My Life Here Now

So I finally decided to move entirely to Blogger. The decision was fuelled in part by a desire to get away from people reading all the old posts, and also partly because I don't want to be reliant on the NUS server any longer. Any thoughts of keeping a website are on hold at the moment, at least until I can get my life sorted out.

Why do I even bother to keep blogging? So much that should be said can't. I'd post anonymously, but that would just be silly - if it isn't post-friendly it shouldn't be posted at all. And the internet is not a friend to reveal your secrets to, no matter how anonymous your readers are.

You should only do that on IRC.

When I go jogging, I tend to think a bit - it distracts me from the lack of air in my lungs. And this thought keeps coming back to haunt me: me telling Ling that she was rather boring for a Lit major. I think I said something along the lines that I had thought Lit majors would be filled with angst somehow and full of anger and stuff. Of course, I know it's an erroneous ideal, but I guess it was fueled by my own insecurity.

I do it a lot, slamming people when I really feel insecure about something myself. My closer friends will have felt the barbs, but really, I seldom make fun of someone without being a little bit self-reflective about it. Nick should know. I always tell him his degree is pretty useless in the industry, but... it's more because I know it for a fact that mine is too. I always tell my sister she's stupid, but it's really myself I'm talking to.

And if I were a Lit major, I think I'd be a lot more interesting. More interesting than I am now, really. I think that's why it bothers me so much that Ling is so well-balanced and adjusted. I just thought, given more poetic friends, I'd be a lot more... interesting. And now I don't know. Really, what do I have to offer anyone in the way of an interesting life? The angsty people would just look upon me as another sad mugger whose paltry, unromantic problems might rub off against themselves and end up turning them into sad little salarymen too.

In fact, am I a boring friend now? Am I a really bad friend? The kind whom you go out with half out of pity because you know he doesn't have anyone else to go out with? Do I put you to sleep with my conversation? Do you bloody pity me?!

I'm afraid I might.

Okay, piss this. I'm going jogging. Gonna try for biathlons, perhaps running will make my life more interesting.