Epistolary #1: Fighting Dust Bunnies and Trying not to Hate Everything I Write

Y’know I recently realized that the main reason why I keep neglecting this blog of mine is because… I’ve lost the spirit of what it means to blog. No joke, I really think that, along the way of trying to improve my content, I may have forgotten what got me into blogging in the first place. Way, way back (as far back as my Livejournal days), I used to be able to write without a care. Sure, I may have overshared a little bit and, yeah, my writing was garbage (more so than now, I mean), but blogging was actually fun back in the day. It was enjoyable and cathartic. Nobody read what I wrote – thank god! – but I loved opening an empty text box and just going all out.

Now on my quest to be a better writer, I may have put too much unnecessary pressure on myself and, as a result, spoiled what was once a very enjoyable hobby. Crap.

So! To reignite the spark I once had with blogging, I’ve decided to start this, uh, let’s call it a series of sorts. The “Epistolary” series is going to be just me writing as casually as I can, trying to go back my LJ roots where I wrote personal anecdotes or whatever came to mind without caring if my post would be interesting or worthwhile to anybody but myself. Not like I have actual readers now but for this series I’m not even going to pretend that someone might give a damn about my blog.

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Invisibility Powers

I’ve talked about this before but lots of latest instances have kind of reminded me about this. I thought I had outgrown it or finally managed to fix it somewhat but it turns out that I actually still have but I just haven’t noticed it for a while. I’m talking, of course, about my strange and sad powers of invisibility.

When I say power I do mean the super, abnormal, inexplicable type that I’ve had since I was a child. Seriously, I could stand in plain sight and people would see right past me. And it’s happened a couple of times before too! The latest instance happened last Thursday when my friend and I saw our other friend some distance away. The other friend noticed my friend and waved at her but didn’t see me at all though I was standing next to her, waving frantically. It was pretty funny. But then it stopped being funny.

I think that’s how I got the habit of needing to touch or poke the person I’m talking to so that they’d actually look at me and listen. And even then it sometimes doesn’t work.

I honestly can’t even blame people for not noticing me. I just generally don’t have a presence, I think, and that’s why even when I’m so close to people they don’t really notice me until they bump into me or until I talk. I don’t talk much either and don’t have any distinctive features so I blend right in anywhere. Sometimes it’s an advantage when I’m avoiding someone or something but generally it’s infuriating. Imagine being constantly bumped into by strangers, unintentionally ignored by your peers though you’re literally right in front of them, even forgotten by your own family. It’s like that for me.

When I shared this to a friend, she said that my situation is “so sad” but I’m not really sure if she understood what I meant. That friend has no such invisibility problems and actually gets noticed even when she doesn’t want to. I, on the other hand, am a ghost compared to her. Sometimes, when I’m feeling glum but particularly imaginative, I do fantasize about being a ghost and floating around just watching things go. It’s not such a bad fantasy, I mean, you kind of get fond of not being seen or heard and just observing things up close. But then, well, it gets lonely and sad and I can’t stop thinking about it because it’s such an easy fantasy to get lost in because I barely even have to imagine anything new.

I’m not even sure why I’m writing this post, to be honest. It’s not like this is something completely foreign to me. Heck, even my closest friends don’t see me sometimes – now what does that say about my situation? Sad, for one. Completely and utterly hopeless, for another. I should just stop dreaming about maybe improving this particular aspect of my life so I could spare myself some pain.

(Originally posted in my Tumblr)


Should have written this last Monday when I had given myself a whole day break and not during DevCom class yesterday. But ma’am’s lecture was boring, my throat was scratchy (completely unrelated but distracting all the same), and I felt restless.

Anyway. Last Sunday’s coverage was incredible. It was by far the biggest event I’ve ever covered and the most well-known. I honestly felt like part of the media that day. The media shirt and ID helped too.

My day began at around midnight when I woke up feeling anxious because I had fallen asleep when I promised myself not to. To make matters worse, I saw that my senior reporter had texted and PM-ed me on Facebook. Basically we had to meet at 3AM at the media lounge. I manged to get to the place at 3:30 and was worried that I was already late. Luckily (or not… depending on one’s patience) I was actually one of the first people there. I read a bit to pass the time, thank god for e-books.

