ihave just finished bonding with the readings in journ that preached of the evils of cluttering to writer-wannabes



the thing that affects me with that is, even though ihave given up on my dreams of becoming a writer, iam still a student

whose course right now has got a lot to do with writing



a confession: my middle initial isnt C, but if it were, it would have stood for Cluttering

(yes, if only it were caguioa)


my mind is a clutter. my handwriting clutters

my writing style specializes with cluttering



so very especially-for-me were those readings that all icould do while the sentences pierced by me was to smile

and to curse

because it hurts me so much

to realize that the only positive thing with me

(uhm, that's writing, if you havent noticed yet. people in the past said iwrote better than most engineering students)

is not very positive at all



cluttering, as that spectacular author defined it in so many metaphors, was kind of like writing nonsensely


too much words. too little idea



papasam had warned me in the past about that style of mine

ihad to be rejected by the varsi workshop just so ill realize that what he was telling me was gold



no vulgarity can describe what ifelt then. even right now, with the idea of holding a pen and, again, using it on paper without academic intentions



"im never gonna dance again, guilty feet, have got no rhythm"