Yesterday morning I felt a tad defeated. So I said, “Universe, if you want me to keep on going, show me a squirrel.” And then I looked out at the enormous trees in my backyard, scanning for movement.

I returned from my twenty day venture back to Alberta five days ago, and now I’ve got one last week of unpaid vacation to go. In this final week I’ve planned to transform the outline of my Great Big Project into (as close as I can get to) its final form. And since it’s not much of a mystery to my most regular readers — (aside, Thank You For Reading!) — I will reveal a few details.

The Great Big Project that I’ve been working on began during a call with my friend Eric nearly four years ago. Eric and I have a long history of making comics and while we were talking, I was spurred to an idea. This idea went through many evolutions since then, including three completely unique final drafts, and now I am taking my 16-page outline and adapting it to a page-by-page summary of a comic book series that will span several 24-page issues. At the pace that I’m working now, I will be ready to begin adding dialogue by Friday, which will probably be the hardest part of the whole thing. After that, revisions begin, and then it will be in Eric’s hands to conceptualize visually. Here are a couple character sketches to tease you a bit:

And yesterday morning, I started to write myself into a wall, and that’s when I started looking for squirrels. And when the Universe didn’t show me any, I said to myself, “Oh, what does the Universe know, anyway?” and kept working through it.

For nearly ten years, my friends and I have gone on an annual snowmobile trip. Things are quite different than they were when we started. Back then, cars would be packed from bottom to top with hardly any room for us. Back then, we ate meals of the littlest effort, shot at empty cans, and drank the days away. But now things are different, and I realized this while the prairie moon illuminated everything.

Meals this year were more individualized than any other year. That is to say, my meals. I am the only vegetarian among my friends, and so with a few exceptions on meals they were willing to try, I ate alone. Afterwards, I washed my dishes, unwilling to give in to every convenience of disposable cups and plates. The world has a needless accumulation of trash everywhere, and I was happy to be apart from it.

Each year we shoot fireworks, but this year — for the first time — I didn’t want to. I wondered about the animals. Sitting in peace until our fires burn up their sky, until the explosions tear through their ears and leave them frightened beyond their comprehension. How insignificant is my brief enjoyment of this compared to the fear caused to everything around me?
Continued…

I am a night from home now. All things in their right places, and me in mine. Soon, my entire life won’t be a suitcase and two bags. Soon, soon.

Yesterday I sat in a coffee shop going over my outline for my Great Big Project. I’d left it untouched for months now, trying to free my thoughts from it. Reading it last night put me right back into its thickness. It felt fresh again. I hadn’t been able to see it this honestly since August. When I return tomorrow, after I make myself back at home, I will focus on adapting the outline to its final form.

As an aside, I have a video playing in the window behind the one I’m typing in. A CBC documentary called The Downside of High, about the link between marijuana use and schizophrenia. Some of the background shots are from Vancouver. I’m getting restless.