give it a title

I've been going through this period of introspection, retrospection and reflection on this here blog's direction. I think the difficulty I'm having in finding things to write about is due to the fact that I don't really know what a blog is and what it entails. I switched to my current blog when I realized that my previous one was becoming just a storehouse for stories I made up while sitting on the couch in high school before classes, at lunch, or after classes were done. People liked them, and I had the most popular blog in school for a while. But then things changed and I found that I wanted my blog to reflect my daily life more so than it did because that's what I thought a blog was all about.

It's this impossible idea of using this blog to highlight my daily life that keeps coming back into my mind. Sometimes I find a blog that is basically a list/outline/excruciatingly detailed account of the horribly boring day some person had which is expertly hidden and embedded on the page in what, at first glance, appears to be something that might resemble prose. This is what I once wanted. I wanted the same shitty blog that everyone else had. I wanted some annoying background that clashed with the font I was using and I didn't want to capitalize the words I used or make paragraphs or check spelling or anything. I wanted my own little plot of land in the Internet world where I could sit down with a sign that, when you got down to it, was just a big fuck you to originality.

I'll admit that the only blogs I personally visit are the one's that have a new naked teenager pictured every day and a concise little blurb underneath about how young the girl looks and how perfect her breasts are. Though I would kill for the sheer number of hits these blogs get daily, I don't want my blog to be like this. I want substance and I want meaning and I want something that people want to read and learn from and laugh at because it's good stuff. But I've never gotten there and so my blog isn't like that.

And thus I'm left with what I have. This...thing...this...amalgamation of mashed up chunks of garbage that I spew across the Internet that means nothing and which relates to nothing that can even remotely be considered my life. I find little nothings in my day and I exploit them. I take them and stuff them full of exaggerated filler and things get so deformed that the part that was my life is gone--wiped away and covered under some fold in the literary material. I stretch and stretch until I can't even remember what was real. And people laugh at what comes out of it. People laugh because it's stupid. Everything I write is stupid and pointless and unimportant and meaningless and fucked up and I don't even want to finish this entry.