I feel an obligation to explain why I haven’t been writing much lately, and especially, to explain my recent lack of mobility. (well there is movement, consisting mainly of running after the dog, after which I crawl back behind the keyboard, instead of a steering wheel….)

Nope, I did not marry a Kenyan, did not start a family driving around on the tractor with five african orphans in tow…
The last few months I didn’t travel at all, I might have well been sitting in my grandma’s attic. I have been writing a book. It wasn’t exactly meant to take this long, but that’s how things panned out. I started pouring my stories on to the pages and I couldn’t stop. It took hardly any time at all for me to discover (unfortunately for me) that I resemble some sort of ‘method actor': the kind of actor that takes to drugs when his new part is that of an addict. And even though I was describing myself and the part of the journey that had obviously already happened, it was kind of inevitable that I’d get sucked back through time and past experiences…

And as is the case when looking back, questions and unresolved strains of thought come resurfacing. ‘Why was it that I was thÃ?t sad, then?’ ‘Why did I choose thÃ?t?’ All I could do was to thoroughly re-analyze my feelings and thoughts, only to come to the conclusion that, alas, I still don’t know…
Until I reread my own writings, got a good look at my own humanity, my loneliness (obviously), fatigue (of course) and especially, my fears (yeah, yeah).
boyoboyoboy did I run into plenty of anxiety! Most of that angst being slightly more complicated than your basic fear of wildlife…
Being scared of the untamed, when traveling the outback, is fairly uncomplicated. ‘you don’t trust a situation, you back off’.
You need to go to the john, but you hear weird noises outside your tent, you reprioritize bladder demands! (either that or carefully venturing out behind a huge bright torch and a can of mace). Instincts come in handy, and I tend to listen to them.

But sometimes I act tougher than I am. Not in the wild. With people. Sometimes I manage to admit that here, on the site.
I really have to admit to it to the book, for truth’s sake.
I truely believe that this voyage is teaching me important stuff, about myself, about this world. That’s probably why I’m doing it.
I regret being silent for long periods, but it means I’m learning new things, or am still trying to find the words to describe it.
Now, for instance, when writing the book, I’m learning so much about me and about the world. But how do you summarize that?
And some things I can’t tell you. Says who? Maybe I shouldn’t listen to my own censorship either.

I’m in the middle of nowhere here, alone with my thoughts, sometimes one just needs to get it off her chest.
So. I’m learning. And I just discovered that my happy ending for this book has turned into a tragic one. My happy end returned to his ex.
What do you expect from adventurous girls on tractors?
Not much of a stable bet for the near future.
(I could write more, but not now)

original post 22-03-07