It turns out I came here to live.

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The trouble with blogging is that it, like most living things, requires a lot of routine maintenance to keep it alive.

The trouble with life is that the more you engage with it, the fewer moments you have for introspection.

The trouble with keeping the same blog name and URL that you’ve had for seven years is that you may be losing your connection to that hopeful and delightfully ignorant moniker. It might be from a time in your life when you were in the business of inventing new personalities on the reg; when you cultivated interesting and tried to dig up problems to chew on and dissect and discuss.

The lapsed connection doesn’t leave room for what your reality is now: there is no room for inventing new personalities because you have recognized, outside of the folly of youth, that the personality you have is most fortunately or unfortunately (probably both) the one you are stuck with. While you can always become a better or worse person, you begin to realize that it’s not likely you will become any different. You have also by now realized that interesting cultivates itself and begats more interesting, and that problems in life will present themselves wantonly without you having to go looking for them. They will also be far more complicated and taxing than anything you could have made up.

When I started this blog I was twenty six years old, single, and trying to kick-start a writing career that never quite made it out of the gate. But what happened instead was so far better than anything I could have made up or dreamed up or written. I still fight constantly with how to tell that story, if it’s worth being told, or if it’s just life and how it happened for and with and to me.

I tried to write about life as an expat, but my audience is unclear. Am I writing for people who are expats? If that’s the case, then this blog could be laden with inside difficulties and #abudhabitragedies and a host of other nuances that only those who have lived in this place would really understand. It would become an obnoxious conversation to those who are not expats. And if my audience is those who are not expats, then what can I share that will bring them at least a bit up to speed, or do I skip the expat slant altogether and write about, say, food? Travel? Health tips?

I think mostly, the problem with blogging is that when you are intensely living your life in ways that climb out of the page, you do not have enough headspace yet to digest and process any of it in a meaningful way. There is no way to describe the exhilaration, the loneliness, the sweeping frustrations and growing laziness that I experience almost daily here.

So, I update infrequently and usually out of guilt because I am not ready to abandon this space. I update when I have a few seconds to catch my breath and try to recall something. I update and then I cross it off of my to-do list as though it were as mundane a chore as making my bed or picking up groceries.

I foolishly thought I would come here and write. It turns out I came here to live.  I haven’t figured out how to do both of those things in concert yet.

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