People say they want me to post often. And, trust me, it’s not for lack of raw content. You should see my Google Keep list of possible blog topics and my ongoing blurbs that I’ve saved in Docs when I get three minutes to write. But, honestly, I’m not sure where to find the (1) time, (2) energy, or (3) processing abilities to post more often! Whew!
I find that, every time I actually find time to write, too, I end up with seven different posts in every writing. So I delete and expand and cut and delete and cut and go back to the cut content to expand on it and scrap all the stuff I’ve written and start over and… You get the idea. It’s never a “sit down with an idea and write about it within a tidy little package until you are done” situation.
Also, while my topics may at times seem incredibly “surface” (shallow, unimportant), it’s the processing that goes on behind the scenes that takes the energy. Sometimes, all the heavy stuff, the stuff that makes me exhausted, that keeps me up at night, that brings tears to my eyes, that leaves me feeling simultaneously overwhelmed and empty? Much of that stuff ends up on the proverbial cutting room floor in favor of a story that gives a better view of how “different” things are here.
But it is those differences that are interesting, aren’t they? The different food (don’t worry, this is a blog post in the making), the different cultural aspects (don’t worry, this is a blog post in the making), the different work I’m doing (don’t worry….)…
Some things, can feel pretty damn familiar, though. I found myself, after working 12- and 14-hour days for days on end, loudly thinking, “If I’m going to work this much, I could be working this much at home and making ten times the money I’m making here!” And then I thought, “But Julie, you’re HERE!” And so while the number of hours right now might be the same, it IS different work. With different people. With students who speak a different language. In a different country. On a different side of the globe. And for a gal who actively values the different, this is a goddamn gift, really.
And the minutes in-between those long work days? Well, when I get invited to the beach for the weekend by SLT1 and newly-met SLT3, it makes it all worthwhile. They beat me down there as I had to teach all day Saturday, but when I arrived in Otres Beach, the 5-hour bus ride was worth it. Over the next day and a half, I saw beach dogs that made me want to snuggle them until they scratched hard enough to convince me it wasn’t a good idea. I slept under a mosquito net (I looooove me a good mosquito net!). I took a boat trip and snorkeled where I saw coral and urchins that looked like living cartoons. I saw the water turn a lovely green when a storm showed up in the distance. I snorkeled (again) above fish that looked like they were rainbows incarnate. I got a pedicure/manicure/massage on the beach. I shared drinks out of coconuts (and had plenty of drinks out of glasses). And I found myself, multiple times, spontaneously giggling and dancing jigs in disbelief at my luck at this charmed life. This different life.