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As I briefly mentioned a couple of entires ago, I recently decided to take a year off of school and move to the city. It's been an interesting three years and I simply needed a break, so I'll be living on the west end of Toronto, until next September.

Unfotunately, I haven't been able to take advantage of the city so far, since I've had to do a considerable about of work to fix my place up. I didn't it until I moved in, as my housemate had picked it out and I had a bit of a rude awakening when I saw it. Anyway, I've managed to turn it into something I can call home and I'm just now getting into the routine of living and working here.

On the topic of work, I was able to find a job with a not-for-profit organization, whose purpose is to test doctors educated abroad, to see if they're qualified to practice in Ontario. I've met some nice people and discovered how different the style of patient care is, in other countries, as compared to here.

Although things are generally peaceful in my neighbourhood, that's all about to change, as apparently Ridley Scott is building one of the larget soundstages in North America, right across the street. First they're going to demolish a 16 story building and then I presume make a lot of noise for a lot of months, until it's ready. I wake up at 7:30 in the morning and get home at 5, so I don't think it will affect me, but I feel bad for all the other tennants, as I've lived next to a construction site before and know what those suckers are in for.

Are you truly content with your life?

I've been struggling lately, with my life's purpose. Like most everyone else, I want to exist in a happy place living a fulfilled life, but how many of us are there, or are going to get there? Sure it's possible, but it often-times doesn't seem entirely probable. Am I doing the right thing? Living the right way? Making the right choices? Who's to say, but it all seems very unsettling to be unsure of how you've done, until it's practically over.

While watching Frontline World last night, I saw a story on individuals providing interest free loans to the third world. What made this story different, was the way in which they've gone about it. The not-for-profit site run by Kiva (Swahili for agreement/unity), connects people in the western world to those in under developed nations, who are looking to start or expand their own business.

If you head over to Kiva's website, you'll see that the Grey Lady has already been through (is there anywhere that whore hasn't been?) and done a video about the whole enterprise.

Anyway, I hope to join and put my money where my mouth is, by giving to two different projects. When I do jump in, I'll be posting updates and keeping everyone informed about how things are going with the projects that I've chosen. I encourage you to join up as well, since the money that you give, will mean more to it's recipient, than it ever would to you or me.

Once the loan is repaid, it can be put back into another project, over and over again, meaning your gift really does keep on giving.

This is the dream I had last night.

It starts out with me getting a Big Mac meal from McDonald's. All of a sudden I'm at an Interpol concert, but it's being held in a mall, on the top floor of a Sears, in a storage room at the back. I'm there with a few people I know, but who I don't see often and never go to concerts with. Lead singer Paul Banks, sits down on the stage right in front of me and since the stage is only about half a foot off the ground, he's really close. Instead of an opening act, Philip Seymour Hoffman does stand-up and he totally bombs. Not only is he dressed like Malcolm McDowell in A Clockwork Orange, but his set goes on seemingly forever. I still haven't eaten my Big Mac meal, but instead I've inexplicably left it at the back of the room, on a table. While I'm sitting through the never ending opening act, I reflect on this.

At some point, I get up and go for a walk. Many other things happen, none of which I can remember, but when I get back to the mall, I'm wearing only boxers and a white t-shirt. I make my way back to the concert, trying to avoid peoples' stares. I'm almost to the Sears, when I'm stopped by the mall manager. He's wearing a $3000 black pin-stripe suit with a blood red shirt and black tie, flanked by 4 personal assistants and a couple of bodyguards. He takes one look at me and tells the bodyguards to escort me out of the mall, but to do it through the basement. We get to the elevator and I beg them to let me get my clothes, which I've apparently left at the concert. One of them allows it and I get back and put my clothes back on, sit down and listen to Interpol play.

WTF?