To Begin

My love affair with blogging began when I moved to Hanoi six years ago. I started a blog to document all the brilliant insights I would acquire during my spiritual awakening in ancient lands far away. Instead I wrote about goofy signs, my persistent inability to learn Vietnamese, and all the clumsy mishaps that come with shoving yourself upon another culture. I did learn, however, that I sure do like writing about stuff, myself in particular. I’m not sure if that’s something to brag about exactly, but hey it’s fun. No, not fun for you? Well, perhaps sometimes my life will sound like your life, and look at that – a connection is formed.

Enthusiasm aside, it’s taken me quite some time to start up this over-sharing habit of mine again. Last November I wrote the above paragraph and jotted down a few blog post ideas. Some examples:

  • Reverse Culture Shock – i.e., clever observations about the Midwest US being so spacious and quiet and uncomfortably polite; sprinkle in some good-natured ribbing of the state of Kansas, where I was living at the time.
  • Why I love Elizabeth Gilbert – even though I haven’t read any of her books, and I’ve only mastered the “eating” part of the eat/pray/love trinity.
  • On waxing the nether regions – which I don’t actually do but have an opinion about like everyone, of course.
  • Job searching and interviews – Kill me now. Lots of people make money off of blogs, right? That’s a thing? I heard Matthew Inman started the Oatmeal in his basement with little more than an internet connection, a grammar book, and a dream.
  • Breaking up/Jesus complex – I honestly have no idea where I was going with that one, and I really, really wish I did. Sounds like I was on to something pretty profound there.

Oh don’t worry, I will get to those topics in due time. I know you’re kinda worried. Stop it. It’s just taken me so long to get this thing going because it’s been a rough year…and a half…or so. In all seriousness, my life has felt like a sad sandwich, people, stuffed with slices of anxiety and confusion, soggy with wilted leaves of listlessness, and topped with a light dressing of doubt and ennui. Nobody wants that sandwich.

Pathetic.

Pathetic.

But don’t worry, I can see the light at the back of the refrigerator. I’m gonna find a happy salad or fruit medley to munch on real soon, you wait and see.

Food metaphor getting weird. More to come!

 

Photo is my own. Yep, I made that sad sandwich all by myself.

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