I resurrected this blog from its deathly state, after an exciting 2-month run in early 2006. I couldn't help but marvel, reading my posts from back then (and deleting several of them, out of shame) how my (writer's) voice changed in a mere 2 years. Perhaps it is simply a reflection of my state of mind (then & now) than it is a sign of progression of thought or intellect (or god forbid, personal growth)



Circumstantial evidence point to my nocturnal habits as a college students: all my postings back then were logged at an ungodly hour of the morning, possibly in-between pending papers or exam-cramming exercises.



Perhaps my voice at the time (which seems so foreign to me now) is result of a combination of anxiety, sleep deprivation and ADD (propelling me to drop my paper and write amusing nonsense that no one else read). Perhaps I am at a different place now, and feel disconnected with my former self.



Or perhaps, I have yet to find my writer's voice, condemned to always read my own writings as if for the first time, as if written by someone else. I cannot read anything I ever write without feeling a tingly need to edit it into oblivion, even 4th grade essays my mother saved.