I like to write
but it’s not perfectly organized.
I actually used to hate writing. English class for all my years K-12 was frequently one of my least favorite subjects (I was a math girl after all, president of the Math Honor Society and proud of it). But as I’ve gotten older, my preferences have changed, and writing has become a necessary form of self-expression.
I first started writing (publicly) when I was biked from Atlanta, GA, to Baltimore, MD, 3 weeks after college graduation. I simply posted my travel revelations and day to day experiences on Instagram for friends (and starve off a million texts worrying/asking about how I was doing). Soon, my writing became more intimate, more honest, less about “I biked to X place over Y miles and saw Z things” and more about the ill-defined feelings inside. I absolutely loved doing this, but I came to realize that it’s easily… lost. Most of my favorite writings exist deep in the archives of Instagram where you would have to scroll down for 15 minutes, back to 2023, and find some bomb pieces I put out into the world. I only discovered Substack as a way to better maintain the library of my writings after I was done with bike touring. To add onto it, I’ve changed my email associated with Substack, and it’s now caused a multiple-personality disorder with the app, creating several new, partially transferred accounts with my pieces.
It is a dream of mine to relocate all of my writings from Instagram to Substack (and regroup my dissociated Substack accounts). These writings are basically a public personal diary of my adventures and growth. I cherish them, and I fear their loss.
As for now, most of my writing exists on Substack, but I do post a bit to Instagram as well. Nearly all of my bike-touring articles are far, far back on Instagram. Feel free to parse through whatever you like.
