I wonder again… Why do I blog? Once in a while, that fellow will sneak out from the closet and say ‘hi’. I am not a writer. Oh I wish I am. Um. So… I am here pretending to be one. Or I am learning to be one. Or I am just trying to practise my grammar and utilise the vocabulary that I may have stored somewhere in my brain, my little grey cells (famous saying of Hercule Poirot, detective in Agatha Christie’s books in case you wonder). No practise, no learning. With practise, more learning. Um. Right.
Whatever it is, I know if I don’t record some of the significant events, I tend to forget them. If I do it, then I can reflect on the good and the bad times. Just like photographs. If I browse through the photos, I will remember the joys and the sorrows. So this exercise, which is also therapeutical, is purely for my future to reminisce the past, provided that I don’t delete them, which I have a very high tendency to do so.
Well, if you happen to bump into here, you are most welcome to read. And of course you can leave a comment or two, or as many as you want. Then I may blog more, so it would be to satisfy my ego self. Ah!
No, you would not want to know.
