Left
I miss writing.
I can’t help but feel envious of the likes of ELSH, NatW etc whenever I read their blogs, seeing how they effortlessly string their thoughts to the yarn of their characters, and it makes me smile because I can really, really imagine them penning it out at that moment – regardless of the content, their writing embodies themselves.
Yet I can’t really blame anyone but my deliberate lack of self-discipline, choosing rather to troll a particular social network (even if I’d seen all that I wanted to) and surf the Net just to feel ‘connected’ whenever I had the time.
No, wait.
I should change the opening statement to ‘I miss writing online’. I still do write, only that I’ve taken to journaling on a physical book of late. And even staying away from the computer totally for the better half of the day if I can help it. When I can help it. Hey, I can help it.
You could say that I swing on extremities, moving from one medium to another to fill my thoughts lest they run themselves wild on nothingness. Yet writing on paper draws out of me a different style altogether, much like how the unique tones and timbres of various instruments inspire distinct tunes in my head (alas, fleshing them out is a different matter altogether, but I digress).
The online portal does give me the luxury of more time to think and type without the dire urgency to ink down something with that darned pen in my hand, and of course, a less-tired wrist after all that furious scribbling. Goodbye, and hello again carpal tunnel syndrome. It also allows random thoughts that I won’t have to feel silly writing to myself because of the psychological instant gratification label that silently tags itself on every cyber citizen. Rugrats! Green Tea! Where do we draw the line? Ah, irony upon irony.
So since I’ve begun writing this, the number of times I’ve been tempted to give up have been aplenty. Closing a screen is so much easier than physically tearing a page up; I find words that’d tumble out of my pen disappear at the touch of a keyboard. I’ve so much to say but no point to begin.
Starting is so much easier than finishing.
Perhaps I should start writing again to discipline myself to write proper, coherent posts in light of taking Masters next year.
I’d like to end this post here; it’s going nowhere anyway. Please?
I can’t help but feel envious of the likes of ELSH, NatW etc whenever I read their blogs, seeing how they effortlessly string their thoughts to the yarn of their characters, and it makes me smile because I can really, really imagine them penning it out at that moment – regardless of the content, their writing embodies themselves.
Yet I can’t really blame anyone but my deliberate lack of self-discipline, choosing rather to troll a particular social network (even if I’d seen all that I wanted to) and surf the Net just to feel ‘connected’ whenever I had the time.
No, wait.
I should change the opening statement to ‘I miss writing online’. I still do write, only that I’ve taken to journaling on a physical book of late. And even staying away from the computer totally for the better half of the day if I can help it. When I can help it. Hey, I can help it.
You could say that I swing on extremities, moving from one medium to another to fill my thoughts lest they run themselves wild on nothingness. Yet writing on paper draws out of me a different style altogether, much like how the unique tones and timbres of various instruments inspire distinct tunes in my head (alas, fleshing them out is a different matter altogether, but I digress).
The online portal does give me the luxury of more time to think and type without the dire urgency to ink down something with that darned pen in my hand, and of course, a less-tired wrist after all that furious scribbling. Goodbye, and hello again carpal tunnel syndrome. It also allows random thoughts that I won’t have to feel silly writing to myself because of the psychological instant gratification label that silently tags itself on every cyber citizen. Rugrats! Green Tea! Where do we draw the line? Ah, irony upon irony.
So since I’ve begun writing this, the number of times I’ve been tempted to give up have been aplenty. Closing a screen is so much easier than physically tearing a page up; I find words that’d tumble out of my pen disappear at the touch of a keyboard. I’ve so much to say but no point to begin.
Starting is so much easier than finishing.
Perhaps I should start writing again to discipline myself to write proper, coherent posts in light of taking Masters next year.
I’d like to end this post here; it’s going nowhere anyway. Please?
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