Blog of a Different Color

I have been getting over a cold recently, and as such have been mostly confined to my home for the past couple of weeks. It's been very lonely and suffocating. All I have right now are my books, the internet, the routine company of my husband and an occasional call or visit from a friend. I suppose it is not as bad as it sounds. As it is, I love my husband very much and would prefer no other company over his. My world has just gotten very small. This sounds very much like a sappy nineteenth century letter in a shitty paperback romance novel. So shall I shake it off? Yes, I guess I should.

I know I had promised to write, but I have become pretty dull lately. I wish I had a reader or two more to tell me what they want to hear about. Who they would like me to slander or otherwise tarnish. Or at the very least, challenge me to an online duel of rhetoric to the death. It makes my heart happy. One of my friends writes a blog of a different color. She writes to rid herself of the anger and negativity in her life. It sounds pretty cathartic and almost entirely like something I never would have thought of. Only an asshole of my caliber would dream up perpetuating her cynicism and jaded douche-baggary by immortalizing it. What would that even be called? A self-deprecating asshole with a superiority complex (a.k.a. "The Buffy Complex")? That sounds about right.

I am on my next book, though. I finished that stupid "Pride and Prejudice" addendum. Don't you just fucking hate it when a book spends two hundred pages describing the finer points of traveling Europe, while also teasing the reader with the notion of hot vampire sex, to have the books namesake and selling appeal become irrelevent in the last five pages? Yeah, I fucking hate that shit. I am glad to have finished it, though. Now I can be sure to tell everyone I ever meet for the rest of my life to never read it. It will be a challenge, I imagine. But there has to be some kind of karmic payoff for that shit. Now I am on the tedious "Dante's Club". I am not going to lie. I have started this book at least four different times. I have only made it to the fourth or fifth page. It's so boring. But I was always the kind of person to give up if it didn't captivate my attention right away. I am trying to not be that person now. I will get though it. In time. Blah.