Fast-forward to when we finally got to the pier at around 5-ish. The day was pretty cloudy but the sun still kind of tried to peek behind the ominous clouds. It took a while for the bangka (boat…canoe…thing), the one for the city government employees and for the media, to dock so we had to wait for a bit. Something happened before our boat arrived though. A man got stabbed on a boat (or a separate smaller island? not sure) and had to be carried from a canoe to the pier. It was intense. No wonder there was an ERUF guy there. I was wondering what he was doing at a pier that early in the morning.

Eventually, our ride came and, after a wobbly makeshift canoe ride to the boat, we were off. The waves kept beating us back though. My senior was terrified that we’d capsize while I, on the other hand, was terrified my stupid eyes would ruin things for me and let me suffer from nausea the rest of the day. The boat didn’t capsize and my eyes were fine even after the beatings so it was all good. I felt sort of bad for the swimmers though. I know that they knew the challenges and risks of joining the triathlon but the way the waves just kept coming at them made me feel exhausted just watching. And the swim course seemed to stretch on to forever too.

After the swim course eventually dwindled down to a handful of swimmers, we sped off to the turnaround point, the very tip of the island, Mangal. There wasn’t a proper pier so we actually had to stop literally at the side of the cliff and climb up slightly loose and sharp rocks to get back to the mainland. It was an adventure if anything else.

Things got pretty slow after that though. Sure the runners were fun to watch but after a while it got boring. I fell asleep – and drooled shamelessly… I hope no one noticed – a couple of times because of the weather and the dullness of it all.

When I woke up, there were only a handful of runners left so the mayor decided to go back to Shangri-La. We, my senior, a reporter from a different paper, and I, asked if we could hitch a ride with them. The mayor agreed. Now, I’d just like to point out that we honestly thought the ‘ride’ was going to be a bus of some sort. You know, because the host hotel was sort of nearby-ish.

Never did I thought we’d be riding a speedboat. It was a pretty fancy speedboat too what with its sleek design and powerful engine. We sped through the choppy waters like nobody’s business. It was like a thrill ride, to be honest. Except we had no helmets, seat belts, or any sort of safety harness so… it was almost better than any thrill ride. And we got sprayed with seawater every other minute. At some point, we were showered by a particularly large wave and off went anyone’s chances of staying at least half-dry. I’d have welcomed the assault of seawater if I still didn’t need to write an article and if I wasn’t on my period. As it was, I still had an article to write and I was on my period. Still a pretty cool experience.

When we finally docked at Shangri-la’s fancy pier, everyone was soaked. My senior said that I was pretty hardcore for staying so calm during the fast and furious ride. In truth, I was too busy fantasizing about stuff to really think about the actual possibilities of the speedboat toppling over and drowning us all.

Then we went to the media center and wrote our article. Compared to everywhere else, the media center was nice and quiet… and had wifi. My article was fairly easy to write since my source was pretty cool. After sending my story, I clocked out and went home. Not an easy feat, mind you, since the roads were clogged. That’s saying something since the roads in that particular area are usually pretty quiet, especially on a Sunday. By sheer luck and a lot of walking through clouds of dust and smoke, I got home safe and sound.

Overall, it was a pretty awesome day and I learned quite a lot from my first large-scale coverage. I didn’t get any pictures of the local celebrities who were there though, much to my sister and my mother’s annoyance, but that’s mostly because I couldn’t recognized anyone since all of the runners wore caps and sunglasses. I remember someone shouting out a name of a celeb but I’m not really sure who it was.

(Originally published on my Tumblr… because I’m a lazy piece of shit)


You know what’s annoying? I’ve been regularly taking great care of my lips since that disastrous lip blister last summer, have been extra cautious about my lips getting chapped or even slightly dried, have spent a considerable amount of money buying lip balms, and yet earlier this month I suffered not one but two blisters. I’m fine now but I really suffered quite a bit for a little more than a week thanks to those annoying assholes.

