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While it is not my first time to blog (hello and farewell to old blogspot and multiply accounts), I must admit I’m currently having blogger’s block.

The thing with blogging is that it is so easy to put all your thoughts (meaningful and not so) on ether. The difficulty, I guess, is in restraining yourself; to not put everything for everyone to read. I mean, come on, not every thought is worthy to be posted. In fact, a meaningful idea needs to be processed and has to mature in the thinker’s/blogger’s noggin before it should be published for the entire world to consume.

I am suddenly reminded of William Wordsworth’s Preface to Lyrical Ballads when he wrote:

 poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquillity: the emotion is contemplated till, by a species of reaction, the tranquillity gradually disappears, and an emotion, kindred to that which was before the subject of contemplation, is gradually produced, and does itself actually exist in the mind.

Blogging is no poetry, is it, dear Wordsworth?

In this age of Twitter and Facebook, when tweeting about where you currently are (how important is this, really? unless you assume you have plenty of stalkers to benefit from it), what you’re currently doing (“Hey everyone! Guess what? I just bought a cafe latte at Starbs!” or “Hey everyone! Guess what? I’m bored!” or “Hey everyone! Guess what? I have IBS!”), and what you’re currently thinking (coffee, boredom or your irritable bowel syndrome) seems to be the general rule rather than the exception, spontaneity is indeed achieved, but one that is not rooted in emotions recollected in tranquility.

Emotions recollected in a moment’s madness is more like it.

I like recollecting emotions in tranquility.  This process refines my basic, oftentimes coarse thoughts into something more polished.  The goal is for my basic ideas to transform into something more rewarding for me to waste time on (both in the thinking and in the writing). And yes, this act of recollection should, in the end, benefit the reader of my thoughts put on ether as well.

A former professor once told me, “a solid proof of one’s success in writing is in its reception.” If readers find your work easy to read, it must be because you went through hell writing it.  If you went through heaven in terms of breeze, then the reception could be hellish.

Well, my dear readers. I hope my version of Inferno isn’t too scorching for your taste.

I must say I miss blogging, though. I miss sharing my thoughts. I miss stringing words together with the intention of forming a well-thought out commentary about life. I miss being inspired by the Muses.  I hope this renewed interest in blogging helps me in my other writing goals. I have two current writing projects: 1) my paper for the Scotland conference in May, and 2) my dissertation on Mike de Leon. Both are important projects. The first one demands my immediate attention for its deadline looms over my head like that proverbial sword, while the second is a project practically ten years in the making (I exaggerate, of course) thus by all rights dictates my 100% effort and energy toward its completion. I’m targeting an August defense, oh dear gods.

Let’s hope the Fates are listening to my plea.  To them I commend my writing spirit.

— Frankie

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