Has blogging become a compulsive fashion?? I think so and I don't think so. There is a certain level of expectation when you begin writing and others are forced to read or happen to read what you write. The results may be disastrous and encouraging at the same time.
Some days you are so happening and prolific and the rest of the days, thoroughly consumed and rigid to even feel bad wasting precious energy and interest to post some tasteless mindless mumbo-jumbo calling it creativity with rampant misuse of poetic licence.
The art of diary writing has taken a huge turnover after Anne Frank's heart wrenching diary in the 2nd Great War and of course, let's not forget the light humored Bridget Jones' and Adrian Moles series.
If I was making diary entries, half my efforts and self-humor would have gone to the waste bin.Call it modesty or a show of modesty, we are a lot more honest when it comes to diary writing.You know where to hide it and whom to show and what you feel about it.I have half a dozen of ramblings with no sequence of time and whatever.Just jot when you feel like, it could be a poem, a 3-liner or a long story cut short or an incomplete tale at times.I also have the option of scribbling and tearing and seeing my triumphant destruction of the evidence of stupidity and craziness in the bin in bits and pieces, you feel so good when something you don't like goes to the bin in such a grand way.
Blogging has made me a lot conscious, I don't know if it is a good thing to happen or a natural one or the bug of a new tech introduction.However, I don't know how long this fever last will, I mean writing.
I am yet to act on the suggestions and blogging accessories and tips given by well-wishers.I will take my time to educate myself gradually.I am beginning to get jittery with the kind of writing prompt as in I have a terrible tendency to go poignant and it is a very natural outcome beyond my control.Not in the league to be a tearjerker influence I will try and get variety conscious.
Yes, I will. Half the time I end up speaking to myself and to some invisible audience whose response is taken for granted.Words flow like water, I won't say but yes, they don't desert me when I need them.People say I play games with words, wish I could!!
I have no clue how long this is going to sustain my exile from pen and paper, I had a ceasefire of sorts with them this year in the beginning and promised them to leave something for them everyday but I am yet to begin my affair with them.
So much has been said and written about writing, some do it for pleasure, some for money while you have some who do it for the pure fun of multi-tasking and welcome release from the whatever of life.I love writing for the heck of it.It is a a sort of talking with the self and breaking your head with the most difficult person around.You know your shortcomings even when your soul is dead and you know you are the clearest mirror to reflect than your conscience can. Writing only urges you to come to terms in a painless(it can be heavily painful too) way.Even people who are 'handicapped' of expression thanks to a thousand reasons not necessarily physical love to write and are thrilled to be rid of the anxiety of the inability of communication.The written word is no longer yours nor can you change perspectives and moments even when you erase content using a Nataraj eraser or hit the backspace key.Truth remains and is long past destruction.
Blogging can allow you to release knowing very well there are a number of unknown faces and eyes viewing your page and nodding their heads anonymously wishing this person should have gone to some planet or better still, they want to meet this young/not-so-young Nobel/Pulitzer/Booker potential.The distance and the widespread of our planet which is almost galaxy-gigantic saves us the blushes.In the process you earn new friends and exchange better vision albeit virtually and get Utopic.

Not bad.

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