What I'm really into these days is the Google Reader. I know it's kind of loser-ish (to borrow P's term) and sad to actually come out and admit that but I do like, no, love blog hopping and Reader makes my surfing activities loads easier.

Best of all, it's not blocked in purgatory. My take on that is this: because of his special love for me, God puts a glitch in our tech systems every time those wonderful IT guys at the office check for the most visible sites. Thank you, God, for being so double-standard about things.

I've always liked reading about other people's thoughts and/or experiences. I'm a total information whore. Don't psychoanalyze me, please. I wasn't left out as a child and I don't really have trust issues (harhar). I'm just unusually interested in other people, that's all.

My Reader account hosts different kinds of blogs. There are writers' blogs, bloggers' blogs, and some informational blogs. Admittedly, I like the writers' blogs best. Nothing else in the world can make me feel as shitty as a really good, well-thought out post can. Someone totally whack once told me this: where there's shit, there's potential for growth. I never really got it then but now, I guess it kind of makes sense, in a truly warped and gross way.

What I'd like to do is write non-stop for long stretches of time. I'd like to fill this blog up with insightful and terribly touching stories that would make you scream with insecurity. But I can't. I feel sometimes that I just keep repeating ideas and nothing really, erm, progresses, you know? I need something new, I'm telling you. I need something more.

And here's where you'd say, Come off it! You were just talking about Google Reader then here you go again with that self-depreciation shit. Who cares, honestly? Who cares if you don't write in a million years anymore or if IT does eventually block everything? This sadness doesn't make sense! It doesn't make sense!

Oh yes it does. It does. So if you don't mind, I'd like to crawl into a car now and bawl my eyes out.