![I decided to switch from Blogger to Tumblr [i am still perplexed why they omitted the vowel? shortage of letters?]. Next thing you know we will have sites with purely consonant words.
First of all, Bloggers interface, i think, was not designed for my taste. Who ever was in charge of
Blogger’s menu design, GET OFF SPEED. Not that it’s bland, or inconvenient, not at all. Blogger offered me enough room and lots of control (Muahhaa) … well … maybe too much control. I felt like a little kid with an unhealthy excess of power. I did’t know what to really do with it. Just try watering a plant with too much water. It will shrivel up and die. My interest with blogger died out pretty fast, like a can of open tuna. I just can’t find enough patience going online for three hours (i can barely sit online for one hour), sweating while looking for millions of themes to decorate my profile. On Tumblr i noticed it is much easier, click and go. That is what i need. I can post, shrug and go cook dinner. S A T I S F I E D
My girlfriend referred me to this blog paradise. I already put my eye on a few captivating entries. I just wish the cursed “n” button on my laptop would work.
Somewhere in the distance a caterpillar watches its sibling hatch into a butterfly.
John, as log as i remember, was always fascinated by insects. Just ask him all the Latin names for butterfly types and he will light up like a lightning bug in July. He did not like school, but after school was different, he would get ready and go outside for hunting. After he would catch all the wild butterflies with his webbed net, he would place them proudly inside transparent glass jars, and neatly stack them on top of his window sill. The jars always looked polished and transparent. John’s brother and sister would occasionally stumble secretly into his room, for Johnny didn’t like to share his bounty with his family, and look at the spectrum of moving color inside the glass jar. The butterflies would flap their wings, flutter and rush towards the top of the jar. But no matter how strong, or fast they flew up, down was the only reality left for them. Little Lisa, John’s younger sister of six, always felt different for the flying creatures. “They are going to die here.” she would say to Harry, Johns other brother. She would pick up the glass jars, look closely at the beautiful insects then turn around and pull Harries shirt, saying “We have to free them”. Harry, who was now in the last grade before moving to a higher school, loved his younger brother and always felt pity for him because he knew John didn’t have any friends. “We can’t free them, Lisa” he would tell his sister, “Johny loves them”. Lisa would look at her brother with watering eyes and after realizing that the butterflies could not be rescued she would change her mind to playing a game of hide and seek. They ran carelessly around every room, glided as though they had wings, with their feet sweeping the wooden floor. They filled every crack in the house with sounds of laughter, welcomed every spider with wonder. Where there were tears two hours ago, now were wide curious eyes. Where there was sorrow an hour ago, right now, there can be joy. It is wonderful how we can change, how fast, almost scary. And the butterflies … they are still fluttering in the neatly placed glass jars on the window sill.
I like Tumblr. I have a feeling that here, i have an indespensible opportunity to branch out as a writer and witness myself taking one of the two roads; either improving my skill or descending into yet another writers block, more like a writers abyss.](http://24.media.tumblr.com/BSej0abUvq5n6syh5h0b9Fw5o1_400.jpg)
I decided to switch from Blogger to Tumblr [i am still perplexed why they omitted the vowel? shortage of letters?]. Next thing you know we will have sites with purely consonant words.
First of all, Bloggers interface, i think, was not designed for my taste. Who ever was in charge of
Blogger’s menu design, GET OFF SPEED. Not that it’s bland, or inconvenient, not at all. Blogger offered me enough room and lots of control (Muahhaa) … well … maybe too much control. I felt like a little kid with an unhealthy excess of power. I did’t know what to really do with it. Just try watering a plant with too much water. It will shrivel up and die. My interest with blogger died out pretty fast, like a can of open tuna. I just can’t find enough patience going online for three hours (i can barely sit online for one hour), sweating while looking for millions of themes to decorate my profile. On Tumblr i noticed it is much easier, click and go. That is what i need. I can post, shrug and go cook dinner. S A T I S F I E D
My girlfriend referred me to this blog paradise. I already put my eye on a few captivating entries. I just wish the cursed “n” button on my laptop would work.
Somewhere in the distance a caterpillar watches its sibling hatch into a butterfly.
John, as log as i remember, was always fascinated by insects. Just ask him all the Latin names for butterfly types and he will light up like a lightning bug in July. He did not like school, but after school was different, he would get ready and go outside for hunting. After he would catch all the wild butterflies with his webbed net, he would place them proudly inside transparent glass jars, and neatly stack them on top of his window sill. The jars always looked polished and transparent. John’s brother and sister would occasionally stumble secretly into his room, for Johnny didn’t like to share his bounty with his family, and look at the spectrum of moving color inside the glass jar. The butterflies would flap their wings, flutter and rush towards the top of the jar. But no matter how strong, or fast they flew up, down was the only reality left for them. Little Lisa, John’s younger sister of six, always felt different for the flying creatures. “They are going to die here.” she would say to Harry, Johns other brother. She would pick up the glass jars, look closely at the beautiful insects then turn around and pull Harries shirt, saying “We have to free them”. Harry, who was now in the last grade before moving to a higher school, loved his younger brother and always felt pity for him because he knew John didn’t have any friends. “We can’t free them, Lisa” he would tell his sister, “Johny loves them”. Lisa would look at her brother with watering eyes and after realizing that the butterflies could not be rescued she would change her mind to playing a game of hide and seek. They ran carelessly around every room, glided as though they had wings, with their feet sweeping the wooden floor. They filled every crack in the house with sounds of laughter, welcomed every spider with wonder. Where there were tears two hours ago, now were wide curious eyes. Where there was sorrow an hour ago, right now, there can be joy. It is wonderful how we can change, how fast, almost scary. And the butterflies … they are still fluttering in the neatly placed glass jars on the window sill.
I like Tumblr. I have a feeling that here, i have an indespensible opportunity to branch out as a writer and witness myself taking one of the two roads; either improving my skill or descending into yet another writers block, more like a writers abyss.
