I've been reading through other blogs.
And other blogs.
Cause well, there's nothing else to do.
What shows quite apparantly is the common written attempt, pathetic or otherwise (I won't judge today) to intepret something.
Be it, life, love, starcraft or thoughts.
It's all merely intepretations from a singular mind.
Well, how intriguing is that!
Bah.
Then there's the one who realises people, people of this stature or that perception read his/her blog.
Then they craft brillant posts to carve curiousity out of the dead cat.
They write how they want people to perceive them.
They hide meanings here and there, they encourage reading in between the lines.
They abhore coherancy.
Bullock.
Then there's the few that can't be bothered with life, love or starcraft.
They post pictures, they enjoy their life.
They think up of witty captions.
They think up of suitable titles.
Bosterovic.
Then there's who's lazy about everything.
They give up trying to write a fanciful piece.
Or they don't have the mental capacity to do it.
They don't post pictures as they find it stupid.
Stupid as perceived from a select few from the reaches of their mind which they have scorned.
Bok.
then there's those who keep a diary.
A daily log of events.
A chain of thoughts.
A coherant subterfuge for "ima dumbass, smack me"
Isn't it all so intriguing.
How when all this have been written.
You lose more than you gain.
How this tickles one, bores the other, Scorned by some, how telling.
How telling is the reaction, the impact on the subsequent reader.
How delightfully intriguing the human mind ( I had to get to this soon) which can concur and digress, and dissect each and every mere thought or wisp of a feather.
the irony of such the human mind dismisses the power of itself is an example of it.
Can't the mind see its capabilities?
Can't the mind feel the power beneath its soft grey exterior?
What can the average person be ?
Or do?
Once they read.
Right.
I would now rubbish that person.
there there there.