Despite loving to write and the general school of thought that, if you want to be a better writer, you need to write, I’ve never really dabbled with blogging all that much.

Oh sure, there was a mildly popular thing back in 2006/07 where I’d periodically detail my stupid drinking hijinx (rest in peace, Slurred Words) that I even made a few advertising bucks off. I even posted a couple of times from the road in 2008 when I was embarking on my first US trip, although that one went the way of the dodo when my laptop packed it in three stops into the journey and never woke again.

The thing that has kept me from blogging more over the years is simply the fear that one day I’m gonna run out of engaging material, and who’s going to want to read the daily ramblings of an outwardly regular guy? I know I probably wouldn’t.

I’ve started to ponder this a little bit more lately, especially since I set the bar so high for myself in the early days of Crawfin’ USA and posted a hell of a lot of content. Now that I update slightly less regularly, I’ve been asking myself, “what happens if I can’t come up with anything to write about?” And as anyone who’s every overthought something knows, the more you think about it, the more it magnifies in your brain until you’re breathing into a brown paper bag.

Okay, it’s not that bad.

I sat down to write a brief post this morning apologizing for not having any interesting update, and to copy-paste the text from my latest KJ column as some filler content while I developed something that I’ve been thinking about writing this week. But once again I’ve gone off on a tangent and done some introspection that’s led me here.

I originally set this blog up with the intent to keep my family and friends abreast of what’s happening in my life over here (in the times I forget to respond to texts or send emails, which is frequently), but it’s grown into something a little bit more than that I guess. I also wanted to provide a resource for Aussies looking for information on the green card process, which I feel I’ve done.

I think ultimately what I’m getting at is that if the well is starting to dry up a little (and I’m sure this is only a temporary drought), it’s probably because I’m…settled in. I’m home. Things aren’t so fish-out-of-water for me now – I just passed my two-month work anniversary this week, so time flies – and that is probably reflected in what I’m thinking and what I’m writing. “Daily life” isn’t so interesting, and it’s certainly not very different to the existence I was living in Australia. Gym during the day, work during the evenings, come home, cook a late dinner, ignore the washing-up, stay up too late watching HBO shows on TV, go to bed, repeat.

That’s not to say things are stagnating though. I’ve got plenty of weekend side trips to take and towns to explore, which will all be worthy of documentation. And hell – any time I drive any sort of distance on the left side of the car and the right side of the road is definitely going to open me up to blog/stupid story fodder, right?

I guess there’s always that one big motivator to write, too: procrastination. I’ve got a pile of newspapers sitting on my desk that’s been growing for six weeks, waiting for me to clip my columns out and send them to my eagerly waiting* family back home.

God knows I’m much better pecking out self-analyzing blog posts than doing something productive.