People Are Strange, When You're a Stranger.

People abuse blogs. I don't care what you and your poor grammatical skills have to say. But hey, what the fuck, I'm doing it now. I'm just playing into it, I'm just as excited when I post something new. That's the purpose of a blog, so people can record their daily excitements, disappointments, shortcomings, as methodic and redundant their morning cup of coffee. So you can do this, and other people can comment on your life, whether they relate to you, whether they think you're just some jackass with too much to say. I should just make it a private blog, but then what's the point of having a blog at all? People make blogs to impress others, so you can convince them about how deep and thoughtful you are. In the outside world, you may seem shy, underachieving, perhaps a bit slow, but when people read your blog, you'll be revealed as the coffee shop intellectual you really are. It disturbs me to think that strangers from halfway across the globe may be slavering over my posts, wondering what new scraps they can paste on to the mental picture of me that's slowly developing in their mind. It's odd to think that my life could be a saved link on some Canadian man's desktop.

Or maybe I'm just paranoid, and self centered, and no one cares anyway.