I guess the way I blog really needs to change. No more long and windy posts. Mostly because there’s not enough spare time to write them.
But still thoughts and feelings and stories aplenty. If only I can manage to find the words to describe them adequately…
This shift in style and approach begins now. Let’s hope for better things appearing here.
What thoughts go through your head when you embark on a journey?
What do you do while on the way to your destination?
And do you set out expecting that you’ll arrive where you want to get to? Does it cross your mind that there’s a possibility you may not get there?
Or that when you get there, you would be a different person from when you started out?
Looking back, the journeys I’ve taken have changed me in one way or another. Sometimes the effects are obvious. At other times, I only realise what has transpired when I reflect on the experience at a later date.
But always, the feeling that I’ve not fully arrived. A restlessness of sorts. And the lingering thought that there is yet a better place to arrive at someday.
It’s a beautifully quiet and peaceful night at home. The most enjoyable part of it all is being able to have the windows open.
Just a few days ago, we had had to keep everything shut tightly thanks to the haze. But what a difference a day (or two) makes.
Things can change so rapidly. Sometimes, this feels like a good thing, but at other times, I’m not so sure.
But in the case of these open windows, it’s truly lovely. There’s this breeze going on right now that makes me feel like everything in life will always turn out alright.
I feel calm and not worried about too much right now. A rare moment for someone like me with an overactive brain.
I realise I shouldn’t self-censor my blog posts too much as that makes whatever I do put up online ao mechanical and… polished. Eww.
So I guess I should once again rediscover the art of storytelling for everything I experience in life.
The news and features and other whatnots can stay snug at my work desk and wait for me till Monday comes.
But while I’m not at work, I need to figure out once more how to dream. And how to summon fantasies and tall tales from under my armpits or between my toes or wherever it is such creatures hide.
If only there were more frequent breathers in my daily routine. Perhaps I should deliberately inject some in where needed.
Boss asked me today if I needed a break. I sure do; it’s just that I’m not sure when’s the best time to go for it.
Sigh. Is it queer to say that I sometimes feel like I’ve misplaced my soul someplace?
Mum was just asking me to take time each say to write something I like. I guess she realises how little I write for fun these days.
I’ve realised it too.