I love the idea of a blog.

It's floating in the Internet and all, and there could be a million different kind of people that drop by and read the words on the blog. There's still something personal and private about it.

I'm the type of person who likes nostalgia. Who likes scrapbooks. Who likes yearbooks with little scrawls from old friends and acquaintances. Who likes old diaries that record the most banal part of human existence.

But it's warm, it's cozy, and it's real. It's like I'm reading my own personal history, reading into my old thoughts and my old life before I outgrew it like a piece of dead skin.

I think that's why I've been wanting to blog for so long. I've tried countless times. So many blogs, so many ideas, so many hopes of readers and comments and looking back in two years and finding the blog and finding the old me. So many ideas.

I really did read all those blogs about blogs and tried to find a niche, about SEO, and social networking sites, etc. I wanted to be successful. I wanted blogging to be part of me. I wanted to touch people.

It failed.

This time around, I don't really have a plan. The only thing I'm going to do is write down what pops into my head. And what pops into my head is pretty weird. But all the better for interesting blog posts.

Well, only time will tell, huh? Let's see how far I get.