I've recently come upon an amusing thought. Blogging is like writing a biography when no one cares about your life. And as far as I've seen it's true. Sure there are some blogs that do have regular readers, but those are less personal and more devoted to a singular theme.
    Whatever. I've also been downloading tons of free ebooks all morning, but I think that it has been decided that my favorite book of all time is Phantom of the Opera. Speaking of books, do you know what utterly disgusts me? Twilight and all of its dipshit fans. Never before have I been so offended by a collection of words. The story is fine I suppose, considering it was aimed at little girls with no pubic hair. The thing which truly annoys me is that it's a fucking template of a book. Annoying Bitch Main Character is left so plain that any annoying little bitch can imagine herself in her place. It was not made to accomplish a goal in the author's life or for the respectable enjoyment of just writing, it was made for money, and lots of it. I think it would be funny if Stephanie Meyer just up and died.
    Recently purchased a guitar on Amazon. I got it for only 80 bucks so I'm not expecting fantastic sound, and it's only a beginner's guitar so it's not a huge deal, but I do want to be good at it. I've thrown away all of my other dreams (model, horse trainer, fashion designer, and the completely inexplicable kickboxer) and now I'll I've got left is rockstar. I think I'm scared that if I'm bad or I don't enjoy playing it, reality will kick me in the face and I'll have to come up with a realistic career. Realism has never been my strong suit, and it honestly scares the shit out of me. So, what will I do, become some mild-mannered CEO of a tampon company, buy a nice home in the suburbs and pop out a few kids, then while away my twilight years in death camp in Florida?No, thank you.
    Speaking of marriage and popping out a few kids, I simply cannot see myself ever getting married or having kids. I honestly hate people. There have been a select number of human beings in my life who I have been able and willing to talk to, but none of them have ever interested me long term, or enough to squirt the equivalent of a watermelon out of my vagina. Kids are irritating, whiny, and nine times out of ten they grow up to be uneducated, shitty people. I'm a living example. I completely respect other's rights to have them, but don't you fucking dare ask me to babysit, because Timmy is probably going to get thrown out of the window and hit the ground like a Hefty bag full of vegetable soup before the night is up.
    Christ, it's fucking cold. It's only 5 days into September and the weather has already cooled down too much for comfort. Seasons are shitty. Not only are seasons shitty, the changing of seasons is shitty too. You finally start to enjoy the heat of summer and then WHAM, it's 60 degrees out, motherfucker!
    I don't understand how people can believe in a god, or gods, if you swing that way. How can you look at the stars, and into the millions of miles of black, empty, and beautiful space surrounding Earth, and say, "This is for me." I hope aliens come just to fuck with the Christians.
    The more I write, the less I want to kill people. Is that good thing?