It’s been a glorious few months of change.

In July I became a casualty of the publishing industry, something I did not see coming despite the tumultuous state of magazines in general. I figured the small community I worked in was insulated from the same issues that caused an iconic publication like Newsweek to close its doors just a year ago.

I figured wrong. So it goes.

But being out of work never really felt like a setback. I never once was restless. If there’s an inherent human state I’ve never been able to relate to, it’s boredom.

My time and my ideas are my own now. Work and life used to be clearly defined; I’d come home, watch a hockey game, and sleep like a baby. Now I flow in and out of productivity, my mind constantly humming. Maybe I didn’t get a full three days off over Thanksgiving, but today I get to write an entry on Hi at 3 o’clock in the afternoon, a time when I used to be trying to muster the strength to be creative for two more hours.

There are disparate strands of money coming in, and what feels like a constant stream going out. It can be stressful, but I own it. The only thing that’s guaranteed is my freedom. Sometimes, it’s so good I feel as if I must be cheating.

The other day I learned that this thing I’ve been doing for the past few months is called a “microbusiness”. I like that. Small and manageable, yet infinitely scalable. That seems like a pretty great place to be.

The colours are amazing this time of year. Just a short while ago they all looked the same.