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Monday, December 13, 2010


Given that I (still) have no followers, I'd say sorry to myself instead because lately I've been running out of things to say here on my blog. Even efforts (that usually come before bedtime) to form one seem to flutter. You know, that zestful drive to write once an idea enters my mind but then fades away as soon as I make up my mind that I'm too sleepy to bother thinking. As a result, the next morning, I always remember virtually nothing of one or two acceptable introductory paragraphs I mentally composed. The lesson I've learned: Put them on paper.

Now, deciding that it is indeed a must to have them in writing, the more reprehensible part than not having written at all follows: I can't finish my pieces, but instead write about another entirely new topic that interests me. The result: backlogs I don't even know when to be accomplished, or worse, if I would still set out to accomplish.

The problem is ideas unkindly leave my side as I go along with writing. A writer's block, that's how real writers call that "psychological inhibition." But in my case, I suppose it's rather an "intellectual inhibition."Photobucket

I usually end up asking myself questions like "Where the heck is this article going to?" and "Do I really want to write about this?" I take a break of course, letting my mind wander for a moment, to get inspiration. Reading is but an inspiration for me so I read whatever readable is available at hand. Once finished, I continue writing and then read my work to myself. Then it hits me: Why can't I write as good as the ones I read? I want to be just like those writers whose works I'm bowled over by. I want to be on par with their writing prowess. I want to be a good writer. I want to influence others, make them ponder over what I write, or better yet impress them. I want to express myself. Then again, if I would benchmark myself against other 'writers', I cannot even write.