Postcards From A (Traveling) Broad: 2013

I don't know, quite frankly. I don't know.

I like postcards.

I have a few hanging around my house that were sent to me by friends with personal, yet public, messages about their journeys.

I write a lot of love letters. I always have. I still have stationary from grade school when I used to write to and stay connected to several pen pals across the U.S.

And I'm a bit of a grandma. I still buy
music on vinyl. I cook from scratch. I offer soup when a sister is ill. I send out Christmas cards. I send mail when I can.

For years I've traveled the world. On some of those trips I kept a blog about my adventures. I used to carve out time on the road to sit in Internet cafes and attempt to write funny anecdotes about what I saw and heard and ate.

But I'm a huge advocate of the writing process, and I cringe when I read old blog posts that are scattered with spelling errors or typos, or scattered with commentary from the road that is not very thoughtful -- the venting, the blurry pictures, the impersonal nature of it all.

In addition, I am attempting to finish up a couple of significant writing projects, book length versions of things I once blogged about.

Here's a link to a blog I used to keep, but in 2007 I stopped writing and posting.

The Main Reason I Miss Cable

Relationships changed. Divorces. Romantic and Friend Breakups. Weight loss. Old stories I didn't want to read about anymore. New perspectives.

AND I'm easily distracted by the shiny lights of the Internet when I write on a computer.

AND I thought it was no one's business what I was doing and thinking about...

For several years, I forgot it even existed.

On January 24, 2007 I posted this: Fear
The next morning I had gastric bypass surgery, and my life (heart, body, perspective) was forever changed. I have been trying to publish a draft of that book for years now.

Humans tell stories, and they communicate differently with different people. I think it's just as interesting to hear about a person's experience from several different angles.

So I write postcards.

I dig something tangible, thoughtful, handwritten. I also dig receiving snail mail, something other than bills and coupons.

So I write postcards.

In January of 2013 I went to Ireland with 11 students and 1 other professor from the University I've taught at (on and off) for the last five years. I posted a status update on my personal Facebook page asking for people to participate. I had plenty of time in airports, cafes and empty hotel rooms to write a few letters.

For almost three months (through Ireland, England, France, Florida, the Caribbean, Boston, Northern California) I carried this list of addresses and I've sent out over 200 postcards.

Recipients have the choice, once they've received a postcard, to send it in. They can engage in the dialogue by how they document the postcards or they can carry on a conversation in the comment section.

It's their responsibility to cover up any details they do not want made public, and, quite frankly, I understand if the recipient wishes to keep the love letter hanging on their fridge (or in the trash bin) instead of the Interwebs. I get it.

Friends, if you have received a postcard and you wish to contribute to this blog, please take a photo of both the front and the back of the postcard, covering up any information you wish, and email the images to aschiebout@hotmail.com

Either way, I'll keep writing them, send me your snail mail address if you're interested.