When was the last time I wrote something in this blog? Ages ago. Why so? Because it feels somewhat disturbing to think that I’m writing an essay to an anonymous audience in the best case scenario, or not at all at the other end of the spectrum. But at the same time, the thought that I have an account with cyber cobwebs filling the space contradicts my intrinsic characteristic of an obsessive compulsive; especially when faced with a need for organisation.
I got an email few days ago. Blog related. By this long-forgotten friend back in the army days, a character with a name not worthy of memory and a face only recollected by an enforced portrait in my friendster account. It was a mass email informing everyone of his blog. I’m still struggling with this blog concept. Is it a personal log or a diary meant for the public? Where the idea of privacy crosses the boundary of having an anonymous listening ear? Or is this a message board for your friends and relatives whom you have neglected due to the hours better spent at playing Football Manager 2005?
I love writing, but I hate not having an audience.
My day today. Tiring like all Thursdays. Two one-and-a-half hour classes to teach and the thought that I need to repeat the same material, same punch-lines and crack the same self-imposing jokes feels somewhat daunting. But I can never get sick of the feeling of satisfaction after where the students’ faces lighten indicating that it was money well-spent on amenities fees. Or so that is what I’ll like to think.
Perhaps I will write to this blog more often. It is always nice to place sentiments in words. The process of emotional purging after an introspective day may do wonders to my sanity, in a time where I feel most fortunate of my life, yet lonesome at times.
Watch this space I guess.
