Like Madonna, I have the awful habit of sleeping next to my phone. Even if I’m in the middle of nowhere. I hyperventilate when my phone has no FM signal. I get panic attacks when I realize I need to do things, you know, on my own. I try to keep it real. I still write snail mail letters up to this day using my own left-handedly writer chicken-scrawl handwriting when needed. I still prefer showing my face rather than Skypeing it. And as much as I love Facebook, I still send real gifts as opposed to the virtual gifts that are supposed to be just as good these days. I text my friend even if I will be meeting her an hour later or we’ve been together the entire day. I have an annoying habit of mindlessly screaming at people even if I don’t have my perma-earplugs for my music player. I used to be in an exclusive relationship with my PC until it crashed and left everything with it. It was the most scathing breakup of my life. I know I should give it a chance again, but I’ve since reverted to the more old-fashioned diaries—well, of course, that’s aside from this blog where I type now.
Since time immemorial, I have honed my love for writing. I remember I had my very first journal when I was ten. After more than seven years of writing for print as a contributor writer, I became a frustrated chef, photographer, and traveler. I write in blogs which today have become more popular than the traditional journal or diaries. What better way to share my adventures and misadventures to the world than to publish it on a blog site, right?
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