I've been out of touch with the writer in me for quite a while now. It's something I like doing, but somehow, I've always managed to find a reason to shelf it. Not that I'm avoiding it, after all, it isn't really a compulsion. It isn't a compulsion at all. In fact, I want to keep writing. Lots of thoughts in my mind, every now and then. And I want to put them all down. Given that I've been using the blogger like a personal journal of sorts, a vent to my ever-full-of-infinite-thoughts mind, I actually enjoy writing here. Moreover, I like a little bit of audience every once in a while. And I know for a fact I don't write that bad either. It's mostly random, but it's honest. And what I've learned over the years is, honesty sells. Oh yes, it does. People love honesty. I love honesty. There's a feeling of freedom to everything honest, especially when they're confessions, guilty or not. Honesty. That brings me back to why I haven't been writing as often as I originally intended to while creating this blog.
I've been lazy. Wayyy (yes, that many Ys) too lazy for a 20 year old, I can vouch. The thoughts just keep coming and going, the self-answered questions, and a few unanswered ones, the experiences, the feelings.. And the laptop's right here, open beside me. But there's always a "better reason" to not write: five more minutes of sleep which ultimately extends up to a couple of hours or more; watching more than my daily quota of episodes of 'The Mentalist' (an awesome show I've started watching recently); lying down on my bed and doing some more day-dreaming; reading other blogs; or simply pretending to "study".
"Always one excuse or the other." (thick teacher-ish accent).
But I want to write. It's just that I don't want to make that effort of actually sitting up and typing all of that. Sometimes I wish we had a technology wherein we would simply think and all our thoughts would magically get written on their own. Very much like Rita Skeeter's magic quill, I would say. But if only even half our wishes came true, right?
A few of my friends, and also a few other people who surprisingly follow my blog discreetly, much to the pleasure of my childish desire for praise, have been telling me to write something soon 'cause they like what they read. (Discreet followers, if you be reading this, yes, you're not the only one). So that kind of acts like an inspiration of sorts to actually sit and update this page. If not for me, for them. So here I am, in yet another attempt to revive the writer in me. I like that person, and I want her to live. Besides the extremely passionate person in me who likes photography and everything to do with it, the writer in me is almost the only other person in me I'm proud of. Phew, that's intense, eh? I wish I could post half as frequently, okay one-fifth, no make that one-tenth as frequently as those Thought Catalog people (http://thoughtcatalog.com/ for all you ignorant retards), and of course not to mention half as awesome, but that's not possible.
I know this blog won't last forever. It has to end one day. Either I'll run out of thoughts and actually face the writer's block everybody keeps talking about, or I'll just grow up to realise what a stupid kid I have been wasting precious minutes of my life over a stupid little machine that cannot react to human emotions and will inevitably become obsolete one day.
But till then, I'll keep trying. And I hope one day, when I'm gone, someone somewhere will read my very own "thought catalog" here, and will remember me for the person they discovered I was.
I've been lazy. Wayyy (yes, that many Ys) too lazy for a 20 year old, I can vouch. The thoughts just keep coming and going, the self-answered questions, and a few unanswered ones, the experiences, the feelings.. And the laptop's right here, open beside me. But there's always a "better reason" to not write: five more minutes of sleep which ultimately extends up to a couple of hours or more; watching more than my daily quota of episodes of 'The Mentalist' (an awesome show I've started watching recently); lying down on my bed and doing some more day-dreaming; reading other blogs; or simply pretending to "study".
"Always one excuse or the other." (thick teacher-ish accent).
But I want to write. It's just that I don't want to make that effort of actually sitting up and typing all of that. Sometimes I wish we had a technology wherein we would simply think and all our thoughts would magically get written on their own. Very much like Rita Skeeter's magic quill, I would say. But if only even half our wishes came true, right?
A few of my friends, and also a few other people who surprisingly follow my blog discreetly, much to the pleasure of my childish desire for praise, have been telling me to write something soon 'cause they like what they read. (Discreet followers, if you be reading this, yes, you're not the only one). So that kind of acts like an inspiration of sorts to actually sit and update this page. If not for me, for them. So here I am, in yet another attempt to revive the writer in me. I like that person, and I want her to live. Besides the extremely passionate person in me who likes photography and everything to do with it, the writer in me is almost the only other person in me I'm proud of. Phew, that's intense, eh? I wish I could post half as frequently, okay one-fifth, no make that one-tenth as frequently as those Thought Catalog people (http://thoughtcatalog.com/ for all you ignorant retards), and of course not to mention half as awesome, but that's not possible.
I know this blog won't last forever. It has to end one day. Either I'll run out of thoughts and actually face the writer's block everybody keeps talking about, or I'll just grow up to realise what a stupid kid I have been wasting precious minutes of my life over a stupid little machine that cannot react to human emotions and will inevitably become obsolete one day.
But till then, I'll keep trying. And I hope one day, when I'm gone, someone somewhere will read my very own "thought catalog" here, and will remember me for the person they discovered I was.
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