Starting afresh just proves that writing is no less than the pheonix

"I'm female, I'm sixteen and no I don't like pink. I am outspoken, I don't give a damn to how people bat their eyelashes when they think what I do is weird. I just give a finger and I'll be done with it. I am into anything and everything that has to do with Japan. I'm glad that I am out of that phase now: though I'm one of the admins of the Bangalore Anime Club. I draw anime as that's the only thing that inspires me with. I write what I feel as I believe that a true writer is someone who writes only for the sake of pure, unadulterated writing. I relish in the thought that I feel much better when I write away whatever that is there within my bosom: feels like a good night's sleep. I am more super normal than all those crazy teenagers out there who are purely driven by their hormonal rages and self-indulgent pleasures; I deserve a parole, man! I used to play the violin: I use the past tense as I'm currently on hiatus with the instrument. I was supposed to write more here, but I'm not going to do that now. You can feel free to contact me if you want to anything more."

---------> This is what you should have noticed in the right hand side of Miss April's blog. But since she thought what you see displayed right now explains more of her nature with concern to writing, she thought it would be prudent enough if it remains so. Miss April has had her fair share of blogging: she used to maintain a blog with LiveJournal for quite some time when she was in an age which she deems she was very immature in. So when she decided to stop the connection she had with LJ and decided to create a website for her own to let out her creativity, she just stopped using that website and posting anything on it. Why you ask? Well, that is something for which she knows the answer not. Now that she had decided to carve out yet another new identity for herself on Blogger, she hopes that she will strive to work more on her writing skills and update them whenever possible without any excuses.

Saw the title of this post yet? "Starting afresh just proves that writing is no less than the pheonix" Miss April wrote this and she firmly believes by this.

NOTE---> Miss April Twelving is not a stranger but is only me: Haripriya Ramakrishnan. But since April Twelving is an identity of mine which I use to write with, all the posts here will remain only in the third person view as in where you find someone else describing me. For this, you can call me a snob, bratty or even just as a plain old bitch for all I care. For it is not you for whom I am writing: I wrote for me, for myself. But with no offence intended whatsoever, if you like my writing...or even me after being influenced by the writing, I welcome you with open arms. Constructive criticisms are always welcomed, and so are flames and bad opinions.

Miss April writes what she thinks and feels just at the moment. What justice would she be doing you if she bars you from writing bad about her writing?! Miss April is not judgmental in any way possible and that is just part of what she wants to express in her writing. True, this post here might be true for what a conventional first post must be--bragging about all the non-essentials. But as Miss April is in no way an exerciser of such practices, she will cease to write now.

(She also ceases to write now because of her little five year old cousin's forcal for her to stop writing and go doodle with her)

To writing, to Shakespeare who always inspires Miss April, to Blogger for providing her a platform, to her ever beloved and respected Pradeep Senpai, to Sudarshan San who boosted her to writing this post, to her little five year old cousin who kept her off the short five or ten minutes' writer's block with her stream of little never ending questions. To Miss April Twelving herself for finally kicking her own ass to go sit at the computer at her aunt's and start on this blog which she had been contemplating whether or not to start for the past...who knows from when?!

Till the time my fingers next touch a keboard, adieu.