Welcome to Plan B.

It began innocently enough. We passed a police cruiser as we pulled onto the westbound lanes of the highway. Then another parked on the shoulder a little further down. We saw a fire truck positioned on an overpass as we entered Oshawa, lights aglow. A small crowd huddled around it, bracing against the cold night air. The next overpass was the same. Then another. And another. It dawned on us. Tonight, another fallen Canadian solider was making his way to the coroner’s office in Toronto.

We finally pulled off the highway in Whitby, unable to pass so many scenes of support and love without taking part. It wasn’t my first time standing shoulder to shoulder with my fellow Canadians, waiting for a hearse to pass below, but I hoped it would be the last. The crowd was a mix of firefighters, police officers, and everyday citizens. One man brought his young daughter, squeezing her hand tight as she leaned over the guardrail.

Waiting for the convoy to pass, a variety of emotions passed over me. I was saddened by the loss of another Canadian solider. I was frustrated and angry that another human being had to die in this terrible war. But, I was also immensely proud. Proud of our fighting men and women. Proud to be a citizen of this fine country. Proud of the people standing on that bridge, holding Canadian flags. Proud of that father, providing such a fine example for his daughter.

It isn’t difficult to tell when the convoy is approaching. Slowly, you begin to notice fewer and fewer cars passing by, until finally there are none at all. And then, you see the flashing lights in the distance. Military vehicles, O.P.P. cruisers, and Durham Region cruisers, lights flashing and sirens wailing. They hold formation around the hearse and accompanying vehicles, guiding them down the road. Ensuring that now, in their greatest moment of need, the family of the fallen is shown the utmost kindness and respect.

As they approached, what little conversation was taking place came to a stop. We stood, toes against the cement, and silently paid tribute to those passing below us. I hoped, by this tiny gesture, we could lighten the burden placed on the family the slightest bit. I hoped, as they saw overpass after overpass filled with people, they knew the country was behind them. Politics went out the window.

And then, it was over. Silent, unsure of how to feel about what had transpired, we filed back to our cars. One by one. Flags folded, warning lights shut off, we all hoped we would never again find ourselves standing on a bridge, welcoming another fallen solider home.

I needed time to get away from it all, to be by myself for a bit. I drove on no particular route, simply aiming the front bumper toward water and allowing myself the freedom to just get lost for a while. The neighbourhoods I saw reminded me just how sad and lonely the town can be. Dilapidated buildings down every street, long ago forgotten and neglected. People gathered in front of shops and on street corners, together yet still so apart. So many of them look broken — as broken as the buildings they surround themselves with.

The waterfront was a welcome sight, a change from the bleak blues and greys of downtown. Spring’s arrival has transformed the park, leaving it green and alive. Looking out upon Lake Ontario, the water was choppy and rough. But, as the sun set and cast an orange glow on Toronto’s skyline in the distance, it was hard not to feel at peace.

I‘ve spent the last hour or so mulling over the various ways I could open this post. I could go with something witty, maybe crack a joke about the impulsive nature of writing. Or, I could keep it short and simple, leave the reader with an air of mystery. But, in the end, I decided it’s best to just come out and say it:

I’m back.

After roughly a year’s absence, Ekonoline has returned from the dead, ready to spew forth my thoughts, feelings, rants, and essays. The urge, the need to write has returned. Nils once said that I seemed the sort of person who must get his thoughts out into the world. I’d say he hit the nail on the head.

Where did I disappear to? The short answer is that I simply burned out. Crushed under the load of classes, work, personal relationships, and other interests, I simply had no desire to write, develop Ekonoline, or participate in online communities. As a result, April 2007 saw me pulling out of many of my commitments. I stopped writing for Torontoist, left 9rules, left my position as a moderator at UER, and took Ekonoline down altogether. I made a number of tough decisions regarding my life and the direction I was taking, including the decision to stop doing freelance web development work, and focused on making myself happy. In the end, the break was exactly what I needed.

In the time that has followed, many things have changed. I’ve grown as a person. Old friends have moved on, while new ones have become a part of my life. I’m working toward finishing my post-secondary studies and deciding where the next 365 days will lead. I’m at a turning point.

I can’t promise my entries will always be thrilling, and I’m still putting the finishing touches on the new site, but I can say one thing for certain:

It’s good to be back.

After a long night of drinking, partying, and hanging out with some great friends, I came home, threw some Advil down my throat, had a cold shower, and put myself to bed. Now, however, I find myself sitting at the computer having one of those “too-many-thoughts-going-through-my-head” kind of mornings.

I have a problem that affects me when I sleep sometimes. I’ll fall asleep just fine, that’s not the problem. The problem is that I frequently have these dreams that I can only describe as incredibly lifelike. I know a lot of people have dreams that require a pinch to shake themselves back to reality, but I sometimes wonder if mine are a lot more than that. Everything that went through my head from the time I fell asleep to the time I woke up was pure fiction, a figment of my imagination, yet I can’t help but sit here and feel like all of it was real.

When these dreams hit me they are rarely happy dreams. They are anxiety-ridden affairs. They bring forward any fears, doubts, or worries I may be experiencing at that moment. Tonight, they brought out a hell of a lot.

The sun is coming up. Perhaps a walk is in order.