“What a world we live in, the sad state of modern society makes me want to crawl under an overpass and die! When perfectly decent people won’t get up and read 2000 words of terribly written chicky fan fiction, it’s really just not worth living any more.”
To be entirely honest, it did break my heart a little that the Internet didn’t jump all over my last attempt at clever blogging, but I’m sure I’ll get over it. As of right now, no one has even looked at my blog in the last 12 hours, and I assume this is punishment for littering the walls of the vast and terrifying internet with more useless stories about girly things people have already written about.
Well played internet…well played.
I’ll give you all a bit of justification for the never ending fluff that was the content of my last post, entitled “Richard Curtis Fan Fiction: Notting Hill and Back Again“, but I can’t promise it’s going to be a good excuse.
I’m female…as I’m sure a few of you have deduced with your clever, clever minds, so this means I occasionally think about girly things. Girly things include (for those of you who are out of the girly things loop): Flowers, kittens, rainbows, sweets and occasional intense bouts of sexual desire for certain male specimens. If the latest literary craze isn’t proof then I don’t know what is [RE: Fifty Shades of whatever seems to get women off these days]. These bouts tend to manifest themselves in the subconscious mind of the women in question, and eventually materialize as dreams.
More to the point of my story… I am traditionally an avid and intense dreamer. One night, one of these manifestations came to me in the depths of regular REM sleep, as one of my favourite…no….my single most favourite deliciously British public figure. The scene also, coincidentally, appeared to be set in the best place pretty much ever. I do love my brain sometimes. So the following morning, I had to do everything I could to write down the experience, and capture the intense feelings with words, so I wouldn’t lose it all forever.
And then no one read the results. Serves me right for sharing.
So a lesson to you all, no matter how many buzz words you put in your blog, which happens to be never ending tome of mundane conversation, people aren’t going to bother reading it.
End of story
Thank you and goodnight!
-Miss Hailey Jane