#pilotpost

To get inked means to get marked—not by the literal darkness residing in dainty jars into which fountain pens are being dipped, but by the words that are spilled with utmost candor on the writer's sheets. It is letting your eyes scan a piece of poetry or prose and realizing that it is something that is not supposed to be deemed an abandoned page, but rather, a memento that you carry with you anywhere for it has powerfully struck a chord within you. It is burning holes into the rough, grainy surface bearing the writer's sentiments not because you loathe them with a blazing passion but because you cannot fathom just how someone so remote and unfamiliar could be able to narrate your stories with an enlightening spark obtained from just a few pen strokes and a whole lot of empathy. It is feeling both petrified and awed at the same time for you seemed to have stumbled upon a soul that has managed to make your heart brave through a storm of emotions despite the fact that she is as far and unknown as the most mysterious star in the night skies. It is sitting back for a fleeting moment to ward off unfounded worries and find refuge in the company of books, coffee, music, and all the other small joys that you had long since forgotten because you were too preoccupied falling into the chaos and euphoria of life. It is letting your guard down and voiding yourself of all pretenses, to come in terms with the truth and reveal what you have been keeping clandestine for the longest time: you, in all their flawed and unfathomably beautiful glory.

To get inked by the stars means to get marked by a desire to keep going—to allow courage to trace all your scars, ignite the spark of a love that has gone cold, trade the sorrows of yesterday for the beautiful promises of tomorrow, and to be willing enough to rise and spend another day in either the sunshine or the rain. It is letting a smile tug at the corners of your lips before falling into momentary slumber at night because at last, even amidst having occasional encounters with misery, you are now learning to see more of what life has to give rather than what it does not have—that happiness, despite its seemingly profound nature, can actually be defined by a mere cup of warm coffee alone rather than the whole world in all its entirety.

It is like the new “hello” to the world when finally I let go of something to get something better. 

Well, it is not that my life is bad. I have never even thought about it. But, I decide to throw away my old diary which already out of use.

Finally writing a blog ? Nope.

I have been writing for about 2 years. It’s just those were made private. Since, I was writing about my depression, just to keep me sane. Thinking that I posted something on my blog, even though nobody reads it other than me. At least I put my suffer and confessions there, so I won’t burden me that much.

The inspiration of something new brings on a rebirth, a new beginning. Not sure where this nook will take me, but it feels just right. Mr. Isak Dinesen had it right all along: salt water is the panacea of matters of the body, heart, and soul.  I can’t wait to share this journey with you… here goes.

I know the first rule of creating content, or marketing in general, is knowing your audience...but I don't have one yet, so I'll have to figure that out as I go. 

A little about me...

My dog's name is Darcy, after Mr. Darcy in Jane Austen's Pride & Prejudice. I think she's a dachshund-golden retriever mix (don't ask me how that happened), so I call her a golden-weenie. She & I recently had to move because I broke up with my boyfriend of almost three years a couple of weeks ago. Things are still raw, but the situation we were in has made the break more of a release of tension than a cause of pain. Hmm...What else? 

You know I'm a student, graduating soon & mortified by the idea of moving into unknown territory of challenging & satisfying work (I don't count my stints in food service, retail, or retail management as the starting point of my career). 

Yesterday I stayed late after my Advertising Management class to hear a guest speaker that is an ASU alum & currently working at a start-up company as their Digital Marketing Manager in New York. Waiting outside the classroom for the lecture to start, a man in a casual collared t-shirt spoke to a women in a flowery purple blouse and conservative black heels, she had to be a professor. I shamelessly eavesdropped as they spoke about the time allotment for the lecture. The man voiced concern that they would not be able to fill an hour & a half, & that he hoped the audience would ask questions to bridge the gap. 

Once inside the cramped lecture hall the man in the collared shirt took his space behind the podium & the women with the low black heels took a seat against the wall.