Neobedouins.

Two posts in two nights? No, just no. Never. How could I? You consistent bastard.

I caught myself actively wanting to write something here in class today. In a daydream, a thought wandered by: "I'd really rather be blogging." Rather be blogging? What kind of rubbish is that? I couldn't possibly enjoy this that much. It fulfills the same function as a journal really. I have journals, I have scores of journals, veritable scores. Why should this be any more satisfying? I can always go fill up tens of pages with flowery prose and verse, but it wouldn't be the same, knowing that this will be here forever. And better yet, strangers can peruse through it and draw conclusions about my character. How cool is that? Oh man, what an age we live in.
Does it worry me that complete strangers can attempt amateur psychological profiles of me based on my blog posts (because really, a professional psychoanalyst would not be lurking my blog), and should it? After all, there isn't some kind of rigorous filtering process to control the content. I quite literally just take a stream of consciousness approach, and look at it flow. No, of course it doesn't worry me. Sharing my thoughts with strangers is second nature to me. It's something that's grown up alongside me, and at that, who better to utilize such a wonderfully narcissistic tool than me? Nobody, that's who!
I really do need to get this down. I want to look back here in years to come and realise that I've grown. Hopefully there'll still be some sense hidden among the chaotic babble, and I'll be able to learn from my younger self.