Well, it’s Friday

I don’t even know where to start. I will be leaving soon, but not as soon as I’d hoped. I guess I shouldn’t say that I hope to go sooner, because I don’t want to go at all. The problem is, that there will come a point where it isn’t worth it to go out at all. I would like to get 6 weeks in before coming home around Dec. 20th, but that means I leave now, and it’s not that cold out there yet. In a way, I hope that it doesn’t freeze in time, but that’s just my selfish side. I know I have to do this, and I do want to see my friends that I only get to briefly visit every year or so, but it’s so hard to think about.

Last night when I was tucking the girls in, T asked me about a couple here that broke up when the man moved away for work. I guess he only got home every couple months, and it was a permanent thing. I explained that sometimes it’s hard for people to live far apart for a long time. When I saw her face change I realized it was the wrong answer, and then she started getting sad and saying that she didn’t want me to go to BC. I tried to explain that I’ll be back in about a month and then one more time. Luckily her mother came in and diffused the situation by hugging and kissing them into a coma. It’s pretty hard right now, I don’t know how I’ll hold it together when it’s time to actually leave.

I keep thinking that a dream job is going to fall into my lap, but the harsh reality is that I’m going to have to work my bag off to get a job I enjoy love going to everyday. I know the job exists, I just have to find it and educate myself on how to do that job to the best of my ability. I keep coming back to radio in my head, because there are local stations, but I think anywhere that I can sit around and brainstorm ideas with people and troubleshoot. I also enjoy learning about new technology, so radio appeals in that aspect. The other thing is that I really enjoy writing this blog, and trying to think up new ways to entertain you folks, so if I could find a job that was local, I’d really enjoy that as well. It’s strange, but I’d rather do a job that I don’t care for as much, if it was close to home, over a great job that I’d have to move for. I’m home now, and I’m not moving again. Mrs. Birdman has her business here, the kids love it here, and so do I. Money isn’t everything, right? As long as I can keep making jokes on here, I should be able to keep my sanity in check.

I don’t know, maybe 40 will be too old to retrain, but I have to try because I’ve been putting it off for the last ten years. Once I got sick of long haul, I thought bush trucking would be the cat’s ass, and it was for a while. I then thought that I’d move home and drive local, because it wasn’t so bad, but I forgot how big the veins in my head could get. I used to love trucking, because of all the places you got to go, all of the people you got to meet and all of the duty-free booze and smokes, but the thing I’ve always loved the most is unexpected problems. A breakdown in the mountains with no cell service, and very few tools, a dead truck in -30C, or a refused shipment and no one answering phones anywhere. I guess I thrive on chaos. I really enjoy having to use my brain, but more importantly, finding out whether I did the right thing. I’m always worried that I won’t be adequate, and I need these things to prove that I haven’t lost too many brain cells over the years. Sometimes I’m right, and sometimes I’m a little bit south of right, but I always pull through, and I think I always will. I know that sounds cocky, and I guess I may be, a little, but I really pride myself on my problem-solving abilities. Of course I only have them in life or death situations, but that’s when I need them most.

So, long story short, I know I have to go, but I hope that I don’t ever have to go again. I know it’s possible that I will, I just hope I don’t. I love my new life, and I want to keep loving it. Yeah, I hear them screaming and fighting in the bedroom, but I don’t give a shit, I would rather hear that every night, over the guy in the next room that has a piss every hour and groans while hitting the middle of the bowl, so as to make the most possible noise in pissing history. Oh yeah, he exists, ask anyone who’s shared a washroom in camp. What about the guy who gets up every morning at three, stomps down to the kitchen for a coffee and a smoke, and then stomps back twenty minutes later, and somehow manages to cough really loud in front of your room. Yep, he’s there too, with his buddy that punches and kicks the 1/4 inch thick wall beside you while he sleeps.

Sufficed to say, I’m probably going to cry until I hit North Bay, but I am going to be ecstatic when I get back. The rewards far outweigh the work involved, or I wouldn’t be going. I’ve decided that they aren’t going to forget me when I’m away. I won’t let them. I’m going to send them videos and call them every day. Whether they like it or not, I’m going to make my presence known. I WILL NOT BE IGNORED. Well, sometimes I will be, but that’s just when I’m talking about buying Canadian.

England swings like a pendulum do,


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