I don't know why each of my posts takes so long to write itself. I look at people around me, my friends, colleagues and acquaintances, and they churn out posts at an envious pace. They may not be prolific, but they're at least regular. And I write. I consider myself to be a writer. I don't mean that in the sense of "I write/have written for newspapers, magazines and the like, and someday in the future I will make a career out of being a writer." I mean that in the sense of I have always preferred writing to speaking. Every time I want to express myself, my first instinct is to pick up a pen.

And yet, I don't write often. I observe frequently, want to communicate frequently, but rarely am I compelled to share whatever I'm thinking. I don't feel the need, or rather the inclination, to share my thoughts with whoever is out there. I don't know why, since I know that the people who will read this are my friends and loved ones.

Even now, as I type this post out, I'm tempted to shut the window down and abandon the draft. In fact, I did a couple of days ago. As I type this 'word,' I don't know if this post will end up getting published. Is any of this of any value?

But even as I ponder this existential question, I think of things I have wanted to blog about: my teenage cousin, turning 25, the worthless quality of my job, living in Montreal, and so many other little moments. So many sad moments and so many happy moments.

I don't know how to end this. I should write out something profound, shouldn't I? Or can I? This post isn't complete, and yet I know there's nothing more to it. I'm done for a while. At the rate I've been going, I'm done for the next six months. But maybe I'll feel compelled again. Let's see.

Good Riddance

2010 was a shitty year. There's no denying it. No matter how positively I try to look back at it, no matter how much I try to fake the stereotypical bittersweetness, I cannot hide it: it was one hell of a shitty year.

It started off on an interesting enough note, promising to be a year full of surprises. Oh, little did I know.

I went through the mother of all personal lows. Went through heartbreak and sunk into a hole that I didn't know how to crawl out of. I'd never been in one before, see.

I'm not out quite yet, but I will be.

It was a year of personal frustrations, of wanting to stretch my wings and not being able to, of not having the resources to, of not having the choice to. Of being forced by my own conscience to rein myself in.

It was a shitty professional year as well, filled with exasperation, and self-doubt, and realizations of inadequacies.

I'm not out quite yet, but I will be.

I'm so glad the year is over. I'm so glad there's an entirely new year ahead of me to do it right this time, to remember what's important and what's not, to remember who I am and who I'm not. Of what I want to devote my time to and what I want to brush aside without a second thought.

Hello, world. I'm here now, I'm back. Thank you for giving me this chance. :)