I started this blog in an attempt to do what anyone who writes will understand – empty my head of its baggage and develop my own thoughts for my own future usage. Because thoughts are such things that if you don’t staple them down to something, chances are, they will flee. Whether they leave a trace, or not, that’s for the future to find out. But still. it hurts to let them go. And here comes writing, ready to help. Plus, it scratches your vanity in an attempt to think that these thoughts may be similar to someone else’s and may bring an idea – albeit one that may be as quickly forgotten in the turmoil of life – to someone’s consciousness. Or, if you want to go further, as a tiny, simple, personal addition to the greater literal Conscious out there. This is more than enough for me.
I’m also a fighter for the rebirth of the Arts. Oh, I forgot to mention that I’m 26 years old, which makes me a strange protagonist. But here I am. If you need to know, I did receive a very classic education, and have once or twice, (at 12 years old, something like) read a newsstand bestseller. It’s not that I’m classy about it. It’s only about the language, believe me. In the same way, I can’t listen to those shouting talk shows because my ears get plugged from the language. And it’s not about obscene language. It’s about any word that comes out of their mouth. On the other hand, when I feel a person is not talking clichés, and has something to say, something that’s a product of a personal thought digestive process, I am all yours. Even if it contains un-classy traces of indigestion. Really. As long as it’s not a pretty lie patty. I know I’m not alone in this. But the thing is, no matter how hard we try, 7.4 billion and growing isn’t an optimistic number for finding like-minded individuals. But there’s no harm in trying, right? I’ll always be a believer.