more words. more sentences.

I’ve got it again: that itch to write. I can feel it surfacing from the wrinkles of my brain, tingling in those crevices where the creative juices have coagulated into several months’ worth of lifeless plaque. Not “lifeless,” exactly; they’re down there, the words, in the dark corridors of my brain, respiratory machines pumping breath into their comatose bodies. But what to make of them? Why this sudden re-urge to write?

Because, to begin with, my birthday in a week somehow marks my official entry into the next phase of my life – into that exceptionally confusing/frighteningly exhilarating chapter they call twenty-three: just beyond the college years. I’m stuck in some strange, “post-grad” limbo as awkward as the fragmented sentences of this post – no longer sprawled out on that plush Davidson cushion, but not quite a citizen of that foreign land known as the Real World, either. We’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto, and Austin’s as weird as Oz (except it’s teeming with hipsters instead of munchkins).

Which brings me to reason number two for my re-entry into the Blogosphere: Austin itself. This is a city worth words, and Austin’s got its own peculiar scent demanding description. My adventure, yesterday, with public transportation reaffirmed – or rather, rendered conscious – the creative itch, as I realized that these are experiences I should be documenting – for myself as much as for you kind souls willing to listen. My life’s as consistent now as it was in college, which is to say that it’s not consistent at all, and I know I’m going to want to remember this fascinating – albeit brief – foray into Austin culture.

And then, of course, there’s reason number three, the very reason for this blog in the first place, my original muse: France. I’m already starting to smell the sweet, familiar aromas of my Home Away From Home – the baguettes, the wines, the cheeses! Lannion beckons, but it’ll have to wait a couple of months, because life’s too short to live anywhere but the present. I’m a barista now and life is a coffee shop. I’m over-caffeinated and ready to go. But before I embark – before we embark – let’s do it again: let's stop a second, open our eyes and ears, and take a big ol’ whiff of the French Stench, Part Deux.