So many things to quack about; so little...

Ah if only I were like some people who can sleep for only a few hours a day in so many consecutive days and still operate well, I could have gone blogging more the past days, weeks, and even months where a lot of things have happened to me. I could have even gone reading more books, working more on my current business ventures, or talking to more people. But unfortunately, I can not do that. I always say if I were a boxer, I am much older than my age because of the many battles that I fought in. I am not as strong as, say, a few years back, or am I just out of shape? Perhaps, and I suspect that also. However, be it as it may, I feel better when I get to sleep for at least six hours before waking up and hitting the road again. Of course, there were and there will still times when I will have to sleep for a slimmer period than that, but I do not expect to experience it protractedly. Thus, the inability to do more things and achieve even more each day. It reminds of an email from a friend that contains pieces of advice from religious leader and inspirational speaker-cum-author Bo Sanchez on how to better manage your time so that one may live a happier and a more rewarding life. But that can be discussed in another post.

Writing and its digital twin blogging are two of my hobbies that are shoved off for some more urgent tasks at hand. My still-being-developed fecundity does not help as well, especially during those few times when I found myself free and in front of the monitor but could not, for the life of me, come up with a word. But usually THERE WERE so many things hovering inside my brain and throbbing inside my heart; I just could not set them free.

And so, I trudge on - recognizing that there is a whole world of sentiments and ideas inside me that's always athirst to be unleashed just for the heck of it, if not for the outside world to read, to sympathize about, learn from, disagree with, or comment on; while going through the almost gnawing feeling of not being able to let them out; and retreating to the sunset with a vow to return and fight another day.

I have no choice.

I know that someday, somehow, I have to empty my heart and mind or else I might go mad like the great romantic poet Lord Byron once feared as well.

Dae man lugod.