lindsey.

i have this dream.  this dream where i am this brilliant writer and i say things that are profound and brilliant and in a way that isn’t cheesy.  i want to write about my work here in a way that connects you to it, in a way where you read it and want to sell everything you have and come to vietnam.  i guess what i’m saying is that i want something i do to motivate you to come here.  yikes.   i mean…if reading something motivated you, then after 2 days when things got real (you know what i mean), you’d be on the next plane home. 

apart from the selfish desires to be recognized, i want to have a story to tell, because i want more people to come here, and if no one knows about it, no one will come.  but there’s a problem.

i can’t see the story.

right now, life feels mundane.  my students are crazy because their twelve.  life is this routine of wake up, eat, teach, and go to sleep.  nothing about this life seems worth writing about at the moment.  i’m struggling to see the stories running through my daily life. i know they are there, but i’m not sure where they are.  so for now, this will have to do.  i’m not dead, i’m just waiting to see the story.