You are… I know you are.
Alright, so fine. Maybe I’m being a little presumptuous here and this is actually the first time you’ve read my blog. In which case, the only way you could possibly be sick of me is if you’re sick of the real me and not the internet me (like those two poor souls who just had to spend a month in a car with me, driving from London to Mongolia) in which case, screw you.
Alright, alright. Let me drag myself out of the incoherent rambling that happens when my thoughts melt into a pile of self-conscious over-thinking and get to the point.
My big year of travel and blogging is just about over.
My approximately seven months of vagabonding thrill is finito.
I spent five of those months in South America, falling in love with Colombia, trekking to Machu Picchu in Peru, drinking a lot of pisco, and experiencing a plethora of other exciting stuff that resulted in social media over-sharing and blog posts that make me look like I think I’m really effing cool.
Then I spent two months driving from London to Mongolia as part of this little thing called the Mongol Rally (you haven’t heard of it, huh??? WHY HAVEN’T YOU BEEN READING MY BLOG?) which resulted in even more Facebooking, Instagramming, and blogging that probably screamed, “Look at me guys! Have you ever been to Kazakhstan, because I haaaave!”
Now its all over.
I went hard for seven months, seeing the world and racking up experiences to write about in hopes that others would read my stories — feel inspired or motivated or impressed or whatever, and help me get a little closer to calling this whole process a career.
But after all of this online outpouring of “look at me travel!”, I’m still not where I need to be and suddenly part of me wants an apartment and a nine to five job and my very own spice rack more than I want to keep traveling and writing about myself.
Because quite frankly, I’m kinda sick of me too.
Telling someone you’re a “blogger” can be an awkward thing to do.
Not because it means that you’re probably broke and excessively introverted (true and true) but because it also probably means that you think your life is interesting enough to write about it for the an online audience.
Which is why I blush like a fool at my invisible audience, ever time I click publish.
So, why tell you this? Why perpetuate this public emotional rollercoaster? Why not just scrap the blog, get my resume together, and try to convince a potential employer that I’ve been doing SOMETHING of worth for the past two years since completing that silly Master’s of mine?
Well, because I’m a blogger and I think that my life is interesting and worthwhile to an audience who could potentially learn a thing or two from my fascinating experiences. Duh.
Here we go…
No matter what it is you choose to do with your life, I think we all experience waves of creativity and motivation and confidence regarding the paths we’ve taken and the choices we’ve made. I’ve been hammering away at this dream of mine because I love travel and traveling gave me the creativity and the motivation and the confidence to keep writing. I could feel my skills improving and my business methods developing and my world expanding. I was LOVING it.
Now I’ve hit a wall.
I’m sitting at the desk of my hotel room in Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia and trying not to vomit all over my $100 laundry bill and completely ignoring the price tag on my room because I’m flippin’ exhausted and I needed clean clothes so badly that I didn’t bother to ask about cost and I’ve slept on rocky dirt for two weeks and wanted nothing more from the finish line than a giant, plush bed.
But this won’t last.
I’ve got to ride out the burnout and wait for the next wave. I know it will come — probably as soon as I’ve found an apartment, unpacked the boxes that have been cluttering my parents house since last October, purchased a bunch of spices, and then realized I don’t really know what to cook with them.
Then I’ll remember that I still have a lot of travel writing left to do.
I hope I write a book someday. I hope I continue with this blog and I hope I become a full time travel writer. I’ll probably do at least two of those three things.
But for now I’m just riding it out. I’ll go back to bartending when I get home and I’ll find new experiences to write about and to share.
Maybe I’ll go on some dates and cook dinner for friends and paint an accent wall like a normal person. My mom will be so proud.
Or maybe my crest will surge and I’ll be riding a wave of travel withdrawal in no time, scouring the internet for destinations and flight deals.
Either way, I have to remember to just keep enjoying the ride, the ups and the downs, and have faith that hard work and passion eventually do lead to success. I mean… they have to right??
I also have to remember that it isn’t all about my story. Sure, I might be writing about what I did and saw and drank but all of this is about whatever nugget you, the readers, can relate to or laugh at or learn from. My life probably isn’t any more interesting than yours — it just happens to involve writing about it and sharing it with the world.
And by tomorrow, I’ll remember that I really don’t care if you’re sick of me.
Besides, it comes in waves… you’ll miss my stories again soon.
If you regularly read travel blogs (or just occasionally read this one – THANK YOU!) do you ever fine them a little too, “look at me!”?
If you’re a blogger, how do you find that balance between sharing your stories and not sounding too self-absorbed?
Lastly, how do you deal with travel and/or creativity burnout? Let’s hear it!