Jessica was being typically insightful yesterday finding solace in the concept of purpose. Coincidentally, finding my own purpose here is getting more difficult every moment. It’s not so much a loss of motivation to record the events of my existence in this space, it’s the notion that the virtual space no longer matches physical space. I was stretching the notion of lost.in.vancouver when I moved out of the city and into Burnaby. After all, I still worked and volunteered within the limits of the Vancouver. Many of my adventures were encompassed by the boundaries of Boundary and beach, Marine and the bay.

But now, having spent the week securing a place to live in Edmonton, adjusting to the temperament of my new workspace, and stressing over the idea that April is, yet again, a month of swirling changes — I don’t know exactly where I stand anymore. I’ll try not to belabor the subject here, and pace my witty observations on the concepts encompassed in packing and moving oneself plus spouse plus a truckload of junk a thousand miles. It will get tired quickly, I’m sure.

So then what? Karin’s ma told me I made her cry with the previous entry. (I probably wasn’t supposed to write that, but by now everyone knows that the statute of limitations on that type of privacy is only five minutes or so…) So then, I’m either mellow and moving, or LW is more emotional about re-potting a couple of lives than I seem to be.

So, as Jess would have it, what’s the point of this? Finding “a better way of letting my audience know my intent”? Change begets change? Oddly enough, the pod has randomly jumped to Into the West by Annie Lennox. You know, the award-winning closing theme to the Lord of the Rings. Listen to it, if you have a copy. I have always maintained that my audience is one person. Ego-clouded as that may sound, this is all for me. Read. You’re more than welcome. But it creates an subtle sort of confusion about the nature of focussing my attention for my audience: me.

What is my intent?

I’m sitting here in the Edmonton office on a borrowed computer, unable to do much because my work, like much of my life right now, is in limbo. Stability is my intent for my physical reality. Normalcy, as much as my brain will permit, at least. Life, in a reflection of what I can call foundness?