I will admit it, I can't write; the thoughts I want to tell simply won't come out the way I intend them to be.
Frustrating. When I read past blogs or recent blogs, I suddenly realize how various interpretations could come out of them. I want to say this and that, but it just comes out the opposite. Believe it.
Real writers and good writers have this knack for vocabulary, experience (real or imagined from reading a lot of lit ) and style.
Maybe if I became a lawyer, I would have written countless briefs - and they would have come out brilliant because they'd be based on facts and logic. But creative writing is something else; so is blog writing.
Blog writing is personal. Thousands write just to vent out, reach out, search and be searched. And creative writing is an arena of just a chosen few.
I am enjoying right now the natural breeze here in a Sucat condo complex; the pool is blue and clear, I just had a hearty breakfast of rice, bangus and chicken, I had a wonderful evening dancing out - but my heart craves just to read... so I bought a hard copy of Philstar. Then I logged on to a favorite blog. It makes my day.
Believe it. Simple things can fill to the max the veins of the life machine - the heart.
Like the other day, I checked the National Bookstore at a nearby mall, and discovered how run down and messy the books that were for sale. I was looking for this Bicycle Diaries - NBS Sucat SM didn't have it.
Where I am and where I've been - there are simply no wild creatures. Or if there had been some, I've banished them into extinction.
The only thing wild are the waves in the China Sea where Pepeng is probably headed.
I want to have dinner. Yes?
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