I don’t know where to begin. It used to be back then in the day, due to poor sleeping habits, I would lose sleep but now it seems that the train of thoughts, drifting to every moment leading to the present, has made me restless. I do not wish to sound dramatic despite the wordiness of my writing. Words have weight to them, by definition, forming a response through interpretation, like the reaction of sight to an image. It seems imperative to be selectful with words for the sake of posterity – unless it leads to a dreadful misinterpretation.
Try to understand the basis of blogging, this being an attempt to share the extent of emotions and thought process, surrounding the current state of my insomnia. One must first manage their own budget, plan a course of destinations, and adapt to different city environments. At the same time, a traveler must simultaneously carry vigilance when alone, not having the knowledge or security of known friends and family; there is an added factor of rest and recuperation, severely limited by the constraint of time and lodging.
It requires a great deal of research to locate a new scene, enter it, and befriend its members. At the same time, an open mind is required to fathom the stories that are shared, never once generalizing anyone, but retaining a semi-accurate account of information given. Beyond the interactions with new and unfamiliar scenes, there is also the influence of the outside vanilla world, its people, and the unpredictability of events therein.
In order to blog, one must take the time to focus and express in a truthful and honest manner, which at the same time is limited by a sense of decency and respect for people’s privacy. Between the time for rest, exploration, interaction and writing – surely you may understand how delicate a balance this all happens to be.
Time is a linear concept. It cannot be changed or affected in any shape or form. The more time spent on one field, the more time is required to compensate for others. My memory is not as solid as I would have wanted it to be. Money is spent and at times without option for a more accomodating cost. Events and people come and go without warning, easily missed if not carefully planned.
In that I truly feel that I, opting to share these events with you, have failed to manage this delicate balance is a seemingly unforgiveable mistake. Such an error can only be compensated by an added effort, which at times, like the current time of this writing, is draining to say the least.
Therefore what I am proposing at this time, despite the initial layout of this blog, is a change in direction for the sake of matching pace. Simply put, I will not attempt to try and cover every last bit of detail from my previous destination, but rather try to capture the overall state of affairs instead. However, that is not to say that I am disregarding my adventures – far from it – instead occasionally mentioning them from time to time.
The reasons for this are very simple. The number of reasons, however, are notably growing. I shall keep this very brief for everyone:
The combined events, conversations, and interactions with everyone around me has inevitably led to a series of inner discoveries, critical to the very purpose of this adventure. In short, I feel that I am changing in ways that are frightening yet enlightening beyond measure, and that by sharing this journey with me so far, perhaps you may forgive and understand how important it is to express these changes.
I have slept in hostels and heard the sounds of fighting, addiction and screams at night.
I have met a group of strangers all looking to die, one night at San Francisco.
I have watched men blow away money like you would not imagine, while others starve.
I have seen the look of anguish in the eyes of men and women, inside and outside this community, and felt the pain in their voices.
I have walked through the empty streets at night and felt the dread of being caught unaware.
I have crossed bridges, climbed steep streets, and stared at the wilderness between the cities, outside moving windows of trains and buses.
I have felt the kindness of strangers, their suspicion, and witnessed their capacity for prejudice.
I was a liar once. I was afraid to tell the truth of things.
These things I could not and will never lie about. I would rather fucking die than lie about them, cut off my tongue and blind my eyes, before I even make the attempt.
God/Gods help me, if I do not try to express these things, these thoughts and emotions, I may lose my fucking mind. I’m shaking right now because I’ve just spent the whole damn night staring at a blank Notepad, trying to think of something to write about before, when there is so much happening right now.
Please try to understand.