Inspiration for writing comes knocking whenever I’m at my busiest. Whenever I’m not pondering, reflecting, analyzing or thinking, it comes, like a torrential downpour, threatening to rain down ideas that I’ll never get to jot down because I goddamn busy doing other things! Like when I’m on a meditation retreat, or when I’m up to my neck, doing data entry work. Like now.

But I know better and this time, I’ve decided to take heed of this muse. Because it never comes twice. Not especially when I’m faced with a blank screen, waiting for something profound to come up.

Anyway, I’m trying to start writing again. A year has passed and my blog is in a rather forlorn state, neglected by its indisciplined owner who claimed to be a writer, despite the fact that saying that she’s a writer, and doing the actual writing itself, are two separate things completely. One’s a concept and the other’s reality.

I’ve got many stories to write about but I need time to sieve through my memory bank. Much has happened from the time I left this blog (to rot!) till present. Some good, some bad, some so-so. When I’m caught up in some sort of obstacle, time somehow crawls by, but now I’m able to look back in retrospect and see the journey that I was on, unfolding itself onto a map of life. It was an interesting year and I’d dearly love to write about it but not now. This post’s merely a teaser (it’s my way of telling Muse to stop bugging me but hey, at least I’m acknowledging its presence).

It took one sultry night, when I was sitting with a bunch of girls that I barely knew (some better than the others), that made me want to make use of this virtual portal as an outlet of expression again. There’s so much to share, on this blank online journal of mine. From time to time, people wanted to know how I did it, like travel without having to worry about money (trust me-it’s not easy being poor but I’ve got people to thank for helping me out of the financial rut) and how I got myself such a cool gig, working on an Italian cruise ship but not having to resort to scrubbing pots or running around on stilettos, trying to please old, fat but wealthy passengers.

Sit tight; stories coming right up.