To give myself some credit, the blisters I got a few weeks ago were on my lower lip this time instead of my upper lip. Last time’s blister made me look like I got socked on the face pretty bad. The lower lip blisters just looked like I had accidentally left a smear of chocolate or something on my lip. They were annoying though because they were reallypainful. I literally could not laugh because then I’d stretch one or both blisters and the pull would tear the dried wound/s and then I’d bleed for several minutes. Eugh.

Then there was the mouth ulcers on the inside of my lower lip. Geez those were annoying little shits. Made eating nothing less than torturous, to be honest. Although, blisters and mouth sores aside, I still ate spicy siomai back then. I was more or less crying in pain but the siomai was just so good. It was worth every tear. The tears of pain relieved the blisters anyway.

I think my problem is that, although I apply lip balm every so often, I kind of sort of forget to drink water regularly? And considering how much time I spend outside now – under the glaring heat of the sun and sweating like crazy – it’s not that difficult to imagine how I exactly got the double whammy of mouth pains some weeks ago. Heck, I’m surprised sunburned lips was all I got.

So, lesson learned: hydrate properly. All the lip balms and sun screen in the world aren’t worth anything if I don’t bother to actually take care of my internal organs which basically do all the hard work. Also, side note, I really love lip balms. I collect them almost unhealthily.

Alternately: 5 Things I Learned from Stephen King On Writing

You know what I love more than talking about books I’ve recently finished? Lists. I love lists. I live for them. They’re simple and compact but still so beautifully prolific. And writing them is just so fun, especially when you have a habit of jumping from one topic to another with barely held constraint, like I do.

So instead of writing a review or a mere blog post about Stephen King’s book about writing/mini-memoir, On Writing, I’m going to write a list about the key things I got from the book. Initially, I wanted to list down 10 things – as a homage to a similar feature section of my university’s magazine – but then I realized that the other five I had already learned from reading about writing online or from experience. Stephen King merely delivered them much more elegantly.

Without further ado, here’s 5 important things to remember on (creative) writing:

1.) Door closed. Door opened.

I think this one’s the most important thing to remember out of all. King basically suggested – since it’s worked for him all these decades – that you should write the first draft of your story or novel for yourself and yourself alone. Don’t think about your possible readers. Don’t think about what they might or might not like. Don’t think about pleasing anyone but yourself on the first draft. Keep the door – the metaphorical and the literal door since you kind of need to concentrate too – firmly closed. Write what you like, not what anyone else might like. It’s your work, after all. No one and nothing should dictate what you write on your first draft.

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Sundaze [5/22/16]

I’m pretty sure most bloggers know about the The Sunday Currently. For those who haven’t heard of it, The Sunday Currently is this cute little blog prompt (I use that word because I honestly can’t think of another more accurate term… sorry) that urges the blogger to list the things they are currently doing… on a Sunday. It’s a fairly straightforward list that’s really fun to do. I’ve done a few of them over the years and, although I enjoyed making them, I kind of cheated sometimes by not really answering some of the sections in the list. There are quite a lot of sections (reading, writing, listening, smelling, feeling… etc…), in my defense. I know I tend to ramble on a lot in my posts but somehow I can’t really seem to do The Sunday Currently without running out of steam midway. Shameful, I agree.

So! I’ve impulsively decided to create my own Sunday thing in the hopes that I’ll be more motivated to blog. Sunday’s the best day for these type of things, I think, since it’s simultaneously the end and the beginning of the week. Personally, I just love in between things – like sunsets and sunrises!

But anyway, before I go off tangent (as I’m wont to do), let me explain this Sunday thing of mine that I hope will be a usual thing in my blog. It’s still a list of things I’m doing and thinking as of the moment this Sunday – which I have less than an hour left of, yikes! damn my short attention span! – but with some variations. First off, the main rule I have for this is that the subtitles must begin with the letters that form the word SUNDAZE -for some semblance of order, I guess. If I just write down everything I’m doing all willy-nilly, I’d fill an entire text box of nonsense. Nonsense that’ll probably be deleted anyway because even I’m not that foolish as to publish muck on my own blog. Second of all, to give my future self a bit of a leeway (assuming that I’ll continue this… thing), I can change the words/subtitles as much as I want granted that the acronym is still followed. Lastly, I must publish before Sunday ends which, from where I am right now, is 34 minutes from now. Yikes!

