I had a two year liaison with my blog. An intense one.
I used to write daily. Frantically. Obsessively. Constantly. Rapidly. Instinctively. Passionately.
Then the blips and the blops of life slowed me down. I wrote less frequently. The inspiration dissipated. Had I not written about every single facet in my life? Had I not observed every single detail? Had I not confessed every single memory?
The blog remains a constant in my life. I will always feed the furnace with my ideas, my insight, my funny experiences, my quirky emotions. Life is to be lived. Fully.
The writing itch or the itch to live. They don't contradict each other. They flow together. Yet living more or less intensely will not affect my inspiration. On very busy periods of my life, in activity-full seasons, I can write daily, squeezing time, stealing from my sleep to write. On long breezy relaxing days, I can write frantically, as if under the pressure of time, yet really pressed by the musing. Then come the busy days when I do prefer to read instead of writing, or the emptier days when I prefer to watch a movie, interact with another person, instead of retreating behind the screen and keyboard.
My favourite posts are usually the humorous, anecdotal ones; I also prefer the ones that express the serenity of my days because I am "addicted to a certain kind of happiness". I try to distill its essence in my writing, to convey it through my descriptions, to colour the vibrancy of the moment.
Impulsive writing is my favourite. I shout my message over the rooftops,self promoting 'my song' on twitter and from word of mouth. However , my writing sometimes requires the slight push that will get me started.
I put my newspaper down, my children's text books, the novel, or the twitter account and I express myself....hello, readers!