I'm trying to recall the name or source of a short animated film I saw many years ago on the internet.

It concerned a guy who goes into the woods with his dog to a small cabin. It's winter and snowy out. Sometime after they get to the cabin there's a knock at the door (I think). When the guy opens the door, there's no one there. Then he starts hearing strange sounds from outside. Footsteps in the snow, fingernails across the outside walls of the cabin, the doorknob rattles; stuff like that.

If I remember correctly, the dog goes crazy eventually and jumps out a glass window to chase after something. The guy goes after him. Off deeper in the snowy woods, he finds his dog cut in half and surrounded by people standing around it dressed in animal costumes.

It ends with the guy's implied death.

Anyone recognize this story or remember seeing a short net video like this? I think it had a one-word title.

I've had a very generous gesture given to me by  harrison2. He commissioned a work of fan art based on my story, "Fate also smiles." To say I'm thankful is an understatement. This is quite extraordinary to me. For someone to spend time and effort (and possibly money) to commission artwork for someone else's story is truly unexpected. And a bit humbling, to be honest.

Thank you Harrison for the commission. And also thanks to  yuriben for the artwork!

Relevant links:

Artwork here: Auto-motive

Artist's page:  yuriben

I can't say I'm surprised. But I do feel fortunate that the decision went as well as it could.

Renfield and Pyanfar are now permanent residents of the household. They've reached an accord with Hobo and mostly spend their time peacefully together. The landlords have given their blessing and next Friday they will be spayed, neutered and microchipped. I never expected to have feline companions living with me until after I was retired and could devote my full attention to them. Having multiple cats has made it manageable. After all, as I was told, 'cats do better in multiples'.

They most certainly do.

=^.^=

About a year ago, my roommate  kathmandu and I took in an orphan kitten. Kath posted about it in his journal here ( http://www.furaffinity.net/view/28534869/ ). Well, now it's my turn.

There was a mother cat raising a litter under one of the office buildings where I work. Folks noticed that of the four kittens, one had a wound on its neck and another had an eye infection. Nothing was done for a time. I felt the Texas summer sun made it seem unlikely they would fare well in the long run, especially the compromised ones.

Monday, a co-worker managed to snag the smallest one, a calico with the neck wound. The wound turned out to be a bot-fly larva. DO NOT Google images for this unless you have a strong stomach. The co-worker freaked out a little at seeing the true state of the kitten's injury and handed it off to me. As I'd seen exactly this type of parasitic injury in YouTube videos about kitten rescues, I knew what it was and how bad off the calico truly was. I immediately decided unilateral action was needed. I wasn't going to take one kitten to the vet, I was going to take them all.

In the end, with the maintenance crew's help in pulling up a wheelchair ramp, I managed to snag the two healthy kittens. Afterwards, mother cat and the remaining kitten disappeared.

At the vet, they removed the larva (a horrible thing for the poor calico to suffer through) and treated the gaping wound it left behind. The staff found a foster who could take care of her. I was told (and have seen similar cases on YouTube) the kitten will likely fully recover with lots of TLC.

That left the two healthy kittens.

I knew when I made my decision that it would come to this. I doubt I will regret it. But man... it takes work!

I don't know how real parents of their own babies manage without going crazy or dropping from exhaustion. I've only had to adjust my schedule and priorities slightly, since I'm already helping care for our grown cat. But having to tend to that poor little calico with its nasty wound and undernourished body... I don't think I could do it. Not with a full time job, anyway.

I don't know how or where this journey will end up. Our cat could use a friend in the house. Maybe even two. I just don't know. But until then, I'll be busy feeding, cleaning up after and trying to socialize two nervous but normal kittens so they can have the best possible start in life.

By the way; the black one is a male, tentatively named 'Renfield' and the orange mackerel tabby is a female I'm calling 'Pyanfar'. Here's a picture I posted earlier this morning.

http://www.furaffinity.net/view/32427126/

A terrific artist who's trying to make her way in life using her skills could use your help. And your attention.  slushpuppy has been posting pages of her comic, "Brick Port Dogs" and would love for you to check it out. The art is outstanding and worth your time. If you'd like to know more, check out her latest journal.

http://www.furaffinity.net/journal/8242201/

I will be 50 within a few days. As with previous age-milestones (30 & 40), I don’t feel this number reflects anything terribly meaningful. Physically, I’m 50 and I feel it now and again. Mentally, I have definitely matured in my outlook on many things. Emotionally, I’m not sure I’ve developed much beyond the point I reached at adulthood. But the actual passing of the half-century mark for wandering the world doesn’t really impress me, having now reached it. It feels more like a manufactured holiday. Granted it’s a surprising number when looking back and considering my view of 50 from age 20. Back then I couldn’t fathom it. And now I feel like the best answer I could give 20-year-old me for the question, “How’d I get so old?!” would be “Easy. You weren’t looking.”

