As the trees change color and gently fall upon to the ground, dead to the world, so has my productivity in terms of updates wilted, turned brown and withered into nothingness. I am fully aware of this fact, but have yet to rectify my slackitude. Until now!

Except that I’ve got nothing to say, really. All things in life are constant and throbbing at a bearable pace. No major personal developments, no major life crisis to troubleshoot. My job is mediocre and satisfying in a banal sort of way, and though wallet is perpetually empty, my needs are met and my bills are paid. In short, life is good. Dare I say it, I am happy.

And as they say, happiness writes white.