Bloody Blog

It's just occurred to me how bloody unreadable this bloody blog is. I mean it's no secret I'm winging it here but I don't know - I guess I just kinda assumed that my innately blinding writing talents and priceless wit would translate effortlessly into a page turning (toggling) read. Oh the crushing disappointment of reality! ;-)

I notice many people seem to be using their blog-space as a literal diary of daily events. I can't say that really interests me. For starters, what I get up to is really none of your business (you sick little perverts!) and for seconds - yawn. Here's a shocking little revelation from a gal who's lived in a couple of different places all around the world - your tragic little life is really not dramatically different from that of the majority of other plebs getting around out there (yes, including mine). That probably sounds a bit harsh but I prefer to see it as a rather liberating concept. We're all so scared of revealing our true selves to those around us because we fear being labeled freaks, social misfits or worse - well I'm here to tell you that I'm almost positive you're just another boring shmuck... unless you're an American from the mid-west... the statistical model tends to deviate rather sharply from the mean in this test group.

On second thoughts though, the only other blog I've come across on blogspot that I've liked enough to revisit (so far), is a journal-type affair (And I Did It Anyway). Now how does that work? I suppose its the writing itself and the fact that she's not just transcribing mundane activities, but meditating on inherent oddities in the human condition, which reveal themselves in the said tedium. Oh yeah, and she makes me laugh. We're all voyeurs at heart, aren't we?

Only really started thinking about what I'm doing here as I was telling a very close friend about this blog today. She hadn't heard that much about the whole blogging phenomenon and quite reasonably asked for my blog address so she could check it out... and that's when I totally clammed up. I mean I knew I'd been consciously keeping my new hobby to myself but I didn't realise just how powerfully I felt about maintaining that segregation between real life & web life. Pfff, I suppose it boils down to that fear I mentioned before. The really odd thing though, is that I'm open to interrogation from a world of strangers - more than that - I welcome it, good or bad. What perverse egotism!

Now I find myself fantasising about a certain man stumbling across this page and falling in love with my random musings... yes, you see it's very important that I'm not the one who directs him here. Some cosmic act of fate must lead him to this very spot, where he'll recognise my picture & profile, and find himself inexplicably compelled to read through the night (for these miraculous events always occur under cover of darkness). *sigh* Just when I think I've evolved beyond my hopelessly idealised Mills & Boon notions of romance... How is it I can be so practical and level headed about men in reality, yet still hang on to these ghosts of a girl I used to be, in my treacherous sub-conscious? It's really not very fair of me. Argh!

So here we are. An anonymous author, an unreadable blog, an uncertain audience. Pass me the Pulitzer.