what I had to offer, so they asked me…

No really. I had something earlier I was going to write about, but now my mind’s blank. Ladies and gentlemen, Mister Conway Twitty.

I met with my friend Kelly and we saw a taping of George Stroumboulopoulos. Brent Butt was funny, but the surprise was Stedman Graham (Oprah’s SO). I had no idea he’d written 11 book. His latest was about identity, and how you can make a positive influence not just on others, but yourself. I suspect…

I just don’t have the words today.

I have trouble letting things go. Of letting go. Not of physical things. Not really. I hold onto books. DVDs, until I bundle up a few bags and sell them. It’s more the intangible. Mental and emotional. That’s how I’m feeling about the past year. It’s weighing me down. I can’t sweep it out, and…