why did i start blogging?

i was not ready to tell the people that why did i start the blog? but find it really interesting that non of my friend asked me this question but here the WordPress did ask me that the people wants to hear you so here i am to say that i just saw my friend earning a good amount of money from blogging so i decided why not to start a blog in my free time and whatever i know about any thing i can share with the people out there waiting to hear me….


17 thoughts on “why did i start blogging?

  1. Oh, to be a pilot. That’s lovely. I’d like to make money from writing, too, but am building up my works. I haven’t stepped into that abyss yet. They send an invitation to try the paid version with ad-earning potential, but they don’t give the specifics, and I’d prefer to know the details prior to joining. If you ever find out, I hope you’ll post it.

    I think you write English exceptionally well, and I actually enjoy hearing the difference of your language that’s from your mind as your background and heritage would translate it into English. By writing more in this non-primary language, and by reading, as you are doing, you will improve. And people will always want to give their advice.

    My Dad was a WWII pilot. My special memories of him were the times he’d take me to a small airfield to watch planes take off and land. He’d get me food from a certain fast-food franchise I loved. I wish I had felt that being a pilot was something I could have seriously pursued as a career, because I think I missed my calling. I no longer have that brave derring-do, nor head or stomach for the roller-coaster drop-in-the-stomach feeling that would’ve been prerequisite for an aerobatic pilot. When I received a card in the mail about the Army, I had to check off my ineligibility to join due to my flat feet and female gender.

    Imagine if you were the same person you are now, but suddenly had a new coating and became the opposite gender. Put yourself into the shoes, and imagine how it would feel to be unable to follow your passions, and to have every aspect of your life dictated by somebody, and you could not decide for yourself. If you couldn’t learn flying.

    Here is part of a poem my father taught me, and I think you’ll love it, too. I can’t remember the rest of it, so if you happen to run across it, maybe you’ll let me know.

    We have not wings
    We cannot fly
    But we have feet
    to scale and climb
    By slow degrees
    by more and more
    the cloudy summits
    of our time

    Liked by 1 person

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