April has begun and here I find myself, much as I might have found myself back in October when this whole adventure had just started, sitting alone in my apartment sipping on wine and listening to Mozart violin concertos as the late-afternoon sun caresses my face, contemplating the turn of events that has brought me here at this moment and wondering where future turns may lead me. Considering the frequency of this scene, one would think that I had done some serious and productive contemplation, that I would know exactly where I stand and what my first moves will be upon returning home in just four short weeks. If this is so, I would appreciate it if my subconscious would kindly inform me of its plans at its earliest convenience.
Knowing the tendency of excessive thoughtfulness to be somewhat haphazard, non-directional, and ephemeral I thought it might be a good and productive idea to keep a blog of my time spent here. A diary would serve equally as well, but I doubted my commitment to a private promise. With my public proclamation of a new blog post every two days, I truly believed at the beginning of my sojourn that I would be able to follow through with my promise and that I would remain just as motivated all the way to the end of my time here despite the difficulties I knew would come with such bold aspirations—and indeed for the first month I was effusively apologetic for posting even a day late. I was sustained by some sort of naïve hope that in this sort of writing I had hit on my true passion and calling and that this would sustain me throughout my time in France and that I might even attain some sort of increased readership over my time here. Hopeful—in the ironic and belittling notion of the word—to say the least, especially when I consult the statistics page that Wordpress so conveniently (i.e., maliciously and distressfully) provides for all site admins so that they can see just how few people read their sites.
Despite the slumping frequency of my posts and the disabused naïveté that initially helped inspire them, my posting has remained an emphatically important part of my time in France. It has been the first time I’ve written with such regularity and with such enjoyment in my life, even if only for my average daily audience of fifteen people (an undetermined number of which are actually me checking the status of my own site). It has encouraged me to do worthwhile things that I otherwise wouldn’t do, just for the mere fact that they would make a good story and to show others that I don’t lead a boring existence at a time of my life when it should be spent excitingly and positively; it has given me a nice, semi-regular retelling of my time abroad, which will be useful in the years to come as this singular time in my life becomes more distant and less crisply remembered; plus it has given me occasion to flex my intellectual muscle, which, when otherwise solely involved in the education of adolescents and the touristic exploration of France and Europe, might have tragically atrophied.
Keeping a blog is not something that I can see myself doing as a continual and regular hobby, but I would certainly consider doing it again and it is something that I would undoubtedly recommend to others who are in need of an outlet for self-expression and motivation. Doing things is good, but doing things to share with others is better yet.
Ponderingly yours,
JN
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