Mutilated and Misunderstood.
As dictated by Faranza Syns
I didn't stop blogging because I didn't have time. I didn't stop blogging because there was no WiFi at campus (which I have now obtained, so that excuse is null and void). I did not stop blogging because I lost the feel for it.
Hell, I stopped blogging because my Public Speaking lecturer once asked the whole class, "Who here has a blog?"
A lot of us raised our hands.
She then proceeded to make a bored-slash-annoyed face (which most of us had quickly idealized into the expression of a wondrous eccentric since the first class) and clicked her tongue. "So you are all apart of the self-centred generation, eh? No wonder."
Mind, she studied in the UK and she had insulted the Dean during her interview to become a lecturer but still got the job (to her chagrin since she didn't want it in the end). So, it stands to reason that we all practically revered the very air she breathed.
"I mean, look at you. Bloggers. What more do you do but write about yourselves?"
Granted, she said this months ago, and I'm a little dicey as to the words she really used, but all in all, this was the gist of it.
It felt like lightning struck me.
Hell, no, I thought. She's friggin right. I am self-centred. Heck, all that moaning, and whining, and secret posts with the font set the same colour as the background - that was all drama. All pathetic, all desperate, all attention-hungry drama.
I was so moved by my involuntary epiphany that I sat back for a while and tuned out my lecturer's lecture.
And then, I stopped blogging. Every time I open the main page, log in and reach the dashboard, I find some lame-brained excuse to not write that day. The most common and most effective excuse being that I haven't written in a while, and heck, I'll never be able to write as good as before, so why bother? The excuse gained strength the longer I stayed away from my blog. And here we go, another cycle, not so vicious yet harmful still.
It all went okay I suppose, until lately. I find myself crying more and more as I get ready to sleep. And my poor Hariz has had to bear the brunt of it, being the only one I regularly text - and him being a slow learner at how to not tick me off was a definite contributor to him being threatened by yours truly too.
Until today. Today, this morning was the worst. The suffocation that I felt was nearly driving me insane. Then, I realised... when I stopped blogging, I've lost my channel of catharsis. I couldn't purge my bad feelings as easily as I used to. I couldn't just laugh things off like I normally do. And this... this was bad.
So, here I am, writing again, and discarding my lecturer's words for a later time when I think I don't need my blog anymore. Other people kept diaries, but I have a blog. It's just the way I am, just the way I like it. And I see no reason to stop something I like, as long as it doesn't harm others.
Blog, I missed you so. Being apart from you has been hell.
Or maybe it's because I'm gaining the 10 pounds I'd lost.
But hey, that's a story for a later date.
Hell, I stopped blogging because my Public Speaking lecturer once asked the whole class, "Who here has a blog?"
A lot of us raised our hands.
She then proceeded to make a bored-slash-annoyed face (which most of us had quickly idealized into the expression of a wondrous eccentric since the first class) and clicked her tongue. "So you are all apart of the self-centred generation, eh? No wonder."
Mind, she studied in the UK and she had insulted the Dean during her interview to become a lecturer but still got the job (to her chagrin since she didn't want it in the end). So, it stands to reason that we all practically revered the very air she breathed.
"I mean, look at you. Bloggers. What more do you do but write about yourselves?"
Granted, she said this months ago, and I'm a little dicey as to the words she really used, but all in all, this was the gist of it.
It felt like lightning struck me.
Hell, no, I thought. She's friggin right. I am self-centred. Heck, all that moaning, and whining, and secret posts with the font set the same colour as the background - that was all drama. All pathetic, all desperate, all attention-hungry drama.
I was so moved by my involuntary epiphany that I sat back for a while and tuned out my lecturer's lecture.
And then, I stopped blogging. Every time I open the main page, log in and reach the dashboard, I find some lame-brained excuse to not write that day. The most common and most effective excuse being that I haven't written in a while, and heck, I'll never be able to write as good as before, so why bother? The excuse gained strength the longer I stayed away from my blog. And here we go, another cycle, not so vicious yet harmful still.
It all went okay I suppose, until lately. I find myself crying more and more as I get ready to sleep. And my poor Hariz has had to bear the brunt of it, being the only one I regularly text - and him being a slow learner at how to not tick me off was a definite contributor to him being threatened by yours truly too.
Until today. Today, this morning was the worst. The suffocation that I felt was nearly driving me insane. Then, I realised... when I stopped blogging, I've lost my channel of catharsis. I couldn't purge my bad feelings as easily as I used to. I couldn't just laugh things off like I normally do. And this... this was bad.
So, here I am, writing again, and discarding my lecturer's words for a later time when I think I don't need my blog anymore. Other people kept diaries, but I have a blog. It's just the way I am, just the way I like it. And I see no reason to stop something I like, as long as it doesn't harm others.
Blog, I missed you so. Being apart from you has been hell.
Or maybe it's because I'm gaining the 10 pounds I'd lost.
But hey, that's a story for a later date.
0 comments:
Post a Comment