I can't seem to figure out what I'm going to write about.

Here's the problem.  I like a lot of things, but I have absolutely no idea what to say about them, because when I think about them, my mind draws a blank--and I'm not sure how to get past that.  I'm not sure how I'm supposed to figure out what I'm good at writing about; I'm not sure how to figure out what to write about; I'm just not sure overall, and it kind of sucks.  I'm not sure.  About anything.

I kind of need help.  I mean, I kind of want help.  I just can't figure out what I'm good at doing, what I want to do, how I want to do it, if I can do it--let me rephrase that.  I have a list of things that I want to be able to do, but I'm not sure if I'm able to do those things, because they're difficult and I don't want them to be difficult.  I want them to be fun, meaning, I want to have fun working this blog and writing about things that I like and which also interest other people who want to know about the things that I like.

But, at the same time, I also don't want to say something that's been said over and over again on the internet--I don't want to write reviews of stuff, because there are people out there that can do it much better than I can, and there really only need to be a couple of reviews of a product before they all start sounding redundant.

Add to that the fact that I don't want to do research because it's boring, and you have a recipe for someone who doesn't know what in the hell they want to do with their writing, and possibly also their life.  Which is me.  I'm that person.

I mean, I like Hatsune miku; is there anything I can do that will have to do with her, and will also be interesting, and helpful to other people?  Are there things that I can write that will have an impact on the general population?  Don't mind that last statement, it didn't really mean anything.  Or at least, I'm not sure what it meant.

How about vocaloid fanfiction?  That would be something that would be fun to do--it would be very fun.  Maybe.  I'll think about it.

I've been thinking that I want to write something based on anime.  Maybe analyzing it, maybe doing other things based on it--I'm not really sure, again--I don't know.  Maybe I can start a serial where I imagine myself in a situation and write based upon that situation.  Metacommentary or something along those lines.

God I don't know.  How many times have I said that already?  I mean, it's how I really feel about this.  I'm totally not sure where I'm going--I want to be a writer of some sort when I get older (I am older, I guess, and that time is about come) and I want to write things that people will enjoy reading.  Is there anything wrong with that?

But the problem is, I can't figure out what to write!  I guess I've already said that.  Now I'm just repeating myself; and that's how I've felt lately.  I'm just repeating all of the things that I've already done, and can't produce anything new, no new ideas.  Not that any of the other things that I
I've done were any good either.

So I'm going to wrap up this ramble by saying that eventually, you will see something come out of me that you can enjoy.  I just don't know what it is yet.

So I've been looking through my old blog posts.

And, I've found, it's no wonder that I can't read them.  They're practically unreadable--the tone, the style, the short sentences that make it sound like I'm on crack.  Maybe I was on crack at the time; who knows?  (I'm just kidding.  Seriously.  I don't do crack.)  The point remains that for some reason all of the posts on this blog, barring one or two, are in a form that is mind-bogglingly hard to read--mostly because of a couple of things.

Thing number one: Short sentences.  I liked to use very short sentences in my writing not too long ago, for reasons that I don't understand myself at this moment--not that it really matters much--although I have spent a little bit of time thinking about it.  Maybe I thought that short sentences would have a bigger impact on the reader; maybe I thought that keeping them simple would make it easier to read.  I'm pretty sure that I was wrong in this regard.  Because, god damn, my old blog posts are hard to read.  How did I even write like that?  Have you ever felt that way about something that you have done?  It's a really unpleasant feeling.

Number two: my ideas are all over the place.  I jump from one subject to the next in the span of several short words, and the effect is like reading the transcript of a conversation of a kid with severe ADHD.  I don't know how I got there; I don't know how it happened; I'm pretty sure that whatever ADHD I have is mild.  Or maybe it isn't.  Who knows; I've never been diagnosed--I've never asked anyone to check me out.

I mean, wow, I really hate how my old blog post writing feels.  It feels terrible.  I have no idea why I used to write like that.  (Although, reading back on what I've written so far, it seems like my writing style echoes what it was just a couple of months ago, albeit a little bit more mature.)  Maybe I can get it to be something--like a calling card, or whatever you call someone's signature style.  Maybe if I work hard enough at improving my writing style my blog will be fun to read because of this--precisely because of this.  Or, maybe, I can make my stuff into videos where I read aloud what I've written in a hyperactive voice while pictures and film and stuff moves across the screen.  What do you think?  Though, I'm pretty sure that there isn't really a "you" out there so much as there is a vast wasteland of cyberspace and null feeling where no one cares about me and no one is willing to give me the time of the day--because let's face it, and amateur blogger really isn't something to look at.

