The written word

Since of late, people have been frequently telling me about how interesting my blogs are and that I should be a journalist/ writer and the Lord knows what more. To be honest I don’t agree about the writing. I am also not modest enough not to confess that journalism would be too low a thing for me. (Evil – yes I am). At school, I only won a few of the many essay and creative writing competitions. This, I believe was mainly due to the illegible handwriting. If only teachers could pay more attention to subject matter than to silly mistakes that were the results of over-consideration towards the time factor. (eh… I dont actually mean all of that)

Apart from that, writing is a hobby that started off very young and never managed to lose touch with me. It is one the very few things that I sincerely fancy about life. I would describe it like fire or water - a bad master and a good slave! Not even the days at the pit with miserable nights of unfinished work kept me from my love for writing. The joy it gives me no picture would express in any number of words. (if I have blogged this before please excuse me – somehow it seems familiar). Writing about ‘writing’ is however pathetic.
I do hope I could work on it later on in my life when peace would be generous enough to spread its wings above me. Until then it is going to be just me going wild and wacky in absolutely any form that I want – cutting the c*** and getting right to the point whatever it takes. And who the h*** gives a damn about what people have to say? Hate me, but then I actually don’t live to be loved!