It's Hardwork To Keep A Blog Up And Running.

Quite frankly, it's easier to work the rig than to maintain a blog eventhough there's no supervisor to tell you in the face that you'd better write something or he's gonna go see some pencil-shuffling college kids upstairs to have your salary deducted.

I'm beginning to have the impression that once you've started a blog, you'd better keep it going, coming up with something to write about and not leave an entry up there too long as if it is somekind of exhibit for a museum. This is easier said than done. I used to be able to come up with three entries a day, but that was BEFORE I got a day time job. Back then I could just sit in front of the PCs for hours, hopping from one blog to another, getting to know everyone, getting myself used to different styles of writing, and point of views, enlarging my perspective on things I otherwise didn't know existed. But it's different now.

It's hard to come up with something to write about on regular basis. I can't be writing about cleaning the kitchen every now and then unless I encounter something interesting to write about while looking under the sink to wipe out the dust. Something like an angel who got lost and found her way in my kitchen. Something like this won't happen in real life so the chances of something like this will ever get written in my blog is as good as my winning the heart of the only woman I've learned to love.

That's another thing I can't be writing about every now and then. No way I am going to talk about this elusive woman that I've written so much about. There's no more to tell about her unless of course she decides to have a sex change. Now that's big news but I don't think I'd be interested to write about it. Why would I? Why should I write about it when I've had several sex change myself that I've lost count how many times I've been male, female again, male again and female again and now on the road to being a cowboy once again so I can go meet 'em women with flowers in their hair, laughing and giggling on the steps leading up to a room upstairs.

I can't write about cowboy anymore. There's no more cowboy left in me to write about. Whatever's left has outgrown itself into a businessman wannabe. Someone doomed to plunge headfirst to his first failure.

No, I can't write about failure. Everyone loves a winner. We all want to know what does it take to make our first million. Or billion, or trillion since everyone thinks in big numbers these days. It must have something to do with the real value of a ringgit that made people think this way. Maybe the value of the ringgit is shrinking that we have no choice but to think in large numerical. Or could it be that the Indonesians in the country made us think this way about our currency? They talk in millions so in order to catch up, we just thought it convenient to do the same. It made us feel equal. It made us feel good. Feeling rich is more important than being rich.

That's philosophy there and I can't write about it since I am no philospher nor a poet. That's the last thing I want to be. A poet. Maybe it's a good idea to be like William Butler Yeats, so I can meet someone like Maude Gonne. Write a couple of stuff so people can say, 'That's deep stuff, man.' But I know for sure it's not even close to what they are trying to figure in my poem because the truth is, I've just written about something as trivial as how come there's not enough sugar in the country?

I am not an economist to write about something as big as that. I don't read that much to know any better why the country is short of sugar. The way I figure maybe someone somewhere is making money. That's about as far as I can understand about this so I had better not write about it.

The truth is, keeping a blog up and running takes a lot of hardwork.