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Overly self-censored

It used to be that after a trip, or even a long day, I would compose in my head what I would blog about, almost as a reflex. This was the time when internet was not as accessible as it is now—that glorious, quiet, private era where the idea of smartphones was just beginning to gain traction. But these days, as in today, I would have to open with deliberate intent. I would reread the lines I've written, more as a scrupulous editor rather than a carefree writer. I suppose it comes with age. And experience. And wisdom. I keep reminding myself, in regards to keeping this personal space online—a personal blog that is, by human standards, already in its teenage years—that the things I put out here may only contribute to the noise and distraction that now plagues humanity. Perhaps I must cease this self-censorship, or ease out a bit on over-analysis. I've been guilty of these.

To glorify God through what I write, to edify and encourage others—these are the reasons why this blog exists. I realize that friends and some family members come to this site regularly, if only to check if I'm alive or not. It always warms my heart to hear them comment on my entries.

I write this today because I've missed the habit of blogging. And I should do it more often.

Before I leave for the clinics (I have a number of chemotherapy sessions scheduled this morning), I'll show you this photo taken by a friend during our Korean trip. During our tour of an ancient palace, I spoke with one of the Korean kids in English. I asked him if it was true, if the tree was really 700 years old as the sign said. He looked at me with surprise, smiled, and ran to his mother. He did not speak the language. Ah, kids.



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