I am packing for a seriously awesome trip right now. My clothes are packed into OCD approved little "packing squares". I have piles of plug adapters and my camera batteries are charging and my guidebook is highlighted to within an inch of its life and my passport is out and I found my pack-now-fill-with-chocolate-later carry on and I am so. excited. I love Europe. It's been far too long since I put myself through some serious jet lag. Bring it on.
But you know what else has been long in coming?
Some legit personal essays from yours truly.
See - once upon a time, this blog was meant to be a place for me to practice said form of writing with the intention of stock piling a set of essays with which to send into the publishing world or the grad school world or the internet world (check!) or whatever. And after England 2007 I did pretty well. I was full of ideas and had friends to share them with and I got writing scholarships and I was moving. And then this thing called grown up life happened. And now I spend more time reading the writing of other people than I do writing anything of my own, and it feels like most of what I write (while not a complete waste of time - right?) leans on the political/social commentary train more often than it does the interesting personal story train. The second one is the train I love more. Unfortunately, everything I've started in that area more or less revolves around my hot topics of the life of the perpetually single, teaching, and the perils of depression. I have been suffering for creative ammunition because, frankly, I'm kind of tired about obsessing over those topics quite so much in my writing because I feel like I've exhausted all the angles and I am preeetty sure that you are tired of reading about my dating life, because, let's face it, no one cares about it. Including me. It's monotonous.
Also I've stopped doing what I used to be so much better with, which is observing and writing about others and my interactions with them (not in a mean gossipy way but in a human interest way). My writing (in my journal and out of it) has been a basic travel log. Boring.
So this is my promise to both you and to myself that in the next year, I am going to revisit the writing I love most of all and whip out some real, legitimate essays. In the next two weeks (and later on my next exciting adventure) I am determined to find some creative muse that will give me ideas again. It's time.