Every time I sit down to write, I end up playing computer games. It started out with Minesweeper, but I’ve moved on. I’ve even developed a specific ‘schedule’ of play – starting out with a game of Freecell to warm up, then moving on to the Fortress in Mahjong Titans (probably the most difficult layout of tiles), and finishing up with a game of Hearts. Sometimes I get stuck playing a number of games of Mahjong Titans – I try to play until I win. If I’m not winning – and getting frustrated – I’ll move on to Hearts and come back to it. Once I’ve completed this circuit of games, I’ll close out the final window and open a Word document. I’ll try to formulate a thought for a few minutes – maybe even write a line or two – and promptly go back to the games. If the block is particularly bad, I’ll go for a game of traditional Solitaire. By this time, my eyes will be tired and dry from staring at the illuminated screen, so I’ll leave the computer entirely and read a little of my latest book. So much for my commitment to writing.
Computers are a funny phenomenon. Writing on a computer, I’ve noticed, is a touch less organic than writing with ink or lead on paper. I have a much easier time just letting the words roll out of the end of a pen, without much concern for how the words would sound to a reader. Perhaps this is a function of the ‘privacy’ of a journal. When I write on the computer, I’m conscious that my intention is to share my thoughts with the online world. I’m constantly ‘backspacing’ and ‘cutting’ and ‘pasting’ and using the thesaurus to make it just right as I go. On one hand, I type faster than I write – so it’s easier for my hands to keep up with my thoughts. On the other hand, my thoughts are often interrupted by constant self-editing.
Another thing I’ve noticed: although computers have provided a far more immediate and widespread ability to communicate with each other, we might actually be more disconnected by using them. Who remembers how intimate it feels to receive a handwritten letter? And is there really any substitute for the sound of a loved one’s voice on the phone? We can communicate with an exponentially larger number of people in an exponentially shorter amount of time – but is the quality of that communication building and/or sustaining any sort of meaningful relationships?
I’m a few months into a trip through Asia that will likely last the better part of a year. In that time, I’ll miss major events in the lives of my closest friends and family – marriages, deaths, births – the dearest of which will likely be the birth of my only sister’s first child. This miracle could occur any day now – any moment, really – and I would be lying if I didn’t admit a significant degree of sadness regarding my absence from this occasion. Furthermore, our first few months have fallen far short of a ‘vacation’ – and the challenges we continue to face cause us to constantly assess our reasons for taking this trip in the first place.
From the time this trip was a glimmer of a dream to the moment we were boarding the plane at Newark International Airport, I had the intention to write diligently of my experiences and thoughts. Why, now, can I not seem to make any sense of our first three months here? Where did the inspiration go that I found in our first 36 hours on a new continent? Why am I putting such an immense amount of pressure on myself to make something of this trip? And is that pressure contributing to my lack of motivation and inability to come up with any cohesive statement? I’ve been experimenting with a new style of writing – somewhat successfully – but is it really my voice?
My 30-year old voice still wavers between timid and uncertain and loud and clear. Still, I feel certain that if I can remain open and aware and let this process happen naturally, I will have made something of this time abroad. India was the most overwhelming place I have ever had the opportunity to visit. I knew I would face some immense challenges during my time there, but I didn’t have any idea how hard it would be to live and travel there. The fact that I haven’t been able to process any of it into coherent thought shouldn’t surprise me. Yet in some ways, it does. Good thing I’m the kind of girl that generally likes surprises.
In the meantime, I shot the moon twice in one game of Hearts this morning!
