Let these be my first published lines. A week too late. A month too late. A life too late…

Considering I'm the person behind this project, the tardiness of its appearance, is something to be expected.

So on that note, let's get started; let's discuss expectations.

Anne Lamott once wrote that expectations are resentments under construction.

I would love to have a woman’s date with Ms. Anne. Perhaps over coffee or iced water. The issue may be that she may expect me, or not, to be on time and chances are that I may show...eventually... and as usual, fashionably late.

This project could be found to be a repository of thoughts and stories relating to my travels around Oceania, by bicycle, and an essay of my most preferred photographs.

But it could also turn out to be a collection of 'journal like' entries - for those a bit more into psychological torture, it could be a real treat.

One thing I must warn you is: at times, I may be too tired to write in English so you may find pieces of it to be in Spanish.

You may also notice that I have my very personal issues with the English language. My brain speaks fast, just the way my tongue speaks Spanish, and my fingers may not capture every word I intend to verbalize. So I may words. I do also have my issues with the past tense. Something my English teacher overlooked or a lesson perhaps missed that day when the beach looked more appealing than the classroom.

So let this project be an opportunity to practice expectations or better yet, an opportunity to practice having none.

This is Project Thirty Eight.

With much love.

november first two thousand fifteen