Post-Midnight Thoughts

Even though we're all accustomed to my mindless drabble, I feel like I have to warn you anyway.

I used to think that anyone who posted anything in terms of 'literature' that they wrote on the internet [specifically, Facebook] was automatically pretentious. I wonder if people feel that way anytime they feel like their own little bubble of hobbies is being invaded by humans who feel they have the same passion? If I see someone post up their artwork, I don't give it any kind of negative thoughts, unless it's based on the work itself. I can't tell if it's because writing in itself is just always pretentious unless anonymous..or because I'm judging everyone against myself.

[Well, not that I consider myself a writer at all. I write words a lot, but that doesn't mean much. But I guess I identify with this sort of stuff more than I do with any other kind of art..I guess.]

I just got home from seeing Blue Valentine, and I can't tell how I feel about it. At first I was blinded by depression and by an extremely abrupt ending to actually like it, but it's kind of growing on me as time passes. I guess the sadness was hard to take just because it was so real, and the cute moments were too bittersweet by that point to pull you out. Marriage seems less and less appealing every moment. Not that it matters, because I'm obviously going to fall into the trap one of these days and blindly assume it's going to be different for me. Maybe it will..or maybe I'll end up like a little Lifetime movie of my own. Ho hum.

I guess I'm going to lighten the mood by reading my freshly purchased American Psycho. I finished reading The Unbearable Lightness of Being today [side note: the book was so beautifully philosophical, and then the movie turned it into some kind of occupied Europe love story. Yuck] and I think I really enjoyed it. That might mostly be due to timing. I found myself putting down the book and having to take five minutes to think to myself about how much I agreed with what was being said. What was this paragraph about? American Psycho? Yeah, okay. The only thing I miss about being thirteen and buying my books from the young adult section was that everything didn't have to be so heavy and depressing all the time. I mean, even if it's funny, it has to be cynical in order for it to be considered good or intelligent. Not that I enjoy mindless fluff, though. Good to know I'm decisive. [Sarcasm.]

I feel like typing for another hour, but then I remember that someone is maybe going to read this and is maybe going to think I'm crazy, so I guess now would be a good time. I have to wake up early [ps: early means 12:00PM] to take my placement test at community college number two, blarg.


[I think I only like this song because he says 'I'm getting lost in your curls' and that makes me feel some kind of personal attachment to it. Being a girl is not fun.]

Adieu.