Work is amazing. It feels so good to be a reporter again. It's not always an easy job, but that's what makes it amazing to me.
It's a pretty steep learning curve in a new city when you're the only reporter at a daily paper. Luckily (perhaps a poor choice of words based on the implications), teachers have been on strike. I'm in no way happy about this as a member of society; it's just made news relatively easy to cover.
My social life had been pretty much non-existent until recently. It's such a departure of character for me to spend a lot of time in my own apartment, but that's what I've been doing. Though the weather has been great (especially for here so I'm told), it's not quite the season to go exploring and adventuring. I'll save that for when there are only three hours of darkness at night.
A lovely woman who resides in Woodstock told me something after I had made the decision to leave. She shared with me that she had been in a rather similar situation in her late 20s - in a town, with great friends, where she may have been content the rest of her life - but content is not happy. She said she reflects on that time and still thinks of her years there as the time she had the most fun with the most friends, and she'll remember it fondly.
The longer I'm away from Woodstock, the more I feel like that is the truth. I know I'll make some good friends here, but it will never be like it was at home, and that's ok.
I'm finding that I don't have the desire to be involved in a gazillion committees here, or go to every party that happens. It's strange, I once needed to do those things to feel like I belonged, but now, I know that I belong somewhere, and I'm happy to spend time on my own. That's kind of a big deal for me.
I do miss going to Fusion (now Bistro 610), not because of the food (though I'm craving caliente soup like nobody's business), or the coffee, or the ability to simply say to anybody working (much to Brendan's chagrin) 'mix me a drink,' but because every time I walked into that cafe, I felt like I belonged, and I always knew I would have a great conversation when I was there. Whether it was with the friends I was meeting there, the regulars, who became the friends I was meeting there, or one of the amazing staff members, who also became the friends I was meeting there. Though I don't love the comparison to Norm, it really was like cheers, where everybody knew my name...unlike the Cheers here in Fort St. John, which happens to be a strip club, where I hope to god nobody will ever know my name.
