leaving for Vancouver at last
the journal of Michael Werneburg
twenty-eight years and a million words
Toronto, 2001.07.25
Booked my tickets, I'm on my way. But not before I have to meet with the accountant, who will tell me how badly awry my finances went in my absence.
Fun fact, thirty-year-old self: "9-11" is only five-six weeks away. You won't find work in Vancouver, and you've set yourself on the course for going broke. Oh, and you'll blow it with another woman. But your writing and photography will really go somewhere. I mean, not commercially, but hey. You probably should have found a job when you first got back in May/June, found a place, and enrolled in an MBA. But who knew, thirty-year-old me, who knew. I wonder what mistakes I'm making now, at forty-five. Michael, 2016.