"Heck no you narcissistic nimrod!" I hear my conscience punching me in the face.
Well, of course the main aim of this blog is to prove myself, right? Not to anyone else. I thought it interesting, so might as well give it a go. Yet, I'm investing quite a bit of time on this... so why not expand beyond the shallow repetitiveness of clothes, shoes and accessories?
...
That sounded as if I'm denouncing the very reason why this blog existed, but I'm not really.
What I'm trying to say is, in addition to the regular pictures of my daily excursions etc etc, perhaps I should try providing a regular commentary on books, life, current events (of which I'm shamefully terrible at) etc. Okay, "commentary" sounds elitist to a certain extent... Maybe, thoughts.
...
Maybe attaching a term to it doesn't work... But, here's an example. Slice of life I'm hoping to provide everyday~
Up until I was eighteen, I have never missed a single Chinese New Year reunion with my family. Now, all I'm getting for the lunar celebration is a packet of instant ramen I got from the express store in the basement. My company while watching QI episodes on Youtube.
Just this evening, my mother called me through Skype and showed me all the ang paos, red packets containing money, I've got from relatives this year. I shan't divulge on the actual amount I've received, but let's just say I'm quite content with this year's harvest.
I used to remember where every single ang pao came from. The one from my father would always be inside a red packet with our family's name imprinted on it, while my mother would just pick any leftover packet and fill it with a standard ten ringgit. But it was always the opening of packets themselves that was wildly exhilarating. Sure, the neatly folded notes inside were helpful, yet it was the memory of my cousin and I stacking the ang paos in our hands, locking ourselves inside the air-conditioned guest room of my grandmother's place, and carefully opening the sealed packages that remained strongly in my memory.
The past two years though have been different. I have been seeing those ang paos tied with a rubber band in my mother's hands through a computer screen. My father tells me he couldn't remember where each individual packet came from while my mother tells me she would be using the notes for her regular expenditure, reminding my father later to bank in a check to my account as just compensation. And even after hearing her disclosing the actual amount, I wasn't particularly fazed or excited. I couldn't touch them. I could only see them. My only request for my mother was to not throw the ang paos away just yet, even if she was to use the notes inside them. I'm still feeling quite attached to those packets, for some reason.
...
A'ite I'm done with that whole sentimental mishmash and it's still about my personal experience. Yet, don't we all have similar sentiments of our childhood memories? Certainly, not everyone might share the exact same experience I had, but the sensation of losing something as we grow up gradually grows within us. A favorite ice-cream store shut down, that place one calls home before moving to a new house etc etc. All these memories, collected, saved, and brought up during unexpected moments. And all we could do is pause and try to recollect every single detail dangerously clinging on to those images before they disappear in the rifts of the mind.
Yep, that's what I'll try to do on a daily basis, I suppose. I can't guarantee they'll all be an impressive display of language mastery (in fact, I hope they won't be) but if any of them can make the ordinary person to sit down and ponder, if only for a brief moment in this demanding life, I consider meself successful~
So why the sudden revelation?
Hmm... I dunno. I picked up Dinty Moore's (remember him?) Crafting a Personal Essay and read a chapter on blogging and thought "why not?"
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