Looking through my stash of photos from this fall, I found a lot of favourites. It made me realize
just how much has happened
these last few months!
There was the time we played with fire and a whisk, a few trips to my favourite Fort and several sunsets and rises of stunning display.
There were quiet afternoons of snuggling babies and watching kiddos at my aunties’s house, and many, many cups of tea drank with friends and studies.
There was a trip with Elise-of-Upstairs of to the Land of the Dinosaurs.
We traversed a mountain and it was great. (Both the mountain and the memory.)
I tried a few new things too –
some minor activities for later elaboration.
I met with old friends and made new ones.
I met a chameleon. And the snake got stuck.
Yep, it’s been an interesting fall.
And the list could still go on!
But then I ask myself, “Why am I telling you this?”
And my answer is usually
“I don’t know.”
I really, really don’t know.
I wish I did.
All I know is something inside me watches for stories, sees descriptions, and strings words together in my head at an almost constant pace. I squirm because I can’t find the climax, I don’t know the plot, and sometimes hate that the main character is me.
It’s not all about me.
However, I live in a culture that doesn’t believe that. Especially as a student, my life is ALL about me.
I matter. I have a voice.
I am the master of my fate. I can do anything.
In this age, especially my generation, we are taught to sell ourselves. We need to be confident. Be fun, and clever.
The pressure is enormous.
We need to have adventures.
We need to be interesting.
Live. Laugh. Love.
And then instagram it.
With social media comes the ability, and perhaps expectation, to chronicle our lives as never before.
This is the world I now find myself navigating, and I think the Ulaan Baatar bus system was easier.
I’ve found myself haunted with the desire to share but also torn by the question why and the fears of how myself and my life will be perceived – both on the blog and off it. I’ve been overthinking life a lot lately.
“Livin’ life for the memory card, eh?” A friend once quipped.
That’s exactly what I don’t want:
I don’t want to live life just to say that I did.
I don’t want to have an “adventure” just to blog about it.
I just want to live life well – I only get one, you know.
I want it to to be full.
And whether I like it or not, interesting things sometimes happen in it!
(I never ASKED to be the daughter of a gold miner, for instance.)
People pay attention and I don’t know why.
This is my struggle. I don’t know how to share. Or what. Or where to start.
In short: I really don’t know what I’m doing on the blog these days.
But I know that stories are meant to be shared. So are lives – and this is one way I can share life with you.
So I’m going to take it a sentence at a time and give it a shot
because that’s the only way to write – even if I still don’t know the plot line.