Why Not Much Writing

One reason I haven’t been writing much lately is because there has become too much pressure on my writing.  Let me explain.

At one point in the past I decided to add a subscription button.  Following that, quite a few people subscribed.  Now I know whenever I hit “submit” on a blog post, an automated e-mail is sent to people to clutter their inbox.  Honestly, that is too much pressure.  I don’t want to bore people.  I don’t want to waste peoples time.  I don’t want to fill people’s inbox with the mundane.  Hence, one reason I’ve slowed down writing.

I reached the unfortunate stage of feeling perfection is necessary, and “Perfection is the enemy of excellence.” Something had to change! So, henceforth I have abolished the subscriber feature, at least for now.  Maybe I’ll write more because of it 🙂

Normal Bizarity

Life in Haiti has become routine.  At some point anything settles into routine.  Even a place as unusual as here.  The unusual becomes usual.

This evening, driving back home in the dark on my motorcycle, I went through a voodoo parade.  That was different.  But when different is normal, sometimes normal becomes bizarre.

So at first I didn’t know what was going on, just noticed traffic was unexpectedly backed up, and wondered why.  As I navigated between long rows of parked cars I came upon a dancing man with his bare buttocks showing and white paint across his chest.  That’s funny, I thought.  Then behind him I saw people with tall, ghastly costumes walking around the road.  As I began motoring between the scary-looking actors, I saw others with crazy masks looming form the dark, then started passing rows of dancers and singers and more with the white paint on mostly bare bodies.  The noise was super loud.  While all quite fascinating, I was trying to get through quickly without running anyone over.  Then when I thought I had got through, I came upon a tight crowd of perhaps 1,000 people on the road moving along chanting/singing enmasse.  There was a dividing island in the middle of the road and the group went to the right of the divider (for locals: the Boat between Kafou Clercine & Flerio).  I saw some motorcycles in front of me try pushing through on the correct side of the road, but I opted to switch sides and go the wrong way around the divider and zip around the oncoming traffic, which worked fine.

If I told all the stories of odd things I see and that happen to me here, all my time might be taken up just writing stories.

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