On Writing

Before starting this blog, I used to frown on people who wrote blogs. I didn’t see much point in doing this, because I was never much of a diary man. Every diary I’ve tried to keep as a child didn’t progress much past the initial few pages, before getting lost at the back of some bottom shelf around the house that I never open.

And now, years later, I find myself writing my most serious attempt at a blog ever. “Musings of a Hopeless Romantic” is a literary extrapolation of the concept of my eponymous one-man show that I created and performed at LIPA in December 2009. That show was a labour of love, a painful but redemptive paean to loving and losing. And I carried on the concept in blog form, not just about unrequited love, but about all my Snoopy-esque musings on the world.

I guess one of the reasons I keep a blog is that I love writing. I have also been told on numerous occasions that I am not that bad at it. But I’ve always been too lazy to write a full book (even though I keep meaning to – all my previous attempts ended in me getting bored of the book after about 20 pages). A blog entry is easier to write, I suppose. Maybe, once I have enough entries, I’ll compile them into my first book? I’ve also said the same thing about my online correspondence with a couple of very important people in my life.

If only it was less hot outside – it’s so hot that I can’t even think. Believe it or not, living in the UK for 3 years managed to de-accustom me to Romanian summers. I find the British climate far more bracing. It keeps one’s mind brisk and awake – as opposed to this heat, which only invites laziness, and lounging-around-ness.

Subtle new word there, haha.


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