After the Third Talk of the series on “Jesus In Blue Jeans,” I have now found another way to communicate with my God: through writing.
Writing does not necessarily mean composing a moving novel, or a romantic poem, or an exciting script. For me, when I write, it’s just me pouring out what’s in my heart. Sometimes, it takes the form of a blog, a poem, a simple anecdote, or just a journal entry.
Oftentimes, because it is me pouring out my heart, and because it is published online, I neglect the fact that other people read it (may be accidental, or they really follow my blog) and sometimes, I unknowingly offend or hurt others by it. Even if it doesn’t attack anyone, or bad mouth something in particular, it gets misinterpreted, and I am resolved to erase such post.. Deleted forever, and with me no longer having any recollection of what it was about. Me, no longer able to read back on what happened, and erase all evidence that something bad happened to me. Evidence that i felt bad about something, and the fresh emotion that came when I actually wrote the post, Gone.
Writing for me is therapy. When other girls succumb to the call of the mall, or of that pair of shoes calling out “buy me, reward yourself,” I turn to writing. I haven’t been that faithful on my journalling ever since I got into college, but I still do. I may have already written millions of words on thousands of pages, ever since I started writing a diary when I was in grade 4. Sometimes, it’s fun reading what I wrote back then.
I’m not a good writer. I have not authored a book, nor published any written compositions online. I find other people who have an even more extensive vocabulary than I do. I see myself as a Grammar Nazi, but not a Modern-day Webster. But I am blessed if readers of my blog are blessed.
I usually end up blabbing in my blogs.. And this is not the first time that I would actually think and write that I’m blabbing. Guess this is enough.. I have said my peace..