I am a woman of grand beginnings. I love the formation of new projects, new stories, new chapters in life but I am unable to see through them.
I love the smell of a fresh, crisp page of a brand new journal but unfortunately, after my inking my way through the first few pages, the journal no longer has the capacity to enchant me like it has before. That’s why my blog is in such a sad, stale state. I was too busy dreaming but didn’t get around to sit down and write them down. I thought tedious details are for the meticulous, not for me. I’m the idea smith, the creator, where with just a stroke of a hand, I could conjure up a multitude of colourful and shiny possibilities.

But alas, I was foolishly ignorant that big dreams are accomplished by working on small stuff. The most mundane and banal steps are necessary because it will eventually create the big picture in the future. No one could have completed a journey without taking the small steps towards their destination. The journey would then comprise of tiny daily triumphs and temporary obstacles.

And while I’m here, stuck on a floating hotel, with nothing much to do or to look forward to, I must perhaps remind myself that an exciting blog doesn’t consist of just inspiring long posts, but also the dull and boring short ones. Because if I keep waiting out for something big to happen, I might just miss out on writing anything at all.

It’s time.

Musty and I hanging out with other CSers in Box Hill

Who knows when am I going to update this blog again? For the fact that I keep making promises about wanting to keep this virtual portal active has rendered me a liar as you can see, other than an occasional life snippet, there is nothing else. No extensive commentaries about life, no discourses about my current lifestyle or urgent headlines about people and places. It will be interesting if this serves as a column for a certain media publication, and I, the correspondent. That would mean, racking my brains and digging the slush juice from within just to stay within the periphery of deadlines. But the truth is, balancing online existence and living the real life can be a tad bit difficult. More often than not, I just want to live my life and not really, to write about it. It’s like a photographer who’s tired of looking at his surroundings through a lens and decided to put his camera away for a while. Without a black and grey gadget in between him and his present moment, he can breathe the fresh red, ochre, yellow autumn air and smile under the glowering orange sun. He’s now a participant of nature instead of an observer, an outsider.

Also, I rather dream and fantasize, let the thoughts and ideas marinate in my head instead of putting them into words. When those little, nitty, grubby nuts and bolts of my thoughts are put into words, they lose its magic. For me, anyway.

But does mean I’ll stop this blog? No. I guess this is more of a disclaimer. I will write and spin tales whenever my heart takes fancy but if I don’t, it just means that life’s been more than a handful and I’m facing it, head on. And for you blog addicts (bloggers and blog readers alike), don’t let your blog define who you are.

Choose life, live it well.

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.