If I were to succumb to a zombie attack, would it even matter?

I don't know how to turn brains into money, so why not turn them into food?

Someone once complimented me on my book smarts. It was the first time someone complimented me in such a way that made me feel good about myself. At the time I had already graduated college, moved to the Big Smoke, and had enrolled myself for another three years of university.

I've studied business and literature.

I completed college with an A average. A year before I started, I didn't think I was even smart enough to go to college.

I completed university with a B+ average. This despite going through a mental meltdown during the fallout of an emotionally abusive relationship of seven years. This despite handing in first-draft essays corrected for spelling and grammar. This despite better measuring study sessions in minutes, rather than hours.

After that? I landed...

I'm at home. It doesn't feel like home. I feel so displaced right now.

We finished closing the office today. My employer no longer has a Toronto office. Three of us are now working out of our homes, in addition to my boss who's been working out of his home out of town for about a year now.

We're to have weekly Toronto meetings on Mondays, but if the weekly phone conferences over the past year are any indication, the weekly meetings will turn to monthly before not-at-all.

This place never had any structure. Which is one source of my frustration. Which is why I wonder how I've lasted so long. I have no "real" manager, no mentor, no performance appraisals or expectations, no advancement, no money.

I'm at home, but I'm out of place. My comfort zone is shattering...is shattered.

I just signed up for "the works" at the Canadian Securities Institute (CSI): I enrolled in the Canadian Securities Course...

Well, the seal has been broken: the two other editors I work with have packed up their effects to take home, where they will set up to do their work from now on.

This marks the last week of our being office workers; we are now telecommuters.

It's starting to dawn on me. This has been a long cycle in my life (relatively speaking)—five years of my career life. And now I'm reevaluating things.

My resume is now on Monster.ca and Workopolis. It's not much, but it's a start, and that's important.

I'm now actively seeking employment in another industry. At this point, I'm willing to take something on the entry level. I need new opportunities. I need upward mobility. I need broader experiences. I need to be adequately rewarded.

I need change.

I was afraid of it at first, but now that I've had a taste, I'm jonesing for it.

I posted a note on my monitor at home. It's a message that will act as a negative reinforcement for motivation for career change.

It's based on this little factoid:

• Adjusting for inflation, I make $200 less per month than I did 5 years ago.

This is based on the effect of not receiving any raises for half a decade. It's now staring at me in the face.

So...an update on my weightlifting progress.

A different "metric" this time: how much weight am I pushing?

Back in March, it was looking a little something like this:

• Leg press: 80 lbs.
• Dumbbell shoulder press: 20 lbs.
• Dumbbell bench press: 25 lbs.

Now, in just over 6 months of hard work, this is what I'm looking at:

• V-squat: 215 lbs.
• Dumbbell shoulder press: 40 lbs.
• Dumbbell bench press: 55 lbs.

*Dumbbell weights are each of two units, as opposed to total weight.

I switched from leg press to v-squat. The v-squat is a levered machine for simulating squats. It's not quite the same thing as real barbell squats, but it's a better exercise than the leg press in that it gets you used to the movement of the squat. I have done regular squats, but my gym gets really busy during the time I work out and so the safety racks are usually taken. I've started to supplement my leg routine with stiff-legged deadlifts as a result,...