- I sat down, started writing, and then deleted what I’d written.
- I wrote about how I haven’t been writing, and then I deleted that too.
- I am ashamed of not posting anything in September, especially because I have things to say, especially because I took a wonderful trip.
- It is embarrassing to write that I was ashamed.
- I’m trying to leave that sentence alone, let the admission stand.
- It seems silly to write this list. I’m trying to not delete it; it’s hard.
- Sometimes I have to pretend that France doesn’t exist; I want to be there so badly, all the time.
- Lately I’ve been haunted by the things that I thought I would have done by this point in my life – have children, learn French, live abroad, write a book – and I’m trying to forgive myself for that.
- I’d like to get to the point in my life where, instead of writing about not posting in September, I instead write about the fact that I’ve posted new content every month since March 2014 (with the exception of that damned last month).
- Lately I’ve been taking screenshots on my phone of submission deadlines that come my way on Twitter.
- I’m thinking of taking a social media break in November, perhaps for the rest of the year.
- I’m astounded at how satisfying licorice tea is, especially in the evenings, especially because I don’t really care for licorice.
- I’ve been heavily wanderlusting lately, seeking out jobs and writing programs in other countries.
- They have such difficult jobs, but I envy my friends in the Foreign Service for their travel-heavy lifestyle; I know it’s not all glamorous, not by a long shot.
- My goal for this weekend is to write an actual post, about an actual place, and what traveling there meant to me. Stay tuned; writing is, has always been, one lonely word after another. I’ll try to start stringing them together, again, as best I can, and soon.
The Wandering Introvert 