Simply blogging

Blogging is fun.

It’s about throwing words in whatever ways you want – or not.

Or simply put pictures to tell the story. Simple. Interesting.

Even a blurry picture also can expose a powerful story behind it.

And the best thing is…

Blogging is about trying to show the cool side of a person’s world and ideas and thoughts and whatever crap wonderful things there is out there.

In other words?

TIME TO SHOW OFF!! (admit it – that’s the deep down real intention in any blogger’s heart)

Bloggers are freelance writers,

Writers that put even stupid words into a make-sense-words of wisdom,

And wisdom words means freedom,

Freedom to show the world,

World on a brighter side and its evolution,

Evolution in shaping a better generation.

Simply blogging.


The serenity of a good screed


No matter how many words or pages consist in a book, it is always complete.

A perfect touch of much adroit writers slash authors.

Anybody can be a writer. Anybody can be a story teller.

However, NOT everybody can be an author….personally, I said that this italic statement is wrong.


The idea of writing a book is that one can objurgate other peoples’ idea with redoubt statements. A story is always paradox but no one judge because nobody is right or wrong.

Writing a book is like creating a new world albeit it is nonsense or way out of our mind.

Heck, that is what we spell as c-r-e-a-t-i-v-e.

Who would have thought of these world? They did:

The beauty of books is from its delicious various stories in it regarding in any form,style and for any purpose, let it be selcouth or a reading for remit tranquil or with some gasser elements for a grinning teeth.

Stories that could be an oracular which personally I think most of the authors love to do or one that can picture the world as an iniquitous place, stories with solecism and a platform of a novation to neoterism.

A writer’s story has its own birr which portrays its own unique characteristic, let it be something cimmerian or in a gasconade way embedded with a dramatic peroration style, and lends itself to a rhyming desinence.

One thing that I love about books is that it is a source of anamnesis. A good screed comes with a good lucent book.


I prefer to read my books in my own room. It is like my own adytum. No other people can access to my adytum when a book is in my hands.

I bet I am not the only person feels that way when it comes to reading a book.

My reading materials would vary from Reader’s Digest to National Geographic magazine to novels by Paulo Coelho, Jeff Kinney, Mitch Albom, Arundhati Roy, Stephen King, Jodi Picoult, Nicholas Spark, Jane Austen, Joseph Conrad, Chinua Achebe, Salman Rushdie, Ernest Hemingway to poems by Cecil Rajendra, Kingsley Amis, William Butler Yeats, Billy Collins, Nikki Giovani, etc. Too many to list down.

But my most favourite of all are Paulo Coelho and Jeff Kinney.

Paulo Coelho: reality, spiritual, inspired by the Holy Bible, truth and modern serious on the eye of the world.

Jeff Kinney: reality, hilarious, truth, hilarious, funny, hilarious, imaginative, hilarious, wimpy and, hilarious.

What else can I say?

The Alchemist dug my soul so deeply that I can feel Christ’s present while my eyes dance with the rhythm of Coelho’s writing:

Meanwhile, Greg Heffley marked my day in high school as XXXXX, exactly! (not as dork as his though).

Thanks to the Malaysian government that gave each varsity student a RM200 1Malaysia book voucher to spent at any participating bookstore.

With that voucher I am a proud owner of these books and all are still waiting for me to indulge:

Done with The Wimpy Kid.

4 more books to go.