It is as if the eulogy I gave my grandfather awakened a sleeping creature inside of me.
After writing it, speaking in front of hundreds of guests, and garnering praises from my family, it's like I gained back the confidence and the inspiration I have in writing. Since that faithful Sunday, I've written two (this being the third), uh, I don't really know what to call them. Essays? No, too informal. Blog entries? No, only two (including this) were blog entries.
I don't seem to be making sense right now. But does that really matter? Writing is writing is writing. As long as I express myself the way I want to, I'm in good hands. Besides, I'm not really writing for you the reader. I'm writing for myself. I'm only aiming to please myself.
I don't know who to credit for the awakening of this creature: Papa Fred? My relatives? God? Myself? I can't really pinpoint.
And for this, I'd just like to thank, the great Papa Fred, my relatives, myself, and most especially God. All of you have revitalized and strengthened my interest and eagerness to write.