THIS MORNING, I woke up and felt that something inside me wanted to come out. As if I've just swallowed a bettle unwillingly, and it was struggling hard to get out of my stomach. I bathed and figure that it was something else. A set of thoughts inside my chest has incubated and it was beginning to grow its legs and beak, ready to break out from its shell just like a new born eaglets was spawning from the nest.
While staring at the mirror, I found another traces of one year old stress have been painted on my face. A couple of uban or white hair strands has suddenly sprouted from my head up front like a lost weed in the midst of green bermudas.
I just realized, like suddenly a glowing yellow incandescent bulb had appeared above my head, that I've been blogging already for a year.
Time really runs so fast, I almost missed it. Wow! I can't even believe it myself.
It seemed like it was just yesterday when I started putting into words, thoughts that came and went inside my head. Like a sponge doing the dishes after a party, it absorbed ideas, concepts, stories, both pleasant and unpleasant.
It has become a battleground. Everyday, I fight and struggle to survive with this thing called "life" and it has been an area where I could draw my sword and whip every enemy in thoughts and in words!
When I was totally bored, it didn't faze but instead, it gave me an outlet to express my frustration and cool.
I even wrote something about nightmares and dreams, but I think the story was half restored since I can't remember entirely the sequence of the dream.
My first post was about spending super extra time working and missing a lot of things, with friends, family and self. From then on, I made a pact. I can only live once in this world and I say I will never again dispose my entire time working.
So I blog, and blog, and found myself reeling under the blistering sun watching and agonizing with someone being crucified, literally, eating with delectable food, and the best fish and sisig!, playing basketball, dancing in the storm and being bitten by a dog.
It has been a great jumpstart for my passion of writing, I even created several other blogs that seemed to look better if they have their own site to be seen on. I made retrato ni popoy to showcase all the insights and great scenes captured between the lens and viewfinder of the camera. Serious essays and thoughts that need a separate page to be viewed on, The J Journal was fabricated with the right amount of strings and needles to sew the articles, that I wrote with intense focus, to be mended piece by piece. I even began an attempt to publish a novel.
Writing is just a part of the whole communication process. It is useless if no one reads what I wrote, or no one realizes the thought I've been consciously conveying. I guess attracting a great number of readers and have a constant virtual audience that are open in leaving comments in this space, is as difficult as capturing flies buzzing around your food with only a pair of chopsticks at hand.
This post would be the thirty-third edition for this blog, and I'm pretty sure it wouldn't be the last. Happy birthday blog!