Blog. Why can't I do such thing? A few years ago I can write 10 blog posts a day. Six of them are news articles, two are feature and the rest are personal but now? Now, I've got nothing! Well, this is a start. If that a draft blog post written weeks ago and published out of frustration is considered a blog post then my dear readers here's one for you. But that's not it. There's nothing to write or I can't write and yet blog-worthy things keeps on happening in my life. So fast. Very fast. Days, weeks, everything will just pass by me. To make it worse, things are very challenging at home.
But before I go personal and all. Things are different now. The itch. The itch to write, to blog, to tell stories, to rant, to share my woes and frustrations, my dreams and imagination, they don't come very often these days. But the itch always claws its way into my eyes every time I try to sleep. And when I try to get up and turn on my laptop the itch goes away like a damn traitor. Why do good ideas come to us when we're about to sleep? The result? I end up sleeping the next day when the sun is up. But who knows if the sun is up? I haven't gotten out much since I don't know when. And then my dilemma, I'm unproductive and the itch to write rebels against me. It's just like my hair every time I try to comb it. Just perfect!
But now's another start. Every time I write I say it's a start or another. And then life gets on the way. This is just me dropping by. This is just me trying to find that sleeping child inside my brain begging him to wake the hell up to do wonders, smith words and write dreams. This is not a writer's block. It's a battle of will. There's laziness tempting me into hours of binge-watching with the excuse that these tv shows might extend my vocabulary. I mean, well, they could. It did expand my knowledge about the Marvel Cinematic Universe and the wonderful plans of Kevin Feige, Joss Whedon and Drew Goddard.
But subconsciously as I watch long hours of TV, I dream of quiescence and solitude. I dream of writing my life as adventurous as one could be. I dream of acing that job interview. I dream of pizza and burger and pizza and fries and pizza and fried chicken. Damn, I need to write my own goddamn autobiography and it has to be awesome. What would my android grandchildren think of me? If they travel back to this time, I can't just allow them to say that "Grumps, don't watch too much TV."
I know nothing will ever happen if I don't put some action to it. So now I'm writing. In my own pace, in my own time, I am writing. I don't need the itch. No, not anymore. Why do I itch? Blogging or writing is not a damn kagid (allergy). lol. I needed a spark. An inspiration. Or maybe just a hand. Like I've said, things are very challenging lately especially at home. I'll tell you more about it in my posts to come. :D
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| Taken at Riverview, Davao City during a photowalk where a crazy man chased us with stones and a bottle of Red Horse. Crazy story soon! XD |
But before I go personal and all. Things are different now. The itch. The itch to write, to blog, to tell stories, to rant, to share my woes and frustrations, my dreams and imagination, they don't come very often these days. But the itch always claws its way into my eyes every time I try to sleep. And when I try to get up and turn on my laptop the itch goes away like a damn traitor. Why do good ideas come to us when we're about to sleep? The result? I end up sleeping the next day when the sun is up. But who knows if the sun is up? I haven't gotten out much since I don't know when. And then my dilemma, I'm unproductive and the itch to write rebels against me. It's just like my hair every time I try to comb it. Just perfect!
But now's another start. Every time I write I say it's a start or another. And then life gets on the way. This is just me dropping by. This is just me trying to find that sleeping child inside my brain begging him to wake the hell up to do wonders, smith words and write dreams. This is not a writer's block. It's a battle of will. There's laziness tempting me into hours of binge-watching with the excuse that these tv shows might extend my vocabulary. I mean, well, they could. It did expand my knowledge about the Marvel Cinematic Universe and the wonderful plans of Kevin Feige, Joss Whedon and Drew Goddard.
But subconsciously as I watch long hours of TV, I dream of quiescence and solitude. I dream of writing my life as adventurous as one could be. I dream of acing that job interview. I dream of pizza and burger and pizza and fries and pizza and fried chicken. Damn, I need to write my own goddamn autobiography and it has to be awesome. What would my android grandchildren think of me? If they travel back to this time, I can't just allow them to say that "Grumps, don't watch too much TV."
 |
| This photo maybe irrelevant but it's beautiful right? :p |
I know nothing will ever happen if I don't put some action to it. So now I'm writing. In my own pace, in my own time, I am writing. I don't need the itch. No, not anymore. Why do I itch? Blogging or writing is not a damn kagid (allergy). lol. I needed a spark. An inspiration. Or maybe just a hand. Like I've said, things are very challenging lately especially at home. I'll tell you more about it in my posts to come. :D
