Displaying parody skills equal to that of LittleKuriboh himself, two of my so-called friends have, in the space of three lines each, constructed amusing satires of my now obviously apparently formulaic blog posts, including references to my own indirect attempts to be honest with you through the subtle means of calling myself an arsehole on a regular basis to make you sympathise with the plight that is my comfortable life, and my drawing of meaningless conclusions about life, cleverly disguised as ‘intelligent’ through the use of large words and namechecking pieces of famous literature.
The ease with which they highlighted the repetitive elements of this blog showed me the apparent dangers of writing for this thing every day: most of my posts crumble into the same stream of unnecessarily sarcastic remarks about functionally useful bits of life, or something like that. The fact that neither of them is a particularly religious follower of my blog reinforced this: I write the same garbage so often that you only need to read three posts to know what I’m saying in all hundred-plus of them.
And I’ve realised this myself recently; my usage of words like ‘furthermore’ and ‘frak’ has quintupled in the last few months, as has the number of paragraphs I’ve started with the word ‘And’, which I hadn’t done in my life before I started this blog.
It is apparent, therefore, that rather than having a daily blog to update, and this obligation pushing me to think about my life and the meaning behind it in more detail, the opposite has happened, as the repetitive nature of human life, in both the events in it and the ways we discuss those events, is being portrayed in these posts.
Just look at the titles of most of these posts: they often involve my unoriginal and occasionally comically-expressed views on ties, or file dividers, or printers or any other ungodly tedious convenience in the ‘developed’ world. As we come to depend on these devices more and more, their individual significance is worn off: we no longer respect printers for being able to make tangible the loose ideas we’ve strung together on a screen, but actively hate them for not performing this tangibilisation fast enough.
I’ve also started to see everyday objects as being means to a blogging end: I no longer feel bad for a person getting splashed by a car as they walk next to a puddle, as I laugh and make a note of their pained reaction, so as to write about it for the Internet that evening, in my warm-climated and cocoa-laden house.
This is a question I’ve seen on Stephen Georg’s vlog channel: does the life define the blog, or the blog define the life? I’m hardly going to start chasing people down the street with an iPad demanding at gunpoint that they read this thing, but it’s apparent that I don’t react to interesting things that happen in my life by writing about them, but I overreact to tedium and mundanity, so I have the necessary ‘inspiration’ to not break my streak of daily posts.
Of course, I enjoy blogging, and you people enjoy reading it – I’ve had 2,000 views for some reason – so what’s the harm in overstating the dull, if all I’m doing is stretching out 700 words on how puddles are underrated? While there may be no harm in the moment, as I can relax by writing now, I might look back on my teenage years later in life and realise that my desire for self-expression and discourse led me no further than debating the usefulness of file dividers on the Internet.
Perhaps, therefore, the answer is to try to discuss more meaningful things on this blog, but then it won’t be about what I want to write, but what I think I should write about, which is all kinds of complicated.
A better solution would be to not care about the future; I’ll judge my life however the Hell I want to when I’m seventy, and that will likely be more of a reflection of seventy-year-old James than seventeen-year-old James; for now, I’m gonna keep writing formulaic and sarcastic posts, because I enjoy it, and apparently you people do too.
In light of that, this post is dedicated to silly ideas, and the continuing discussion of them.