Thursday, May 24, 2012


(I scribbled this on pen & paper before transcribing it here...)

It seems the older I grow, the more I sometimes crave routine.

The same beauty routine every night,
going to bed with warm milk and a book (okay, I drink water and read off my iPhone),
no hanging out,
late night greasy suppers.

Maybe this is also a sign of aging of the mind,
it closes itself off to new wonders or excitement,
it filters new ideas,
hear what it wants or likes to hear,
shuns the new.

As opposed to a young fresh mind that will absorb anything with a wide and open heart.

(It feels liberating, and vaguely reminscent of my school days (yes in my uni days we still used pen and paper) that I am now writing physically.
My brain has clicked onto a more pedagogical past and I am writing fluently, my brain churning out words at writing speed instead of typing speed. It feels just right. I also lack the urge to relook what I just wrote because I can't delete it cleanly and neatly so I just don't. 
Somewhere I think the reason why I stop writing and creating words is because there is toomuch to read. Too much more interesting and more intelligently, or at least earnestly written material out there I can't even begin to learn/absorb.
 How then can I add on to this information overload before I make sure what I say is perfectly crafted?
Why are you reading this instead of other better writing?
Back to Routine.

I have always been a right/left brain personality and as much as I love spontaneity and freedom,
I have begun to crave regularity/discipline and routine - a surefire route to success.

Practice = routine = makes perfect.

I have always picked up guitar,
strummed a few chords,
as casually as I sip my coffee (oh wait, I don't drink coffee),
and then put it back on its seat as my Muse flits off my shoulder.

This is a surefire way to sucking at guitar.

So excuse my abrupt ending as I better stop procrastinating to practice now!


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