I know I'm a little old to be moving out for the first time, (and if you count my time in England, this is actually my second move) but I feel like everything's going to change and I'm both excited and a little scared.

I can totally do this. Paying bills, grocery shopping by myself and all that jazz isn't a problem; I've done that. The packing and moving of furniture, with the help of friends and family, also isn't the hard part. I think leaving my parents home for, what I assume will be, good is a bit scary. I love them to death, and being apart from them while abroad was really hard. They are my support system and I worry about them a lot. Coming downstairs to tell my parents something new I learned or to discuss the news I just read was something I really enjoyed. Dinners where we all sat down and watched a movie on demand or holidays where we decorated to the nines are some of my best memories. The thought of giving that up hurts.

To be fair though, I'm not giving it all up really. I still get to see my parents a couple times a week as we're only a half-hour's drive apart. I can call and talk to them whenever as well. We can go over to each other's house for coffee and tea. We can still visit for holidays. Somewhere deep down though, I know it won't be the same. However, that's okay. I'm moving on into a new chapter in my life. I'm moving in with my partner and a group of friends closer to the city than I've ever been. The SkyTrain is almost on my doorstep and I can now do things my way instead of the method my family prefers. There's a lot more freedom in this new chapter and with it comes more opportunities for discovering new quirks about myself. I get to grow and develop in new directions that I never even considered.

This will be a good change for me, but I'll still always miss and be grateful to my Mom and Dad.

It's never a positive thing when someone rejects you. It may not even be a personal thing, but it sure does feel like it. The gut-wrenching agony of knowing your best just isn't good enough. It's a dreadful feeling to be told you aren't wanted, even in the politest of terms it's down right awful. Unfortunately, it has to happen over and over again.

Job hunting isn't easy. Not in this economy, not in this city even. Competition is fierce and money is always running short. Few companies are willing to train anyone, so they demand entry level applicants already have experience. That way they don't have to waste money on training. Unfortunately, it blocks a lot of young people from getting hired and starting their careers. No one gives us a chance because it's too much money and too much risk. I try not to blame employers, they have businesses to run. It's hard not to cast blame though, when I look at my very empty bank account and try to find something to keep myself occupied while I wait for the next phone call. Sometimes it's weeks or months before I get another. Sometimes they'll have me trek all the way into the city for an interview, paying peak transit fares, only to never call me back not even to reject me. I spend money to see these people, and they don't even have the courtesy to send a template email saying they were sorry. They can't be bothered.

I get it, life and business are a flurry of things to do and people to see. I'd like to help and be a part of that world. So I'll smile and do my best to make an amazing impression. When, or if, they call me to say I didn't get the job I'm still in professional mode. I greet them warmly, respond positively and act as graciously as humanly possible. It's only decent and I want to present my most professional self even in a difficult moment. So when someone tells me over the phone that I'm not good enough, that they found someone better, I thank them kindly. I wish them and their business well while offering my gratitude for even the tiny chance at a job. It's unfortunate, but now in these tough times I'm grateful for even a polite rejection.