Blogs.

More and more are subscribing to the pleasures of owning one.
The excitment that bubbles over when the internet browser springs up, compelling you to, before anything else, pay homage to the humble corner in the vastness of the infomation highway that you can call your own.
What would it be today? A new tag? Maybe another post?

It is a steam-vent for the angsty teenager.

"Don't use the word "dear"on me
when it's clearly the opposite you mean. It does not, in any way, make your condescending demeanour any more appealing to me."

It is an avenue of affirmation for the driven optimist.

"Yes. This year I begin anew!
Begone procrastination, mugging days are here to stay.
A better tomorrow awaits the keen hearted."

It is the meticulous diary-keeper's auto-biography.

"6.05am.
I wake up to breakfast, it's scrambled eggs again,
I swear it's undercooked!
Assembly, then Math.
Grah. was dozing off during calculus."

The ultimate expression of melodramaticness for the dramamama

"WAH. x_x I AM SO DEAD LAH.
Review week is 2 days away and I am still left with..."


What is it to me?

On the top-right a mix-mash of hope and despair, on the left flank the deliberate yet unconcious display of prismatic colours serving perhaps fundamentally a source of embarassment and amusement to my future self.


Such as now.