Two Years?

Two years ago I started a blog. Another one. After a cryptic interlude with livejournal and a rather angry fling with blogger, I decided I was going to write something that I wouldn’t be afraid for my friends and family to read. Well, the ones that weren’t of the cryptic and/or angry persuasion, anyways.

So I called myself an adventuress and started writing about adventures. I even tried to tell myself that I’d post on a schedule, giving regular updates of things that happened to me. So that hasn’t really worked out over the last few (many) months. Not that I didn’t write. My drafts page is chock-full of drafts that never saw the light of day (and probably never will). I’m not sure whether I stopped writing anything worth publishing, stopped thinking anything I wrote was worth publishing, or just had a run-in with the unmotivation fairies.

My money’s on the fairies.

Rather a lot has happened in two years. Some of it I’ve pored over in excruciating (and I hope at least mildly entertaining) detail, such as my summer teaching English in Italy, moving back in with my parents, the wonderful mess of contracts and culture that was moving to South Korea, moving back in with my parents, curling, looking for work (along with hundreds of other similarly qualified people of approximately my age), and the despair that I might never again not live with my parents.

A lot of it happened in between the details. I met some awesome people, I went to some awesome places, I took up hobby after hobby. Oh yeah, and I got a job, started a business, and moved out of my parents’ house for what I hope (as always) will be the last time.

Here I am doing a whack of things I’m terrified of. Navigating a city where I don’t speak a word of the language? No sweat. Getting on a 16 hour flight and discovering that all four of my seatmates are built like linebackers? Piece of cake. I’ve gone on those voyages, and lived to tell the tale. Now, for something completely different.

This is the first time I’ve lived in the place I did most of my growing-up without sharing a kitchen with my parents. I’m living in a different part of the city, and I’m living with pets for the first time ever. This time, the adventure is about seeing a place I thought I knew so well differently.

As usual, I’m not sure what’s going to be next, but for the first time in awhile, I have no immediate plans to leave the country. How weird is that?

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