Yet another long stretch has passed since I've written anything on this blog. I've started Mark Twain's The Innocents Abroad, and this is what he has to say:
"At certain periods it becomes the dearest ambition of a man to keep a faithful record of his performances in a book; and he dashes at this work with an enthusiasm that imposes on him the notion that keeping a journal is the veriest pastime in the world, and the pleasantest. But if he only lives twenty-one days, he will find out that only those rare natures that are made up of pluck, endurance, devotion to duty for duty's sake, and invincible determination may hope to venture upon so tremendous an enterprise as the keeping of a journal and not sustain a shameful defeat."
He continues, "...If you wish to inflict a heartless and malignant punishment upon a young person, pledge him to keep a journal a year."
So, having admitted that this "veriest pastime" has become a burdensome duty, perhaps I will let it go and continue to chronicle my adventures, woes, loves, and thoughts until I return home in July.