Well, here goes…

Saw and bought two books today. Secondhand books from Book Sale, to be precise. I got Anne Fine’s Goggle-Eyes and James Patterson and Hal Friedman’s Med Head (a non-fiction book about a boy suffering from several mental disorders). It’s been a while since I got something from Book Sale. I’ve visited the store several times this month but haven’t really been able to choose anything. My mind has been pretty preoccupied as of late. Books have been an indulgence that I haven’t been able to give myself as freely as I used to.

Unusual. I finished reading The Lost Journal of Alejandro Pardo and I gotta say that it rekindled my fascination of Philippine folklore. Though, some of the facts about certain beasts are a bit different from the tales I grew up with. For one thing, the kapre in The Lost Journal is described as a giant shape-shifter. The kapres I know of only have one appearance (giant goat-like man with an impressive beard) and have no interest in changing their shape. Maybe it’s a regional difference?

New. I downloaded two free visual novels earlier. One was the typical otome game (with the cute guys and everything) while the other was this awesomely unique game where I play the teacher in this high school. It’s not a dubious student-teacher affair either. I, er, the player is really just this teacher who needs to help his students with their problems. The kicker? The teacher/player is basically this voyeur who has an all access pass to his students’ social media. Voyeur, I guess, is an unfair description since the school basically gave the teacher that power primarily to stave off cyberbullying and the sort but, really, it’s still pretty messed up. The game is called Don’t Take it Personally, Babe, It Just ain’t Your Story. Best. Title. Ever. And it’s even extremely accurate! (I have yet to start playing the otome game. If the reviews are to be believed, it’s supposedly a nice and fun game as well, if not cliched).

Dreamed about flying last night. It was a wonderful dream, from the wisps of recollections I have of it at least. I think I was pursued by this person? And somehow I had these abilities? Come to think of it, did I really fly or just wished I could in my dream? I even remember this behemoth of a tree that stood out in an otherwise normal subdivision. It was severely haunted, I was told. By who, I’m not sure. Dreams are weird.

Anxious about my required internship. I’ve wailed about that a lot over the past few months but this time I’m howling a different tune. For some reason that no one can make any sense of, our department chairman is limiting the number of fourth year interns this year. The list for interns was put up a few weeks ago and was quickly filled up. By the time I got to our department, it was too late. So now I’m not entirely sure if I’ll even get to take my internship this semester. Take note that internship is required for all seniors so we need to be interns this sem and the next. Which really makes the whole limited number of interns thing downright sadistic and evil. Perhaps it’s just a scare tactic? Perhaps we’re understanding this all wrong? Either way… I’m terrified. Let me be an intern, please.

Zinger. To quote my older sister, “Oh god, you have so many pictures of our dogs! Your phone’s album is full of them!” Sister, you have no idea.

Enjoyed a relatively new flavor of gelato earlier, Gelatissimo’s the Wild Berry Panna Cotta. I usually just get their plain Vanilla since I know that I like that flavor (and, really, considering the price of one scoop of gelato, I need to like what I bought) but today I felt like trying something new. I would have gotten the spicy chocolate but… I still feel uncomfortable just thinking about what that would taste like. It seems too unnatural. The Wild Berry Panna Cotta was sweet but not sickeningly so and the wild berry taste was subtle but discernible. Looks like I have another favorite flavor.

Oh dear, it’s already 12:01 on my computer’s clock. Not really Sunday anymore… but I worked too hard on this thing to give up now so I’ll post this anyway.

Wanderlust: South Korea pt. 1 of 2

Pa had been planning for an overseas family trip for a while now. As early as last summer, he had told us that we really should take a vacation in another country (in Asia) soon. He said that not only would it be great for the family, but it would also expose us young ones to the world outside the tropical walls of the Philippines. The vacation abroad (South Korea!) was finalized early in December of last year and everyone in the family was ecstatic. Who wouldn’t be? We were going on an adventure overseas!

