Or, Why I Changed My Mind and Kept My Name
It wasn’t that long ago that I wrote my big spiel on why I was going to change my name after getting married. It wasn’t a decision I made lightly, and I made all the steps towards changing my name I could make before going the legal route – I made a new email, I started a new blog, and I updated my name on Facebook. It all seemed pretty smooth sailing from there. Continue reading “Mrs. Kate”
I was 22 the first time I moved across the country. I had lived with my parents while attending university and it was finally time for me to leave the nest. People were surprised when I announced my plan. I was pretty quiet and meek back then. I had never lived anywhere other than with my parents, and to some, it seemed like a big first move.
I distinctly remember my grandmother assuring me that there would be no shame in changing my mind if I decided I wasn’t ready for this. Mom told me the same thing. But I was determined. I was also gay and looking to create some distance between the claustrophobic motherland and me.
That day at the airport, my parents hugged me and handed me some cash while I gushed over a cute puppy to distract myself from crying. We said our goodbyes and I headed through security with my cousin, Melissa, who was on her way back to Calgary after a holiday in NS. It was nice to have family with me during this time of huge change.
Our flight included a stopover in Hamilton, Ontario. The first leg of the journey went off without a hitch, and we made it to our next gate in plenty of time. We boarded Plane #2, found our seats, and waited. We waited a while. I don’t remember how long it was; maybe an hour, maybe two. But eventually, we were all asked to get off the plane. Continue reading “Going Home Again (Again)”
Four months ago, I quit my day job. I had been working full-time at a sign shop, doing graphic design. I spent nearly five years there before I finally threw in the towel.
I had plenty of reasons for leaving. As you might expect, most of them centered around not wanting to be there anymore. But the strongest pull away from that job was a pull toward something. I wanted to try something new. I wanted to make something new. I wanted to stop tailoring my creativity to the desires of my customers, coworkers, and bosses. I wanted only my voice in my head as I worked.
Even at the time, it felt like a pipe dream. It felt silly to walk away from the security of a paying job and plunge into the unknown with no guarantees. Irresponsible, even.
My goal was to make money writing. Four months into this, I don’t feel any closer to that goal. Maybe I haven’t been working hard enough. Maybe I haven’t been working smart enough. Maybe I’ve been too distracted by other tasks, like household chores, and Kijiji sales, and planning our move. Maybe I’ve been inviting these very distractions so I’ll have something to point to when I fail.
I feel like I’ve failed already. Continue reading “Small World”