One million light years from home

I'm thinking I'd like a new template around here... but as ever I have no idea what I want from it. That could almost be a metaphor for my life.

I'm quitting my job next week, which means working until the end of the month when you take into account my required one week's notice. Then it's onto two weeks working at a local newspaper, before moving to Leicester to train as a journalist.

I saw an advert on the back of a paper yesterday for snowboard instructor classes, in Canada. Train to be a ski or a board instructor over varying amounts of time, depending I think on if you want just the basic level and then get out, or if you want higher levels, or if you want higher levels and the chance to go hiking and stay in an igloo. I'd really like to do that. The only trouble is, it's been years since I last went snowboarding (not many mountains in England. snow: thin on the ground) and even then I was, at best, vaguely intermediate. Ski lifts were the bane of my existence. Not really the stuff instructors are made of -- even if I had the cash to go to Quebec and all the rest.

Do I really want to be a snowboard instructor? I don't know. It seems like it would be better than real work, or could be something to do as a second income. To be entirely honest, I don't really know what I want to do with my life.

I have a lot of dreams -- like wanting to be an astronaut, or a fire look-out in a big national forest somewhere -- but really, dreams is all that they are. Being a journalist isn't really a dream, it's just a practical idea of something to do with a talent. I have no idea if I will make a good journalist, since it involves a lot more than being a good writer, but we shall see.

At any rate, it has to beat tending bar.