Let’s be honest, I’ve been dreading/avoiding writing this post. There’s so much I want to say, it’s become almost impossible to try to phrase perfectly. So without further ado, I’m just going to say it: I have officially moved to a self-hosted blog over at


Screen Shot 2016-07-13 at 3.34.57 PM

what it looks like now  :$


So from now on, this blog here will not be getting any new content, ya’ll have to (please) go to my new web address. Read Tinkerer of Words has Evolved, the post I wrote on the new blog address about this change. 

I know this is a happy moment yet I can’t help but feel nostalgic. The fact that I’ve had to change the theme and the logo (which ahem why don’t you check out at eh? 😇)..it’s all much fancier. But there’s no denying I’m going to miss this place, as it this right now, terribly. It’s been one of the best things, in my life. ever. And for all your support and comments, and the friends I’ve been made through this blogging endeavour.. I just can’t be any more grateful than I am. For all of it.


I’m going to miss the community feel of wordpress.com. SO MUCH. But moving to better things is all part of this creative journey even if the fears and the doubts try to keep you from moving. The only way I could avoid feeling daunted was to just do it (hence, why this is such a sudden change..). I had to stop overthinking all the potential affects (effects? 🙈) and remind myself that success is subjective and if doing what I do, makes me happy, then THAT is worth the most. Finding a readership or gaining followers only comes later and yes, hopefully, some day, even if a few people read what I write then that’s just the cherry on the top.

Phew. Anyway. Don’t want you thinking I’m sad because I’m not..I’m just an incredibly nostalgic Slytherin who’s been avoiding Oreos because Calories are the Dolores Umbridge of the muggle world. 🙃 #nodenying

Overall, the looks at Tinkerer of Words are different so hearing what ya’ll have to say about it would be utterly amazing. ❤ I’d be SO HONOURED if you come say hi on my new blog and perhaps share any experience or insight if you’ve been through a similar change?

Also, very important: if you’ve been following here..you might have to go to the new address and click on the follow button again just to be sure you get keep getting notified of the future posts. Alright? Alright. 👌

If you see no future posts on this address then I want you all to know that I’ve surely not quit, merely shiftedThus, in the words of Jack Roper himself:


and remember, it is never Goodbye..oh no, it’s


Much Love,





I have tried to write this since so long now. Yet no matter how hard I tried to start, nothing seemed right. Every sentence seemed to lack that little piece of satisfaction.

And no, I am not writing this (and hopefully have posted it by the time you’re reading) because I’ve managed to break through some supposed “writer’s block”, like a slave freed from the chains ready to embark on a trip full of magic and wonder.

I’m still just as hopeless. 

But I don’t want this hopelessness coming in the way of what must be put into words. Even if that means having to embark, bound to chains. So if you watch the video below, then yes, this is kind of a sad and bleak post.

Who knows? I might sound cheery by the end. Let’s begin by this video I made..excuse the shaky recording and my voice that definitely isn’t narrator-standards.. ^^’



December 2014 was when myself and my family had to shift to another city, almost a hour and half away. 67 miles to be precise. That obviously meant having to move into a new house, away from a house that was home. Now it might seem ridiculous but 67 miles seemed like a distance encompassing space that can’t be measured in any unit known to man. It’s hard to explain but home hasn’t ever seem so far.

Alas, circumstances were just as unavoidable as change was imminent.

In the course of emptying our house, I have felt memories. Not only seen past moments being played in my head but felt them sink in and jump back up like a crashing wave hitting the shore line, again and again and again.

During that time, it felt like a storm let loose and the video above was a paddle for a boat, too stubborn to leave its sea.

I suppose it’s understandable. After all, 11 years is time enough. Enough to grasp you. I also know that a home is made from the people, not the walls, but I can’t stop myself. So it might yet again sound ridiculous but the door to that house was the lock to a treasure chest within which were the fondest times that I could have ever longed for.

Like a scent that can’t be stopped, my home was childhood-scented. 11 years later, I can’t imagine a place any different.

Not even 67 miles away.