Hello world.
I am not really sure why I am doing this. I mean what the heck, I have two proposals to write both of which were due yesterday. I have a book to write too - and this one has been paid for two months ago and was due two months ago as well. In addition, I have a zillion other stuff to do, all screaming for attention. But there is something about having to start my own blog that has been gnawing inside for quite some time now. So here goes.
Since College, I always had this weird compulsion to write down thoughts - on the pages of books I was reading, on stationeries, on countless notebooks bought for the purpose of starting a personal chronicle. Some of the notebooks I still have to this day, and quite frankly, most of them do not even have more than 3 pages of stuff written. It's not a good idea for one to read stuff written years ago unless he has this overwhelming desire to laugh at one's self or to feel extremely foolish, but sometimes I do come across the notebooks and I...well, I cringe and get almost hysterical. I mean...what was I thinking then? So what do I have to show for those years of pure intentions? A trail of unfinished writings - gooey, yucky, icky, idiotic ramblings that are best cast off to the memory bin and blamed on youth. And thus, I get this sense of... i don't know... being unfinished.
I hope to be able to figure out how to work this blogging thing out. If someone is actually reading this... give me a break. Am not even on the starting line yet.
So there.
Since College, I always had this weird compulsion to write down thoughts - on the pages of books I was reading, on stationeries, on countless notebooks bought for the purpose of starting a personal chronicle. Some of the notebooks I still have to this day, and quite frankly, most of them do not even have more than 3 pages of stuff written. It's not a good idea for one to read stuff written years ago unless he has this overwhelming desire to laugh at one's self or to feel extremely foolish, but sometimes I do come across the notebooks and I...well, I cringe and get almost hysterical. I mean...what was I thinking then? So what do I have to show for those years of pure intentions? A trail of unfinished writings - gooey, yucky, icky, idiotic ramblings that are best cast off to the memory bin and blamed on youth. And thus, I get this sense of... i don't know... being unfinished.
I hope to be able to figure out how to work this blogging thing out. If someone is actually reading this... give me a break. Am not even on the starting line yet.
So there.
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