Tag Archives: Blog

As Of Today

1 Apr
  • I’ve been off Facebook for over 30 days and with no signs of withdrawal symptoms as I may have feared. I guess the noise and fake social armchairness was getting a bit much to tolerate.
  • I’ve written on my blog for ten days straight; which feels pretty great and like an accomplishment really. Let’s see how long I can keep this going and how strongly the discipline to write can be instilled without stepping on the toes of quality over quantity. 
  • I respect, appreciate and have begun to actually love MS Dhoni. I’m not an ardent fan of anything or anybody enough to feel love…perhaps admiration and inspiration, but never love. But this is new and for reasons already known to the world. 
  • I’ve learnt that people love talking to me and seem to open their conversational doors to me more openly and readily than I attribute to my sense of approachability. I’m not very approachable but once those usually deep conversations start, there’s no stopping. And a sense of catharsis settles in. Strange!
  • The weather has become atrociously hot and it’s only spiraling upwards from here, on the mecury scale. Oh dear!

What’s New On Babska’s Journey

9 Sep

There are days when nothing can slay the inertia that makes work look suffocating; so much that even the rising pop-up alerts of emails makes you not want to give a fuck. I’m assuming the combination of saturation and the need to solve a problem that refuses to succumb to (or is it in?) an answer is to blame. The problem being the puzzle that is the organization of this blog.

It’s not like this is a hi-funda space where I’ve multiple updates on a daily basis. Neither is it one of those professional blogs that needs to look a certain way. As long as it is organized and neat and not screaming into the user’s face and experience, I’m cool. And so in an attempt to enhance this so called user experience, I figured I’d try and mix catalogue things better (damn you, American English, for red-lighting every other word we’ve grown up accepting the only way we know how to!), except that things didn’t go as planned.

Being a tech geek is one thing. Being a blogger is another. And by that I mean all tech geeks can be bloggers but the same cannot be applied the other way around. It helps to have these small mercies in life that don’t make you feel useless and incompetent in this age of rapidly advancing technology. No? So naturally, the random blogger in me set out to figure just how this organizational procedure could be taken forward.

What first happened was chaos, but naturally.
It was swiftly followed by irritation, annoyance and very strong urges to give up (because the internet connection also decided to be a snazzy SoB yesterday).
Next came large amounts of reading about things I couldn’t make sense of.
The previous step led to me to choosing my bed and the temptation of a night’s sleep over all the tech jargon I was inflicted by, which seriously, is a load! I have no idea what kicks people get from using, flinging and mastering jargon unless required in specifically scientific places/scenarios.
This morning then saw me wake up with a burning need to figure this puzzle out. Do you face the need to finish something you once started, especially if it looks like a puzzle you can sort of figure your way through?
Post some tweaking and editing and deleting and re-editing and canceling and undoing and redoing, I was able to do this – get my copyright up (woot!) – at the cost of some other stuff vanishing. While it wasn’t what I’d started this tech-journey for, it was something I was happy to stumble upon.
And then this happened – a separate space that helps classify all my food-related posts in one place. I’ve just about managed to create this (For The Love Of Food), where my Monica tendencies can feel at home (while the feeling lasts).

Hover your cursor on it and you can toggle between options that are, of course, food related. By clicking on these options, you will be led to separate spaces where all those particular food posts related to the toggle option will be. I feel like a genius.

Having said that, I’m unsure if this is going to be a redundant feature since food-related posts will anyway appear on my homepage as well. But I will bask in the glory of having navigated my way around WordPress and tinkering at the nuts and bolts of this blog to arrive at some semblance of orderliness, if I may.

Here’s to small baby steps in what will hopefully be the way forward! :)


8 Sep

I signed off from my last post contemplating a reorganization of these food-related posts that I’ve absolutely loved writing about. While they largely comprise what I am doing before I leave Bangalore, categorizing them into a separate set of posts make sense; for now and perhaps for the future, should the opportunity and inclination to document my food stories continue. Besides, it gives me room to use the “Things I’m Doing Before I Leave Bangalore” title for things other than food – it dawned upon me that I should maintain a reputation that branches beyond just food and the sin of gluttony, which has been firmly established.

So do watch out for this change which will hopefully help organize my thoughts and expression better. Since everything is all WIP, it’s something I can always work on if it isn’t as successful.

Thank you for reading.

