Once again, I had ‘writers block’ this week. But seeing as I could never consider myself a writer, and block suggests impermanence and not a constant state of writing ability, maybe that term doesn’t apply.

This time (you may be surprised to know that I actually have a life) it wasn’t because I had nothing to write about but because I simply felt that I didn’t want to impose my lack-luster attempts at humour and mildly alarming ramblings on you poor people.

Once again, I am suggesting there are people who read this. Relatives and friends reading it out of pity don’t count.

I don’t think anyone (minus bloggers) understands how hard it is to write these posts without:
a) Sending people to sleep.
b) Causing offence in some way.
c) Going completely off topic.

But because you don’t want your blog to just be another tried-and-failed hobby, and because most days you get asked by insensitive people when you’re writing the next post (I love you guys really), and because despite your complete incompetence you actually enjoy writing, you force yourself to sit in front of a computer and write something. But this something must not:
a) Send people to sleep.
b) Cause offence in any way.
c) Go completely off topic.

…whilst still being mildly amusing and readable.

It’s a lot of pressure.

Here’s how I cope. Repeat stuff. Thesaurus.com. List stuff. Repeat stuff. Exaggerate stuff. Italicize random words. Repeat stuff.

Just reading over that, it seems like a slightly simplified model of how I conduct my life. Maybe I should start a support group.

I should probably mention my birthday seeing as, well, it was my birthday. That sounds like I don’t want to talk about it (I do, I really do. I could probably spend a few hours describing everything in detail.) but I hate those blogs where it’s just some person documenting the mundane happenings of their slightly boring life. I know there are different types of blogs. There are humour blogs, campaign blogs, self-help blogs (I think mine definitely falls in this category), religious blogs, celebrity-shrine-like blogs, cooking blogs, gardening blogs etc. And some people somewhere like to read about how Mary makes her own houmous and Jason trims his own hedges (innuendo not implied) but I am not one of those people. Nor do I care to become the author of one of those blogs. Rant over.

So anywayyy, my birthday was good. I got so many wonderful presents (minus the willy straws) and loved spending two consecutive days with my best friends. My party was eventful but memorable (as The Mothership put it) and being 16 feels amazing. So amazing that there’s no difference.

I hope you all got more sleep than I did last week and good luck with the Repeating Stuff.