it sounds like something my stomach does when I've eaten too much dairy and broccoli.
The thing is...I actually have a real journal...like the kind you use ink in and turn pages and stuff. I've had one since I was 12 and write in it pretty regularly, so I'm just not that into the dougie howser-ishness of this blog. I suppose it gives me an opportunity to publicly air my grievances, and it's like the 21st century version of Confessional Poetry, but I'm starting to wonder 1. whether I NEED to publicly say ANYTHING and 2. if I do need to publicly say something, is this blog even the place to say it...? I don't read any other blogs and I don't expect people to ever read this blog.
hmmm...so maybe I keep coming back to it because I'm bored at work and secretely I hope that someday someone is going to give a crap. Maybe I should suppliment my blog with some paid air time on NPR or something. And now, I have sullied my blog with a self-conscious rant about blogs...this is just great. just great.
In other news: I've been having some trouble focusing at work lately. I would rather be at home reading the OUtlander series (scottish highland historical romance fall through time dirty 18th century druid sex) eating baked cheetos in my airconditioning than writing emails to people that make me crazy. So I will settle for eating baked cheetos at my desk and carelessly wiping my cheese fingers on the keyboard as I write blog entries for no apparent reason. Viva la Friday.