Wednesday, January 1, 2014


I feel similar to a perplexed, chronic alcoholic who has been asked "Why do you drink?" when somebody asks me "Why do you write?"
Well, it is an urgency as natural as that of a Nature's Call. You've got to answer it before it begins to leak in all the wrong ways!
I was born with the fetish of pen and paper. My first personal diary at the age of five was a petite, but crispy thick book that I slid conveniently behind a curtain on a window sill. There was a yellow cab colored ball point pen with the words PIANO imprinted on its body that I used to write with. There was a lot of ranting in that little diary - no wonder I ripped it to shreds.
Blogging is an obsessive interest now. Hopefully, when I am a senior citizen, it will walk me to fame and fortune.
Writing is my God-sent savior and I realized that when it proved to be the only thing that pulled me out of an excruciatingly painful depression. It was one of those moments like when Harry Potter pulled Gryffindor's Sword out of the Sorting Hat - just in time for the phoenix to blind the basilisk and me to make my strike!

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