What’s Down The Pipe? (September 2018)

Helloooooo all you wonderful people who read this blog. I love you for doing that. Both of you. Really.

So, there’s a few updates. The most important obviously being that the Canadian government decided I was worthy of staying here for at least three more years. Which I appreciate. It shows you that if you work for something, believe in yourself, and, most importantly, don’t fuck up royally, then…you’re allowed to stay in a country? Where was I going with this?

Anyway, the staying-in-Canada thing is sorted out (kind of at least; I still need to get the physical letter in the mail) and I’m already in the process of looking for an apartment, which is hard when you don’t know how long you’ll be around. But once that’s done, I can also look for a part-time job that gives me an income until I get a real, grownup full-time job. Somewhere. Anywhere. Except Winnipeg. I still have some standards.

Along with a place to stay permanently goes the opportunity to finally start the podcast I’ve been crowing about for weeks. I’m scratching and clawing in anticipation to get this off the ground, much like Steve scratches on my door every morning because he wants his Good Morning Belly Rub (Steve is one of two cats at my friends’ house, in case you’re wondering). If you’re a writer and you read this: watch out. I’m coming for you. For real this time. But don’t worry. I’ll bring cookies. The dark side always has cookies.

Writing is still really hard but now that I’m mentally in a much better state, I should be able to pound out those words at rapid speed again. I’ve already started a project that smells vaguely like novel (read: hard work and headaches) and I write down ideas for stories like parking enforcement writes down license plates around U of S campus (hey, a Saskatoon reference!). So let’s try to start sending stuff out by January. And maybe get published. Somewhere. (#PublishSimonPublish2019? I feel like this should be a hashtag).

Finally, Oktoberfest started yesterday. The real One. The One in Munich. If I hadn’t gotten my new visa approved I’d be back home, enjoying the best rotisserie chicken in the world with a large Bavarian pretzel and a few Mass (read: litres) of Oktoberfest beer, drowning my sorrows. But I’m not. Oh, the sacrifices!

I feel like this was enough rambling. I’ll try to get back into my biweekly rhythm now that I have at least some sort of clarity back in my life. Hey, maybe I’ll write the next entry from a new apartment? Maybe I’ll even have to plan ahead because I have a job? Only time will tell.

To close, just let me state that I don’t appreciate snow before my birthday. That shouldn’t be a thing.

See you in two weeks. Pinky promise.

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