So, I guess that I lied because this, as you can see, is an update. Even after I said that I was probably not gong to update. Well… I’m a liar then. But really, isn’t everyone? I mean I have never met a single person who has never ever lied in their life. Seriously. Never. I wonder if anyone actually has… I mean, excluding babies obviously. As they can’t talk (or, just haven’t decided to- I don’t assume we non-babies know everything of the world).
Speaking of babies, I had a scary thought yesterday. What if, when we were babies, we were all born with the knowledge of the meaning to the life, the universe and everything and then forgot it somewhere along the way. What if it sat there in the back of our brains and then slowly, slowly just ebbed away until no amount of persuasion could coax it back. It’s like how you only know if God exists when you die. Although, a friend of mine said something recently that made me think. She said, “I have this theory that God is what you want him to be, he is like a shape shifter or a reverse-boggart. Showing what you believe he is. So if you were… I don’t know Hindu, you would see the many Gods you worship, if you were a Christian you would see a big bearded man, or the holy trinity or a big powerful presence. Or say you were like an atheist then you would see nothing. That is where your life would end.” Now isn’t that incredibly smart? One of my friends, the genius in the making.
I’m a little confused to what I am going to write about here. Well, confused isn’t really the right word. I am… a little bit clueless. I don’t really know what you talk about. In books, when a blog is involved, it always starts off with protagonist saying “Oh, I won’t really have anything interesting to say, my life’s pretty boring…” And then something extraordinary will happen or she’ll face deep and meaningful problems like her friend has anorexia or she’s become a compulsive criminal or something far fetched like that. Or even if that doesn’t happen she’ll at least fall in love. The same thing happens with diaries. The thing is, if a book were written like everyday life was, there’d be no point in reading them. We may as well endure the horrendous experience of reading old diary entries.
But… well what about us? What about the everyday person who really doesn’t have anything remotely interesting to write about? What about the majority of unfortunates, blundering along with their boring dull lives devoid of adventure? When writing blogs we keep expecting for something major to turn up out of the blue which we can pour our hearts out about. But it doesn’t happen because we’re normal. Well, either that or I am exceptionally boring. Either could work.
I think this blog will probably turn into a book blog once I eventually decide to stop making it private. But for now, when it’s just for me and I don’t know how to paste in pictures yet, it will remain a random blog for venting.
So long, Fx