frustrogated; blogstrated

I knew it would happen, and I've come to the point where this blog thing seems silly. Who cares about cat pictures, or how funny I think my fiance is, or how I'm feeling restless? If it's to keep my family updated I can just as well send an email. I'm tired of the top picture. The whole color scheme is too dark. I have no web skills to really re-design something creatively. Other people seem to have great themed blogs that get made into movies. I can't stay on task like that. I lack a good camera to take pictures and post. And now we have amazingly suckily slow internet so it takes 10 minutes to post one picture anyway. And blogs expose: I don't write about anything of great importance because I have skin that bruises easily and a mind that lingers on potential offenses and repercussions. Am I writing just for me, and if so, why not put it all quietly in a journal, and not risk vulnerability? If I'm writing for others the whole thing seems disconcertingly narcissistic.

Maybe I will get a good camera. Maybe I will change the color scheme, or change to a different computer program. Maybe I will be more unapologetically me in my posts. Maybe I'll figure out intended audience. Maybe I'll take on a theme. Maybe we'll upgrade to fast internet. Maybe I'll start an anonymous blog.

But something.

I've also noticed in myself a sudden violent intolerance for a specific type of music I used to enjoy: the guitar-strummed, singer-songwriter song...self-confessional and self-absorbed, with nonsensical lyrics they pretend mean something.' Probably not just a coincidence.