It’s not like I have anything profound to say on the subject. Being 50 really doesn’t feel so different from being 30. I doubt, however, being 70 will be much like being 50. Perhaps I’d better enjoy the personal stasis while it lasts.

I don't have nightmares. I don't really even have bad dreams. It doesn't matter what's going on in one of my dreams, I don't know anything is wrong and have no problems. So last night was definitely different.

In this dream I was with my immediate family. We were visiting my mom's parent's house, although in the dream I've never seen the place. We were there to do something, have a get-together of some kind. There was a body of water nearby (I grew up in Florida, a mile from the beach and my mom's parents actually lived by a large pond) but we were moving around in a house a bit back from the water.

After a while I start to get this feeling that something's wrong. My family seems to notice it too and we decide to leave. Before we can go I become aware that something bad has happened out on the water. My family and I decide we have to bail and get in our vehicles and leave. While we are going home I'm hearing a voice on a radio or something saying that the disaster we just left has gotten even worse. I hear the phrase, 'Very few got out, it's not good.'

Next I'm in the home I grew up in, in my bedroom. It's night, dark out and the only light is from the kitchen. My mom's with me, sitting on the other side of the room. I'm feeling bad about what happened but can't discuss it in detail because we still don't know exactly what happened.

Then I hear a voice from outside my doorway say, "Hello? Anyone home?" I don't really recognize the voice and this makes me nervous. Why is this person in our house if I don't know who they are? I look down, not wanting to see them.

I hear someone walk past the darkened doorway of my bedroom and go beyond, toward my sister's room. When they've passed by I look up and see nothing. I look at my mom. She's obviously very upset. I get up and go sit next to her and ask her quietly, "Who was that?"

My mom says to me in a really shaky voice, "My mom looked mad but I think my dad just looked upset and confused." Somehow I know this is linked to what happened out on the water.

But I also knew in the dream, as in real life, that her parents had both passed on years before.

I looked up to the darkened doorway, wondering what my mom actually saw. I quickly decided I didn't want to know.

And then I woke up for a pee. On Halloween morning. :)

a good friend and awesome author from over at FanFiction dot net -  anhedral



He's been writing a terrific "How to train your dragon" fanfic that I highly recommend, as well as other shorts on the same subject. You can find him here.


What's more, he's joined the Thursday Prompt with a very good entry here.


Folks, seriously, if he finds writing in the 'furry' genre as rewarding as his fanfiction writing, we're in for some really good stories.

For those who don't follow  slushpuppy you might want to check out the piece she just finished as a commission for me. It's made me very happy and I hope seeing it will inspire others to commission her as well. It's a companion picture to my story, Broken. I think she did an amazing job and I want as many people to see her work as possible.

I would be a lot happier if I could remember from day to day not to expect sane, mature behavior from insane, immature people.

That is all.

This morning I'm driving to work, carpooling with my friend Tom. It's not 8 am yet and already it's nearly 90 degrees out. Forecast says look for 110 degrees. I work in a factory with no A/C, just lots of fans. It was looking to be another lousy sweaty day.

I'm about to make the final turn onto the road that leads to the plant, check the mirror to make sure no one behind me is going to read end me when I slow down, and see no one coming in the oncoming lane. And off to the side of my vision I notice something that doesn't belong. It's a small tan spot on the asphalt, right next to the white line that defines the lane.

In a fraction of a second I realize it's a kitten, it's eyes are open, it's head is up and it's belly is plastered to the ground while it's front legs are thrown out as though it were terrified of losing it's grip on the road.

No thoughts were thought. No actions were planned. No consequences were weighed. I simply hit the brakes, spun a quick U-turn and stopped as close as I could without endangering it. I remember hearing myself loudly say, "Oh NO!" Not as in, 'How awful' but as in 'I will not allow this.'

Tom's confused, as he didn't see the ginger tom until I bailed out. I'm moving slowly but steadily toward this little creature who's staying perfectly still inches from the traffic lane. I catch sight of a silver minivan coming and hold up my hand to let the driver know I am not moving and that I want room to take care of the situation. She rolls by, not even slowing down.

