Well of course that isn't true. As soon as it is time to write something specific, for a worthwhile cause (see previous post), the ideas completely dry up. A little lubrication via the drink department of ASDA seems to have little effect on sparking ideas. If I had a South American Tree Frog I may be able to induce some creativity via its hallucinogenic back sweat, but I am, as are ASDA, completely out of the inspirational amphibian. Likewise the only mushrooms in the house are closed cap and penciled in for tomorrow's dinner, I will have to look elsewhere for inspiration.
This is the universal bind of all bloggers, what exactly to write. Blogging is not for the shy, the belief that someone else, in the world is at least half interested in what you have to say, means that you don't mind telling them. It also means that someone else in the world is interested in the trivial things that make up your life, or the fantasy stories that make up your life, either way, interest is assumed... or at least hoped for.
The other option would be to write something of an opinionated nature, a sort of Daily Mail for the MTV generation. This is all well and good, but far too often any irony intended is lost on the comment whores who stalk looking for things they either agree or disagree with. So perhaps in the end, all that I am left with is a snapshot of my life, Darren, some guy who has a blog. Well here goes...
Today I woke up, I lived a little, and soon I will go to sleep. See you tomorrow.
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