What’s different about this family trip, besides it being the (first?) one requiring a visa, was that we actually booked a packaged tour, with an itinerary and tour guide and tour group and everything. Unlike our trips to Hong Kong and Singapore in the past where we kind of just muddled along, hoping to see a Filipino face in every establishment, this Korea trip had an actual schedule. We were in safe hands and wouldn’t have to worry about getting lost at all. We’d also see and learn more about Korea in the tour. We even get to taste Korean dishes that we’d probably have been too hesitant to try had we been left to order our own meals.

Our trip lasted for five days, starting from early Wednesday morning and ending on early Sunday afternoon. This blog entry, I think, will have to be divided into two parts because  I’m sure this will be a long one. Plus, I took a lot of photos on the trip and managed to select a minimum of forty pictures per day. This won’t matter to anyone but me so if you don’t care for the ramblings and terrible cellphone photos of a tiny twenty-one-year-old who had just gotten back from her first actual tour of a foreign country and has a lot to share and say about it, you may want to leave now.

If you’re willing to suffer a few minutes of your day to my inane blathering, read on, brave soul.

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Tourist Chronicles (Bohol pt.2)

A couple of years back, my ma got an invitation from one of her girl friends to tag along on their company’s little outing in the summer. A lot of that company’s people couldn’t come with so there was more than enough room for my six-person family. The company outing was a two-day trip to Bohol, complete with seeing all the famous sights like the Chocolate Hills, the tarsier conservatories, and even the famous beach in Panglao. The trip was a blast, though admittedly I would have preferred it if we weren’t with all those strangers or bound to a strict itinerary.

Two weeks a go, years after that first Bohol trip, my family visited that humble little province once again and, honestly, it was a lot more fun than the first time around. Aside from the wedding and reception of the son of Pa’s friend, we mostly had the entire trip to ourselves. We brought our family car with us too so we literally had the freedom to go wherever we wanted. The two-hour barge trip was totally worth it.

I actually honestly considered not coming with my family on the trip in order to focus on my publication work more. However, my parents very gently (sternly) told me that I can’t not go because it’s a family trip and I shouldn’t waste it on something as trivial as work responsibilities. I reluctantly caved, especially after ma told me that we need to spend more time as a family now that my sisters and I are older and are on the verge of having a completely separate life of our own. The fact that I seemed to value my work more than the trip (initially) was proof of that so I didn’t argue further.

Anyway, I’m glad I didn’t go through with not coming with the family because the trip turned out to be much more eventful than we had expected.

1st Day 

After the two-hour sea trip and around four-hour land trip, we reached our destination, which was a quaint Bed and Breakfast tucked above a little hill, right around the corner of the highway.

We could have spent the rest of the afternoon exploring the nearby sights (like the adventure park not too far from our B&B) but we were too exhausted and our room had this external hard drive full of cool classic movies. I dutifully copied a few movies on my laptop before we left.

I also managed to squeeze in some writing time because, despite being on mini vacation, I had a deadline to catch. It was tiring but at least the view was nice. Distracting though.

2nd Day

I’m gonna skip the wedding and the reception that we had to attend despite the fact that we knew almost no one there. Seriously, it was so awkward not seeing a single familiar face in a sea of people who intimately knew one another. It was sweet of my pa’s friend to invite us but… really, we could have done without feeling completely out of place.

The drive to our second destination, Loboc, was long but pretty enjoyable. It really helped that there was hardly any traffic there. Unlike here in Cebu where the traffic congestion just never ends.

At some point, we noticed that the trees lining the road were different from the usual coconut trees that we had been passing by. Before we knew it, we were deep in Bohol’s man-made Mahogany forest. It was beautiful there because the trees were so tall and leafy, the light in that stretch of road was beautifully dim and cool.

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The place was like a forest filled with magic and wonder. We couldn’t help but stop for a while and admire the view.

Eventually, we made it out of the Mahogany forest and reached Loboc. Ma insisted that we try the river cruise even though the line for it was atrociously long. Thankfully, I had an episode of The Newsroom in my phone to keep me sober.

