I've been asked and I've been mocked for using a fountain pen, especially when my fingers get stained with ink or when the pen chokes. Someone said the ballpoint pen was invented for a reason and there's a reason too that only a minority of people still use fountain pens.
I can't explain it either. It's like trying to explain why you love the sea, or chicken rice, or cats, or a certain book, a certain person... there's just no concrete reason sometimes why you love something. I like the sound of the pen scratching the paper, I like how the ink flows when it flexes, I like how some strokes are so fine that it resembles a strand of hair, I like the softness of the nib... and why do these things give me a good feeling? I don't know.

Been to Bali a second time in march and the feelings about Bali remain the same; I didn't fall in love with it. I guess there are just some places you can't love.

I was upset by someone today. Oh well, actually two people. People can get really overbearing at times and I just feel so suffocated and pissed. The other infuriating thing I shall not mention... but I think little things add up... an unkind word here and there, impatience, selfishness, etc.. before you know it, an ocean has been created and there's no way you can return to the other side.

Should I give up already?
What is it that is holding me back?
Fear of unknown territories?
The inability to believe in myself and God?
In limbo... caught between reality and a dream...