With almost exactly two months before I step foot in the western world of Wyoming that I have come to love, I decided to begin a blog, albeit with a wee bit of trepidation. As a favorite demotivational poster states about the so called art or craft or hobby of 'blogging', "Never have so many said so little to so few". While the last third may ring true, I hope there will be more to this than a Dear Diary a la National Park.


So, here goes. Whenever I begin something, and I mean something bigger in scale than emptying the dishwasher, I find the words I choose are often borrowed from one of my great loves, C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien and G.K. Chesterton. These men are so beloved to me, I can't help by wish I had a name as clever as Clive Staples, and could shorten it to initials, slipping ever so softly into an enigmatic persona.

Today I am borrowing from Chesterton, a quote which I used in my Lit thesis on the recovery of the senses, "The whole object of travel is not to set foot on foreign land; it is at last to set foot on one's own country as a foreign land." I know I am an East Coast girl. I love the coast, I love the hustle of little Baltimore; the impatience and constant motion serves as a reminder of the thrilling hum of humanity around me. However I am excited for this new adventure, a chance to see new places and meet people from such foreign walks of life. I only hope to discover so much about this different world that I can see myself through eyes reborn, and thus return one day to view my own home of Baltimore as a new, perhaps even foreign land. When I say foreign, I mean only that one day I might see all this with new eyes so that I can appreciate all the wonderful things that I have grown to gloss over, to look at without seeing.

As ever, just the musings of a wanderer,

J.C. Timmel.