Small Updates

23 Jan

…as you may have noticed when you clicked open my blog today, for those of you who’ve been here before. I’ve been making changes to the blog in bits to see what I like and what I could do away with… it was more an attempt to try and warm up to my space here given the hiatuses I’ve been on when it comes to writing here.

I had 2 main pages – one for the stuff I cook and one for the stuff I click – because those were are two things I enjoy dabbling with ever so much. However, since I hadn’t been updating that section of my blog, I figured doing away with it was better than having it around only to remind me of the neglect I cast its way every single time. It was also because I wasn’t actively cooking like before and hadn’t really picked up my camera to contribute in any way.

Maybe this will inspire me to begin cooking and do crazy things in the kitchen…hopefully. I get asked recipes and much to my own chagrin, I’ve realised I’m not a recipe person at all. It’s all in the mood and with the flow… there isn’t one book I read or one blog I follow. Sometimes its just a random thought that helps me haul my butt to the kitchen because the need of the hour is such. Other times its…well…being lazy and resorting to not entering the kitchen at all. It is a dream though to have that cookbook someday…and hopefully I do something about it. Though I’m more than certain it won’t be just another recipe book.

As for photography, my camera has been kept on the back-burner and I’m not sure for how long. I did inaugurate this year with it which did remind me just how much I love the art of speaking with images. I’m not the photoshop-big-geared-mighty-professional cameragirl. I think I’d much rather stand and do what I do best – watch. And wait for the right moment. Some may call it lax but I’ve figured that’s my style. Also, a new discovery I’ve made is that I can so totally be a phone photographer. It suits me to whip my phone out and get busy (read: phone slut from the last post). And it all comes together and fits pretty darn well. I’m not choosing because I do love speaking through pictures and as long as that’s possible, I’m not complaining. :)

I’m just about getting used to this space without it overwhelming me with the compulsion to write. I’m taking it a day at a time and maybe there’ll be many days at a time… I like the feeling right now and I’m deciding to stick to the feeling because I tend to completely miss out on that aspect of things altogether. And if things go fine, hopefully there will be more cooking, baking and clicking.

Here’s a picture I’d clicked earlier this month in Bangkok. I think it fits what I’m trying to say.


Given that it is the weekend (yay!), I’m also sharing this one track that’s grown on me (since I first heard it today on my way back home). And also because you can remember me as the girl who put Buddh and being matlabi (selfish?) in the same sentence and post. Turn it up loud, please.


Have a lovely weekend, everybody!

Good Morning

12 Jan

It’s a good morning, in every sense of the word. I haven’t had my usual routine this morning, which I do quite enjoy and which I look forward to. So no, it hasn’t been a morning that has begun in the usual happy routinely manner that I like my mornings to begin with…but it’s a good morning, in every sense of the word.

It’s a good morning because I’m here, to begin with. I’m making no promises to write or to be active in the real sense of the word. I’m choosing to make this a relationship of convenience because that automatically gives me the ease of escape, of convenience minus expectations, so to speak. But I’m here. And that makes me feel good.

It’s also a good morning because while I still haven’t gotten entirely used to substituting the 4 with a 5 when I write 201_, it’s a good place to be at and a good time to be in, or so is the hope. While it is technically a shift into just another new day, I like to look at it at more than just that, as so many of you would. Perhaps it’s symbolic of newness and opportunities and new chances, all over again. Who doesn’t like more chances, right? So I’m holding on to that for now; to this new morning we’re blessed to see and make ours. And that makes it all good, all over again. And I’m not complaining.

Throughout the past year, I’ve seen a shift in my perspective towards blogging that I thought was otherwise almost concrete since the time I first started, and continued to do so. I’m not sure if it is a phase of wanting to be away from the public eye or whether it was the inability to put my thoughts together in a coherent stream of more sense than non sense. There were, as always, and I assure you, so many thoughts that I needed to streamline but there came a point when I stopped trying. Letting go is almost as easy as being able to actually let go. And when you’ve got a barrage of thoughts followed by a barrage of after-thoughts and a further barrage of over-thoughts (from the overthinking of everything), it somewhere becomes imperative (and I choose to use this exact word) to let go. And so I did.

And for (I think) okay reason. When you blog and when you blog the way you do and about what you do, boundaries become necessary. Or so I believe. And somewhere down the line, I realize I was unable to draw those lines that made it easy for me to come here and just…write; with feeling, with experience, with emotion and with my thoughts. It happens, and I assure myself that this is normal; that it is okay to take a step back and assess where you’re really standing. It’s okay.