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It’s not that clear in this picture but there’s actually a teeny-tiny waterfall wedged in between those rocks. An anti-climatic ending to our otherwise exciting river cruise, I must say.


After that, we went to Panglao. The little island reminded me a lot of my hometown, Lapu-lapu. I mean, it was an island that jutted a little ways away from the main island (like LLC), it’s known for its beaches (as is our island), and there’s literally a strip of beach resorts in some areas (ehem, Mactan). I was back home!

The resort that we booked was pretty cute. The sand was incredibly soft on our feet. It was nothing at all like the rough and rocky sands that I’m used to. And the sea was so deliciously clear and silky. Even though the hours of travelling nearly depleted all my energy, I couldn’t help but check out the beach with my sisters.

It was low tide when we got there so there was hardly any sea left. It was fine though because we were okay with just dipping our feet. There were a lot of sea slugs on the sand, to be honest. I think I even stepped on one. Sorry, tiny, translucent friend.

3rd Day

In spite of Ma’s reluctance, my family and I decided to go island hopping. We missed the dolphin watch though so we only got to see like two other islands in our little hop.

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We went turtle watching in the first island and I nearly threw up from seasickness. Turns out that I’m a-ok on a wave-beaten boat as long as I wear my glasses but I’m weak and powerless when I don’t wear them. Seriously, astigmatism is a bitch if you want to swim with the turtles. Unless you can wear your glasses under your goggles, I guess. God, I felt awful then. I didn’t even see a real turtle up close. A shame.

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We did see this cute little dog at the beach though. He reminded us of our puppies back home.


The second island that we went to wasn’t really even an island because the tide was super high. We anchored in this somewhat shallow place and explored a little before leaving. There really wasn’t that much to see.

4th Day

Though the weekend was fun and all, I was really glad that we finally got to go home. Coincidentally, I saw a friend of mine at the pier. She had her camp thing in Bohol, I knew, but I never dreamed that I’d see her there. I thought she left the island days before I did. It was a delightful surprise.


Impetus, alright

You know, sometimes I genuinely forget how long it’s been since I started writing. Unlike other writers though, I didn’t start writing the moment I understood how the alphabet worked or how to properly hold a pencil. I literally had an epiphany, one that happened at a hospital room (my little brother had stomach pains) and urged on by an old lady’s wise words (my grandma). Really, it was quite a dramatic moment now that I look back on it.

I can still remember the exact day – well, not exact day because I don’t recall the month or date that it happened – er, moment that it happened, that I realized that I wanted and needed to write. It was seven years ago, I was in my third year of high school and I was miserable. Not the kind of miserable that had a specific reason – I was a fairly average student from a middle-class family, I was immensely lucky compared to other kids my age – but the kind that just didn’t know why the misery and the profound sense of loneliness kept haunting me. At the time, it didn’t occur to me that I had simply stored too much of my thoughts in my tiny, little head and just assumed that I was doing something wrong. Or not doing something at all, which was the case.

My little brother had had recurring stomach pains for weeks so my parents decided to get him checked in at the hospital. My relatives visited us at the hospital, including my grandmother, the one that really liked giving her opinions. I don’t remember her exact words or what had brought on those words in the first place, but at some point she talked (at great length) about people who did nothing with their lives, people who just went with things and never contributed anything to society. It was basically a sermon, grandma style.

Fourteen-year-old me felt like my grandmother was talking about me and I had never felt so ashamed. So I perused some old magazines in the hospital room and felt envious at the people featured in the magazines (some hoity-toity doctors who did a thing) and, surprisingly, at the people who wrote the articles. Like in most stressful situations, I found myself fantasizing about being a person worthy of writing about in a magazine (maybe I’d also be a doctor one day who’d do an equally interesting thing). Then, when that fantasy got boring, I fantasized about writing articles for a magazine and was struck by how much I liked the idea. It seemed like such a great job, going to interesting places, meeting different people, then, after the day is done, parking myself at my writing desk and punching out some article for printing.

