About Last, Last Night

I was supposed to write this one last night. However, I was so exhausted from getting just two hours of sleep that night that when I got home from work, I just snoozed off on the couch after eating dinner, while watching TV. Yikes.

I don’t know, waking up early has never been my strong suit. I try, you know. I still do.

Anyway, what I was planning on writing last night was about my first blog post here. If you’ve read that post already, you would recall that I said that “this blog has been around for quite some time and it has witnessed several revisions. The former URL of this blog was” If you haven’t yet, you can read it here.

My first blog post here was actually lifted from my long-time, former blog at tumblr, but it was written on the same day. I’m not sure why I didn’t write a new one for my WordPress blog but it’s probably because I was impressed with what I have written after a long hiatus from writing. I was scouring my old blog for old posts, trying to determine which ones get to go or to stay, and I find it surprising that I just couldn’t find bring myself to delete some of the things I’ve written months, or even several years ago.

I couldn’t bring myself to delete them because I have this part of me that I call “The hoarder of memories.” If my memory bank were to be constructed as a house then it would be full of clutter by now, neck-high that if there ever was a decomposing body in it, it would take several weeks to discover it because you have to wait for it to develop a stench for the neighbors to smell. Okay, so my analogy is a bit morbid, I apologize. That’s what you get when you watch too much TV. It’s just that whenever I hear hoarders, the first thing that comes to mind would be the lady I saw on TV who didn’t know she had a dead body decomposing in her kitchen because her house is full of stuff she hoards, piled so high you can’t even see the floor.

So, I’ve accumulated a decent amount of writing in the form of blog posts through the years. “Big deal,” you might say to yourself, synchronized with your signature eye roll. What you probably don’t understand is that they were just too many posts, therefore, too much history and I couldn’t go through them all without wasting a significant amount of time. For when the writing muse comes, I have no right to waste time, I have to start writing immediately because I won’t know for how long she will be staying or when she will come back.

This is the reason why I didn’t take up a course that involves writing. When I was a senior in high school, my mother suggested that I become a journalist. But I knew myself better. I won’t survive as a journalist because my eureka in writing is somewhat elusive. I can’t write on a deadline. It has to come to me, otherwise, it would only feel forced. That is why I fully agree on the saying that “The writer doesn’t choose the book; the book chooses the writer.” Or in my case, essays.

Since I cannot bring myself to delete some of my old posts in tumblr, I’ve decided to set up shop here at WordPress. In a way, it’s also suggestive of a transition from a wide-eyed, naive, early-twenties college graduate into a late-twenties professional who has sort of learned a thing or two about the world and is presently carving out her own niche in the world.

I think WordPress best represents who I am now: sleek, straight to the point, devoid of flamboyance, and pragmatic. As compared to those tumblr days that were so full of unnecessary appendages, teenage angst, and emotions. Now, everything is quiet and calm like when the beach is approaching low tide and it loses its loud, tall, and crashing waves, substituted by muted yet confident small waves that still characterizes it as a beach.

I might visit my old blog from time to time, to check on the amazing artwork that shows up at my newsfeed, probably. But all of my writing I will do here. It’s like a clean slate. And I hope my muse is now here to stay.

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