Pardon the title. It all started when I realised I haven't been using english for a while now and my vocab was getting rusty so I decided to read a word a day. You know, open the dictionary and find a word I don't already know and learn it. Well, the word of the day was "infinitesimal" which means extremely small, tiny. I didn't get it at first because "infinite" means unlimited, limitless, impossible to measure and so how come "infinitesimal" means tiny? I looked it up and found that it was originally used to describe an object so small that there is no feasible way of measuring the object although it does exist and not "zero". Huh.
Anyway, I was digressing.
I haven't been writing for so so long now because I forgot the email and password that I used for this blogger account. And if you read the post just below this you can see that this is not the first time it has happened. Hence the title.
I also realised that I haven't been doing the project therapy that I wrote about in my last post. Or more accurately, I have been doing it but I just kept it in my laptop instead of posting it. I am extremely busy (ask any Industrial Eng. student and they would confirm this) such that I have no time to post stuff. Plus, truth be told, I kinda forgot about the whole thing.
But, like I said, I have written some articles that were supposedly to go under Project Therapy. And I re-read them and I remembered why I didn't post them in the first place.
They were too personal.
I mean, I started writing them as a way to vent out my emotions. whether its longing or sadness or anger. Still I know I should keep it in check because I know my blog is open to the scrutiny of the whole world wide web. But the articles that was meant to be Project Therapy are just too personal. I guess I got carried away. They always start the same, just reminiscence of a person whom the article is about (or a place or an object) and it is funny and generally harmless. Then I enter this state of soul-searching where I literally poured out whatever unsaid emotions and things related to this person/place/object into the article. It horrified me of how personal and emotional the articles were becoming and I was afraid to put em on the blog. Afraid of how vulnerable and open I would be to the eyes who read them, and mostly afraid that the person whom I was writing about actually read the articles...Or somebody related to the place/object actually read them. So there they sat, in a folder among my other documents.
But now I feel like I am deliberately not finishing what I had started. So I need a solution. What, I am not entirely sure. For the time being, I will continue writing and maybe adding some more articles about people / places / things I feel strongly about. But I will not post them, yet. Maybe the articles need a really really strict editing, so that what comes out on the blog is not as dangerous (?) as what I have personally on my pc. Maybe. I don't really know. Or maybe I'll just never post them here. sigh.
So here's the million-dollar question: would you want to read about what another person thinks and feels about you? including whatever else he/she has been keeping from you?
or maybe... maybe I can still post them but keep the name of the person/place/object anonymous? but then what if I myself forget what the article is about? sigh.
til then,
Yours truly.
