Starting over again

Heya. 😁

Let me do the obligatory introductions first before I waste your time any further. For now, just call me "The Anonymous Loser". I choose to be anonymous for the simple reason that I'm a loser, haha. But this is temporary (I'm referring to the anonymous thingie; not sure about the loser part).

On a serious note, I just came off a miserable blogging/writing career. I have just closed two of my blogs out of disappointment. In my final blogposts for both blogs, I wrote that I'm done with writing because I felt like it has nothing more for me, that I couldn't write (nor even read) anymore, and that my passion for writing has not been reciprocated by writing itself.

But here I am, writing again just a few months after saying bye-bye to writing and shutting down those two blogs for good (hey, they have a cult following, especially the other one which is written in another language). While I have no intention of resurrecting those two blogs, I am still in doubt whether I should pursue writing, despite the difficult circumstances I am currently in.

Image: The 52 Club

Ever since I shut down those blogs and said bye-bye to writing, I felt a heavy load was taken off my back. I've been sleeping a lot, and I'm rarely tardy nor absent at work. But during those lazy times that I'm lying down from our messed up bed while waiting for house lizards to flick out their tongues, something didn't feel right. I felt unburdened, but incomplete.

The itch to scratch simply couldn't go away. Is this my curse? Or is it ambition, trying to mercilessly claw its way out of my guts? In fact, just last month, I joined an essay writing contest for an international agricultural research and training organization. And I lost out to agricultural scientists, hahaha! At least, the group's website still published my essay. My wife thought it was awesome. I think that's OK enough for me.

Looking back to that pathetic I'm-truly-done-with-blogging/writing drama of my own making, I realized that it's not just my personal troubles that did me in. It's something else: my fear of mediocrity. I am afraid of something that I am. I'm just being honest. I am a mediocre writer. I get praises here and there, but those praises are from people who don't know sh*t about writing. I do get some occasional pat-in-the-back from scribblers who are better than me, but I guess they're just being polite, or it suits them to make themselves feel better or superior over me. I really don't mind what they feel or think. What I should mind from now on is how I feel or think about my poor, mediocre self.

So here I go again. Writing. But in anonymity. At least for now.

Enjoy my blog... at least, try to do so.