Somewhere near the afar past, I blog-ed about event.
Nope.
It’s more like routine. I blog-ed about my daily routine, as
in what did I do between classes, or what I had for breakfast. Or, how sleepy I
was in certain classes (read: reservoir modelling)
I have a lot to blog, really. Life is in the fast lane for
the past years with whirlwind shifting interests or some I would say, habit, between
this and that left me with nothing to speak in here.
And maybe, being an adult, with the insecurity of being
falsely judged by my own writing, fearing things will speculate and there, came
to a point that as much as I feel awkward to say it out loud, - came to a
point, I don’t want to reveal things that are important to me to the world
anymore. Secrecy and solidarity matter now.
Of course, bottling things up is never really a wise cure
for mind turbulence; be it on a cloud 9 happiness or dive-nose-first sadness,
but this is the age I know to whom I call for. Funny, how things changed.
Well, the point is, keeping a journal is sort of essential
if you do too, own the idea of:
1- Insecurity; readers don’t really understand what
you’re trying to convey. articulation, is important as much.
2-You the one feeling the unimportance of your
entry that you know eventually leads to nowhere yet still want to pour your
thoughts somewhere.
Frankly, I have this urge to delete this whole thing one
day.
But reading back the things I wrote, it’s kinda define who I
was or maybe still am and that, ladies and gentleman, is my certain kind of
joy.