When we got home, I quickly planted myself in front of the computer and searched how to be a writer (or at least how to write). I was on fire that night. I was so incredibly motivated that I knew, just knew, that I had been meant to be a writer. Verbally communicating to people had always been (and still is) my biggest weakness, but I had always had a knack for words. My thoughts constantly drown me no matter what I did, I just never really thought about writing them down.

When I started writing then, I never stopped. I couldn’t. It was like realizing that I had been breathing wrong my entire life and had just found out how much I needed oxygen to live.

I’m not sure if I’ll ever be someone worth writing an article about in a magazine or newspaper or anything, but that’s fine. I’ll be the one doing the writing then.

Obligatory ‘Hello World’ Post™

Here I go again, creating a “new” blog that’ll supposedly be “different” or whatever from my other blogs. To record, right now I have about 1 Tumbleog (it counts as a blogging platform!), 1 secret Livejournal (secret because it’s basically my diary… and because of the fact that I know and still use LJ), 2 separate WordPress blogs (one’s completely private, the other’s a book blog thing that I had to make for a class), and a handful of long-forgotten Blogspot blogs that contained more or less two posts each. So why am I starting this blog then, in WordPress no less, a blogging platform that I still have no idea how to use? Not completely sure, actually. I have some suspicions though.

It’s embarrassing to admit but useless to deny but lately I have been rather envious of my friends’ blogs. I’m even more envious of their confidence of their blog. They share links to their blogs on their Facebook! Something that I would never even dream of doing.

Despite being an actual writer for our school publication, I’m still genuinely embarrassed to have people read the things that I write, especially online where it’s easier to write stupid things. It makes me uncomfortable, knowing that people that I know in real life have possibly read my stupid little thoughts (complete strangers, on the hand, are safer[??]). It shouldn’t be something to be ashamed of, I know, but I still kind of am. Our society may be starting to take blogging seriously now (instead of raising a brow in bewilderment and mild disdain like some people used to do in the old days) but I’m still extremely hesitant and borderline paranoid of sharing my blog to people that I know personally. It’d like giving people permission to peruse my mind and I’m just not good with that. I guess it’s a hard habit to break, guarding my blog/s obsessively, even in the eve of The Blogger age. I’ve been blogging secretly for so long that I just can’t imagine not doing it anymore.

‘But the chances of anyone reading my blog are still slim to none anyway so what’s the deal?’ I tell myself, but then realize that there’s still a chance, however slim, that someone I know could read it, maybe even react to it, and the possible consequences of that terrify me more than I can articulate.

But seriously
My longest running blog right now is my Tumblr and although I have no plans of deactivating it or abandoning the website any time soon (I’m honestly in too deep in Tumblr now that leaving is no longer even plausible), I still like to experiment with new blogging platforms. WordPress, it would appear, is a bit more serious than Tumblr. And is more of a legitimate blogging website. I can still remember my friend, who, coincidentally, is a WordPress blogger, saying that she “can’t believe some people use Tumblr like a blog.” I casually told her that I used to post my blog on Tumblr too and no I don’t have a Tumblr anymore, I don’t even remember my username, what is a Tumblr?

In any case, I’ve always wanted to have a go at running an actual, serious blog. Though come to think of it, I suck at serious writing so… yeah, good luck on that, me.

Oiling the machine
Though I suppose my main reason for creating this WordPress is to improve my writing and blogging skills. I may write a handful of articles every semester but I’m still light-years away from being even the slightest proud of my writing abilities. Some days I’m even terrified of suddenly losing whatever bland writing prowess I had in the first place. Once I get started on that nightmarish thought, I’d spend hours, sometimes even days, thinking of worst case scenarios and just generally torturing myself with reassessing everything that I’ve ever wrote and comparing myself to everyone and their grandmother. It gets tough, this anxiety-driven life I live.

I’m thinking maybe a fresh, clean, new blog will help me be less… not good with words. Or something. Damn, I’m so stupidly rusty.

But that’s all drivel and bull, I guess. Whatever my reasons/suspicions,  this blog is here, I’m here, my first post is here. Hello, World!