As we cross I-5 on our way to West Seattle I look at my reflection in the glass. The old me, the new me, is there a difference? I'm beginning to wonde... and it seems foolish to think in those terms now, sitting here with a stranger. I should have called someone, gotten his address and left a message for my Dad, telling him where I'd be just in case. That's the new me. The old me embraces the image of my father pacing alone, wondering, waiting ... Punished by my deliberate disregard for his. The only problem for me is that I am not seeing much of her in theevenings and our social life is more or less on hold.One afternoon, after about my hundredth failed job application, shecould see I was at a loss. To begin with I enjoyed the break from workand it was made that much better once she got the bunny job as at leastwe had a roof over our head, but now, 12 months on, I am starting to geta bit depressed. My situation is made worse as although not acompletely accurate or politically. More

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