Tag: real

Do you? Why? Why not? Bear with me then while I explain the scandalous headline and the riddle behind it (scandalous to those who know me and my intimidating-at-times healthy habits. They’re still there, I’m simply admitting yet again to being human.)

You know how sometimes you want to write about something and the idea is there but it is fuzzy and you can almost put your finger on it but not quite? This was one of those times. I knew I had the headline carved the way I meant to, I could almost build the blog post to dress it up, but something was not there yet. Until tonight when it just dawned on me and I have to say it, I can never have enough of that dawning feeling. It’s addictive. If I say physically and mentally addictive you’ll laugh but there must some endorphins released at such momentous occasions or else I cannot explain that good tickle inside. Persistent enough to be real.

But I digress. You see, I came to realize that I cannot create a niche for this blog and stick with it. I’ll never have just one theme and write about it until I exhaust it and then some. It’s intimidating and unnecessary. I simply can’t commit to that. There’s a lot of specialized blogs out there and kudos to them, I guess to each our own. I know, going against the grain a bit but since I don’t do that to prove a point I’d say I’m safe. A niche is not my thing. I will write about what inspires me, sometimes it’s writing and other times it’s pressing issues like modern slavery or living within our means, society-wise I mean, not just me and my close ones. I will write about my free running mouse and the hard walls I occasionally hit my head against, I will write about meeting people who know to hypnotize chickens (fact!) and I will write about the rain. I will write about what’s real to me then and there. It is real when passion brings it out. Writing with the purpose of sticking to a theme becomes akin to sticking paper flowers onto a bush once its own flowers are gone. People can tell, it’s simply not the same with the real thing.

I had chocolate for breakfast. If you knew me you’d think how can that be. I am a health freak, and boldly so. Fair-trade clean cocoa beans are a given because of ethical and sustainability concerns; it’s not fashionable but real and a must. With a side of guilt for good measure, a soon-to-be-dealt-with topic. Now, for the record, I am not saying I ate chocolate for breakfast to brag, shock or impress, I am simply sharing a fact. I never set to do so but I came to realize that it might happen that I will occasionally eat chocolate for breakfast just like it’ll happen that I’ll write about things that will seem to be pushing the boundaries of my blog. Things that won’t be related to just writing about writing. But as per my above mentioned awakening, there are no boundaries, writing ones or otherwise. Not here, in this virtual space nestled among clouds. The way I see feel it, I write about what fires my heart and my mind. I write about what’s real to me today and that I believe is the ultimate equivalent of a sustainable garden. You eat what grows when it grows. You go through waves of flavor and taste, texture and color. You go with what comes naturally. The trees in my writing garden will never bear paper fruit and the bushes will never wear odorless paper flowers.

Occasionally I’ll have chocolate for breakfast. You’re most welcome to have some with me. It won’t happen every day. In fact, that much I know: I don’t know when it’ll happen. But it will. Have you ever? Will you? Care to share?