Throughout the history of writing there has always been, and always shall be, I would imagine, the bane of the menacing critic. I have heard and read there have always been critics of the theatre, but more recently an explosion of critic weed has expounded our psyche with their brilliant and, at times, intellectual commentary.

Critics began as such a quiet and well-read breed. But, now, they have emerged in every facet of our lives. We see them in our theatres still, but also in movie houses, public forums, and the most sinister of them all -- the self critic. This kind of critic is not just an interior type of beast, but it roams the halls and streets of our daily lives. We see the self critic in the hallway on our way to the bathroom. We see this critic at work, both in the reflections of our computer monitors and on the face of each individual we meet. It is terrible. We can't seem to escape the self critic.

This critic is always a negative force. We are not able to find a single shred of existence that will make it happy. We can brush our teeth asnd see it talking to us or hiding from us only to strike when we least expect it. Imagine, sitting on the toilet and having that little critic tell us we were doing our business wrong! It is always nagging and sucking the creative force out of us. I wish I could invent a device to quiet our critics. Very powerful, it is.

This self critic takes things we hear and makes them different. The words are the same and you may hear them a few times a day, yet the person who hears them will, for some reason, think they mean a different thing. Did that make sense? Well, it was supposed to...

I guess what I am trying to convey, and as usual have not made a whole lot of sense but that is what I get for writing this stuff late at night and spending no more than ten minutes or so, is that I have been trying to ignore or quiet my self critic. I am sure I will be able to speak more about this later.

Someone told me today that I was a "good boy". Does anyone really give a hump about their neighbours anymore? Are there people out there that would give a left arm to help out their nextdoor buddy? There must be! I can't imagine it any other way...?

There is always some reason to not feel good enough, but why? Some people just do not understand.

I was thinking the other day that most of my postings are quite vague. I usually do that on purpose, but I thought it was worth a mention on my website and I don't want to hide some facts about my life. Sure, these are facts that are well known, but if anyone were to read this site, they might actually not understand a whole lot of what I am speaking about.

I have always thought that the art of writing should always come from the heart and not the head. That is always for later. So, I will now write with the most heart I have written with in the entire writing I have done on the Internet.

Many people have asked me in the last few days since I found out that I was moving away:

"Why are you moving, Shane? What brought this on?"

Well, I had always said, for years, that I was born in Victoria, and I would end up dying here. That remains to be seen, but I expect it will come true. Victoria is not a bad place. But, I know that for the last year, it has become some place that I don't think I need to be at this point in my life. There are so many things I can experience elsewhere and I hope to make the most of it. I need to stretch out and expand my own horizons before I realize I am 40 years old and wonder where my life has gone. Now, my reasons...

I tried an experiment this past weekend. It was a success. Good for me, but never again! More will be explained next month!