But I’m here today. Minus promises. Or expectations. And larger than life hopes (which aren’t that large after all).

And that makes it a good morning, in every sense of the word.

Happy New Year, you. :)


4 Nov

It’s always so strange how my thoughts and, consequently my fingers, freeze the moment I open a new post page in the hope to start writing. It was just the other day that we were talking about habits; the need to inculcate the habit to read, to write or take time off to do whatever it is that provides something deeper than happiness. Caught in between the need to write, and if publicly so, then to build an identity of who you are and what your writing is about, and the need to let go and just write, is such a task; a balance that is more hard to achieve than perceived. It really is easier said than done except in those cases where people can write effortlessly on a regular basis about anything under the sun, really.

Sometimes it just seems too easy when I read the few blogs I follow. The writers have so much going on in their lives, 50 times more than what my life feels like, if I may say so, and yet they write so regularly and effortlessly (or so it seems to be). Not that I wish to draw comparisons. But really, I find inspiration in their habit; their discipline. And it reinforces the fact that it all begins with something; that effort, that initiative, that drive and that discipline; all of which seem so temperamental in me.

It’s scary how fleeting my attention span has become. I’m not sure if it’s just me or if it’s this “phase” of age or if it’s a part of the normal developmental process or a generational thing represented by my generation that teeters ever so delicately between the conflicts of new-found technological “explorations” and maintaining traditions ensconced in very well defined nostalgia; where reading and writing and gardening, etc were enough to keep us going. Do you feel that conflict too?

I know that to write goes hand in hand with the need to deep-dive and look within, to reminisce, to contemplate and to think. Well, in my case, to over think. Because apparently the million thoughts I have the potential to wallow in, on a daily basis, don’t seem to be occupying enough. Either way, my mom thinks there’s more than meets the eye; that there’s something (gravely, if I may say so) wrong. Because how can someone who has been writing, stop writing? Yes, I did write a lot. I did read a lot. But to be honest, I think there’s growing up and life that happened in between. Not that the rest who read and write don’t have a life. It’s just that, like I said earlier, they seem to be more adept at taking it in their stride and making time for the things that make them feel complete. And to be even more honest, my journals back then were pretty much an account of my daily life and its occurrences, like any other teenager’s journal. So yes, life has happened and continues to happen and I haven’t really managed to catch on to the writing bandwagon with as much ease as I had imagined. Besides, to think and over think has proven to be a liability I wish not to be imprisoned by, as consciously as I can try my level best to.

Besides, life right now would mean two urgent phone calls that had to be attended followed by responses to ma who just got back home, all three of which happened in succession right when I began this piece. So tell me it’s easy to shut the world out and sit put. It’s not impossible. But tell me it’s easy because I need to try harder.

And while we’re at it, here’s how I’m spending some me time whenever technology or laziness doesn’t take over. It’s refreshing to say that, do that and experience that. It’s turning out to be quite an interesting and gripping read. Her detailing is overwhelming. Hoping to see this through, fingers crossed. :)


You, The Reader

16 Oct

Dear You,

I have been meaning to talk to you and write to you, except I never really came down to the actual thing. The closest were drafts that still remain more faded than dusty, back to their own spaces of incomplete thoughts, words and musings that perhaps need more time and a more capable/stable mind to see them through their germination.

Maybe the thought of addressing you more directly makes it easier for me to write and imagine you, and perhaps I’ll be able to write more minus falling back into the abyss of incomplete drafts and half-baked pieces. The remnants are quite so many and my space feels filled with the many spaceships that took off only to be abandoned in blackness.

But I make no promises, choosing to take the safe route, as always. Maybe I won’t be able to write after all. But that’s for circumstances to make an opportunity of. The rest I leave to today and the fact that I’m here, writing to you, for me.

And hope. That silence and empty pages will give written words an equal voice to speak. And be heard.

Till later.

Also, dear reader, I hope you’re doing well. :)

Writing and a Cheese Omelette

28 Apr

I swear I haven’t seen the face of this portal since I last wrote. I don’t know if it was a conscious or unconscious choice. But I do know that I’ve this weird knack of absconding as and when and I don’t particularly enjoy maintaining that tag per se.

