Heh.

I write stuff.

(To which you, say, "Duh, you're writing this right now. How dumb do you think I am?" To which I say, "There's 'Gullible' written at the bottom of this post, jerk." and then you insult my mother, and I insult your father's sexual preferences, and you make fun of my hair, so I challenge you to a cheerleading competition where my group of plucky, honest cheerleaders triumph over your group of clingy, manipulative cheerleaders but try to be really nice to you afterwards even though during the competition we all somehow manage to steal your boyfriends and possibly get married to them too and we make you come to our weddings and wear horrible looking theme dresses and....okay. A little off subject. Also a paragraph-long sentence.)

But I write things that aren't for class or blogdom. These things are many and various, and if you ask to read them, I will feel insecure and say, "Well, it isn't finished yet" and you will say "I want to read it anyway" and I will lend it to you.

Then you'll return it three weeks later, smelly and ripped and covered in coffee stains.

Then I will feel sad. (These things have happened to my drafts. Just not all at once.)

I will feel happy when I look through it and find out that you wrote COMMENTS! because that showed you realy did read it and want to better my writing instead of leaving it at the bottom of your locker (or backpack or shoe) for three weeks and just now decided you'd had it for WAY too long.

Then I will feel sad again when these comments say shit like "u shud totally put cooler stuff in this" and "this is irritating" and "OMG I TOTALLY DIDN'T REALIZE THAT CHARACTER X WAS NOT A GUY AND I THOUGHT THIS WAS YAOI FANFIC EVEN THOUGH YOU CALLED HER 'ANNABEL' TWENTY TIMES IN THE FIRST THREE PAGES." (The last comment has never happened. Thank God. But it's a fear I have.)

Looking back on this, you can deduce that I'm apparently really insecure about other people reading my stuff, which begs the question of why I have a blog. On the Internet. Population of more than several MILLION. You can also deduce that I really suck at getting to the point.

The point was that when I write stuff, sometimes I'll decide to refer to something that I don't know much about, and then I'll spend three hours researching it, learn EVERYTHING about it...and later decide that the wording didn't work for the situation and delete the sentence and the concept forever.

On the other hand, I'm a virtual fount of information about stuff you never really cared about in the first place.
But I think it's funny.
So yeah.







(P.S. Gullible)