Now the kitten is moving. Not panicking, not running, but slowly and cautiously turning itself toward me. TOWARD ME. I bless it's good sense and quickly reach for it, knowing it will not bolt. Moments later I'm back in my truck and Tom's saying, "Good job, dude."

The moment the ginger tom and I were safely in the vehicle, he looked at me with an expression I would swear would translate as, "S'okay. I'm good now." No wailing, no clawing, no shaking. Just a calm expression of acceptance. But it took me a good minute to calm myself. I kept thinking of how close it had all been. The silver minivan might have been the end of it's life.

So we get to the plant, clock in, and now I'm wondering what in the world am I going to do with this calm, trusting little animal. It wasn't interested in water but some small bits of lunchmeat from my ham sandwhich were nommed quickly. I figured he was about 6 weeks old, big enough for solids but not much else. Once he'd gotten his fill of ham, he simply went to sleep on the break room table.

I'm sitting there at a loss. I'm in a rental house. Me and my room mate have agreed that having an animal would not be the best idea, much as we both might like to. Everyone who comes into the break room gets asked if they know of anyone who would want it. No takers.

Eventually I decide that I'm going to have to do the right thing and keep it safe until I can get it home, feed it, teach it about litterboxes and try to find it a home.

Then one of the guys in my department starts petting him. He picks him up and holds him while he sleeps and just stares at him. He sits with him long enough that the ginger tom wakes up from his nap and starts getting playful. The guy is sold. He says his wife had recently mentioned getting a playmate for their other cat and he believes this kitten would do perfectly. He takes the little thing directly to the vet, has it checked and takes him home.

The vet reported the kitten had no parasites, no diseases and was in excellent shape, considering where he'd been that morning. The fellow who took him home has named him 'Indy', as in 'Industrial Kitty.' Indy, by the way, is polydactal on his front paws. He has 'thumbs' on both, but the normal 4 toes on his hinds.

Tom gave me kudos several times, jokingly calling me 'Feline Jesus'. Me, I'm feeling better then I have in a while.

The heat might be breaking records and I may be sweating my butt off, but today was a pretty good day.

The actual question is at the end of this. If you want, you can just scroll down and read it.

I've had a problem for a while now. I just can't get 'into' writing (or reading for that matter) any more. Writing hasn't offered me any joy in a long time. Reading is getting harder, too. It's not easy to explain everything that's involved, but I know it's not going to change without some serious help.

The basic, deep down desire is still there; the need to create something that others might value. But the actual act of creating seems too difficult and unrewarding. It's frustrating and annoying and embarrassing. It's like I'm starving to death and yet I feel as though eating is too much bother.

I've thought I was on the verge of getting things back in motion before, only to disappoint myself. It's hard to describe how rotten that makes me feel. So the last thing I should be doing is posting another 'Hay guys I'mma gonna write some mo' soon!' journal. I've lost credibility on that score.

And yet, that's exactly what I'm doing. Or might be doing, depending on how well this idea goes over.

You see, there's a difference this time around. The source of potential inspiration isn't internal, it's external. It's something that's taken up residence in my brain and absolutely refuses to budge. And I'm OK with that.

'What is this fantastic source of creative fuel?' you ask. Well, I'm a bit embarrassed to admit it, but it's an animated movie.

Yeah, you read that right. Wirewolf is thinking of doing a fanfic.

Now I don't know about you, but when I think of fanfics in general my mind conjures images of abysmal Pokemon porn stories and mountains of Sonic the hedgehog sonnets. I've read some good ones, of course. My friend  kathmandu has done some awesome ones based on Sabrina Online. Heck, most of my first short stories were Star Trek fanfics using my own characters in the ST:TOS universe. It saved me time and was easy to adapt.

I left all that behind, however, once I had my own genemorph universe going. I can honestly say I don't miss it, either. I like what I created. But lately it simply hasn't held my attention long enough to MAKE me want to write.

But this movie has. It's sucked me in and held me captive in a way I haven't experienced in literally decades. I find myself reflecting on it several times a day, wanting to expand the story, take it further, create new characters, come up with explanations for things that are not addressed in the movie. There is so much potential, and I'm starting to realize I NEED to write this stuff.

I don't know if you'll laugh or groan or flinch when I tell you it's the Dreamworks movie, "How to train your dragon." Despite how I feel about it, I still feel foolish and naive when I consider what I'm seriously thinking of doing.

