Struggling to Write

I'm on the second week of traveling since leaving the farm and I am struggling with the act of composition.  It is not because of a lack of ideas or experiences but rather the general malaise that sets in when the turn of a phrase will not come. (Perfect example: turn of a phrase will not come.). I sit down to write at a cafe, in the hostel or on the train and only struggle.  Self-doubt plagues the page.  Spelling becomes a stumbling block as vocabulary becomes only as good as spell check's translation abilities.

I know that part of my problem is the lack of focus that holds this trip together.  At times, I know and understand my purpose but later erosion is all that remains.  I find myself to be most satisfied when I retreat to self-determination but suffer from the loneliness of this isolation.  The occasional attractive female that gives a little attention, leads to acts that lack deliberation, quickly become beer soaked and are usually left marked by longing and lust.

I have trouble balancing the now with the then.  Every Euro spend now is a more than a dollar less to spend then.  Then is holds many questions.  Where do I apply for grad school? Do I get in? Should I spend money when I return to meet those who will determine my fate then, now?  What if I don't want to be poor but rather hold the advantages of wealth?  Are there even any paths for this option?  Could I live abroad?

One of the biggest questions that dominates my thoughts is the return to the sorrowful Midwest.  I say this statement at the expense of my family but with the past filled with unrewarded passion.  In traveling, I have the hope of proximity with the female species.  Drinking with money that I don't have in the Orangeville bar leaves little in the way of comfort foreseen.  (How do I even go about reentering the dating scene at 32 in a environment where 19 is the marrying age?). Even if the exception turns her attention in my direction, will pure desire deceive with a failed promise of future happiness?

With all of these thoughts, I bring to you a plea of honesty.  I desire only to find meaning along the path.  I will work to live deliberately.  Seek to control the lust and thoughtless action that seeks only pleasure.  I make a recommitment to defining, elaborating, reflecting and composing.  May the page reflect my life and hold my truth for inspection.  

With these thoughts, I travel on.

NIC