Something to begin with

I have always believed in that each person is capable of being a writer. We all tell a story, that’s why.

Sometimes it’s the first thing you do in the morning even before you brush your teeth. Admit it or not, we all gossip. Even men do. Trust me. And I see nothing wrong.

Call it human nature – the urge to interact, to socialize, or simply talk.

Even the deaf and the mute, who aren’t born with the physical capacity to utter words and letters, can talk in their own peculiar way. I have seen it and hands down, I got humbled in any way possible.

Back in the olden days of my being a high school writer-wannabe, I would often think I know less and I am not a writer and I am so on and so forth. That my style is mediocre. That I have a relatively poor wordbank. That I don’t even know what supercalifragilexpialidocious means (fortunately there’s Google to help me out). That I will be belittled for the little that I know.

Yeah I know it’s too melodramatic.

Now let me continue. Would you please?

On a lighter note, I have found renewed spirit to write. Thanks to the many things that life had faced me with - both ups and downs, north and south (I am not trying to write myself a bio, don’t get me wrong).

Thanks to whoever-you-are-who-may-have-read-might-read-might-not read me. Gracias.

And so I am writing this blog. Hell cares if nobody’s reading. (besides me of course). Probably out of the billions of sapiens in the world and the 90plus millions in my homeland, there will be one of them once in a while who’ll click on this blog and accidentally pass by and go.

But let me talk. Let me speak.

Criticize. I beg you.

Now let’s get this started. Although this isn’t my first post, categorically.

Now why the yellow umbrella –  simply because it’s vibrant, bright.

Under the rain. I have a fascination with life’s contradictions.

Yellow sparkles in black.

It’s what I want to be. There are bespoke reasons to feel better.

Who cares if you carry a yellow umbrella anyway.