What kind of blogger are you?

I just put down the last book in the Ender's Game sci-fi series, feeling all contemplative and peaceful, and got the urge to write here again. I was all set to do my philosophical thing again, when I realized that anyone reading this blog would have a skewed perception of me. Sure I like thinking about the nature of the universe, but I also like the beach, thai food, sex, gossip, raw milk, cute hats, putting marshmallow peeps in the microwave, being in love, petting rabbits, balancing rocks on top of each other...You know, that full wonderful human spectrum of events. It's just I don't get the itching in my palms to write anything down unless I'm emotionally distraught or philosophizing. And I realize now that these blogs I flip by, that annoy me with their long-winded rants/raves about video games or their awful boyfriend, or endless logic about why this diet or that religion is better than all the others, these things are just one small aspect of these bloggers' personalities. These people just happen to feel that compelling drive to write when they are thinking about one particular category of human experience, for the most part. Am I making any sense? I'm tired and the wireless in my living room isn't so good so I write desperately now, convinced that all I've written will be lost in a flash.

Not that it matters anyway, no one reads this, which is as it should be, there's a reason I haven't told anyone about this.

But ahem, anyway, I'm trying to bore to the center of why people write, because if it's possible, I'm getting less and less cynical about people's motivations for writing. Even the dullest, least-inspired book had to have been written with a large amount of passion/itching-palms/neverending urge. Writing is tiring and fully engaging and almost impossible in large quantities if you're not emotionally invested in it. This is the opinion of a non-writer here, but I've watched my mother write since I was a little kid and only now am realizing what she does, how ridiculously real her written world becomes, creating itself and shoving her out of the driver's seat, and yet leaving her no rest. What if no fiction is written just for entertainment? Do all these authors really believe what they're doing, are they trying to teach on some level, do they have a choice on what or when they write? It's crazy and out of control. I like it a lot. Anything so all-consuming is ok in my book, I vow never to write off something that does this to a person without at least considering what it would be like if that activity did the same for me. Even organized sports.

My birthday is in 5 days. I'm having my first house party, well, the first one I've ever created and managed myself. The combo of beach bonfire, absinthe, and jello shots will make it a good one, I think. I could get really frustrated with my messy housemates and go crazy cleaning the house, but, naah. Too old and tired for that sorta thing now that I'm 25. And no matter how messy or lazy I am my friends continue to like me. They just don't take the hint! How many times do I need to fart in their cars or steal their boyfriends before they leave me alone on this transcendent mountain of thought?!?!?! Sheesh people.