I'm sure I won't be the first. In fact I've already seen one on SoFurry. It... made my skin crawl. My desire to do this may even be in part a need to offer something better than horribly mangled characters doing things that make no sense except to someone trying to breathe life into some tasteless kink. Whatever my reasons, I think I can do justice to the ideals and concepts in the original movie. And most of all, I really WANT to.

So the question to you folks is:

Would a fanfic based on 'How to train your dragon' cause to you click and read or close the browser and roll your eyes?

I'll probably do this regardless of the answers I get, but I'm looking to find out if you folks would be interested in it. If you are, I'll happily post it here.

Thanks for your time and attention.

I don't know how many of my watchers watch  kooky but he just posted a picture he did for me. I never really considered myself as having a 'character' per se, but I was once asked if I had one so I came up with a pretty simple idea for how Wirewolf would look. Kooky's a nice guy and I've always liked his work, and I'm really pleased with how it came out. Have a look, if you like:

http://www.furaffinity.net/view/4431185

Ever since Thanksgiving of last year, I've been in some sort of creative funk. Not only have I not been writing, I've been basically avoiding FA. Oh, I would browse the submissions every night, but I wouldn't read anything or comment on what I saw. It was as if I was being overwhelmed by other people's creativity when mine had essentially vanished.

Well, at least part of that is going to change. Slowly.

I just spend two days downloading every story since Nov of 2009 and putting them in a single place. Next, I need to convert them all into a format I can put on my PDA so I can read them at work. The hard part will be attaching responses.... but that's all technical fluff. The important thing is that I'm walking back in the door. And over the next few weeks (or months) the people whose work I enjoy so much will be hearing from me again. Folks like  vixyyfox,  Metassus,  poetigress,  duroc,  SlushPuppy,  pyrostinger,  TakeWalker and  TippyDeVil.

What's more, I've noticed a trend in my thinking lately. Instead of merely putting my head down and slogging through the days, my mind has been wandering over old, unfinished stories of mine. And not just remembering them, but turning them over in my head with an idea or two towards completing them. That hasn't happened in a long time. I may actually start back to writing before long.

Just thought I'd let you know. :)

I just found out tonight that one of my favorite authors is finally, FINALLY publishing a new book. A sequel to my favorite book of all time, at that.

Way back in 1983 I picked up a copy Steven R Boyett's "Ariel." Being only 17 years old, I wasn't too sophisticated in my reading tastes. But "Ariel" hit me so hard that the impression has lasted to this day. It was a story unlike any I'd ever read, it made a cockeyed kind of sense that really appealed to me, and it was written by a guy only three years older than I was at the time.

Naturally I waited eagerly for more books from him. He came out with another similarly themed book shortly after, then disappeared. I spent years searching bookstores, hoping desperately for a sign he was still alive.

Eventually the Internet allowed me to learn what had happened to him and why he'd stopped writing novels. At that point I knew I'd just have to be happy with the two books he'd written and move on.

Then tonight, for totally random reasons, I went looking for an ebook copy of "Ariel", only to discover that he re-released it in preparation for launching the sequel, "Elegy Beach." Which came out last month.

IT'S ALREADY OUT!

Guys, this is like an Elvis fan finding out that The King came back from the dead and, by the way, put out a new album. What, you didn't know??

Sheesh. Time to put an order in to Amazon.

Granted I've come to realize that "Ariel" has flaws I didn't see or understand when I read it 25+ years ago. But the impression it made on me was strong enough to overcome any disappointment over the problems in his first published work.

If you're interested, here's a link.

http://www.elegybeach.com/

I won't go so far as to say I'm giddy about this, but I will admit I am slightly amazed that something I've waited for all this time has finally happened.




I need to re-read "Ariel." Scuze me..........

This morning I noticed all his submissions had been taken down and his page had this on it:

Account currently locked for safety of the user. Investigating and tracing a potential hacker and their IP address.

I seriously doubt GW would be involved in trying to hack FA. I might be wrong, but it just seems to be contrary to the nature of his online personality. Has anyone heard from him?

I recently had reason to go looking through the first stories I wrote. Not the ones posted on FA or anywhere else on the Internet. These are old school folders crammed full of stories handwritten in pencil on notebook paper. These things are old, going back 25-30 years. And while rereading them I've come to realize a few things.

The first thing is that I've come a very long way in my writing abilities. When I scribbled these things between classes at high school, I had very little knowledge of how a good story is written. To put it mildly, they suck.

