Pretension

I am having cramps. I know this is probably TMI for all of you, but it sort of interferes with my ability to do work in long blocks of time. Because of this I decided to visit Gawker and browse around the "Douchebag" tag, where I ran into a writer called Chuck Klosterman. After reading a few snarky articles on the man I realized that I have actually read some of his work, part of a book called Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs.

My friends were raving about Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs, and Chris, in an act of sweetness, bought it for me after I mentioned to him that I wanted it. I tried to get through it, I really did, if only because it was a gift. But I should have borrowed it from the library before any sort of purchase was made because the writing was so insipid, so easily disprovable, and in parts so utterly immature that I gave up trying to finish it. No offense to anyone who loved or loves this book, of course. Feel free to have long debates with me on how I'm wrong after I'm done with my work.

For those who would ask why I'm blogging if I am busy: it's because it has a certain relaxing value for me. I could just be strange in feeling that way, although the entire reason I decided to start writing again was an article citing blogging as therapeutic. I don't entirely trust studies like this, but it may simply be proof that I am not alone in feeling this way.

I have a fear of coming off as pretentious in this blog. Actually I have a fear of being pretentious in general because I used to be very pretentious when I was younger. I have, however, decided to write as freely as possible here, especially because, let's face it, this blog ultimately is for me. I'm hoping that what I write is not simply pretension, especially because I feel as if poetical prose is sometimes necessary for me to express myself because of the way I think. Ah, yes, the vagueries of self-doubt. Writing here can also sometimes be disconcerting because of the number of "I"s and "me"s used.