I’m pretty much now a small fish in a big pond. That’s the reality of my situation. I’m lost. Four months of life-altering decision-making and thorough planning into what should be the happiest moment of my life has turned into the most into the most nerve-wrecking moment of my life, so far. I don’t know if this experience will turn better than my Disney experience. But I guess it wouldn’t hurt to hope for the best. I hope it gets better from here. For the record… I didn’t have much of a choice coming to Canada. Certainly I could’ve stayed in New Zealand and wasted months on looking jobs, which most young Kiwis (yes, Kiwis. That’s what New Zealanders are called, to those who are not familiar.) are struggling to obtain. Which is why there has been a “bit” of an epidemic of Kiwis leaving to find jobs elsewhere and returning. Neither you nor I can blame them. As I said, we had no choice. You could say that this is our way of giving a Molotov cocktail to the New Zealand Government for giving two bitch’s fuck about the older population who can no longer work, and giving not even one bitch’s fuck for us young Kiwis. Maybe one day the Government will realize this and come to their senses. Who am I kidding, they won’t. It’s already too late to do anything anymore at this point. The Government will definitely hate me for this. Maybe they’ll even consider me a traitor to the country. My potential Wikipedia page will say, “Simon is known as a traitor to the nation of New Zealand.” And it’ll be right, probably, depending on your point of view. ‘Cause I surely did leave New Zealand with the intention of getting back at the Government and never returning. I’ve gotten myself in an interesting situation.
How did this begin? December 2016. I had begun my long and arduous job-hunting process for full-time jobs that would expand my horizons and career prospects blah, blah, blah. Month 1, I imagined I would find something and come out on top. Month 2, still imagined the same thing, just not as much as month 1. I was still arduously searching and applying whenever I had free time. Month 3, still the same thing. Okay, maybe not the same thing per se. Since this was when I started to get a bad feeling, plus that was when the job market was starting to quiet down. Actually, I was having no luck. When I did, I could only get up to the interview stage, nothing more. Overall, I only got three interviews that went nowhere out of the dozens and dozens and dozens of jobs I’d applied for. I wonder if this will interest anyone who comes across it. I hope this will interest some people. Well, to all of those reading this, and the following logs to come, I had no choice. I had to leave the nest and find a better future for myself. I had to do what I had to do. If you were in my position, you would do the same. So please don’t blame or hate me. ‘Cause I wouldn’t.
I guess I should explain the situation in New Zealand and the process of getting into Canada, for anyone who is curious and is reading this. New Zealand as a nation is not exactly known as a progressive country. Considering the small population and being an isolated country, it is understandable why recently I, and so many other young people, have left. New Zealand is known for not being the most forward-thinking nation and is known for its dwindling manpower. So for someone such as myself who wants to have a career and advance in the world, there is no hope in obtaining that in New Zealand. Like the United States, it'll take two lifetimes for someone of the lowest percentile to become among the highest percentile. Where as somewhere like Canada or Europe, it'll just take one. So ultimately, I came to the conclusion to leave the nest and find a new home that will give me a better life.
In the end, it was a ridiculous sequence of events that led me to this decision, and a little bit of guts that led me to arriving to this country. This journey is all about me leaving the nest, and finding success and happiness in a country that I know that can give me that one-day. If I just work hard enough and put my mind to it. Kim Campbell once said that “Canada is the homeland of equality, justice and tolerance.” Which is certainly true. When the United States was known for slavery, their neighbours up north were known to take in refugees and slaves who had escaped the slavery of the South. In addition, Toronto's motto is "diversity is our strength." Where the U.S. have failed in numerous fields, the Canadians have been making excellent strides. The Young Turks had a segment where they talked about how Canada had achieved "the American Dream". Ironic isn't it. So ultimately, with these factors, it was an absolute no-brainer.
So when I finally awoke to the realization to possibility. A daunting and heavy thought loomed over my head and started to eat away at me until I would just fucking die in the inside. The thought had grown day by day; I was dying in the inside. It was only a matter of time before I would be buried alive by the thought if I didn’t do anything about it. The thought had more than enough force to convince to make the life-altering decision. But it had scared the shit out of me (and my bladder, of course). Never had I ever been struck down in ways that disturbed me. But somehow thinking about it more and more, it made sense that disturbed me even more. Then the thought from my mid consumed my entire body and soul. As it reached my soul, the idea completely manifested. The idea became more and more a possibility. Eventually, it became the number one option. However, the idea had its fair share of problems. Having problems such as financial and moving house. Though, after a while of contemplation, those were the only limiting factors and they were factors that shouldn’t stop me from achieving this potentially valuable prospect. And at this point, other options were completely hopeless. The idea turned from a problem to a desperate, desperate necessity. Having very little chance of finding a job in New Zealand, then it became essential that I, at least, attempt to find job in a new land. It was all I had left. It was the only thing that was going to give a second chance at life after Disney, and a new start to grow as a human being and become a better person. Now I had to risk either staying in a dying country that didn’t give a shit about me, or risk going to the other side of the world to a prosperous land that also had a wide margin for failure. It was quite a decision I had to make. But the answer was simple. I chose the latter. Every step of the way will be hard, but in the long run, it’ll be worth every pain, suffering and hardship. And that is what convinced me ultimately.
Carefully researching and considering my option, I got the confidence that Toronto, Canada was my best shot. It was not a problem to realise this, and that it was going to be worth every cent and second I’ll spend. The trickiest part is to land a job that will support me financially and get my foot in the Canadian workforce door. If I fail, it would be the biggest wound of my soul and would cause me agony big-time. Right at the moment I realised this prospect, I knew I would be royally fucked. But I wasn’t going to give up because of that. It was going to full steam ahead no matter what. Once the decision was made and things such as Working Holiday Visa and tickets were prepared, I only had to then be set for my journey. It required a lot of contemplation and preparation. Luckily, I was able to be trained and received support from my family and family friends (especially friends in Toronto). I knew with these tools and connections that it wasn’t totally hopeless. This way I had some protection and assurance. In time, I would be able to assimilate and find my footing with the protection and assurance. Checking these aspects, I saw a future and an adventure that was less daunting than I previously had imagined.
So that’s the story, first off. I’m here in Canada. I have incredible support from back home and here. My friends think that I’m still there and would not have imagined that I would make a decision like this. I’ll be in an Airbnb for two weeks. If I don’t find a job here, I’m fucked. If I don’t find a place of my own before I leave my Airbnb, I’m fucked. If my connections / support here can’t help me, I’m fucked. So yeah, if things don’t work out, I’m royally fucked. So… fingers crossed.