I've just finish commenting on Fatt Chin Choy entry on how unfiltered his blog is. I love this entry and I think I'm in the same situation.
I don't hide my identity. I don't have to do that. Why would I do that for? I'm not a government condemner where every words I said will put me straight to jail or qualify enough to climb onto the ISA list. Let alone the guy who write his entry from the unknown cave somewhere in Bora-Bora desert.
My words come from everything. It's all about what I see. What I feel. What I've experienced. It's just sometime when I think back. What if the readers know me. Or related to me. Or there are people that I've to face everyday reading my story. That's when I think I've to have a limit.
It's the same with my old one. It was like everything I said wasn't true anymore. I've to control my angst. I've to limit my craziness. I've to portray my blog-post the way I portray myself in the outside world. I've to put my aside my opinion and then what? lets the crowd do the talking. Shit.
Duh. I'm not being hypocrite. And it's not about hypocrite anymore. We live in the world full of hypocrite this whole time. Ask yourself. Wouldn't you mind telling the bad side of you to your dream girl on your first date? Or how many of you spend the days doing something that you don't like faking a fucking smile on your face?
Enough with the hypocrite. I went to a small event held by a group of blogger last month. It wasn't a gathering but it's more toward an art event and I was there to support them. Support their art. Support their passion since I too was into this kind of passion. A lots of blogger came. None notice me. Maybe because I was too handsome in my display picture. But I don't give a damn about it. It's never my intention to come there and have my name announce on my arrival. I went there to show my support.
It's not about how many fall-ow-err you have. It's about what you wrote. It's about honesty. If you can't being honest to your crowd, be honest to yourself at least.
Dude. Your kite was flying too high. It almost hit the sun. Bring it down a little.
This is what happen when I let my hand do the talking. Fuck.