Blahging

Okay. This is the weirdest feeling in the world. I’m staring at my blog and I don’t know what to write about. Now usually, I only write because some topic irks me or urges me to write about it. Today, I want to write for the sake of writing. I don’t have anything to write about. But I want to write. And I can’t. I’m pulling a complete blank. It’s like constipation. You know you’ve got to shit but it won’t come out. At least, in that case, there is the potential of something coming out eventually. See? This is what I meant. I’m talking shit, literally! I don’t know what to say. I’ve been scratching my head over this for the past one hour. I’m bleeding now and that’s due to my one-inch nails. It’s interesting that earlier, I always made sure they were cut. And then I came to this part of the world where people paid to stick on some artificial crap to pose as their nails! I found that rather preposterous. I’ve never really cared about being nice to the people here and so it seemed like the perfect opportunity to rub it in their faces.
You won’t believe the number of times females have gawked at me. “Are those real?”, I’ve been asked about a zillion times. It even took me a while to get used to the fact that they were only enquiring about my nails but my reply of “Yes” accompanied with a huge grin on my face sufficed as an answer to either. Nails. Intellectually stimulating indeed. Not that my writing is ever intellectually stimulating. I don’t think it’s meant to be. It’s really frustrating. This feeling. When you want to do something and you can’t. It’s like when you shift to a new place and you decide that it’s going to be a new beginning; that you’ll go to the gym everyday henceforth. And then you find out that there isn’t a gym within a 2-hour distance from your place. Now if I really wanted to, I could write about anything. I’m sure I could write an interesting essay about my lampshade or an erotic poem on hot men. Ooh! An erotic poem… Me likey!