... and so it began.

Returning home was a concept that fell far beyond the perception of my reality while I lived abroad. When I alit on familiar soil, reverse culture shock hit me like the slap of a scorned lover. The sting still dogs me.

Taiwan is a Neverland. I was a cardholding member of the Lost Boys finding a comfort in the stability and steady income it provided. The absolute freedom and childish fun was a welcome side effect.

Asia’s polar-opposite society gives foreigners a whole new set of guidelines for social behaviour. Some are lulled into a false sense of comfort. All seem to start out with good intentions, but the bricks are laid one by one, and the road to purgatory is built before they know it.

I was comfortable in my limbo...which was the problem. To break myself away and re-integrate into the 'real world' was a gorgon I dreaded slaying.

Before moving to the Far East, I swung from contract to contract. Nothing was stable and nothing was secure. Moving to a place like Toronto would have been financial suicide. I was desperate to be the one behind the curtain, running my own future.


But, gradually, I have built up a false sense of security. Through small stints at temporary postings, I have bounced around the city getting a feel for this place.

Toronto has is my concrete security blanket and my home, but where it's taking me I'm not sure.

This past year has seen me working in data entry, online reporting and financial work. Jack of all trades.

The world of journalism is quickly falling behind me... I'm not holding my breath.

Where I've been. What I've seen.

Photography from abroad

Where there once was work, now there is none.

This is a tale of mirth and woe. A tale with a grim truth but, an inherent optimism.

I was a journalist...

After a three year hiatus in Asia, I seem to have un-serendipidously returned to a world where devastation reigns in print media and society has turned a cold shoulder to my trade.

Previously, in the Canada I once knew, I had planted a few roots and made a few small claims to be proud of. I had conquered the beast at CBC. I had survived the bureaucracy of the Department of National Defence, and fit snugly into writing positions at community newspapers.

The written word was still king. People held tangible proof as they leafed through their daily paper on the subway. Now, layoffs are strangling my newspapers and magazines. The goliath called the Economic Downturn has subjected loyal employees to draconian budget cuts and restructuring, pushing opportunity out into the cold.

The Toronto Star. Once, a 400-strong editorial staff, has now bowed to budget cuts and is outsourcing 100 of those coveted spots. A small percentage of those have been outsourced to India... India!

I have stepped in it. The slap of reality was the realization that no one with less than 10 years of experience, and their lips planted firmly on the behind of someone with clout, has any chance of a job in journalism. I can do little but stand by and tearfully wave goodbye while the industry implodes.

But, as the phoenix rises from the ashes, so shall I. From the ashes of print media I will rise into the new digital world.