Will the real blog #5 please stand up?

You know, this class has really drained my blogging-juices. Or perhaps it's my bullshit-juices. Heck, the two are synonymous to me. Is that a bad thing though? When I run out of mental diarrhea to spew on the page, perhaps i'll be left with something of worth to write? Perhaps I need only come up with a theme, or an idea. The syllabus says we get points for narration...hmm. Well, what is there to narrate in a blog? It's just a person writing their thoughts down. I guess I must narrate that!

Allow me to digress, briefly, on the topic of spelling diarrhea. Jow pathetic is it that I had to google diarrhea to learn to spell it. You know, spell check often can't figure out what word I meant to spell, but google gets it 100% of the time. Microsoft needs to rip off google's word recognition software and incorporate it to word - I frequently find myself googling words to make sure i'm spelling them correctly, when 5 years ago I opened up Word and wrote the word for the same purpose. The times, they are achanging! Back to the narration!
The writer sits before his keyboard, poised to begin his blog. A recent conversation with his professor plays in his mind, one where it was suggested that he writer attempt to pen the "Anti-Blog." What an antiquated verb, to 'pen,' the writer thinks, his fingers a blur as they move across the keys. These days it ought to be 'type'. It was suggested to the writer that he *type* the anti-blog. He wracks his mind, considering just what that term, "Anti-blog" might mean. To understand the antithesis of blogging, the writer must first consider his own conceptions of blogging. Why, he wonders, do I dislike blogging so? A long pull off a frosty Bud Select holds no answers, and the writer continues to ponder.

This task was put to him because of his general contempt for the medium, and to be able to outline his goal - the anti-blog, he must first outline blogging. I suppose, he begins, it stems from my dislike of frivolous reading. Some blogs hold all the interest of small talk involving the weather. He imagines his idea of the "Other Blogger," writing about their blog.
Today was meant to be sunny, and tomorrow overcast. Yet as I left my house, a raindrop landed on my face! Oh woe is me. I ran back inside and cried about it, and now I'm writing a blog, while crying. I hatqwag ingopi sdgod. Sorry blog, my tears broke another keyboard, luckily I had a spare! Time to listen to some Fallout Boy & cut myself.

It's not even the writing that bothers me, he thinks, remembering all of the drivel he's personally put down on paper (or really, on a screen, the only time I've printed anything but a coupon in the last two years I was forced to use safteypins in lieu of staples). It's the presumption, he concludes dramatically, shaking his fist at no one in particular. The assumed idea that anyone anywhere would possibly care enough to read the frivolous thoughts typical of blogging. He takes another swig, satisfied that he's found the root of the problem. Having worked out what he dislikes about blogging, he wonders what he could do to correct it. Perhaps if blogging were important? He imagines, for a moment, writing the most significant blog in human history.

We're ready to run the final tests. I'm powering up the super collider, and if we're lucky, by this time tomorrow we may have an infinite supply of energy! Oh they called me mad, but I'll show them! All of them! Ahahahahaha....not sure why I typed that. Just a few more seconds now, and I'll have a stable black hole, capable of powering a perpetual energy machi...(At this point, the entire world is swallowed, humanity destroyed by a blogger.)
No, that didn't make the writer feel any better. Though he did appreciate the crazy laugh. He thinks, for a moment, about the nomenclature of laughter. Hahaha is amused, Muhaha is evil, and Ahaha is crazy...would this make Muahaha crazy & evil? He wonders if he should correct the earlier laugh to be crazy & evil, but then realizes that the scientist in question did not intend to destroy the earth. No one ever does, he muses. A glance down at the word count informs the writer he still has a way to go, and he does not yet feel he had made headway in the anti-blog. Then it strikes him - blogging is meant to cover every topic in existence, but can one blog about blogging? Yes, he imagines, but what if it was a narrative!

And now we're caught up to the present. Well, some time ago, when I started writing this.

So I'm at 65 volunteer hours now, between Shakespere, Zombie, Studio & Writers. Heck, I'm failing to follow my own wordcount rules - The Shakespere Company Funding Project, The Zombie St. Pete Informational Package, The Studio @ 620 Parking Lot Attendant Volunteering, and the City of Writers Website Calander Work. Does anyone else think extra credit for going over the required volunteer hours is reasonable? I ask because I still have some volunteer hours on the books for the Studio, but don't really feel inclined to do so if there's no gain. I even actually enjoy volunteering there, it's just that I don't enjoy going there - when I get out of class (As I always head to the studio after class) I feel a potent need to go the fuck home. Anyone else ever feel that way?

Alright well, that brings us to a nice rounded 960 words, but being so close already I feel a compulsion to push the total to 1000. How about some Haiku?

Hallock teaches class
Directions often confused
He always means well

Easter is coming
I'm on the Atkins Diet
No chocolate For Me

Ana loves to pose
Aaron likes the walking dead
Jason hates the school

Man, got the syllables right on the first time! Also, they're all good natured ribbing, & I believe that everyone effected has enough of a sense of humor to enjoy good natured jibes delivered in haiku form. Alright, 1058, we're done now.