Yada yada yada.
One lazy afternoon, I decided to rummage through my old computer files and read past essays and journal entries. I realized how prolific I was back then, writing on almost anything I could think about from a friend’s rude comment on my clothes to the strawberry production in my town (and that’s just one essay). It was funny reading my trite attempts at pop culture references and examining my messy train of thought which, unfortunately, remains to this day.
They say that people are more alike than we’d like to think but I guess it’s safe for me to say that I am probably the second most indecisive person on this planet, next to Barack Obama, and I’m not even sure about him. You see, there are only two things I am sure of: 1) I want to write and 2) I want to travel. On most days, however, I settle with number 2 and dismiss number 1 because I read a lot and the more I read, the more I become insecure about whether I really can write. So I stop blogging and journalizing, which is painful, because I still have thoughts and when things get awry, you don’t keep them like soda in a bottle that has been shaken. You let the fizz out, drink the soda and experience that glorious burp. But then writing to know whether I can and writing for catharsis are two different things right? See how I don’t have it all together?
Anyway, the point of this post is…nothing. It’s been a month since my last entry (which is just a bunch of pictures I shouldn’t have shared), and I figured that I should be back here more often because where else would you go but to the thing that you love most? I mean, yes, I still write outside of this thing but it’s different here. I get to see some of my friends and know their thoughts on the things I write. It’s better sharing what you know than keeping it to yourself, isn’t it? And probably that’s the sad thing about us humans. We know some things but we don’t let other people know because we fear rejection, we fear that they have better ideas, we fear that we can’t carry the conversation, we fear that we are a laughable piece of vegetable that thinks it’s fresh but is blighting. Vegetables don’t think and sometimes I don’t too, so that makes us equal and comparable sometimes, right? Ha, I should probably go before I start saying even more stupid things, which, I think aren’t really stupid.