So what does one do, with a blog? I've been here two and a half years, and I have no idea. I really don't. Other people write, or talk about their life, or crack awful jokes, or post pictures, or theorise about world politics, or give advice on how to write a blog, even.
I mean, what the heck happens here? Some mediocre-to-good fiction. Some faintly humorous theories of life. A bit of economics. Some vague irritated-about-life rants that I really am not sure about. And some poetry, which I am actually pretty proud of. I quite like reading my poetry. But then, I quite like reading most poetry. Though there was this poetry reading I went to in January by this girl who wrote the most vapid unoriginal rubbish that even my haiku was good by comparison. But we're getting off track here.
I know what a blog can be for. I know what one shouldn't do. But seriously, what am I doing here? This cybernetic space where I have total control means what to me?
Who are these people, on the internet, who talk about their lives? Innit just a tad weird to be spilling your innermost secrets on the internet? Innit just a tad weird to be talking about yourself at all on the internet? Don't we get told, about how the internet is full of these awful people who will try to use the most vague clues you give them to try to track you down and then stalk you or something? And here we are, talking about it out in the open? Hello Mr Stalker Man, come find me, this is where I live!
Sometimes I read the blogs of complete strangers. I can never remember quite how I get there. I just keep clicking, link after link, and suddenly, I find myself somewhere I really don't want to be anymore. And here they are, telling me their deepest darkest secrets. Sure, they name no names and use pseudonyms like 'That Guy' of 'Mr Y' but I'm still being told about what he did to your best friend. In morbidly excruciating detail. HELLO! If you want to tell the internet your secrets, at least take the care to make your blog private or something? PLEASE?
I'm sure the people who write these blogs are perfectly nice, but every now and again they get some small thing wrong that will get me really, really irritated. Like, ONE CANNOT WRITE AN ODE TO SOMETHING IN THE FORM OF AN ESSAY! AN ODE, BY DEFINITION, IS A FUCKING POEM! IF YOU CALL IT AN ODE, AT LEAST MAKE SURE IT FUCKING RHYMES! (Can you tell I did a fifteen hundred word project on odes back in tenth class?)
Ok, glad I got that off my chest. Sorry about that little outburst. Sometimes the bit of my brain that controls the amount of pure rage I feel decides to go on a holiday. I never get invited, which only increases the amount of rage I feel. Anyway, moving on.
All things have an aim, in life. Aristotle said that. Maybe the aim of my blog is to find the aim of my life! That sounds terribly convenient! Erm, maybe not, then.
So, having talked about god-knows-what for a bit, we are still no closer to figuring out what is going on here. I leave you, then, with a list of the music I've been listening to recently ( I have still not gotten around to Rahman's new album, but i will eventually, I promise.)
Lungs - Florence and The Machine (Specifically: Rabbit Heart, My Boy Builds Coffins and Hurricane Drunk)
Window to the Past - John Williams (from the third Harry Potter movie)
Mother - Pink Floyd (shame on you if you don't know which album)
Jack's Lament - Danny Elfman (The Nightmare Before Christmas)
The Time of Your Life - Randy Newman (A Bug's Life)
A Great Big Load of Carnatic Music Stuff - T M Krishna