This spell of blogging has ended sooner than I expected. At any rate, there shall be no further posts on this blog. My gift to you- I won't delete it. I hope you read till your eyes burn out.
Why I started blogging in the first place is a simply answered question- I wanted to write. Why have I decided to leave it is reasonably more complex. There is more than one human variable involved and to list them all and describe their behaviour would take loads of time, and I love my life too much. Let's just say that all people involved in this blog (my readers, my non-reading critics and myself) have reached by mutual consensus on the decision that I shall cease boring them with Roman script alphabets and Hindu-Arabic numerals.
One thing I noticed among my erstwhile blogging colleagues is that they seldom write for a purpose. It is more of an impulse. Even now, I feel I shall regret the loss of the electricity flowing through my fingers onto the screen, the thrill that two decades worth of vocabulary has finally been put to a better use than examinations. Even the punctuation is impeccable. Who would have thought that this is the same boy who nearly screwed up his English High School paper (word of advice- never write sentences more than ten words long, or words more than six characters long in the paper)?
The sense of purpose is a powerful thing. As I noted in a former post, it is that you live for that you will be willing to die for. It may be that there are no higher goals, no spiritual enlightenment to be sought after, no self-actualization. The cynics may be right there, you know. But there is always something out there you want. Correction, you need. The day you break off the trodden path to seek something out, consider that very thing found. Live that moment as never before. Savour every glimpse of the wisp you see, worship the condensate if it be your destiny to attain it. For it is then that you realize that there is no destiny, that we all have will to overcome anything said to be written on stone. There may be a million different paths, but you chose that one. Never rue your choice. It is unwise to look upon a promising land after you pass it. It won't assuage your sufferings any.
Which is why I abandon this blog without much further ado. I cannot stall the choice I took. It would be so.......cowardly.
Autumn went past long ago, but it has only just arrived for me. The leaves fall, the tree stretches upright again. There is a strain off its back. Older, yes. Wiser, definitely. But not dead. Not yet.
Why I started blogging in the first place is a simply answered question- I wanted to write. Why have I decided to leave it is reasonably more complex. There is more than one human variable involved and to list them all and describe their behaviour would take loads of time, and I love my life too much. Let's just say that all people involved in this blog (my readers, my non-reading critics and myself) have reached by mutual consensus on the decision that I shall cease boring them with Roman script alphabets and Hindu-Arabic numerals.
One thing I noticed among my erstwhile blogging colleagues is that they seldom write for a purpose. It is more of an impulse. Even now, I feel I shall regret the loss of the electricity flowing through my fingers onto the screen, the thrill that two decades worth of vocabulary has finally been put to a better use than examinations. Even the punctuation is impeccable. Who would have thought that this is the same boy who nearly screwed up his English High School paper (word of advice- never write sentences more than ten words long, or words more than six characters long in the paper)?
The sense of purpose is a powerful thing. As I noted in a former post, it is that you live for that you will be willing to die for. It may be that there are no higher goals, no spiritual enlightenment to be sought after, no self-actualization. The cynics may be right there, you know. But there is always something out there you want. Correction, you need. The day you break off the trodden path to seek something out, consider that very thing found. Live that moment as never before. Savour every glimpse of the wisp you see, worship the condensate if it be your destiny to attain it. For it is then that you realize that there is no destiny, that we all have will to overcome anything said to be written on stone. There may be a million different paths, but you chose that one. Never rue your choice. It is unwise to look upon a promising land after you pass it. It won't assuage your sufferings any.
Which is why I abandon this blog without much further ado. I cannot stall the choice I took. It would be so.......cowardly.
Autumn went past long ago, but it has only just arrived for me. The leaves fall, the tree stretches upright again. There is a strain off its back. Older, yes. Wiser, definitely. But not dead. Not yet.
