I would blog more, but my mother makes me self-conscious

I was teaching 8th grade the infinitive the other day, and we started off with a dialogue between Yamamoto sensei and myself.

“Hannah sensei, in the future, what do you want TO BE?”

“I want TO BE a travel writer!”

“Oh, really? What is a travel writer?”

“A travel writer is someone who travels all over the world and writes about what they see and do.”

“Why do you want TO BE a travel writer?”

“Because I love TO TRAVEL and I love TO WRITE.”

I’ll leave out the rest of the dialogue, because it covers me wanting to ride a camel, drink champagne and marry Johnny Depp, but it really got me thinking.

Travel writing has always seemed like kind of a fantasy; much like being a fairy princess, meeting Shakespeare and marrying Johnny Depp. However, unlike reality, death and an existing wife, there is nothing actually standing in my way of travel writing.

Seems like the only thing holding me back is me.

Recently, I’ve been so busy practising the travel side of that dream that I haven’t actually sat myself down and forced myself to work on the writing side, which is the bit which takes real discipline. If I were going to be honest I would say that I was being lazy.

I don’t plan my life very far into the future. I always have these grand, vague plans of what life after JET will be like, but I don’t really commit to any of these ideas. 

Hell, I don’t usually know what I’m going to do until I’m actually doing it. I ate half a piece of toast this morning before I decided that was what I was having for breakfast.

Generally, I’m okay with this. I love the way I live my life. I don’t know if travel writing is actually what I want to do and JET has been good enough to give me another few years to avoid commitment, so I don’t necessarily have to plan anything right now (though preempting toast-eating might be a good idea).

But if for no other reason than that I actually do enjoy writing, it’s time to kick myself back into gear and start blogging again.

Stay tuned.


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