Hey there folks,
There’s nothing quite like blazing through a busy street, blaring Finnish metal and trying your best to sing along, the plumes of smoke billowing forth from your open window shrouding your ignoble advance into Destiny.
There, upon the horizon, quartz-capped mountains lay in the distance, beckoning you to master them. One day, Sandias, one day I shall conquer you all.
Little moments like these are when I feel most alive.
If you’re in the mood for reflections upon wandering, writing, and everything in between, by all means, dear reader, progress! For I’ve got news!
Now, as I’ve said many times afore, I do not consider myself a good writer. I’m decent, sure, and I will always be my biggest critic. Always self-deprecating, this guy, even when I’ve been told time and again I’m not half bad. But a blog is a far cry from being compared to the accomplished novelists I idolize.
For me, writing is a coping mechanism, much like wandering about with little aim, for it keeps me (somewhat) sane. Be it uplifting, inciting, depressing, or anything in between, I write the better able to understand myself and the things around me.
A dear friend of mine recently interviewed me for one of her Master’s written assignments – yes, I was the topic of an academic paper. The gist of the paper required speaking with someone creative (who, me?) and seeing what makes them tick. After a few glasses of wine and FaceTime, hell, I found out a little bit more about myself than I had previously understood:
The writer and the person are inseparable. Though they may be two distinct entities at times, they are, in fact, one and the same. Yin and yang in one self-contained apparatus.
Sure, I might not make a living being a writer, but it is what I am: a wandering, chaotic mess that happens to be halfway decent with a pen.
That being said, I have recently received news that perhaps I’m not half bad after all. Hell, according to these people, I’m actually quite good. Good enough to be offered a position as a content writer at My Trending Stories.
Yes, dear reader, my humble travel blog caught the attention of the editors over at My Trending Stories, and after a few emails back and forth, I have thrown in my lot with them. Will I make any money doing this? Unlikely. Will I be able to write about anything and increase my readership thereby exploring my creative outlet more thoroughly? Most definitely.
In the future, expect to see posts from me on both blogging websites; I’ll try and keep travel and personal thoughts here for the time being.
Not only that, and I hope I’m not jinxing myself here, but I’ve been offered a Skype interview for volunteer writing position here in Albuquerque. Should that come to fruition, and I’m hoping it does, expect to see posts concerning the organization and their cause. No details just yet, you understand.
And just like that, in one day, my creative writing career actually resembles a career in the making.
But what about wandering, you might ask. That’s the second half of your title, you egotistical loony.
Ah, wandering. Yes. My favorite pastime.
It is difficult to keep me tied down in one place as any previous employers, lovers, and comrades can attest. It isn’t anything wrong with the aforementioned per se; my desire to see and try new things constantly goads me forward. I have tried to temper this wanderlust time and again – it is quite difficult to pay your bills being a vagabond – but whenever I become settled, the urge strikes and off I go.
Indeed, being at ease for two years in the same locale these days is a miracle. I doubt I’ll ever explore the Arctic, but the lust for travel and experience will always be lurking just beneath the surface.
In my previous post, I told the story of how I earned my favorite nom de Chemin upon Camino Primaris. And ever since then, the desire to be atypical, to be different, to explore has increased a thousandfold.
Perhaps one day I will settle down. But it is not this day. Not yet.
There is something to be said for travel, especially as a younger chap, for you meet a variety of people in just as many places. Working on the French farm under the tutelage of my English hosts, volunteering as an hospitalero in Spain on Camino Frances and Primitivo, serving as a missionary to Chile, the list goes on.
And this desire, this hunger to learn, urges me forward, to seek out new places and faces. To shack up in shoddy lodgings with a horde of strangers only to leave the following morning with newfound comrades. To go to a country simply because you met someone from there and are curious about it.
And to write it all down over the course of a bottle of good red wine and lazy smoke.
These are the things that give me purpose and meaning – this desire to learn.
It is a terrifying prospect for many people – I understand this fully – but I cannot fight what I am: an insatiable, curious, critical, wandering writer. And no matter who you are, we will meet again. Across that Dark Stream, one foot in front of the other, we’ll meet again.
Let me close with a
shitty poem I wrote back in February before Camino Secondus:
Upon thy shoulders
a burden is placed.
Staff in hand, you walk.
the load you carry
is of your own creation.
Lessen thy load
and stride upright.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to meet some Camino comrades for tapas and shenanigans.
May your feet never tire and your pen never dry.