So I said I’d never do a blog again, or The Annoying Thing about Blogging

…and yet here we are, what the hell, self? You couldn’t keep your word to save your life, could you?

There is one really annoying thing about blogging. It’s the fact that once confronted with a piece of blank paper (or… just empty space to type in, rather) my brain shuts down and suddenly I can’t think of a single thing to say. Like, when I’m on the subway, or in class, or trying to do productive work, BOOM, idea, must write about that. The minute I get in front of a computer… what were we talking about? Yeah. It’s like keyboard induced amnesia. So when are we gonna get some neat transplant brain chip that saves our every thought for us to later just upload to the internet? Huh, cybernetic science-y people? Get on it!

Okay, so maybe it’s my brain’s fault because goddamn if this thing can concentrate on only one thing at a time. Like, I’m sitting here typing and suddenly I think, huh, maybe I should add something to the last paragraph, and then it’s like, Wookiees have six nipples, right, where did I read that again? What was I going to write? Oops, it’s gone.

Maybe it’s just all the hassle of waiting for the computer to boot, then waiting for the internet to connect, then waiting for the page to open, then logging in, then finding the right thingy to click on, and theeen technically I could write but by that time my brain is like: Hungry. Cold. I wonder what’s on TV. Did I check my e-mail? What was that one line from Mean Girls? Wait, I had this awesome blog entry all finished in my head, where is it now? Why is there no search function in my brain?

And good old-fashioned paper is no better. Rummage for paper, rummage for pen, write stuff, cross it out, write stuff, cross it out again, how do you write “how”, why is that a k, I meant to write t, okay, I’m done, now to just type it out, wait, what does that say? People always say I should have been a doctor. Because there is absolutely no one in the entire world who can read my handwriting. Not that that’s anything to be ashamed of, I come from a proud family of scrawly handwriters (is that a word?), but it’s kinda impractical. On the upside, I could encode super secret government stuff and all secrets would be safe forever.

So, I’m a dingus. And my brain is stupid sometimes. And that’s why I said, no blog for you, missy, nuh-uh, never again. Aaaand I did it anyway to spite myself and because I don’t have a lot to do right now. Eh. Maybe something will come of it. But probably not.

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