Do I write every day? No. Do I need to write every day? No. I mean, yes. Do I want to write every day? Yes. Is it easy to come up with or have a lineup of things to write about on a daily basis? You answer that for me. I’m sure my answer is below the pit of pits compared to yours. I assure you.

But does that still motivate me to write? Yes. Because I do know how I look at the world and how I see the world unfurl in front of me every single moment; in pictures, in stories, in a storyboard that makes sense to the way I think, perceive and live my life. Can I translate that with ease here? I think the evidence is answer enough. But I’d like to believe that I can try.

This weird amount of optimism and inspiration is not a one-off Monday shot of life’s dose that happened to me. Although it has been a different Monday because I haven’t felt as inspired in a very, very long time, that does not, of course, mean that I’m going to give you a Pulitzer-worthy piece of writing because I am the same old me who does have her rather non-flashy blog still in place, doing its own thing. I just know that a lot has to happen here and in order for that to happen, I need to instill a certain sense of structure and discipline. And that’s where the catch lies because I rather dislike adding the word ‘compulsion’ to anything I enjoy doing. Don’t most of us? Or am I the only odd one out here?

That apart, not that I’m laying down a red carpet of excuses to take control of my abysmal writing practice, there seriously is that long list of distractions that just makes it impossible to create a sense of continuity writing really requires. I thrive on alone time not because I’m an anti-social specimen (which I can be more often than not), but because I find that that best allows me to think and process my thoughts. Isn’t it most irritating to have your maid ring the bell just when you’re trying to put things together, and then have her hover all around (even while she really is doing her own thing)? I hate it. I hate not having a designated space to write because I think that is imperative.

Of course, there are so many criteria that ought to be met for any creative process to take place and efficiently so. But I find some, if not most of them, as fleeting as can be. And therefore, it is difficult. I won’t deny having to keep my thoughts within and explore them later only to realize they’ve all dissipated and died. It is disheartening. But really, this isn’t a rant about how I have no space or how it is hard to find the space to do my own thing with whatever I may be blessed to have. Maybe I sound like a spoiled brat who wants it all. And yes, I do. Judge me. But that’s another story for another time and irrespective of whether that happens or not, I know I have to find a way. Therefore I don’t necessarily have to write every day but I do, because I believe writing; being a talent apart; needs to be inculcated, needs to be practiced. It is important to have that time, space and habit. That’s how I see it and that’s how I intend to keep it.

And so, in lieu of feeling pent up and being completely unable to write for xyz reasons, today was one of those days that, I think, the universe conspired to happen. Because I’m here, writing, despite having been steamrolled by Facebook, an alarmingly low spaced memory card on my phone which beeped red all over my face, my hunger, my forever hungry pigs, the strange summer heat which my body can tolerate but which my hormones are making sure I cannot, and being rung and intruded upon by my maid (who is quite sweet but whom I cannot like because of this sole reason. I’d really like my space, lady. Really!!). I’m trying. Who knows if I’ll disappear indefinitely after writing this post. But I prefer thinking about today. That’s been a top lesson this year. Think about today. Tomorrow is another day.

The blog also needs a revamp, I think. Maybe I will. But all the gosh darn awesome themes I like are beyond what I think I would like to pay for a blog theme, even if I was earning in USD. Bleargh. I’d really rather buy three fancy pairs of shoes with that amount. I’m not joking. But here’s what I did in the meantime.


Am I on the right track to finding a new blog theme and doing up my blog and writing more often? I think so. I made myself an omelette. It was what made most sense in that moment when I was caught between writing about feeling inspired in general or between really, really feeling inspired while I wrote about feeling inspired. See? Also, I was feeling hungry. Or rather, I was feeling most hungry at that moment. So I had to break my thought flow and go make this very simple but totally gorgeous piece of art.

I love making art with my food. I think food is magic and the art that results from it, sublime. I do not have any other way of putting that across because that is how I feel about cooking and food. It makes me happy beyond belief. It’s that soul-satisfying moment that makes me believe in why I’m here and doing what I’m doing, which is actually confusing because I do not cook, do photography or write for a living. But yeah, you get what I’m talking about.

