I never thought I would be able start my own blog. I always thought that my thoughts and realizations are too private to share to the public. Then why the sudden change of heart? I realized that writing liberates me. I just want to be open and share what i really feel inside with other people. Of course there are some stories that are best kept to oneself, but there are some that are too precious not to be shared. Like making music, writing requires an honest heart.

I love writing, but I don’t consider myself a writer. I only prefer writing over some other things: speaking, cooking, cleaning the house and organizing parties.

I don’t consider myself a writer. Perhaps saving myself from the troubles of becoming one makes my craft even more rusty. I can’t call myself a writer for even the renowned, sought-after and the highly acclaimed playwright I know cringes at the thought. Nevertheless, there is so much delight and joy when people include their names among the canons. There must have been an unrecognized humility and unprofessed pride in all of us.