Today, I visited this blog again. Reading post after post, I've become sentimental. " Ah, this is what I wrote some 10 years ago?! " It was cathartic and I had a sudden awakening to revive this blog. I quickly set this to public again. You see, I've been feeling empty since my mother died last February. The indefinite work time-off was much wasteful but I've been reading and writing on my daily journal. Social media drags me with unsettling feeling of not being seen by people and even by close friends. The overload of ephemeral information and the algorithm drive for monetization made us insincere at what we do. Parts of me constantly feel vulnerable and misunderstood, putting work for prying and preying incorrect audience. As I read further, the slightly polished posts I made long ago were somewhat like a online diary too. It was private and yet not obsolete for universal feeling of connectedness. This reminds me of the essay "The Diarist on Diarists"...