Thoughts on returning

All these years, I missed writing. Putting pen to paper, coded letters on a keyboard and watchingm iles and miles of paragraphs unfold in the blank space in my screen has always been my thing. 

red wine, caffeine, nicotine, carbon monoxide, lead. And ink stains. My favorite ingredients to a dish that was once a staple. 

i still write, though in a different format, a different language. A different audience, with different tools. It seemed for so long that facing a desk writing in an upright sitting position had become a concept so archaic that at one point, I started to forget what it felt like. 

Now i go back to it. Why I'm going back is the fruit of personal tragedies that for me are too much to bear. 

What happens to you when your heart gets broken and you find yourself confused, asking over and over questions you know you should never be asking yourself in the first place? questions like, where did i go wrong? did i miss out on something? was it too much for you?

I find myself these days asking myself these things every day. And talking can only get me so far. It had gotten me so far, as much, and as little. Actually, too little, far too little than I hoped it would get me. 

When i talk, i stutter, or in industry speak, buckle. I forget my thought path. I lose focus, and end up bluritng seemingly logical mumbo-jumbo to keep the peace. I conceive thoughts in my head like an eager mother wannabe, only to find the baby with an unforgivable birth defect. I am tactless in all the wrong ways, for all the wrong reasons. 

But when I put my words down, be it on a 17 inch screen or 3, suddenly my direction shows and stays there. It's like I managed to solidify the gaseous thoughts in my head and found a way to make it stay as it is. It's like my sentences found themselves logic, a sense of direction, a purpose for being, a reason to survive in someone else's head. 

So I go back to this screen. And put down all the thoughts I could never seem to keep together otherwise all these years. 

Pardon me for being so postmodern. There are things I want to say out loud, but I can only manage to say in opaque terms. 

Suffice to say this blog's back.

In my bag part deux

P133

This time this is what's in my Gucci GG plus weekender:

Marc by Marc Jacobs prescription frames
Gucci paparazzi sunglasses
Make-up kit (for live reports)
LeSportsac pouch (for gadget chargers and cables)
Viktor&Rolf Antidote EDT
ID and mini-credit card (yes, it's a real card) in Ferragamo key chain
Louis Vuitton monogram key fob
Louis Vuitton Damier Ebene bifold
Essilor Lens Cleaner
Berocca
Moleskine reporter's notebook
Muji stuff (wet tissue, dry tissue, oil blotter, band-aid, pill box, notebook, pen, card chain)
Smint
Vicks inhaler
Calfskin coin purse (made it myself) with an abacus charm
Thumb drive with Thai elephant keychain used as charm
Blackberry Curve
Kodak Zi8 pocketcam
iPhone 3GS (not in picture; used to take picture)
Assorted Schneider and Muji pens