Well, my six weeks of vagabondism, travel and hedonism is over, at least according to my mental timeline. Now, to work. Scanning the classifieds here in Victoria is a depressing exercise, and I'm actually relieved to hear from people that no one ever finds a job in the paper. It's a who-you-know kinda town, and while I'm not exactly settled in just yet, I already know a few people who might be able to help. Shall see.
Just hoping I have the guts to refuse compromises at this point. No, I don't want a 40-hour-a-week job doing something boring and mechanical. No, I don't want to cover city council and little league for the local rag, though I might be persuaded to correct its many spelling and grammatical screw-ups for a sizeable retainer. No, no, NO, I don't want any serious legal work; luckily, having an American law degree probably diminishes my attractiveness as law-clerk-about-town anyway. Sound open-minded, don't I? Well, I'm also ruling out animal husbandry and sex tourism, so there.