Wednesday, October 19, 2016


I am not a writer, hardly even wrote before 10 years ago when I started this blogue. In my youth, I was busy making money for my family and doing what I could to further the lives of those with disabilities.

The more I sought to help the disadvantaged, the more an inner-self spoke up, creating a conscience that I never knew I had. I'm not complaining mind you, it all led to my writing and now I find a need or urge to express myself about the things that touch my life.

But there are days when there is nothing to write about, there is no emotion that pulls at my being, and so nothing to say. But this is good, like exercising your muscles, you do need a rest period, to recharge and reinvigorate the passions of life and writing.  More often than not, I will go back to what I wrote years ago and read it and wonder who wrote that? What was I feeling and wondering what motivated me to use certain words, and started to learn about myself and the chronicled opinions that I invested into? The more I read from the past the more I realized that writing is not just an everyday occurrence, it is something that is wishing to come forth like an overdue child.

And so some days I ask myself what I wish to write about, and some days I don't have that answer! So I don't write, instead, I close the laptop and get up and live a little bit more, no one wishes to hear or read from someone with nothing to say, even though some of the things I write about may be considered trivial by yours truly included.


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