It was silly early in India. At 5:00 AM the sun hid beyond the horizon, reflected light casting shadows over a dusty landscape dotted with multistory flats and makeshift tenements. There are few sounds, save a crow’s piercing squawk, a cow’s soulful moo, and the hum of the nearby concrete manufacturing facility. The unmistakable smell of burning plastic, wet wood, and cow dung permeate the dining room—a recurring beginning on a Newbie writer’s journey.
The average Facebook user has about 300 friends. That’s enough people to almost defend Thermopylae from the Persians—provided they are willing to fight. Therein lies the rub: Facebook friends may not be the friends of days past?
Newish President Trump has got me considering the idea of introspection—the examination or observation of one’s own mental and emotional processes. Despite the never ending parade of self-help gurus all touting it’s benefits, surprisingly few people are introspective. Those opposed to self-examination still rise through the ranks, lead people, and even become President of the United States, yet remain ignorant of their shortcomings. Rather than toil in self-awareness, they plow through life pushing aside others with blissful disregard. But what if they’re right? What if we don’t need introspection?
Blogger’s block—like writer’s block without the martini.
The first year of expat life is like putting to sea—initial excitement quickly turns to sea sickness, the occasional squall, and eventually smooth sailing.