I know...I know...I've been such a pathetic blogger. No matter how I try to elucidate it no explanation would suffice to excuse my prolonged absence from the blogosphere. If I point the finger at those blasted voices that always got the better of me, the blame would still be on me, right? Right.
Being a messed up perfectionist is never easy. Despite my desire to just let myself write freely as the thoughts come, those voices at the back of my head always won me over. Beleaguered with my burdening affinity with details, the first concern that rings loudly in my consciousness is that of making mistakes. As a writer and editor, foolproof and effective writing was, is, and will always be my foremost objective.
Compared to the actual writing I do, blogging is considerably informal and needless to say, much less complicated. I know that grammar and all the overwrought rules surrounding it are not the be-all and end-all of writing. Style, on the other hand, is something inherent that could only be harnessed through persistent practice. What matters is the expression and the willingmess to allow that voice to just take over and spill forth in all its glory. Wow. How dramatic.
But I was obtuse. I listened to those **** voices.
As 2009 draws to a close, once again I find myself at a new yet all too familiar crossroad. New Year's eve has always been a major turning-point in most people's lives: a time for evaluation of the past while eagerly anticipating the future. Lonely, dulled by the monotony of my droning existence, and unable to fulfill most of my plans for the past year, I am again confronted by this question: What am I going to do with my life?
To start off my rationalization. I shall contemplate on Bejamin Franklin's famous quote about the New Year: