on second thought,

i think it'd be better if I did explain. If I kept it a secret, you'll be quite surprised at my succeeding posts.

Several weeks ago, I apologized for a similar, but quite longer, relapse in my writing. I thought I'd recover from that dreadful ailment that unsuspectingly assailed novice writers. I didn't, and I abandoned my blog again.

An anonymous comment jolted me back to reality: my silence had serious implications which I so stupidly ignored. My friends back there in UP had no way of knowing what was happening to me. In the midst of the distressing shortage of my creativity, I didn't reply through e-mail, not even posting on my tagboard. I might have been stuck in Timbuktu without them knowing it. Imagine what anxiety I caused to them. I'm sorry, you guys, I really am.

Writing had become for me a heavy chore, rather than an enjoyable past time. I painstakingly articulated each word, each verb and adjective in my sentences, fitting them one by one like jigsaw puzzle pieces. In that manner I wasted long hours on a measly paragraph or two. Even after such bloody scrutiny, my pieces weren't even that impressive.

Why would I do that? Why the idiocy?

Simple. My blog wasn't a "web log", a mere online journal, for me. It was more than that. It was a precious trophy, a collection of "masterpieces" (that's how in my ego I called my writing). In other words, I used my blog to show off. I grew contented to bask in the limelight, to listen to people's praises. But deep inside, I was terribly insecure. I envied other writers. I was jealous of their stunning layouts, their flawless compositions.

Blogger, Xanga and Tabulas never meant to make such despicable losers out of human beings. A blog was supposed to be a person's nifty thought-box, a writer's confidant, ready to absorb all he wants to say, from dazzling and eloquent prose, and even the nastiest verbal spewage. Blogging's ultimate goal is self-expression. It was never meant to be a contest.

So, two nights ago, I promised to start anew. I will write whatever I want. I will not be constrained by how other people will think of me. I will record every interesting detail I find worthy mentioning. My blog will be, at last, the thing it was really meant to be: my online journal.

Thank God He made me realize the urgency of my situation. Such lengthy lapses in communication (which, in my case, was caused by literary snobbery) could cause friendships -- steadfast they maybe -- to fade into the fleeting shadows of distant memory. I really didn't want that to happen.

But no, I think this turnaround in writing wasn't just for that. There is something more ultimate than self-expression. And that is God.

Everything that I am I owe to my Maker. From the numerous and unsightly pimples on my face, to the intricate and complex web of neurons in my brain, He made them all. I am fearfully and wonderfully made, Psalms 139:14. I couldn't have started this blog without Him. In fact, I became me, I existed, only through His almighty command, "Be!"

I will blog for His glory.

In my posts I will exult in His goodness and mercy, I will sit in awe and wonder at His glory and majesty. I will proclaim Jesus Christ, who saved me from my wretched and depraved self, who suffered and endured the cross for my sake. I will shout to the world His wondrous Name.