There's more to it than that, however. As I read my old, atrocious work, I remembered the passion I had then for writing. I loved creating characters and having them go through all kinds of crazy adventures. Of course I had to love it because no one else would. I was writing for an audience of one, myself.

When I started to compare my old junk to my signature work, 'Fate also smiles', I realized something else. They had something in common. They were written with passion.

In 1999, I was discovering the delights of writing for people who had the same interests as I did. Folks in the furry fandom embraced me and my work and fueled my desire to see where my writing could take me. It was heady, powerful stuff. When I was working on 'Fate', the words came easily and I had a clear vision of what I wanted to tell my readers. When I finished and posted it, the response made me giddy. It was an emotional high that I will never forget.

After 'Fate' I wanted to write other stories, different stories. I tried to stretch myself by writing things I hadn't seen anyone else write. I loved what I was doing. The response from readers told me they did too.

By 2003, my personal life had stagnated. It was to the point I needed to make major changes. I moved, found new work, and tried to continue writing. To my dismay, I found it was much harder than it had been. The desire to write was still there, but the passion, the joy, was gone. I started one project after another, and each wound up sitting in its own folder, unfinished.

When Poetigress started her Thursday Prompt journals, I joined in the hopes it would rekindle my passion for writing. I would take baby steps, write one page stories and go from there. It lasted only a few months. The passion quickly dwindled until the prompts became an assignment, something I had to work at to complete. The Tux stories were the last gasp. I tried desperately to recapture that magic I felt with my earlier work. Tux was special to me and others. But soon he too became work, and the words would no longer come.

I feel quite empty now. The desire is still there, but it hardly ever makes itself known. I no longer stop what I'm doing to jot down notes for my current project, or ideas for a future one. This isn't a block. This is a condition. I suspect it's tied to the deep dissatisfaction I have for my personal life. I won't rant or ask for pity, but I've put myself in a place where writing simply won't happen. I don't know how to fix it. I don't know if I should try.

I'm not even sure it matters.

I can't imagine myself not being a writer. I've been scribbling stuff since I was 8 years old. Every aspect of my childhood was touched by it. My years as a young adult were most definitely influenced by it. Even when I stopped writing for a year or more, I expected I would go back to it. I still expect it now, but I don't know for certain.

So I'm dropping all of it for now. Until the passion returns, there's no point in trying to force myself to do something I can't.

I owe an apology to Kathmandu and Metassus. I told them I'd write stories for them, then didn't deliver. I'm sorry for that.

I'm not leaving FA or anything like that. I love the people here and the wonderful things they create. But I won't be one of the ones doing the creating. At least not for a while.

I'm undecided about going to Furry Fiesta.
http://www.furryfiesta.org/
I've been to one con and it was nice. But to be honest, I felt like I saw as much of cons in general as I needed to see. To me, it was basically art and strangers.

So I was wondering, are any of you folks planning on going? Getting a chance to meet some of you folks with whom I have talked (if you can call it that) would make going much more worthwhile.

By the end of this week I should be done with all the projects I've been working on for friends and family. Then next week I'll be off to Tennessee to visit my kin folk and unwind in a big way over the holidays.

THEN..... when I get back, I'll finally be able to pay more attention to what going on around here. I seem to have a few things to catch up on. *looks guiltily at the 304 messages and submissions waiting on him*

I'll be very glad to spend my spare time a little more selfishly, soon. See you in a little while!

So I'm out of the dingy, noisy, annoying apartment for good. My possessions and I now reside in a house. Actually, I reside in the house while my most of my possessions reside in cardboard boxes. *sigh*

I finally got my main computer back together and online and I've been trying to play catch-up on FA. A daunting task, to be sure. But I'm determined. I will read all the stories that have piled up in the last few months. I will go through all the prompts I have missed out on. I will eventually return to posting new stories and prompts.

I just don't know when.

I'm moving soon. The house Kathmandu and I wanted to rent came through and now we have to somehow combine two seperate apartments into a single dwelling.

This means I will not be concentrating on much else for the next few weeks. I'll try to keep up with posts here but at some point all my computers will be in boxes and there's no telling how long it will take to get them reassembled.

I can't believe how much I have to get done between tomorrow and October 1st.

So, FA has been back online for a while now but a certain wooly wolf hasn't stuck his snout out. What's the deal?

It's two things, basically. One is my own doing. Folks at my job have been asking for more music CDs lately. Lots more. I didn't draw any lines about how many I was willing to do, so now I've become their local Amazon.com. Combined with these requested projects are projects of my own, for my family, that will take a lot of my time and concentration. Those projects need to be finished before Thanksgiving when I will visit them.

