I bought one of Moleskine’s amazing diaries in an attempt to go back to old school writing. The actual pen against paper writing. I remember one of my professor’s mentioning that the mind retains information better when information is written rather than typed. For some reason, I chose to believe that too.
But the problem is I haven’t written anything in the past couple of weeks, making my thrust to have a better chronicle of my life go somewhat halfway down the drain. I mean, sure there is blogging, but let’s admit it: there are certain parts of your day that you aren’t really open to abundantly sharing to a public.
By definition, a chronicle is a factual actual written account of important or historical events in the order of their occurrence. Not that my life is a historical event in itself, but you get what I mean. There are so many times in our lives when we just trackback and rebuild our history, catch up our files to make up for the times when we failed to update them. Is that still essentially chronicling? Because technically speaking it’s no longer in the order of their occurrence.
Maybe I am just desperately justifying that I still have a penchant for the old. My life goal still includes acquiring a typewriter and using it for my mail (yes, I still visit the post office, even if they have failed me so many many times). Or maybe, like most of us, I too have abandoned the bittersweet manner of writing and successfully adapted new technology, in spite of my firm belief that nothing beats the lovemaking of pens and papers.
Am I a walking contradiction or what? How about you? Is the old still more romantic, more applicable to you? Can a person truly embrace the old and the new, and use them in perfect symphony?
Because I sure am not using them that way, even though I wish to.
I’ve been posting a lot more regularly now and I have the Wordpres app to thank for that! This nifty creature managed to make me more productive in the blogsphere.
I just wanted to thank everyone who has been so supportive of my posts. I know most of it are polarities of sorts — extremely happy and then extremely sad — but I’m quite ecstatic to have reached a good number of followers here!
I better start writing something of better substance soon.
Anyway, there’s a good link to my Instagram account in the right sidebar. Since I’m yet to upgrade my computer, my photoblog hasn’t been as updated as my Instagram. I think my photos there are just as good too! Hahahahahahahhahahaha. Talk about self-praise.
Anyway, I hope to keep you entertained longer. Again, thank you for all the support. Happy Wednesday!
It has been quite a roller coaster, the entire year so far. I have no idea at all where the next 24 hours will take me, and I guess it is that kind of mild (if not wild) ignorance that seem to have vacated my senses when it comes to writing.
I have been, however, quite diligent in Pinterest. I’ve loaded so much on my pin boards, and well… to exhibit a few:
Very seldom do you see a beautiful piece of poetry on a normal day. I am happy to be reminded of one of the first things I sincerely fell in love with.
I haven’t been posting as much as I should have been, and please excuse me. It’s been a rough couple of weeks at work and I’m just taking my time to write my thoughts. I wouldn’t really want to bore you with my rants. :)
Will be back soon! <3
Something is off. I can feel it in my bones. Last Saturday, I went with Adah, Alfie and Amanda (and Euske the bungi!) to the Fully Booked short story writing seminar at The Fort. The speaker was Tara FT Sering, a Palanca winner, and she was teaching us how to develop a character and complex plots in hopes of adding depth to the story. I believe it’s been a while since I last attended something that fed my artistic fancy. I was surrounded by great teachers from various language schools, aspiring writers, contributors, and even an idol (Thank you God for that day). For that afternoon, I was moved. For a good solid two hours, I was driven to write.
So after dining with my friends, I came home and indulged by surfing the Internet, much love to the free wifi connection. Then I went to my journal, realizing that it’s been a week (yet again) since I last wrote something
and two weeks since I last wrote something of substance. Just when I thought I was moved, I was stuck. A solid hour. I was just staring at this blank page, not knowing what to write. And it’s not like me to not have an opinion about something. And again, I was depressed.
There’s something about this training that’s flushing out all of my artistic fuel. I think it’s the fact that I am trying so hard to catch up with everyone else (and everything else) that’s driven me out of the artsy fartsy canvas. And I miss it. I miss the abstract display of emotion, and the verbose stylings of poets and young writers, and the romanticism of death, and the tragedy and comedie (as spelled by good ol’ Will) of love. I miss them all. I should really do something. This is the kind of skill that’s not covered in our training modules.
I do remember one thing in the seminar that proved to be most useful for me: just write. What if I get writer’s block? Just write. Even just about random things? Yes. Even if it’s just a collection of fragments and phrases? Um.. duh. Even if thoughts are not cohesive? Just fucking write.
And so I did.
Ending thought: Dylan and I should visit a museum soon.