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Dali & Me

It has been so long since I wrote my last post that I no longer remember what it was that I pondered openly about. Could have been a long brooding post, just an easily a whiny open letter to the world. At this point, I try not to care too much about it.

After all, live in the present right. Right?

Unlike the other avid (and much more disciplined) bloggers out there, I don't usually start an entry with a list of writing points. Nope, not me. The thought I start with, more than likely, is a world away from what I eventually end with.

Today may just be one of those day. Honestly, I don't know where I will get at. A few dozen ideas floating in my bed; a few one-liners here and there, an issue or two, or just random thoughts that even I myself don't know what to make of them.

I always knew my writing is best when I do it from the heart. Just pouring it out, a word at a time, staggered and hence, unconsciously censored. In the split second where my thoughts overtake my typing velocity, I valiantly fight that enduring battle to write what comes to mind instead of what the mind would rather have out in the open.

Very painful battle there. To say as I think or as I would have others think.

Although at this point, I have managed to half fill today's empty canvas but I do wonder if my work of art would receive any appreciation, or even better, be understood.

The best works of art is always the artist's own. Between being accepted or appreciated, I would rather be understood.


so deep la. but you are so true about the last line though. sadly, artists are always misunderstood.

I guess whoever we are, we all yearn for the same things.

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