Blogging is hard. I hardly ever do it. Why? Because I don't like talking about myself. Don't get me wrong, I'm as narcissistic as anyone else on the internet, but when I sit down to blog I'm faced with the truth: my everyday brain activity is not exactly an adrenaline fuelled thrill ride.
Don't worry, people more bloggity than I say, just write what's on your mind. What's on my mind? Well, this morning I was wondering how much hair people normally lose each day and if I'm losing more than that. Then I wondered what happens to all the loose hair in the world. If everyone is losing gobs of hair off their heads each day, where does it go? How quickly does hair break down into its base materials? How has the earth not turned into a massive nest of hair?
You see what I mean? It's a little funny, but there are more entertaining and less neurotic ways to waste your time than reading my musings on global hair accumulation, or whether scrambled egg breath smells as bad as it tastes. There's a reason I've never kept a journal. Actually, I did once. When I was ten I got a big blue journal for my birthday and I wrote in it three times. The first two entries were a meticulous recounting of what I had for supper that day (I did not care for Highliner fish sticks). The third was a rather confusing confession about a boy I had a crush on, except I clearly remember that I didn't have a crush on this boy, I was making it up because I figured that was the kind of thing you were supposed to write in your journal, when you weren't keeping a weirdly detailed food diary.
Can I ask you all something? What do you blog about when you're bored? What do you say when all you can think is that for breakfast you had five cups of coffee and the english muffin your kid didn't finish before going to school?
S.
Don't worry, people more bloggity than I say, just write what's on your mind. What's on my mind? Well, this morning I was wondering how much hair people normally lose each day and if I'm losing more than that. Then I wondered what happens to all the loose hair in the world. If everyone is losing gobs of hair off their heads each day, where does it go? How quickly does hair break down into its base materials? How has the earth not turned into a massive nest of hair?
You see what I mean? It's a little funny, but there are more entertaining and less neurotic ways to waste your time than reading my musings on global hair accumulation, or whether scrambled egg breath smells as bad as it tastes. There's a reason I've never kept a journal. Actually, I did once. When I was ten I got a big blue journal for my birthday and I wrote in it three times. The first two entries were a meticulous recounting of what I had for supper that day (I did not care for Highliner fish sticks). The third was a rather confusing confession about a boy I had a crush on, except I clearly remember that I didn't have a crush on this boy, I was making it up because I figured that was the kind of thing you were supposed to write in your journal, when you weren't keeping a weirdly detailed food diary.
Can I ask you all something? What do you blog about when you're bored? What do you say when all you can think is that for breakfast you had five cups of coffee and the english muffin your kid didn't finish before going to school?
S.
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