The new job is hard. I received no formal training and I have one hell of a lot to learn. There are moments of frustration, sudden jolts of self-doubt which mostlythankgod don't last too long, but by and large, I am so happy I made the choice to jump ship when I did.
I've moved from a cubicle farm in a nondescript tower to a hard-wood floored, high-ceilinged old tin factory where the windows open and the sun flows in through a skylight like god's wisdom. One floor up, on the roof, is a marvellous urban garden, while in the courtyard below, the laughter of small children echoses up the walls.
I've moved from a company with 5,000 or so employees and a dream of becoming a hegemonic player in the corporate world, to a non-profit company of 8, where politics, philosophy and ethics are constant concerns, and where one of my co-workers brings in his dog every so often.
Yes, it's hard and sometimes chaotic, and I wouldn't mind a little more direction, but the challenge of creating my own job-description and learning on the fly makes the occasional stress more than endurable.
Lord knows, there are risks inherent in any relationship. And even more when there is an age-gap of 22 years. Nevertheless, Laura and I are braving them and, so far, mostly so good. We've reached the stage of using the term "girlfriend" and "boyfriend", our physical relationship goes from strength to strength, we keep making each other laugh.
And, happily, she understands as well as I do the humour (not to mention the disgust) with which some people will react to our relationship. This morning, she came to visit me before work (for me) and school (for her). As we were preparing to depart, she gave me a hand-made card to give to Helen, whose birthday party I will be attending tonight. Crafted on construction-paper, the words printed as if by a six year-old, she acknowledged with good humour the teasing she would have shared with me had she been able to come with me.
That's right, she can't come. Er, my girlfriend is ... well, she's grounded (the reasons for which are none of your business, gentle readers; but they have nothing to do with me). Yes, I'm 39 and my girlfriend is grounded.
It's frustrating as hell - for both of us - but I have to admit there's something humourous about our situation as well.
That isn't to say that all is well, of course - I am nothing if not moody.
I haven't been writing much. I spent a couple of days feeling sorry for myself when Laura called on Saturday to say she'd been (yes) grounded and wouldn't be able to visit. I've still been drinking too much, and too often by myself. And the stupidity of the Canadian people as they threaten to "punish" the Liberals by voting Conservative/Alliance/Reform makes me wonder if I don't live in a country of idiot masochists. (Tomorrow, I've promised to pay a visit to Peggy Nash's campaign office to volunteer my time and/or talents to the cause - I kind of dread the idea of knocking on doors, but I may end of doing it.
Well, yeah: that's about it. I've got a party to attend.