I think I have come to a strange place in the small history of my blog writing.

The writers write and write, and fill up their electronic lungs with vibrations from their egos and spirits, and spill syntax and hype and self-revelations into this glowing space.

Then comes the realization that the space we are spilling into is in fact, endless. Or as endless as the human mind is able to conceive of. I can never fill up this space. This 'book' will never be finished. And that depresses me a little. Maybe it shouldn't. Maybe I should be glad to have such an unfurling, endless, open forum for my ramblings. But the orderly side of me is annoyed that there are no clean boundaries. It won't end until I am dead, or until I say 'The End'. The first option is too uncontrollable. The second is too final.

And so I post only occasionally, and often (I feel) pointlessly.

I post to fulfill the need of my ego to be heard. Why? The ego is a selfish noisemaker.

I post to fulfill the demands of others. Why? They aren't paying me for my words.

I post because it has become a fading habit, a small echo of the grand times when I was living and working abroad. I guess that's the main reason why I continue this charade. Because I am hoping that my life still has as much meaning and colour and vibrance as it did when I was living in Japan. I am thinking that if I still talk about myself, about what I am learning, about my daily (monthly) struggles, that perhaps I can imbue these mundane behaviours with some sort of meaning.

It's all so existential. I want it to have a purpose, a point.

Don't get me wrong; I enjoy my life. I have some pretty great things going on right now. I have a really fantastic condo that I share with a really fantastic girl. I have a fantastic job, a fantastic boyfriend, fantastic friends, and I occasionally have some fantastic fun. But I don't have a whole lot of passion, or discovery, or sparky-sparky-ness going on in my day-to-day grind. I feel like there are significant portions of joy that are stunningly absent from my life. And I don't know where to find them. And I'm not sure that talking about it here is going to help, you know?