I’ve joined the throngs of millions swarming the blogosphere. I’m not just talking about just any blogger, but the tribe of “returning bloggers” – those who have taken such long breaks from writing online that they’ve had to create new passwords and find alter egos. Yup, l’m one of them – part of the “back to blogging” movement.
This time around, I’m writing for ME. In my previous blogging bout I battled this compulsive need to be funny and smart. As a result, “prolific” wouldn’t quite describe my entries. I ended up editing what I wrote to appear entertaining, while in fact my life is dismally ordinary. I waited too long for explosive moments in my life (granted I would have settled for explosively funny) and as a result I wrote nada.
But life did happen between the pauses. When I named my blog, “new beginnings”, I didn’t quite forsee the quick turn of events that spanned about two years. For starters, the lurve thing happened. Finally! Much to my friends’ relief I wouldn’t be joining a nunnery or bothering them with innane questions that 13-year-olds ask their more “experienced” friends. Then there was the “yipee, I’m engaged” phase, followed by the “ohmegoodness! I’m married, have a new name, moved to a new country, lost my job, and don’t know if new beginnings are quite what they are chalked up to be” stage. One year, six months and six days after tying the knot, I’m slowing debriefing for myself the whirwind of events.