New Beginnings... again...
It seems odd to me, that what once was a daily event soon turned into a weekly one. And then it became monthly. Then eventfully. And finally, mostly forgotten.
Well, not quite. For if that were the case, I wouldn't be writing this about 1 and a half years after my last post. So much has changed in such a short span of time, and I'm mildly surprised to this blog still very much alive after almost 15 years of writing.
Looking back at my first posts, I saw how my writing has evolved, and so has the subject matter. I used less colloquialism, and started using actual words. I began to explore the wonders of the English language and it's little quirks, and challenged myself to write better, and write smarter (or at least I hoped).
There used to fantasies, stories to enthrall, and random allegories of life. Parodies and poetry and pugnacious abstractions. These soon became slices of life that kept my from goingsane insane. They soon became lost like the marks on my grades.
No longer was I whining about whimsical, trivial things like cleaning my room or complaining about how much that movie sucked. I stop ranting on and on about the inadequacies of the system and injustice of my country's administration. (But it's not like I stopped caring. I just stopped ranting, and started doing)
Perhaps it's time to go back to the days when a drop in the temperature would give birth to prose and inspiration.When the morning dew would rage intense imagery of the beauty of the world. Where the simple chirping of birds would jostle one awake and ready to face the bright (or un-bright) new day.
Perhaps in this new city, it's time to write again.
Well, not quite. For if that were the case, I wouldn't be writing this about 1 and a half years after my last post. So much has changed in such a short span of time, and I'm mildly surprised to this blog still very much alive after almost 15 years of writing.
Looking back at my first posts, I saw how my writing has evolved, and so has the subject matter. I used less colloquialism, and started using actual words. I began to explore the wonders of the English language and it's little quirks, and challenged myself to write better, and write smarter (or at least I hoped).
There used to fantasies, stories to enthrall, and random allegories of life. Parodies and poetry and pugnacious abstractions. These soon became slices of life that kept my from going
No longer was I whining about whimsical, trivial things like cleaning my room or complaining about how much that movie sucked. I stop ranting on and on about the inadequacies of the system and injustice of my country's administration. (But it's not like I stopped caring. I just stopped ranting, and started doing)
Perhaps it's time to go back to the days when a drop in the temperature would give birth to prose and inspiration.When the morning dew would rage intense imagery of the beauty of the world. Where the simple chirping of birds would jostle one awake and ready to face the bright (or un-bright) new day.
Perhaps in this new city, it's time to write again.
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