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A curious activity I've become fond of is Blog surfing. I'm sure there are many definitions for it, some involving social decay or existential exploration, but it's really just the stupid act of clicking on the Random button in a given blogspace.
I have a strange array of interests, but my current friends list is short and includes a seriously angst ridden goth chick. All my "random" blog hits seem to involve either black finger nailed, wallowingly depressive individuals, or Russians. I don't read Cyrillic, so I can't speak for them.
I'm wonder if random is somehow influenced by my other info or if most bloggers are high school age.
After spending three years as an extra curricular vegetable in high school, my final year included every activity I could think of that would wow the colleges and thus grant me escape. One of those was assistant editor on the literature magazine.
After bathing in a bare fraction of the creative juices pumped out by our fellow students, there wasn't anyone on staff who wasn't ready to open a vein. Poetry was the worst. There are colors than black, people!
Anyway, we had zero verses that wouldn't make Sylvia Plath feel all tingly. While the chief editor bemoaned her life, I offered to whip up something to stave of the encroaching darkness. I came up with three, short, fairly amusing limericks that padded out some pages and made it look like the entire student body wasn't ready to take the grape KoolAid.
My sister read them in class the next year as an example of positive student work. No kidding; scary.
Well, I guess I told you that to tell you this. There are a whole lot of silently screaming people out there. Maybe they all write blogs. I don't know.
"It's the Happy Happy Joy Joy song! Happy Happy Joy Joy Happy Happy Joy Joy..."
I have a strange array of interests, but my current friends list is short and includes a seriously angst ridden goth chick. All my "random" blog hits seem to involve either black finger nailed, wallowingly depressive individuals, or Russians. I don't read Cyrillic, so I can't speak for them.
I'm wonder if random is somehow influenced by my other info or if most bloggers are high school age.
After spending three years as an extra curricular vegetable in high school, my final year included every activity I could think of that would wow the colleges and thus grant me escape. One of those was assistant editor on the literature magazine.
After bathing in a bare fraction of the creative juices pumped out by our fellow students, there wasn't anyone on staff who wasn't ready to open a vein. Poetry was the worst. There are colors than black, people!
Anyway, we had zero verses that wouldn't make Sylvia Plath feel all tingly. While the chief editor bemoaned her life, I offered to whip up something to stave of the encroaching darkness. I came up with three, short, fairly amusing limericks that padded out some pages and made it look like the entire student body wasn't ready to take the grape KoolAid.
My sister read them in class the next year as an example of positive student work. No kidding; scary.
Well, I guess I told you that to tell you this. There are a whole lot of silently screaming people out there. Maybe they all write blogs. I don't know.
"It's the Happy Happy Joy Joy song! Happy Happy Joy Joy Happy Happy Joy Joy..."