I Apply CPR to my LJ
Hello, LJ, it's been, what, how many years. But you're still intact despite being out of breath for so long.
Mom told me earlier that I should continue honing my skills. What, with my piano music dead, my singing off-pitch and my Spanish incredibly terrible, I had to ponder on what mom said. I do miss the times when I could play anything on the piano or sing anything while strumming the guitar. I also miss swimming, writing news articles, and just being constructive. God, I've grown to be too old; how come I've lost all those things?
Writing seems to be the one thing I continued, even if it got limited to my written diary (it used to be the school paper, but that was a long time ago. One may count our college paper, but it's not productive in the least). Of course, I ventured into sketching, since it's so relieving, and it totally channels my fanaticism into something tangible; I've learned that keeping high emotions within--whether they be good or bad--isn't a good thing. You have to let them all out. Now I also make artisan crafts, and I especially love sewing costumes and cute character plushies and curtains. Getting into the work and details makes me feel better inside.
But then again, it's still different when one writes. I find it so easy, so fast. It's therapeutic; I don't need preparations, I don't need planning. It simply comes out naturally. I love writing the most.
And that really makes me think: Maybe I chose the wrong course. I appreciate management, but it's cold to me, like mathematics. I see the value, but I'm not as enthusiastic like when I'm writing. I don't feel the passion in it. Not most of the time, anyway.
Knock it off, I'm graduating in three months.
So this is just a hello; next time, I'll try to make more sense.
Mom told me earlier that I should continue honing my skills. What, with my piano music dead, my singing off-pitch and my Spanish incredibly terrible, I had to ponder on what mom said. I do miss the times when I could play anything on the piano or sing anything while strumming the guitar. I also miss swimming, writing news articles, and just being constructive. God, I've grown to be too old; how come I've lost all those things?
Writing seems to be the one thing I continued, even if it got limited to my written diary (it used to be the school paper, but that was a long time ago. One may count our college paper, but it's not productive in the least). Of course, I ventured into sketching, since it's so relieving, and it totally channels my fanaticism into something tangible; I've learned that keeping high emotions within--whether they be good or bad--isn't a good thing. You have to let them all out. Now I also make artisan crafts, and I especially love sewing costumes and cute character plushies and curtains. Getting into the work and details makes me feel better inside.
But then again, it's still different when one writes. I find it so easy, so fast. It's therapeutic; I don't need preparations, I don't need planning. It simply comes out naturally. I love writing the most.
And that really makes me think: Maybe I chose the wrong course. I appreciate management, but it's cold to me, like mathematics. I see the value, but I'm not as enthusiastic like when I'm writing. I don't feel the passion in it. Not most of the time, anyway.
Knock it off, I'm graduating in three months.
So this is just a hello; next time, I'll try to make more sense.