North to South, Empty. Running on Bravado

It's not that I'm gonna stop blogging, but the past few days of my life, well, they're not blogworthy material.

It's not that my life's utterly boring, but, there's really nothing much I can blog about.

1. It'd be unwise to blog about some things. The details of my clinical attachment - fun, harrowing or otherwise for example. For reasons obvious to the medical fraternity, it'd be unwise to go into the gory bits of what we see, the specific experiences we have. Especially names. Names are especially dangerous, in a world of Google and Yahoo, a world of competition, backstabbing and corporate policies.

2. Other things simply don't translate into good blog material. So what if I expound the funny conversations my fellow-caffeine-addict-friend Z and I had? "Would you marry a porn star or a smelly lady?" You'd be bored to tears, trying to re-enact the situational comedy of what I narrate.

3. Random stuff about drooling on my shirt on my morning bus ride, almost losing an important document and panicking badly, the various weird dreams I have, the jar of home-made cookies that had been growing mould (and yet keeping it to see how much mould can actually grow on cookies), my fatigue of late, the stuff on TV I watch, the books I read, et cetra. I could blog about them. But would you care to read?

I could let you live my life vicariously, but no way Jose, they're not the kinda entries that rake in the hits, that pique curiosity in audiences et cetra. You'd just skim through those entries, because, honestly, they won't do one iota to improve your life or your mood.

Unless I have some pretty interesting stuff I know you'd like, I shall keep it to myself and keep the signal/noise ratio of this blog at a modestly respectable level.

And when you don't see me updating my blog, you'd know why.