After years of silence, I felt like writing a blog post on one of the busiest days of my life. It is a strange fact that the thought of restarting my blog never strikes me when I have nothing to do. It always occurs when I am overloaded with work and I let it go thinking that I will write when I have some spare time. But that actually never happens. So today, when I have piles of write-ups to complete, I have to cook, I have a doctor’s appointment, and what not, I still decided to write
It is not that I have something very important that I wanted to note, but after writing hundreds of pages for others, writing for myself gives me a wonderful feeling. Even the yummiest of chocolate cake cannot suffice this feeling. Especially when I open my blog and read my past writings, I just love every bit of it.
Back then, the posts were childish, the English was bad, the grammar was compromised, but I still loved it. Because that was something written straight from the heart without worrying about anything else. Today, when I write, I read it 10 times to ensure that all commas are placed correctly, the language is right, the flow is good. I might be able to create a good write-up but not that innocent a story as I used to. In the aim of writing a good piece of write-up, I end up compromising on what to write.
It is not that attention to details is something bad. It is just that every human loves to have that innocent face that looks wonderful even without a bit of make-up.