In keeping with feeling inspired, I decided to make this and enhance the experience + use it as a medium through which to further channel just how awesome I’m feeling. I’ve been listening to John Legend’s ‘All of Me’ (Tiesto’s remix) for a while now and the one line in it that hits the spot for me, after a slight edit is, “my head’s under water (inspiration) but I’m breathing fine…”. I’m not sure that made sense but that is exactly how I feel… that experience of feeling completely swallowed in, drowned and inundated in something so good that even though it’s so hard to breathe, you do it with so much ease… I guess they also call it feeling overwhelmed by something so good… you know?

So yes, please go make yourself an amazing cheese omelette and allow it to take you on a joyride to places your soul wants to go to because really, this dish has the strength to.


I don’t know if you can feel my sense of positivism from this post. I’m telling you it’s part omelette, part this universe doing its thing. Look at that. Look at that hot mushy cheese sauce inside that custardy but cooked egg. Of course, if you aren’t a fan of runny eggs, please cook it through by all means. We’re all here to float (and soar), so please do what floats (or soars) your boat.

I wasn’t fond of and still can be iffy about runny eggs because a) I don’t like the smell of eggs (cue to laugh at me), b) I don’t like cold eggs and c) I always equate runny eggs with raw eggs meaning they stink. But that isn’t the case as much, today. Cook it as you wish and let the rest of it show you its magic. It’s that perfect snack to snarf down on any given evening and can be washed down with anything chilled considering it’s summer. My poison of choice was cocoa milk today because I had to get dairy and eggs into my diet for the day and I hadn’t. Yes, I do eat. No, I don’t diet = I do not not eat what is meant to be eaten to stay alive, healthy and amazingly insane.


I added cheese if I haven’t already mentioned that (am I supposed to erm, feel guilty?). And for that extra bite, I added a few jalapenos slices but not too much because I don’t like them overpowering the flavour of my dish. And seasoning, of course. Plus I cooked it just enough so that the inside could hold minus running helter-skelter (pun intended) but was loose enough to be held together by that gorgeous melted cheese inside. Therefore it wasn’t uncooked or raw, didn’t stink of egg and didn’t make me feel icky + was perfectly brown.


Give it a try sometime. Add whatever fancies your heart and soul because soul food deserves all that and more. I was too lazy to thaw meat and wanted to keep it light enough for an evening snack. It sure lifted my spirits further this evening and helped me power through all these gnatty obstacles to come here and write, ever so randomly about life, writing and erm, eggs. Miracles can happen. And for good measure, here’s what it looked like on my plate, once again.


More power to you! And if you’re a complete vegetarian, well, lots more power to you, always! :)

Thank you for listening. See you soon, fingers crossed.

Random Musings

15 Apr

I don’t know why I write and why I don’t. I’ve tried introspecting but I don’t think I’m ready to clutter my mind with anything more.

I’m not made up of love poems or song lyrics that profess love. My previous post was the result of some God-awesome music that came my way and facilitated that much needed writing to take place. Who would’ve thought something like that would emerge? Of course I do dream of being half as awesome but there’s a fat chance lying around waiting for me to grab it. Not.

On the topic of love and everything related to it, I feel like I’ve lost touch, and so bad. I think I belong to that section of my generation that refuses to give its heart out, even for a test drive. So weird. And we think we’re fearless. I think we’re masters at sailing the Ship of Fear. Ironic. That’s what defines this generation, if you ask me. I see it in my self, I see it in the people all around me. This pseudo fearlessness is such a turn off. I wonder when we’ll just get real and get ready to scrape that heart a tad bit and just play.

Times have been interesting. I feel alive. I feel like I’m where I should’ve been sometime back. But I think things take time and happen when they have to. It’s true. That darn phrase is true – when it’s time, it will happen (with the added condition of “if it’s meant to”). I’ve become a believer of timing. But being who I am doesn’t allow me to give those reins away that easily. I still believe we’re part masters of our fate. And that isn’t going to change. No, I don’t have authority issues. Yes, I do have control issues. But this boils down to how much you credit yourself and value your self to be. And that answer can never be zero in my book. That’s a never I’m dead sure of saying.

While on that same continuum, I’ve also begun despising this entire concept of hope. It turns me off. There’s a falsity in it that almost makes me angry. Because I’m a believer of having that harsh truth out there and doing something about it than living in the bubble of hope that may or may not work. I’m not okay with hope. It’s pretend play. It’s fake. It’s making someone ride on a bike that’s made up of air, magically expecting it to turn into the bike of your dreams. While that might float one’s boat in dire times, it’s something I find very hard to digest. Maybe it’s because of the expectations that being hopeful allows you to have. Really, I am a cynic, but I’m being real here. There’s no point hiding behind a veil and praying. There’s a point in working and working hard. There’s a point in believing in yourself. And there’s a point in knowing that not everything will turn out the way we envisioned them to be.

