Hello, it’s me.

After dusting the cobwebs off this musty writing space, I bring back from my adventures outside, a bag full of emotional burdens. What’s new?

While I was away from my blog, I worked full-time as a copywriter for a particular brand, so I stopped writing, but I never really did, if this oxymoron makes sense. Obviously, one was more enjoyable than the other; no prizes for guessing which.

I was told — or rather, I read somewhere — that a good writer needs to keep writing even when inspiration fails him. This much is true, but I can’t help but wonder how writers keep at it when words are at a premium and topic ideas are scarce.

Work days are draggy and seem to suck every bit of creativity from my brain, which is strange, because our marketing content features little to no creativity; where on earth did it all go down the drain to? Cue end of day, and we’re finally let down from the 9-to-6 cross. As my attention shifts back to the aforementioned musty writing space, I am unable to think hard enough. In fact, the last thing I want to do is think. So I hoist myself into a sardine can on four wheels, drop my day’s burdens by the door of my home, and retreat into my space. Initiate the Monday-to-Friday sequence.

I was also told — fuck it, I read somewhere — that one runs the risk of losing interest in one’s passion when he gets paid for it. Something along those lines. You may think I am slanted towards that view, but I still disagree.

Allow me to explain:

I don’t agree that turning one’s passion into a job is what’s robbing a person of his zeal; rather, I think it is one’s belief that doing one’s passion is supposed to always be fun and enjoyable. If something is indeed your passion, it is likely that you’ll want to invest as much time as you can to hone your craft, and that requires dedicated practice, which in turn requires discipline. Ah, the D word that everyone (admittedly even myself, at times) hates.

Hard work is far from pretty, as the cobwebs on my blog can attest to. I have allowed myself to slip further and further away from what I love doing most over the past three months, simply because I gave in to fatigue more often than I should. But, as I write this against the grain, I sense a renewed sense of energy coursing through my veins. Nevertheless, I remain cautiously optimistic, but I count my victories, however small, and the fact that this is going up is something to cheer about after a dreadful dry spell.

As far as curated content goes, I’m not sure if this can even be compared to my more popular posts, like my photo essay of Japan, but this has been, essentially, a documentation of my thought process and the alteration of my emotions over the past hour I spent writing this; it is special in its own right.

Thank you for being a part of this journey, albeit only at the very end. I think I’ll publish this after all.