Looking for a job ...

My move to southern Alberta has been an adventure of not quite epic proportions, but definitely one of minor Holy Grail quest challenges. A few knights who say Neep, some rabid rabbits, and this suspicion that all may not be as it seems.
I am 53. That shouldn’t matter, but like aging male movie stars who are cast opposite leading ladies often more than half their age, it does matter to the viewing audience. That may not be proper, but It’s all in the perception, I guess. I can not say that I am overtly the victim of agism, but my bald head, salt and pepper goatee and obvious wrinkles have played a deciding factor in my employment. Will I have the endurance of a twenty-something? Will I want more money because I have years of experience over said twenty-something? Most importantly it seems, will I be retiring when I turn 60, and will a prospective employer really want to invest time and money in someone who may not be around all that long?
My job search has been quite frustrating to say the very least. I either get zero response, or I am the recipient of a slightly raised eyebrow and the question: You’re looking for full-time?
Well, actually, I am looking for anything that won’t kill me.
I am a damn fine cartoonist and a not-so-bad graphic designer. I have worked in the industry for close to 30 years. I have written novels, short stories and feature articles and book reviews, written, pencilled and inked comic books, designed everything from calendars to magazine to newspapers to children’s books and every possible thing in-between.
Of course, I am 53.
In today’s fast-paced, youth orientated industry, I am an old horse waiting to be put out to pasture. Of course, in days gone by, old horses were boiled down into glue.
Maybe I yet have a purpose!
The rabbits, you ask?
Oddly enough, there are rabbits here, everywhere. White, fluffy, bouncy, oft-found as roadkill, rabbits. I haven’t been attacked yet, but I did see one last night that seemed to be staring at me.