This reminds me… time has constantly reinforced the need for me to believe in my own self. You’re only ever answerable to your individual self. I don’t know what happens at the end, and whether Judgment happens or not, but it matters to just believe. Because who else do you turn to when you’ve got no answers? What else to you record in pages of your book except what you’ve done to arrive at where you are today? I do not discount the efforts of others that have contributed to our arriving wherever we need to…but just how we easily thank a billion factors and people for making us get to where we are, why is it so hard to understand that we’re where we are also because of who we are and what we’ve done? How is that selfish? How is that being self-centered? How is that not okay? Yes, while the universe conspires in its own way and makes magic happen, I’m beginning to realize that we’re right there, in that moment too. We’re probably the ones holding the wand or saying the right words or being the right person. We’ve got to have done something right. We have. And I’m thankful we have.

I’ve been meaning to write but it hasn’t been happening. And I don’t know why. Moments (my previous post), was written as a result of some God-awesome music someone I know played. I guess I needed that release. Look what it turned out to be. I guess I was shocked looking at it too. Love and me…we don’t really see eye to eye a lot. But I’m so thankful for music. When everything else fails, music really does shine through. Music really is the magic language of the universe.

Here’s me wrapping up this rather random but heartfelt post. I guess this I’ll write more when I’m up to it. In the mean time, I’m continuing to drift the stream of consciousness way. Thank you for listening. :)


26 Feb

I happened to catch bits of the movie “Julie & Julia” on Monday but stopped watching it after a while. No, the movie wasn’t bad at all. But it’s just that I have this weird compulsion to watch a movie only if I catch it right from the beginning. Yes, you can gasp but that’s just how I am. To briefly deviate, what I’m also trying to do, slowly but surely, and very consciously, is to avoid using the term OCD unless I am, of course, referring to the disorder. I think it’s important to mention it, given that I’ve spent 100% of my higher educational life majoring in psychology. So those of you who noticed the replacement of OCD with just the word compulsion, I’m glad you did. It really does matter. Just like how it’s not okay to throw the word retard around, apart from so many others. But that’s for another discussion, if it comes up.

I’m not here to talk either about the movie or the disorder. It’s something that Julie (Amy Adams) said in the movie that struck me. It was in reference to her blog and to blogging in general and she said something on the lines of how blogging is so narcissistic, given that you’re blogging on your own personal blog, of course (or even on other spaces, for that matter). That one’s blog is essentially about the blogger and that you’re the centre of that blog universe.

I’ve always wondered how one balances that out. How one were to (very consciously) use third person instead of first person, so to speak. Striking that balance seemed important because wouldn’t it be so pompous to centre all your posts around you, you and only you? Wouldn’t that just be such a drag, such a bore? I tried thinking of times when one would write about anything but themselves, but I couldn’t. The topic of discussion/ventilation/presentation could be far removed from the individual blogger, but essentially, it is all about the blogger and just the blogger. And as a blogger, I’ve got to be okay with the I, me, myself attitude at some level without being obnoxious about it, of course. Even if I was to boil it right down to the most basic, deep component of what is written here and why, it still all leads to me (the blogger), irrespective of who wrote it or opined over it.

You’d think it to be quite obvious and look at me funnily and ask if I’d finally gone cuckoo, but it’s not something that strikes one that easily. Or so I think. At least the dud head in me took Julie Powell to get the job done.

Why’s it worthy of a blog post? Because while this could be a sad excuse to get another post out to keep the flow going, it’s really about that light bulb that came alive. I know I’ll feel a lot less guilty for traipsing around this place and calling it my very own own own own. Also, I’ve equated it to how writers do the same. Of course a book isn’t ever dissociated or detached from its writer. I sincerely do believe that. The writer comes alive and lives in the books he/she writes. And gets to be the coolest and baddest character. And all of it. Bloggers are somewhere on that same path as well. Except I personally, really do believe that blogging (a blogger) and writing (a writer) aren’t the same. I’m weird, I know. But that shadow, however prominent, always exists and always will, irrespective.

Thank you for listening.