To write or not to write

So I have been having this thought that I should relive/revamp/re-everything for my blog. I have always been blogging but of course, we have always been keeping ourselves up with the trendiest things so we can use the term ‘passe’. Although we don’t really understand that. Does being ‘passe’ means that we can or cannot do it anymore? And when we do, do it, will it be called ‘retro’/’vintage’? I don’t know.

 

Having said that, let’s throw out all the relive/revamp-ing of the blog and call it what it is, ‘retro’-ing the blog.

 

Social media has really made us think lesser and lesser in characters. I started to keep a journal to keep track of meetings and doings rather than posting it on Twitter and I realised that I have been writing each paragraph to not exceed 140 characters. And it’s weird because when you are in your character, or when I am in character, I have too many things to say, so many words to use and never Twitter, Instagram nor Facebook have enough space to showcase my thoughts and opinions. The blogs have always been that for me. I don’t even talk that much in the presence of other people’s company (1. My friends are all rolling their eyes now. 2. NO, I ALSO DON’T TALK A LOT IN THE PRESENCE OF MYSELF COMPANY. 3. My English is really bad now and I call myself a writer???)

 

I do miss writing. Working too much made me overthink about emotions (should I show my emotions and what would it make me look to other people) and words (am I sharing my own personal thoughts and let people ReTweet it or should I just share information that is valuable and worthy of being disseminated?)

 

I had coffee earlier this morning with a lady who actually told me I haven’t been updating my blog and it felt weird because I met her because I was supposed to know enough of social media and the digital world. It scared me, the thought that I have been researched and that my last post was last June about words that I wanted to get out of my head but only managed to be written in 23 lines of an average of 5 words per line.

 

I spent the past 2 weeks re-watching Sex And The City, all six seasons of it. It felt weird watching it at the age of 32. Suddenly, somehow everything seems real and relate-able although I do not live in New York, nor have I ever had a Mr. Big and an obsession with shoes or had a column in any newspaper. But the thought of finding love, the thought of being single in your 30s and losing faith that you would ever find love, and the thought that I did not spend enough love for my girlfriends – that felt too close at heart.

 

When I was 12, my family had to move to Kuching, Sarawak from Ipoh, Perak. When I moved to Ipoh, Perak at the age of 10, I was a very quiet girl at school. My only friend, possibly, was my brother Muid back then. We would hangout with his friends, or we would just hangout with each other. Throughout the end of my stay in Ipoh, I started making friends and having to leave them made me turn into a writer when I moved to Kuching. I would have lots of short stories about fantasies having friends and living on my own when I grow up to be an adult. I would read love/romance novels and start to interpret the stories to be my own short novels. I never keep any of those stories. We were constantly moving every 2-3 years. But I remembered writing them and remembered wanting to grow up faster so I can relive those stories.

 

Today, none of those stories did ever happen but I have collected so much other stories that I am still telling while I am alive.

 

And it is great! Because you know what, this is what this year is for. To be living the life I love and being able to tell my stories.

 

Let the good times roll!

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