Maybe I can get better.  Maybe I can work on my writing style and my subject matter so that when I do write it will be both entertaining and informative.  Maybe I should keep at it; who knows?  I really don't have much support in the way of people who will look at the stuff that I write, though, and that's what's getting me down.  I really want people to read my stuff; but, then again, so does everyone else--who's to decide whose stuff gets read and who gets relegated to the corner of nowhere?

I'm writing this as a kind of "I'm sorry" for the things that I've written so far--I'm sorry that they've been so bad, I'm sorry that I thought they were good, I'm sorry that you had to read them.  Maybe this will make me sound like a self-depreciating idiot--I assure you, I'm not, I'm just facing reality and how things really are.  Maybe I should go back and change the things I

I've written?

Nah, I'll leave them, as a testament to who I've been and who I might become.  So, loyal fanbase of exactly zero, get ready for another try at this game from me, the best blogger who was ever not very good.

Someone touched my thing

My thing.  Someone touched it.  Not that thing, this thing.  The thing you're reading.  Someone touched it.

Now, I know you all can say all sorts of things about the nature of touching.  But there is only one thing that I do know.  Pancakes are awesome.  Don't touch my pancakes. 

Seriously.  Don't touch them.  Even though I hate them, don't you dare touch them, for anything, anyhow.  Don't you dare.  I'm looking at you.  Yeah you.  You with the hair.  I don't like you.  What are you doing to this country?  I'm being serious right now.  What are you doing?  What are you reading?  Why do you exist?

Let's consider that.  Why do you exist?  I can think of two reasons why you exist. 

One: to screw with my head.  I can't believe that other people are really there.  I just can't.  I can't see inside of their heads, so how do I know they're real?  How do I know that I'm not the only conscious one in the whole world?  How do I know that people in other countries even exist?  Well, I know people in China exist, because they make the things that I use everyday, like my toilet plunger, and my pill box, and my vacuum.  So there's that.  Head has been officially unscrewed.  By Chinese people.  

Two: just because.  Because whatever crazy intelligence or non-intelligence created the world just happened to have a sense of humor and put all these annoying people in here with me, so annoying that I can't even get a girlfriend, why me, why can't I get a girlfriend, people are stupid.  People really are very stupid.  How come?

This guy knows.  Why don't you ask him?  

Speaking of asking him, have you ever wanted to ask god a question?  I have.  It's this.  Why did you make poop brown?  Seriously.  Why is poop brown, instead of red, or orange, or blue?  Why did you put that special blend of chemicals together to make it brown and smell bad, instead of blueberry smell bad, or raspberry smell bad?  What is up with that?  

Moving on, I have a proposition for you.  Why don't you go outside, stand on your head, and count to ten?  Why don't you?  Go do it. Now.  Your pet duck Frodo commands you to get outside and stand on your head.  

Why can't I get a girlfriend?  Why?  What is wrong with me?  No, it's nothing wrong with me.  I'm the most sexy person alive.  It has to be everybody else.  Everybody else has it in for me.  Holy shit.  That's so true.  They have it in for me.  Excuse me while I go strip off my pants and run into the street.  I hope you had a fun time hanging out with this guy right here.  Goodbye.  Forever.  No, really.  It's goodbye now.  

What's the use?

There's no use anymore.  It's no fun anymore.  Writing has gone to my head and now I can't write anymore.  No one looks at my stuff.  I'm just a zero guy in the middle of a slush about which everyone does their thing and produces.  That last line didn't make any sense.  Expect a lot of things to not make sense in the next few paragraphs.  

That's right.  It's not going to make any sense.  So buckle up, people, and prepare for a wild ride into the nether regions of cyberspace with me.

What's up with cats?  I'm allergic to cats.  That's funny.  Is it funny?  I think it's funny.  It's supposed to be funny.  I just used funny in four sentences in a row.  Now five.  Isn't that funny?  It's finny, I swear.  Is finny even a word?  Oh my god I hate myself this is so boring.  What kind of things do I want to talk about?  What kinds of things do I have with me that I can show people?  I don't know.  I don't even know anymore.  I can't know.  How about I start writing a zombie book.  Yea, that.  I'll write a zombie book.   It will be about how people built a camp in the middle of the docks, and prepared themselves for the destruction of the world.  That is what it will be about.  I think that's it.  For today.  I'm going to go write now.  Goodbye, see you next time, if there is one.