Why is my blog not as personal as other blogs?
The enthusiastic imaginary audience of this blog may be asking, “Why not tell people more about yourself? Why keep on analyzing things that people don’t really care about? Why write poems and fictional stuff only you can comprehend? Why do you always sound so bored and sleepy?”
Good questions, imaginary audience. Good questions. Now, let me answer. Maybe I should go through this one by one just to be clear.
1) Why not tell people more about yourself?
Primarily because I’m not that interesting and I’m ready to admit that anytime. My job’s not that good; I currently don’t have any hobbies worth anyone’s attention; I’m not interested to pursue anything except one girl; I’m not going gaga over anything but I have been reading a lot about the Large Hadron Collider; I am as interested in politics as I am with calculus; I don’t have any strong opinions regarding anybody or anything over the fence and on the news; I’m not annoyed enough to bash anybody using witty, funny language; I don’t have enough money to buy any new shirt, gadget, pair of shoes, or anything in the mall worth blogging about; my passion for criticizing the government has been buried a long time ago together with my patience in “intellectual debate”; and I basically live a contented life.
In a nutshell, I’m a very cold, boring person.
If I told you about how my day at work went, I’d be telling you how my officemate seems to have a lot of time to surf YouTube and how I’m following every channel he surfs. If I tell you about my recreation, you’ll be hearing about sleeping — how sticky my pillow is because of sweat and how my limbs are spotted with mosquito bites. If I tell you about my angst, I’ll tell you how I’m fed up with McDo and Jollibee cashiers trying to slip that chicken wing in my tray whenever I don’t request for the breast part.
It’s that boring.
So what do I do? I tell you about love. Because my love life is the only thing worth writing about; the only portion of the pie graph of my life that pulsates with energy and shines with all the colors of the rainbow. Others are as boring as Floyd Mayweather Jr.
Good for you if you have a more exciting life. I’m sure you’re a cool person. Maybe you’re worth my hate.
2) Why keep on analyzing things that people don’t really care about?
Because this blog doesn’t exist for other people’s entertainment although I try to improve its tags just in case other folks out there who have the same experiences as I do may reach my articles and actually tell me something I haven’t heard of.
Aside from that, this blog is hella selfish.
I actually write each piece to entertain myself, so that when I get back to it 5 minutes later after refreshing my mind and assuming a more objective perspective, I can relish how good or bad my writing is. I’m a very silent person and most of the time, I talk to myself in my head. Yes, I’m one creepy creature. Oftentimes, only two people can make me happy: my girlfriend and myself.
This blog is generally my playground, that’s all. If people don’t care about my indoor philosophies, that’s ok. But they should probably revisit when they’re drinking beer because my stuff is better read when you’re drunk and losing touch with reality.
3) Why write poems and fictional stuff only you can comprehend?
I used to write blogs for an imaginary audience with average comprehension skills and I made sure they got every word I say. But then I read what my demigod Ely Buendia wrote, that you should never underestimate your readers, so based on my religious principles, I quickly changed my writing habits. I started to write like my imaginary readers have backgrounds in textual analysis, philosophy and sociology. I also imagined that they can read into my mind, so I have to make them work harder to get at my meaning (meanings are precious to an average man because oftentimes, that’s all he has).
Never mind that they get bored with the first three sentences or lines. Never mind that they think my writing is craptastic. Never mind their opinions.
Just write as if I’m dancing drunk in front of the sea in the dark (There you go. Eat that. Another metaphor.)
Fiction also makes the experience universal. For example, if I tell you my heart was broken because I’m a deformed freak, you’d think it’s simply my personal problem and you cannot relate to it. But if I fashion my emo stuff as a slightly general poem or short story, where the main character suffers from physical insecurity, which wrecks his love life, then you can relate to it more. Even though this blog is primarily fashioned after my taste and forged for my own entertainment, I find it really fascinating and delightful when people from miles away can relate to what I say — like they can copy my poem and call it their own because it doesn’t have my average, regular name on it.
4) Why do you always sound so bored and sleepy?
‘Cause I am bored and sleepy. Since I am premature, my body is quite different from other normal, healthy bodies. I tend to get tired and sleepy quite easily, so there are times when I’m writing while feeling like I’m on LSD and everything around me is turning psychedelic like Sgt. Pepper’s. My brain is somehow wired to not care about physical reality but the virtual places and scenarios in my head. It’s like I’m dreaming 60% of the time, which is usually interpreted by other people as spacing out.
Tonight, for example, I’m writing this thing just because my finger tips want to touch the keyboard and I miss that blinking line, which waits for my next letter on the screen.
Marx was right. There is alienation. It thrives in me. *Yawn*