On top of this is a re-direction of my muse. When FA went down, I wound up filling my time working on things around my home. I stopped thinking about my writing. As a result I lost the threads of creativity that held my stories near. This makes me unhappy.

Fortunately I am getting a grip on things. I put a moratorium on new projects from co-workers and I'm getting started on my own. I'm also putting some serious thought to new stories I want to write. That part of my life will never truly disappear.

I'm back, folks. You may not see a lot of me, but I'm here.

This was going to be a simple list of what's going on, until I realized I was focusing on all the negatives. So for each 'down', I'll match it with an 'up.'

1. The interview. I have come to the conclusion that my interview didn't win me a job. I was told I would be informed of the results of that meeting within 10 to 14 days. It's been a month. Despite a call to the personnel manager who called me, I've not heard back in any form.

While I might not have gotten the better paying job, this also means I get to keep the vacation time I have with my current employers. Which means I still get to make my yearly visit with my family at Thanksgiving. And it means I won't be changing to a rotating work schedule. Been there, hated that.

2. Work at my current job has been crazy lately. My department has been getting dumped on and I've been working extra hard (and extra hours) to keep things going. Part of the problem is management and part is co-workers.

Although I might grumble about 'being abused and ignored' at work, I have heard in roundabout ways that my efforts are noticed and appreciated. I was, in fact, given a substantial raise last August to convince me to stay on when I was looking to another company for a job. (I kept my interview a secret this time because I didn't want my employers to think I was trying to pry more money out of them.)

3. I think I'm developing arthritis in my elbows, possibly brought on from the heavy lifting I do at work. I'm also starting to notice a faint feeling in my upper jaw that may indicate I have another tooth that needs a root canal.

Aches and pains are part of life, and I don't usually complain about mine. Mostly because I hardly have any. I've been relatively healthy my whole life. Aside from allergies and bad eyes, I can't complain about my general health in any meaningful way. And for this, I am grateful.

4. The weather here has been insane lately. My truck got battered by hail in April. The windshield is broken and the body resembles the surface of a golf ball. Thursday we had a 'microburst' hit the area. Trees are down everywhere and the power was out for 6 hours that night.

While my Ranger needs repair, it's still completely driveable. I have full coverage, have already been reimbursed and am simply waiting for my turn in a local body shop. And while one of the buildings here at my apartment complex got severely damaged by a large fallen oak tree during the microburst, my own house and that of my friend and neighbor Kathmandu are intact and undamaged. We weathered this snit of Mother Nature's rather well. Others had their homes damaged quite a lot.


And to top it all off, I went and locked myself out of my apartment last night. Duh! Luckily I was prepared and used the hidden key on my truck to unlock it and get into the glovebox where a spare apartment key was waiting for me. It could have been worse.

Remember that, folks. It could always be worse!

*hums as he strolls away*

I have never in my life walked out of an interview grinning like an idiot. Until today.

Everything worked, everything clicked. The interviewing team was serious yet friendly, my previous work experience gave us common ground to discuss the job and their expectations, I had answers to all their questions without having to figure them out before hand.

It was, simply, the best interview I have ever had.

Unfortunately, there are only 3 openings. My chances are probably not that good.

But what the hell, they definately aren't that bad, either!

Now I wait for an answer. 10 to 14 days, by mail.

*eyes the mailbox* Has it been two weeks yet?

Way back in 2003 I made a serious decision. I would leave my job and home and try to improve my situation. I decided I would move to a larger city where I was sure I would do well. The place I chose to live had a large company that was closely related to the one I was already at. Because of this, I thought employment would not be a serious stumbling block. Even if that particular company didn't take me in there were many others I could try.

Things did not go well. Although I really didn't have any better choices at the time, the move turned out to be a mistake. The company I wanted to work for never responded to my applications. None of the large companies did. In desparation I took a job where I am now. The work is not too hard and the pay is.... managable. But I don't like it.

Lately I've been coming to realize I may be stuck here for a long time, unable to afford to return to my old home and my family. Unable to complete the plans I laid out so long ago. Yes, there actually was a plan.

That all changed yesterday. I put in one last application a month ago. Yesterday I got a call. Friday I have an interview.

I have no illusions. I may not get hired. I may yet be stuck here for a very long time.

Then again, perhaps this time my skills and talent will finally put me where I want to be.

Wish me luck.