An eerie tale

So, as some of you know, I've lost my comix sketchbook. I haven't given up the search, but summer comics are still on hold. I've decided to start up again, this time in my regular sketchbook.
This happened a few days ago, but I keep thinking about it.

I have been making comics now and then, but our house doesn't have a scanner. Prepare for an influx in September.
I try not to think about leaving Edmonton, but it's been on my mind since I arrived. I don't want to experience returning to the nest. I don't want to feel stifled again, I don't want to wait again. I feel like I've been allowed to enter my Twenties here, with all the worry and indecision that goes along with it. I've allowed scary questions to enter my mind, like, do I really want to be an artist? And, is there anything in the world I feel passionate about? Why am I returning to Calgary? I've tied myself down to a city I know I don't want to live in, an unsatisfactory program at a windowless school, a life that is dedicated to a career I couldn't care less about. I haven't drawn or painted since June, and I don't feel any different. Art is not something I need; it's not therapy, it's not release. It's just a thing I'm good at. Do I really want a solo show at a prestigious gallery? Do I really want to spray-paint thought-provoking stencils around the city? Do I really want to be co-opted by the insular and incestuous country club that is the "art world"? What do I really know about the "art world"? Why am I going back to school? Why am I working towards a degree?
Am I really as stuck as I think I am?

Still here

Real life is awesome

the hourly comic

Baby = wee cousin Gabriel. Voiceover = me.

I was sleeping in a snow-house I made in the backyard. Here are some real-live pictures: