I can’t wait until the Christmas hol­i­days. I’ll have a chance to work on projects I’ve put on hold to make time for paid work. A chance to breathe. A chance to do noth­ing. Some seri­ous me time, inside my warm house, watch­ing a movie while wrapped in blan­kets. Lazy maple bacon every day, her­mi­tiz­ing. I may even decide to go home and vis­it peo­ple I always mean to see when I’m in Toronto, but nev­er have a chance to.

I’m busy with side-work until the new year, and cur­rent­ly not accept­ing new work. On the social end, I’ve come to a point where I’m not only booked, but dou­ble-booked, and find myself hav­ing to pri­or­i­tize plans and decide what I’d rather do. It’s been great for keep­ing my brain busy, and where­as I’d nor­mal­ly feel over­stim­u­lat­ed, I’m now rev­el­ing in all these awe­some expe­ri­ences and peo­ple I get to meet.

This does­n’t feel like a tran­si­tion phase, as the tran­si­tion, or what­ev­er the hell it is, already hap­pened weeks ago. I was at fork in the road, and now that I’ve tak­en the first steps, I find myself on a one-way path through a tun­nel with­out any exits, won­der­ing what’s on the oth­er end.