I'm an insect who dreamt he was a man and loved it. But now the dream is over... and the insect is awake.

For a while there I lost myself. The last nine months haven't been the best, and I think something has finally changed. I don't know what it is, or how it happened, but I doubt that it's the banana I'm eating or the film I finished an hour ago (although watching Jeff Goldblum's eyes expand to the size of kiwis while saying fuck is pretty hilarious). Regardless, I'm smiling.

Five or six days a week I find myself talking to people about cameras and camera accessories. That's five or six days a week I could be attempting to be a better photographer, or even just be somewhere that is not the cold and lonely island that Cape Breton is. What other lines of work are there here? It was either sell cameras or answer telephones. But still, here I am on a night before a day off hoping to make the best of tomorrow. I definitely haven't made the best of my year off so far. But that's about to change I think.

I dropped out of art school for several reasons. Some I can put into words, others aren't so easy, others form while speaking to one person and not another. It was the best two years of my teen life but something didn't feel right I guess. I didn't go in thinking it was the beginning of the rest of my existence, or "Finish 4 years of this and it's smooth sailing for me!" But I did leave thinking "Now what? ." I miss the people more then anything else. The friends I love, the eccentrics I photographed, the savants I admired, the strangers who became something else, and the women.....they came to soon and left the same. I doubt i'd do much different looking back. But again I find myself asking "Now what?" The holiday season is upon me and I fear the coming wave of cold. I worry being a pimp of consumerism and materialism is going to be a little bit of a downer. If only I was as good as a salesmen as I am a waterfall finder. But if the high I'm on now holds up, i'll make it through with only a few scrapes and minor bruises.

I always worry about over thinking things or talking to much while i'm figuring something out in my head. "If I keep speaking will this person figure me out? or will they think they've figured me out, but all they've really done is build a character profile around the random non sequential combinations of thoughts that come out of my mouth and form the statements I make resulting in a completely different person who isn't me and is just there interpretation of

the skinny boy sitting before them?" After a while I tire myself out. Maybe that's what happened?