"The Return of the Comeback"

i am blogging again.  thanks to friends who spoil me rotten with their 'rahrahs',  pushing me to write because they know i want to write in the first place.  extra thanks to those who have the patience (or forbearance?) to read even my most intense, melodramatic writings, my rantings about almost everything about the world, my "philosophical" take on life (mine usually).

i remember saying that, in some sense, this is voyeurism.  we give people a glimpse of what / who we are and find it fulfilling.  for some unknown reason, it gives a natural high to be able to expose one's self without looking too self-patronizing.  reading another's writing (specially those well-written pieces) is enriching, not to mention satisfying the "tsismosa" in most of us, which we would never admit even when on deathbed. 

i once kept a blog and for years, i was as prolific as much as i was a voracious reader at a younger age.  i wrote just about anything, unmindful of implications on my relationships, uncaring whether i was being read in the first place.  being public on just about every thing put a strain on ties i have had with people. back then, more than anything, others came first before me.  the whole world came tops before my own universe.
over time, i came to realize that the more i embrace me, the braver i get.  i no longer succumbed to pressure easily nor was i that vulnerable and gullible to flow with the tide.  i learned that i could survive even when i go against the current, especially when i live by the decision i made, a choice i made with an open heart.

little by little, i found the urge to write again but was uncertain of the commitment it entails.  not because i was already commitment-phobic (i do not think i would ever be) but more on the high expectations that i usually set for myself.  because i want to write, i would want to see daily entries as page after page add in a blog that gains a bit of a following.

i now write (again) because the want never wavered.  writing is my release of some sort.  blogging is my prelude to drafting a work-related research paper.  make me write first about something i have been raring to share then i could complete a technical paper in no time.

which leads me to ponder on why i am a returning blogger.  i miss writing about my life, how i am able to chronicle my growth, how i am able to process my appreciation of a lesson learned.  whether i would be read is no longer my ultimate concern.  i could keep a diary but i find myself experiencing more mental blackouts when i scribble.  (my brain works triple time that my hand cannot keep up.)  of course, i have friends who are regulars, who could find it in their hearts to read and comment, reinforcing me to write more.

maya angelou, a celebrated writer herself, was quoted to say, "(the) problem i have with haters is that they see my glory, but they don't know my story."  

i probably have my share of "haters", some of whom have affected me in the past, at one way or the other, simply because i allowed them to.  i am still no Ice Queen but i could not care less now if i do not get the Ms. Congeniality sash.  i have my story to tell, and that story is worth sharing.