I’ve always been a writer. Ever since I was a kid, I’ve been keeping journals on and off. I’d write in a notebook for several months then get bored with the routine, only to find myself writing another entry after a month or so. I’d have those little notebooks with cartoon designs and a lock feature, then I graduated to regular notebooks with different bindings, then to my current addiction: nondescript notebooks with classy pages, leather covers, and ribbon bookmarks.
I first discovered blogging in 2005 when I graduated from high school. I had a lot of fun writing online, sharing my thoughts, ideas and complaints for cyberspace to see. I tried them all: Xanga, WordPress, Livejournal, Multiply. Through the years, I became faithful to Blogger and have kept small accounts from Tumblr and Twitter for light posts. I started using Excuse My French as my title in 2006, and my description hasn’t changed since then.
I have gained a small following from blogging. I felt happy knowing that I entertained a select group of people who found my strange, often annoying posts on life and love interesting. In a way, they have inspired me to write. It’s great motivation to find out that there are people who appreciate what I have to say. I think one of my proudest blogging moments is being a finalist for Best Personal Blog at the 2009 Philippine Blog Awards.
I regularly posted but somewhere along the line, I stopped. I think it was when I became editor-in-chief of the campus paper and I became saturated with writing. It became a job for me and I sought respite, a break. My posts were limited to Tumblr and Twitter where posts were either just pictures or text that consisted of 140 characters or less.
But now I graduated. My days as editrix are behind me and I embraced my job as an account executive for a printing press / photography studio. Where in the past I spent my days writing and editing, I now spend weekdays (and Saturdays) talking about why schools should pick us to print their yearbooks and take their graduation pictures.
I miss writing. I miss playing with words and constructing sentences in colorful ways to get a thought across. To some extent, I love my job but deep inside, I’m a writer. I express myself better through writing. I can be a talker but I’m more comfortable this way. I consider myself better in making speeches rather than delivering them. I understand the nuances of subtly-placed verbs and adjectives, not the symbolism of facial expressions and gesticulations. I feel like I can persuade and influence more people through my written works instead of oral presentations. After all, I’m still that shy little boy who’d quietly sit in a corner with his books.
I’m thinking of going back to my roots. No, I’m not going to quit my marketing job to “find” myself. I’m an idealist but I’m not stupid. I have expensive tastes and I don’t think I can afford weekly shopping trips and experimental dining with blogging. Just like what I did in my editorial years, I’m going to use writing as a balance from my days talking my head off.
So, I’m back. You can take this boy out of writing, but you can’t take writing out of this boy.
God, I miss closing entries with cheesy one-liners.