The Slings and Arrows of My Outrageous Life

For the first anniversary of my blog, please let me rant on some things you should know about the occasional scribbler that I am.

Once again I’ve got to point out that I’m simply a woman of average intelligence who nevertheless considers herself bohemian in a lot of ways.

A self-proclaimed reader, a minimalist in progress, a denizen of romantic exile, and a lady with never-ending thirst for compelling insight, that’s yours truly. Cynical at times, I’m beginning to feel regular apathy towards mundane matters. Or is it the advancing time turning against me now?

I’m at the right age to realize that money and stuff don’t make me happy after all. With a presently irrevocable commitment to downsizing and resolution to lead a simpler life, yup, I no longer am an ideal candidate for consumerism. I’ve been a mall zombie for the longest time. But nowadays I’m actually this close to renouncing materialism in its strictest sense. In my next life, I figured I’d definitely be a monk in some Zen Buddhist monastery.

What then are my passions in life these days? They are reading, traveling, splendid nature and English. Not necessarily in that order. And of course, let’s not forget writing, which currently makes enormous demands on my time and spirit.

 Don’t get me wrong though. I’ve been a woman of few words all my life. But I love surrounding myself with words. The printed ones to be exact. I’ve spent the last two years of my life being enamored with beautiful prose in various assortments that have abounded in wordpress posted by the most talented bloggers. To be able to perform alchemy with the right combination of words like them, that’s my goal for now. Hence, this blog.

Although ideas and topics of general interest may not turn up in anticipated profusion, allow me extra verbosity on the subjects of passion, emotions and men, occasionally punctuating them with high voltage metaphors. Why? Silly me, I’m the type of gal who could only live in the absolutes of undying love or complete closure. Never comfortable in emotional subtleties and ambiguity, it sometimes can lead me to the edge of ruin. Indeed the slender thread between sensibility and passion has bestowed upon me some unspeakable sorrows I won’t dare to admit how many times. That goes for ephemeral friendships as well which have done nothing other than short circuit my bubble.

It’s a fact that most of our adult turmoils are based on the syllabus of our youth, right? How else can it explain my own crippling, unfulfilled romantic dreams? Don’t we all girls, I mean women, suffer for love under the romantic veil of intoxication? Coz it certainly behooves me why I’m such a magnet to men who are, for the most part, unattainable, unsuitable, or worse, unworthy of my love in one way or another. I ain’t trying to set myself up as some great Oracle of Relationship Wisdom. Quite the contrary, I’ve been knocked down many times in the game of love enough to dash my hopes and crush my little spirits. I hate to generalize but in my experience this has proven so often the case that I’ve started taking it for an axiom. Shake a little sense into me, will you?

I believe my love is a very precious and special gift. It isn’t given freely to just anyone. And when it is given it deserves to be taken seriously.

Let me digress. Wanna know another interesting factoid about myself?       

I’m by nature a solitary soul. My penchant for being alone has mystified many people in my life. Okay, so I do like myself. A lot. For one reason or another, this brand of self-love has kept me alive and created a magnificent survivor out of me.

Though I’ve got grandiose notions that English will continue to serve me well, my mind sometimes gets messed up with excess literary clutter of an indefatigable reader. Yes, I used the word ‘indefatigable’ believing it does suit my old soul who’d rather read than watch TV. Yet I’m afraid this blog will merely be a spewing ground for my vagrant and disjointed thoughts. But don’t let them deceive you. I tend to be more emotional than necessary. Feeling is itself an adventure for me, a journey that can take me through unexpected places, complete with twists and turns; even risky, tight passages where I must decide whether to take a mystical side path or carry on. Exciting huh?

 Let me get this straight. I’ve no ambition to win a Pulitzer Prize, although I’ll have no problem becoming a rarefied essayist or blogger of the first order. And if I can’t achieve any literary recognition in the field of writing, I thereby assign this blog as my magnum opus-to-be, with an ethereal aim for iridescent self-expression. 

Or, it just may simply serve as a catharsis for my mental well-being. I can settle for that.

Well, what do you know?! I’m still flying high after all – as my very sanity hangs in the balance. I’m glad to have encaptured your attention for the time being.

Happy 1^st Anniversary, dear blog of mine!